I own more clothes than any one human should... I swear, I'm such an AMERICAN in that way.  I live in Texas, y'all, and I own more than 15 sweaters.  Some years, there are not 15 days of sweater weather down here.  I love sweaters, though, and continue to buy them when they are a good deal.

I may have mentioned here (once or twice) that I loathe laundry.  Really, really hate it.  I have an unnatural hate for it.  Laundry sucks so much, it should be on Joe Millionaire, giggling as it pleasures Evan.

Kurt doesn't understand this, because he says the machine does all the work.  I think maybe that's part of the problem, but I'm not sure.  On the other hand, I don't mind scrubbing a bathtub or toilet once in awhile.  Kurt hates this.  I swear, we are so compatable on a housework level, I should marry him.  Except we would kill each other.  Within 48 hours.

Topic?  Oh yeah.  Lotsa clothes.

I tend to buy clothes rather than doing laundry.  I find that it's much more fun to go out to eat with friends and buy a sweater to wear to work tomorrow than it is to stay home and do laundry all night.  I know this is flawed logic, and it costs me a lot of money, but that's what's been happening.

Here's the deal, though:  I have to stop this shit.  I'm spending tons of money, and ending up with more clothes than I need.  This only adds to the laundry pile, and ultimately, makes things worse.

So what am I gonna do?  I'm going to go a whole month without buying any clothes (no I'm not) and make sure I do laundry at least once a week (uh huh).

Or I could just bitch some more about it next time washing needs to be done.

Dear Bailey and Sasha:

You both have meant so much to me over the last eleven years. When I've been depressed or down, you have always been there with your wonderful listening skills and your coat to be stroked. You both truly are this Man's Best Friend.

But if you ever again bark all night in the backyard, preventing me from sleeping until almost four in the morning, I will take you to the nearest Chinese place and sell you, telling the man that your name is "chicken."

Love,
Tim

So I didn't sleep much last night. In fact, I'm wondering now if I slept at all. The bags under my eyes are being studied by the people at Coach, they might make a new line based on their shape and size. Of course, I'm prone to hyperbole, so you might not believe me.

In addition to the dogs barking all night, I am experiencing a fair amount of stress at work. It's crazy. I love every second of it, but it's nuts. I will be less stressed soon. We are about to make a decision about something that will help me plan the rest of my year. Yeah. That big of a decision. And my Executive Director is listening to me and my assesments of the different products and using that data to make her decision. Yes, I know that's how it works, and that's what I'm paid to do (being a so-called "expert") but it puts a lot of burden on me. I think once the decision is made, I'll feel way better. In fact, I know I will.

Enough of that...

I have lots to say, but not much time to say it. See you later!

Well darnit.  I don't usually write political things in my journal because... well, because I just don't.  I was taught that religion and politics are not things discussed in proper company (so I usually talk about homosexuality and drinking here, see?)

But I have been deep in my head all day about many things political, just sort of trying to make sense of it all (BTW: IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE)and I had decided to write about it, because I need to.

And then I got home, and Pineapple had beat me to it.  It's not the first time she's ever copied my thoughts before I expressed them.  Great minds and all that stuff (except with me in the equation, my mind is far less great than hers, but that's a topic for another day).  Allow me, please to excerpt something from her journal:

For the first time in my life, I feel oppressed. I am an American citizen, and I actually feel oppressed here – the leaders in power aren't the ones I wanted, and they are doing things I don't like and never asked for. But this isn't just sour grapes because my party lost: these people are ignoring what's good for the state and the country and doing instead that which serves their own ends. They are slaughtering our civil rights.

My GOD Pineapple!  This is freaky.  I thought the SAME EXACT oppression thing today, pretty much verbatim to what you wrote. (Also?  You now know someone else who knows the Texas Anthem... Texas, Our Texas/All hail the mighty state... we'll sing it sometime.  It'll be so wonderful, so great)

It's cold comfort now, but I do believe that this sham of leadership we have before us will kill the Republican party as we know it.  I just hope we are not destroyed in the process, and can enjoy the downfall.

