I am at the Cousin Andy's groovy pad, we are drinking beer and channel surfing, currently we are watching Baywatch and Pamela Anderson's character just pulled off a "dramatic" rescue, thank god for those great flotation devices she has! I like beer, it smells like a brewery in here, because Andy's Malcontent Dark and Bitter is being prepared as we speak.

Well, y'all, this'll be the last you hear from me until Monday (or perhaps Sunday night) as I will be departing in less than an hour for points South: Chehalis tomorrow for Thanksgiving with the whole fan-damn-ily and then from there to Rockaway Beach, OR, to spend the rest of the "weekend" with Cousin Andy at The Cabin. Of course, weekends have no meaning when you're unemployed.

I was "kidnapped" by Jon today, yesterday he promised me he would be calling about 9:30 this morning and we could "hang out." He called about 9:50 and urged me to head to his place so we could run errands.

He proceeded to more or less bore me to death all day long. I had expected he just wanted someone along to entertain him and provide insightful commentary as he performed his tasks, then we'd get lunch and that would be that. Instead I find myself trapped in the old Hood, the SouthEnd, while Jon perfromed car maintanence. Yipee! I wish I could say I had an interesting day....

Well, have a good weekend everyone.

Jon called this morning, arresting me from my Waste. He was driving his friend Scott out to look at a Range Rover, to perhaps purchase, in Ballard, and wanted me to tag along. As the weather slowly deteriorated from a dull overcast through a light drizzle towards a steady rain, we looked at the vehicle, �inspected� it (which involved Scott and Jon crawling around and peering into every nook and cranny and me standing with my hands in my pockets), headed to Mike�s Chilli Bar to have incredibly greasy chili (should�ve left out the jalapenos) then went back so Scott could officially purchase it. We (Jon and I) dropped Scott off, and headed downtown to pick up Jon�s girlfriend Anneke. Then they headed to Bellevue, and I headed back home.

The point of all this is that I found out today Jon is getting married. Yep, that�s right, Anneke has the ring, I�ve seen it. They�re getting hitched next August. I swear to go I�m not making this up. It looks like I�ll need a tux� and I wouldn�t mind having a date for that matter. It�s a ways off, but knowing my luck, I�ll need all the time I can get to find one. Any interested applicants can email me at jake_reeder@hotmail.com

Other than that, jon invited me to Thanksgiving at his parent�s house, and even though that means I�d be blowing off my family�s typical big get-together in Chehalis, I�ve actually thought about going.

And now, to re-invigorate an old tradition.

LEARN HOW TO PARK, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!
if the spot is marked "compact" that does not mean you can park an SUV or a big boat Buick/Oldsmobile POS in it. Just deciding that you can hang 2 feet over the white line on your passenger side (so you can conviently get out your side) and not worrying about the fact that someone might want to actually PARK in that spot next to you in the very full lot is why you have a nice new DENT KICKED INTO YOUR DOOR!!!! ASSHOLE!!!!!!

I am a total lazy-ass. I sat around and watched the Football all day.

So I feel the need to come up with some sort of explanation for my 5 month absence from on-line journaling. I mean, I can�t just suddenly pop back up in the middle of November and start writing again when it�s been since the middle of June when anyone last heard a peep out of me, right? Right?

Well, let�s just say it was �really bad stuff.� Maybe one day I�ll come up with some weird retroactive �Lost Days� journal project, making all sorts of cheesy references to mysterious events I never fully explain� But don�t count on it, that sounds like a lot of work.

Lets just say it started building in the spring and by June had detonated. Things appeared perfectly normal on the surface for some time in my life, job, recreational activities, social functions, yada yada yada. There was no real way of knowing anything was going on. I had stopped writing journal entries, or for that matter, any contributions AT ALL to my once beloved website, allowing it to die an ignoble death in the collective consciences of all my loyal readers (all 4 or 5 of you!)

But, I re-iterate, things were still progressing �normally� from Mid June through early August: I had a �solstice celebration� with various Malcontents and Ne�er-do-wells at Whidbey Island, I got rip-roaring drunk for the 4th, climbed Mt Whitney with Tyler and Angie and Tyler�s dad Steve (a great trip including Death valley and an evening in Vegas), went to the Seafair hydro races, and climbed Mt Adams with Tyler. But despite all this, there were bad, bad things happening. Here is a blurb about the Whitney trip I wrote last July:

I can say, with all honesty, that the trip was a fantastic time, and I have rarely in my life had 4 more fun, event-filled days. Of course, a disturbing paradox exists within my soul, and I found the emptiness in my soul to be strangely exacerbated by the good time I was having.