I don't think it's long in coming.  Wait until the body bags start coming home.  Wait until the solders, with some weird, mysterious ailment that is never defined or admitted to, are unable to find jobs when they hobble home, shattered at the age of 24, seeing more than they ever should have, never able to recover from the horrors they had to witness at too young of an age.

One of the most touching things I saw after September 11th was a webpage that showed photos of shrines from all over the world.  People weeping and praying, all because we were in pain.  Because we had been struck.

All of that goodwill is rapidly fading.  Only one other country in the world agrees that a war in Iraq is a good idea, and they, too, lost their minds and elected a rich white guy to run their country who gives not one fuck what the people he works for think.

Lets look at the well-documented facts, shall we?  At this particular time, the Muslim world hates us.  It would be silly to attack a Muslim country unprovoked, right?    When stability should be the order of the day in the middle east, even if we don't like who's in office, we should, you know... avoid all conflict in that region and strive for the stability they so desperately need.

I am NOT saying that Saddam is a great guy.  I don't like him.  I really don't.  But just because we have fought him before, and know we can overwhelm him with our bullets, planes, smart bombs and missiles, that's no reason to attack.  I'm pretty darn sure he has tortured and killed people who didn't deserve it, and the concept of Human Rights in Iraq is about as foreign to them as bikinis and gay bars.

And I don't think we should ignore these things.  But we do.  We ignore the pain of the people in South Korea.  And in a great deal of Africa.  And in 152 countries and territories in the world.  It's all well documented and proven.

But we choose ONE oil-rich, resource poor country and are going to carpet bomb them and ruin their cities again?  WHY?

It ain't human rights. It ain't terrorism. And no matter what they tell you, it also ain't about weapons of mass destruction.

It's about Daddy's unfinished business.  It's about oil.  And it's about looking like a hero to your fat, lazy, countrymen who "elected" you..

At least we know all those Iraqis and American soldiers won't have died in vain.

Well, we can all breathe easier now... I'm fully insured.

Yep. Today, the lady came to the office from AFLAC to scare us into insuring ourselves so much we would never worry about any financial matter again (execpt, of course, insurance premiums). I bought life, accident, and short-term disablity insurance. If I get decapitated on a commercial airliner while traveling for business, there will apparently be some kind of trifecta and whomever I say will never have to worry about money again, though that would be cold comfort, because really, is life worth living without me?

Don't answer that.

I declined the cancer insurance, thereby increasing the chance that I will be diagnosed with cancer in the next year by leaps and bounds. I am just going to tempt fate with that one, because I refuse to pay almost sixty dollars a month for such specialized coverage.

I was given pause, however, by the AFLAC lady who came to sell us this stuff. See, even before she mentioned the cancer policy, I was thinking about cancer, because evidently this lady has been chain-smoking since she was weaned from her mother's teat, and that would have to include when she's asleep, because this woman SMOKED. Really. I thought I was listening to Harvey Firestein sell me insurance, except Harvey has a really smooth voice compared to her. Her leathery, sallow skin also made me think of cancer, and bad health in general. It's sad that people do that to themselves, but I guess I understand addiction, and it's not like she just woke up one morning and had a voice so gravelly she could pave a driveway. It happened over time, most likely. I just felt sorry for her, and wanted to has her if SHE had the Cancer Insurance, becuase honey, she sure needed it.

Insurance is a weird thing. I don't like thinking about what might happen, but since I myself have been in a horrible accident that affected my livlihood for a while, I believe in it. So it is with a lot of wood-knocking that I signed those papers today. It feels good to be covered.

Wow.  It's been a few days since I've posted.  Not a lot going on here, actually.  Work is nuts.  I have tons to do.  I like that, mind you... I love the work... but it's just nuts right now.

I spent most of the weekend in Austin.  I got a free massage and spent a whole lot of time with friends.  I'm so lucky.

 So here's what's been rattling around in my head lately:

That Tony Little guy on his Gazelle contraption is just freaky.  And ponytails on men, as a rule, are bad and wrong. (Kramer, you are excluded from the last comment because yours suits you.  And you are not annoying like Tony Little).

On the infomercial, he stands on the thing backwards and makes his legs go really high.  I don't know what the difference is, but I suspect it has to do with the fact that he's holding onto stuff that doesn't move.  You know, speaking of things that don't move, at the end of the Anna Nicole Show's first season, they tease with him telling her she needs to get into shape.  If he's going to be a regular on that show, then we are indeed lucky.  And we thought Bobby Trendy was a freak.  I am apparently putting far too much thought into Tony Little and his freakish Gazelle Glider.  I should not watch infomercials immediately before sleep. 

Speaking of watching TV right before you go to sleep, I have discontinued watching my daily Trading Spaces on the TiVo immediately before I fade off, because I found that I was having a disturbing number of dreams that involved Paige coming into my office at work and telling me that time was up.  Hildy kept stapling shit to my office walls, and Genevieve was my secretary, but she never typed anything I wanted... just what she thought sounded good, even though it didn't.  Amy Wynn would do anything you asked her to do, no matter how hard and/or ridiculous the task, all the while singing the praises of how cool it is.  Vern and Doug and Ty kept catching me in the nude. 

Because there is a God, and because my therapist already has his job cut out for him, Kia, Edward and Frank never have appeared in my dreams.

Perhaps I work too hard.  And watch too much reality TV.  Not sure what all that's about.

Deep, profound thoughts, eh?  Hope everyone is well...

So yesterday, David left this comment on my site:

I've been feeling awfully self-conscious over my new bag... I was really into shopping for it and even asked myself, "What color will go with most outfits, but isn't so drab?" The way I have to sling it across my chest makes me feel oh-so-femme. So, yes, I'm a man, and, yes,I have a purse... but I'm really liking it!!!

Oh David.  You don't know the HALF of it.

I have carried a bag of some sort for years.  I currently have a bag that I love very much, and I refer to it as my manbag, which sounds vaugely dirty (in a Penthouse Forum sort of way) but is really just a bag I carry, even though I'm a man.

Before I had the Wonderous Manbag, I carried a backpack.  Yes, even after I was out of college.  Yes, I know that borders on dorky.  Yes, I'm a bit embarrased about it now.

My current bag is more purselike than anything you've ever seen a man carry.  I love it.  I can bring all my stuff, and all my stuff is on there, and I have stuff where I need it and it's all about... stuff.

Yes, it's nelly (no, not the rapper.  "Nelly" is the opposite of "butch" in gay slang) but I don't care.  It is grey and black and looks really nice with most of my casual clothes.  There is a pocket for my phone, and a pocket for my Palm.  I always have my bag either with me, or in my car. 

I don't carry anything terribly valuable in there unless I happen to have my digital camera or a spare watch with me.  Mostly, it's just convienent.  And I don't care what it looks like.

I don't use it totally as a purse, though.  I still carry a man's wallet in my back pocket, but because I have the manbag, I don't need to carry all those cards, such as video rental and the like, that I don't use often, because they can be in the manbag.  My wallet holds a debit card, two credit cards, my ID and some cash.  That's it.  Everything else is in the manbag.  It's wonderful.

So my advice to all you men out there is to get a manbag.  You will not regret it.

Hey all.

First of all... thanks for the emails and phone calls wishing me a Happy Birthday. It was my birthday, and I was happy all day, so your wishes were granted. Yay.

So I went to Austin last night to attend a Webloggers meeting. This is not to be confused with the Online Journalers group I hang with in Austin. This is an entirely different group. I was looking at my busy calendar, and decided I needed yet ANOTHER set of friends.