Mt Whitney isn�t even really a climb, but rather there is literally a trail all the way to the top of the mostly snow and completely glacier-free massif (a stark contrast to the peaks we have here!). Nonetheless, the Park Service contends that the success fate for Whitney ascentionists is a scant 33%, given the altitude and length of the hike (a 22 mile round-trip from the 8360� trailhead to the 14,497� summit and back, with a climber�s camp at 12,000�). Angie, with no previous backpacking experience and a contention that she had �never really done anything hard like this� was hoping to achieve what her father had twice failed at, whereas I have great confidence in my abilities on the trail and on in the mountains. Angie performed quite well, but since Tyler and his dad wisely chose to stay with her, I found myself hiking alone much of the way� except for the dozens of people in other parties also on their way up.

Arriving at camp more than an hour ahead of the rest of my party, I secured us some good sites in the ecological disaster of a camp along a pretty alpine lake, feeling the �hangover� which comes from being at 12,000� unacclimitized. I had chosen to �bivy� at camp � that is, no tent, but instead a gore-tex bivy sack around my sleeping bag, and enjoyed a better night�s sleep than I can remember in a LONG time sleeping out under the stars. We got up the next morning just before dawn, and started up the trail to the summit with the sun rising behind us.

I quickly left the rest of my group behind me, spurred on by my inner torment, and realized I was the first person up the mountain that day. I felt at ease, like I Belonged there, like this was the only place in the world that would accept me, but strangely hollow. I made great time to the top, kicked back, started munching on my snacks, and relaxed while I waited for everyone else. I was surprised with how little I felt the altitude. I signed the summit register �Jake Reeder, Wallingford, Seattle, WA, 98103. Representing Cascade climbers, we grow them better up there! Happy b-day MOM!� The 17th was my mom�s b-day.

The headache hit on the way down, of course, after I arrogantly refused an Excedrin from Tyler�s dad at the summit: �Nope, I feel great!� We hiked all the way out , stopping at camp to gather our gear, and it was a very long day.

Our flight out of Vegas on Monday @ 4:00 was full, and since we were standby, we were bumped to the 11:00 flight, giving us 7 hours to kill on the Strip. My last visit to Vegas, I came out modestly ahead, thanks to 11 and 22 on the roulette table and my NFL betting prowess. This time, good roulette luck didn�t happen, as I donated $60 to the Alladin, but we did hit a buffet and the roller coaster at the New York.

I got home at 3 am Tuesday morning, and called the office to leave voice mails saying I would be in at 10, and I just drove straight to the project site and resumed by dreary work life.

August 18th signaled the beginning of the second detonation, and over the next few days the shit hit the fan. August 21st I was canned by the Supreme Asshole Lloyd from my �beloved� gainful employment at OTAK, and by Sept. 10th I was a complete mess. I officially lost my mind Sept. 18th. Sept. 22nd, the Autumnal equinox and the end of my Summer of Discontent, was also Fremont Oktoberfest, and I drank a lot of beer. Since then it has been mainly an unemployed, aimless Purgatory. That oughta bring you up to date.

The other night, ravaged by insomnia, I found this website that offered links to dozens of online personality tests. These are a couple I took... that seem way overly simplistic but seemed to hit the nail on the head... maybe they work like horoscopes, who knows. Anyway, I encourage y'all to take them yourselves.

http://www.colorquiz.com/

Your Existing Situation
Sensitive; needs esthetic surroundings, or an equally sensitive and understanding partner with whom to share a warm intimacy.

Your Stress Sources
The existing situation is disagreeable. Feels lonely and uncertain as he has an unsatisfied need to ally himself with others whose standards are as high as his own, and wants to stand out from the rank and file. This sense of isolation magnifies the need into a compelling urge, all the more upsetting to his self-sufficiency because of the restraint he normally imposes on himself. Since he wants to demonstrate the unique quality of his own character, he tries to suppress this need for others and affects an attitude of unconcerned self-reliance to conceal his fear of inadequacy, treating those who criticize his behavior with contempt. However, beneath this assumption of indifference he really longs for the approval and esteem of others.

Your Restrained Characteristics
Demanding and particular in his relations with his partner or those close to him, but careful to avoid open conflict since this might reduce his prospects of realizing his hopes and ideas.
Circumstances are restrictive and hampering, forcing him to forgo all joys and pleasures for the time being.

Your Desired Objective
Wants to make a favorable impression and be recognized. Needs to feel appreciated and admired. Sensitive and easily hurt if no notice is taken of him or if he is not given adequate acknowledgment.

Your Actual Problem
Needs to be valued and respected as an exceptional individual, in order to increase his self-esteem and his feeling of personal worth. Resists mediocrity and sets himself high standards.

Your Actual Problem #2
Disappointment and the fear that there is no point in formulating fresh goals have led to anxiety. Desires recognition and position, but is worried about his prospects. Reacts to this by protecting at any criticism and resisting any attempt to influence him. Tries to assert himself by meticulous control of detail in an effort to strengthen his position.


http://users.rcn.com/zang.interport//personality.html

Introspective
Sensitive
Reflective

You come to grips more frequently and thoroughly with yourself and your environment than do most people. You detest superficiality; you'd rather be alone than have to suffer through small talk. But your relationships with your friends are very strong, which gives you the inner tranquility and harmony that you require. You do not mind being alone for extended periods of time; you rarely become bored.


this is from some "are you a Type A personality" test, I don't have the site I got it from:

Your score = 50
You seem to be in the middle between the Type A and Type B personality. In this case, the middle ground is good. Your attitude to life is more of the ''smell the roses'' kind and you know how and when to relax. Nonetheless, you realize that picking up a challenge and competing a little bit for your place in the sun can add some spice to your life. The equilibrium is important, so don't let your hostile, aggressive, and competitive alter ego take over too often. Generally, you are easy to be around, and people tend to feel relaxed and comfortable in your presence. Yours is a very healthy attitude towards life.

I actually wrote this way back in September, but never posted it. Now I will.

It all started out innocently enough. I was flipping through a magazine, one of those rags they put out for men called Stuff of FHM or some shit like that. Maybe it was my mindset, typically frustrated but more so for some reason, one of those moods where your mind just automatically cuts through the fluff and right to the core. There it was on every page, jumping out at me from behind the insipid text and carefully manipulated pictures, be it adds or articles: SEX! I began to turn the pages more and more frantically, but couldn�t escape the clear and present mesasage: SEX SEX SEX!!!! It reached critical mass when I turned to an add for condoms. It showed the top of a �typical� young man�s dresser, but this one was adorned with an ornate looking trophy, not unlike a bowling trophy, except at the top of this one there were little bronze figures of people fucking. The Headline for the ad read: �Have the sex you tell your friends you have.� At this, I let out an audible �augh� and chucked the magazine across the room.

I used to LOVE to be titilated, I do still, I suppose, to some much lesser extent, but any more when I see a show like �Wild On� instead of finding it �stimulating� like I normally would, I find myself just resenting that I�m having all this sex flaunted at me, and I just get frustrated and resentfull. I find myself thinking �god damn, I feel like I�m about the only guy on the planet not getting laid.� Soon after that, of course, it hits me like cold water down the back of my shirt �Oh yeah, I AM about the only guy on the planet not getting laid.� At this point, I find myself just wanting to crawl into a hole� a VERY deep hole, and not come out anytime soon.

There is, of course, the tonic of supplementing my masturbatory habits by living vicariously through friends. This, in fact, is disastrous, because misery truly does love company. When you�re a guy who gets NO action, the LAST thing you want to hear is your best friend explain to you how he hasn�t gotten tired of sex with his girlfriend yet because she is �very orgasmic, and I know her pussy like the back of my hand!� Or, indeed, how his friend, the pilot back East, �just shagged an 18 year old.�

Then, of course, masturbation. Ah yes, our old friend. Your typical male gets over the �shame� of masturbation around 18 or 19, and while most still keep it a private affair, and would certainly dread getting caught doing it (except perhaps by one�s girlfriend), it is nonetheless preformed with a regularity that in many cases rivals or exceeds things like shaving and showering. Jerking off is great, don�t get me wrong, but even it loses it�s�luster, shall we say, and one�s enthusiasm for this ritual can quickly disippate if it is one�s only sexual outlet.

Funny thing about masturbation. My psychiatrist asked me many meetings ago about my �sex life.� I responded flatly �I don�t have one.� After a brief pause she asked �well, do you masturbate.� �Well, of course I do� I jerk off obsessively! I�m horny all the time. I never get laid, that�s the problem.� A few meetings after that, when discussing medication and possible side effects, she inquired about possible effects on the �sex life.� �I don�t have one,� I again flatly responded. �But I thought you said you were horny and masturbated all the time?� she asked. �Well, yeah, of course.� �Well, that�s a sex life,� she responded. I must have given her one of those looks people give when they think they�ve heard something so preposterous it defies explanation, but want to make sure that�s what they heard, because she continued �I have a pretty loose definition of a sex life.� �I guess,� I responded.

But the sex, or lack thereof, is really only half the story. Obviously, I haven�t had a lot of girlfriends, as one could reasonably deduce from the lack of sex. In fact, I�ve had NO girlfriends. Okay, I suppose there are a few otherwise �normal� � that is healthy, not unattractive, not severely twisted � 26 year-old guys out there who haven�t had any real girlfriends. Sure, they�ve managed to get laid here and there with a few of the women they�ve dated. Well, okay, so I�ve never really �dated� anyone, so scratch that off the sex source list. Okay, there�s got to be at least ONE time you got some chick from a bar, nightclub, or party home and got at LEAST a blowjob. Well, Damn, can�t say I�ve gotten There either. So that means� I mean, you�re a� Yep, that�s what it means!

Yes, folks, the other half of the �lack of sex� story is ostensibly the �lack of women� story. I don�t even want to go there right now.

this guy says it best