So last night, I spent my birthday with some of the geekiest guys I've seen this side of computer-science grad school. It was really cool, though, because they were talking about some DEEP technological shit, and I followed the conversation word-for-word, and never ever said to myself, "what the FUCK is he talking about?"

I constantly amaze myself with the depth and breadth of my knowledge. I know that sounds assholian, but yesterday was my birthday, so indulge me a bit.

Seriously. I am able to analyze and solve problems and figure out things that nobody else has been able to figure out. I'm good at troubleshooting, logisitics, and strategic planning.

Am I the smartest person in the world? Hell no. Haven't you seen my spelling?

Wow! Topic? Did I ever really HAVE one in this entry? No? I didn't think so. Um... oh yeah. The gathering of Webloggers.

Um... a couple of them were cute, but I don't who is and who isn't gay. I can't tell from reading their sites. My gaydar fails me in Austin sometimes because everyone is just so totally COOL and the men don't feel like they have to conform to gender roles and stuff like that. Or something.

So life, my friends, is good. I am currently content. Makes for a boring journal entry, but don't despair... something will piss me off soon!

Happy New Year.

I know what you're thinking... that it's been the new year for well on 14 days and nights, and what the hell am I talking about?

So my birthday is tomorrow and that always makes me reflect.  I will be thirty-two.  Thirty-two years of Tim.  I don't know how it happened.  I mean, I know how THAT happened... I just don't know how I've been here 32 years.

I used to think things that were over thirty were so old.  All the teachers I had in grade school were my age back then.  I used to think they had all the answers, and they did (Teacher's Editions, you know) but I always thought their life was so easy.  I know better now.  It was easy then.

I had clothes and food and transportion and not much was missing.

Now, I have clothes and food and transportaion and it costs a bloody fortune.

Not that I'm complaining.  Actually, I'm so glad I'm now over thirty.  I claimed at the time to have had a hard time with it, but I really didn't (methinks my penchant for Drama might have kicked in).  I love getting older and being taken more seriously.  All of that continues, and I'm so very happy to be alive and well and happy.

I've often thought that mothers should be celebrated on birthdays.  I mean, honestly, on the day I was born, she did all the work... and yet, you give ME presents for being born?  I mean... I'm glad for the gifts, but really, it was MOM who did the hard stuff... I just cried a lot and... um... you know... baby stuff.

To the casual observer, my life probably looks easy.  I guess, in some ways, it has been.  I've had my share of problems though... some of them quite severe and dire.  But they have always been tempered by the unconditional love my family holds for me.  No matter how depressed I got, I never ever forgot that.  And when I needed their help, they were there to give, and to give generously.

So what does the next year hold?  A lot, actually.  I'm on the host committee for JournalCon in Austin.  I am slated to become President of the Bears.  I have a few trips and such planned, and I have some goals and stuff I planned out last night.

And I'm going to get better.  I don't know specifically how I'm going to get better, but I am.  Because life keeps getting better, dragging me along with it.

MoFo Della Reese...

I swear to God.  I can't believe I actually just watched an entire episode of Touched By An Angel.  Have you ever seen this?  It's perhaps the sappiest, freakiest show on television.  Seriously.  That show personifies everything I don't like about television, but wouldn't you know that an episode happened to be on the Hallmark Channel (corporate motto: Nothing here for you gay people... switch to Oxygen, you Queen!") and I was too lazy to find the clicker.  I think that I suffer from laziness much more than people who know me might expect.

So I'm watching this sappy shit, and of course, the episode I see HAS to feature Kenny Rogers singing, because really, a show doesn't TRULY start to suck until Kenny warbles about how how She Believes In Him.  Of course, by this time, I'm involved in the show, and am waiting to see if Della Reese or Roma Downey is going to subject themselves to backlighting while some B-list actress pretends to cry.  This episode, it was Roma.  I know you were wondering.  So then, Kenny (whose name on the show was "Denny", because the writers really don't try anymore) sings what I can only assume is his new song, which of course, has the same plot as the entire episode.

I don't know why I subject myself to this.  I have a Tivo full of Trading Spaces, including, I can only hope, episodes that do NOT feature Hildy or Kia.  Tivo also holds the past few episodes of So Graham Norton and even a bit of The Anna Nicole Show.  With all of this TV goodness, why do I watch dreck?  Because I'm lazy.  And also, John Dye.  He ALMOST makes up for the whole Della Reese thing.  Almost.

Ahhh.  Good day yesterday.

Seems that the Executive director is out of the office for the rest of the week.  This alleviates stress because I can get the things on my to-do list done instead of the "urgent" things she thinks up for me. (Shut up.  I am SO organized enough to have a to-do list!  It's in my head and I sometimes forget items, but I HAVE a list!)

It also helps that I got tons done today off of that list, including a project that has been a monkey on my back since before the holidays.  Good stuff for me, I'm telling you what.

But I'm not going to talk about work right now, or whine about stress or even complain at all.  I'm here today to talk about the joy and wonderment that is my new 52X CD burner.

I remember when I got my first CD burner.  It was a 2X.  I could make CDs if I planned far enough ahead.  Not many other people could make CDs at the time, though, and I really had something.  I was all into making CDs and shit.  I made some odd music mixes, but not TOO many... damn... blank CDs were almost five dollars each!

Soon, the luster of that first burner wore away.  I no longer liked making CDs, because it took to friggin' long.  And really, I was pretty damned addicted to the Internet back then, and couldn't be without my Pentium 133 with the 33.6 modem for the 40 mins it took to make a disc.  Life, my friends, is TOO SHORT.

Two years ago, I bought a new computer.  It came equipped with an 8X drive, and I was once again happy.  Bear in mind that two years ago was the height of this Napster stuff, so I had lots of illegal stuff to burn.  But soon, the luster and the gloss wore off of the 8X. 

Last fall, I started seeing these faster burners out.  40X? 46X? That's madness!  I couldn't believe that such a thing existed!  But it DOES!  I have one!

And so now, I'm burning weird CD mixes again, unhampered by the expense of blank media.  Watch out:  you may someday run across my mix of bird songs.  Disco Duck, Funky Chicken, Rubber Ducky, Yellow Bird... it's a whole theme.

Yeah, I need a better hobby.

I don't mean to suprise or shock anybody, but I have some big news:

I'm human.

I know, I know... you thought I could handle sick family members, a demanding job, and tons of outside involvement in various groups and organizations with great aplomb. I can handle them, of course, but I need sleep. And to address the stress involved.

My therapist told me last time I saw him that he could tell I was under stress. The thing about stress is that it sneaks upon you... it builds so slowly you don't realize it's there, and then, there's that straw (or bitchy memo) that breaks the camel's back, and then, all at once, you cross over. You become STRESSED OUT.

So last night, I was stressed out. I pretty much still am, but going to bed at seven last night helped a lot. Twelve hours of sleep allow the body plenty of recovery. I'm also going to schedule myself a massage to work on the knots in my shoulder. I could barely turn my head all weekend. Yeah, I'm that stressed.

But you know, it's okay. I love that I have things to feel stressed about. I feel alive. I also know that I have had more dealt to me in the past, and somehow, I have come out of it with aplomb. I'm just sort of that way.

I'm thinking of taking some yoga classes, too. If YOU would like to relieve stress yourself, I would recommend coming to my yoga class, because I'm sure that a 270 pound man attempting yoga will provide you with lots of laughs, which is a known stress reliever.

So, here's the delayed recap of 2003 entry that every other journaler has already done, but I didn't yet.  Such is life.

I made two goals this time last year, and I met one, and the other... well, we'll just not talk about it.  Much.

I had this whole TrimTim inituitive thing and I hit it head on: working out (okay... I went to the gym four times.  Good use of my money, huh?) and eating better.  And I actually DID lose about thirty pounds, and people were starting to notice, and I was feeling better, and even didn't spend all summer sweating like a creepy perv in a porno theatre.  And then... I dunno.  I lost focus.  I'm prone to that, you know.  Sometimes I can barely foc

Anyway, so I gained all but about five pounds back.  I thereby consider the year to not be a total failure in that department, but of course, there is work to be done.  I'm not ashamed of my weight, but I know I would feel better if I lost weight.  It's hard being fat, y'all... and that sweaty perv thing?  It's back.  I hate it, and that's the number one, grade "A" reason for losing weight, right there!

My other resolution/goal?  To post in my journal everyday.  That lasted until April, I think (it's late, and I don't feel like digging).  I posted daily, including weekends all that time.  Then, I had a weekend that was a little, um, off tha hook, if you know what I mean, (and I think you do) and didn't update one Saturday.  I did not cheat and edit a timestamp or something lame... I just revised my goal to post every WEEKDAY, except for holidays.

And I did it!  I posted something here everyday.  Every.  Single.  Weekday.

What did I post?  Some great entries, if I do say so myself.  And also some okay entries.  Some funny stuff, and some sad stuff.  I also, on days I didn't feel like journalling, posted SHIT.  In fact, if I look back at the entries over the year, it's become obvious to me that the quality of the journal as a whole is comprimised by forcing myself to post.  I guess I'm just not talented enough to produce a funny, thought-provoking entry every day, or perhaps I'm too lazy, but I'm not going to be trying this year.

I'm not leaving.  God no.  I need this thing as much as it needs me, and I really love it.  I WON'T, however, be putting something up here everyday.  I don't know how often I'll post, but it won't be daily.  Probably four times a week or something.  I'm allowing myself to skip a day, but not too many.  We'll see how that goes...

I'm also toying with the idea of reworking the whole site with a blog for short bursts of content, AND a journal for more lengthy entries.  Perhaps if I did that, I could post daily in at least one of those two places.  Don't know.  We'll see.

So, thanks for reading me daily.  I'll still be around!

First of all, Happy New Year.

I had an okay one, I guess, even if it wasn't the one I planned.

I had to cancel my plans to be in Austin with a great many of my friends because my great-grandmother had taken a turn for the worse, so I went to Houston to see her.

I had an okay time anyway.  I stayed with my friend Nate and we did go out for a while on NYE, so all was not lost.  Bear in mind that I have many friends in Houston, and I saw some of them, though of course the fact that I was only in Houston for 24 hours precluded me from seeing everyone I wanted to.

Lots of my friends were disappointed (not upset, mind you, but disappointed) that I wasn't going to be in Austin in New Year's Eve, and they asked me what I could possibly do for her.  I didn't know for sure, but I knew I needed to go. 

So today, I held her hand.  I moved her hair around a bit, because she told me she thought it looked bad.  I put Chapstik on her lips.  I talked to her.  I told the nurses when I thought she had a fever.  I made sure she took in enough fluids.  I was there, and I'm glad of it.

She smiled at me today.  Hopefully, not for the last time, but perhaps.

GG's husband died in the seventies. I remember going to the hopsital to see him (I couldn't have been more than ten years old), and GG was there, taking care of her husband.  I don't remember much about him, or of those visits, but something that does stick out in mind was her holding a cup of water at his dry lips and her telling him to drink.  I spent a lot of time today helping her drink. 

God, I'm so sad.

And yet, I'm happy.  She's led a full life.  She has lived to see many great grandchildren, and even some of her great-great grandchildren.  Imagine that.  She's still quite lucid, too, so she knows us.  I will miss her terribly, but I'll have memories.  And lots of people to share them with.

So, I hope you had a great New Year's.  I did.  I got to see my GG.