june 15

it took a few days of mental deliberation, but i figured out why i want to write a journal. it's all about expressing myself - after all, what is a life that is not shared. i don't necessarily mean for everyone to read these pages, although a few would be nice. what i really want is to write, so that i can get myself across to people face to face.

you see, a while back i decided i wasn't much good at expressing myself... i figured words were imperfect, and that some form of subtle action-empathy could get people to understand what i was really trying to say. this has proven to be harder that i had hoped, and lead to confusion for some people and plain ol' mess-ups with others. amazingly, i've never been scorned for it, only because it comes across as being quite,

and most people don't like to scorn the quite ones.

i was reading some of justin's pages, and they gave me this crazy energy that i get when i'm inspired. i want to tell my stories, do it a lot, and do it here. the medium was meant for it. it's changable, but only if you want to change it, just like memories.

i should thank him for giving me ideas, sharing his stories, and being true. my pages won't be as wild and crazy as his, but they will be from me.

it's been two weeks since i got to berkeley and the sun was finally out in full force. in my small room at work i have no windows, so the little bit of sun i get on the walk to where i pick up the shuttle keeps me charged up for a few hours. i've told myself i'll take at least the full hour of my lunch break, and after i've wondered around and found some good cheap ethnic food joint i'll go and find some place to spread out. on a wall, a patch of grass. i don't actually carry a watch with me, so i never know how long i've been starring at the sky or at the insides of my eyelids, but i know when it's time to get back out of the dreamscape.

for lunch betty, who calls on me for small graphics jobs or unix help, gave me dirrections to a persian place on university ave. i passed by it and thought it was froo-froo, but when i finally went all the way inside the door and sat down, a waitress with mediteranean skin and brown eyes gave me the cheap lunch menu. she came back and gave me soup, which i hadn't ordered, but i was so lax that i just ate it, more slowly than my last few meals. i ended up with a funky combo of persian vegetables in olive oil, and i had to ask her, but there was lemon in there too. i asked what the vegetables were, and she told me in her accent that it was a tough question. i didn't much care, cuz it was good on rice, and the place was mostly empty, so i could think about why i wanted to write.

afterwards i went to the corner of hearst and milvia, where i know there's a shuttle stop. there's also a park that i hadn't seen before, with a small building painted with scenes of native americans. i went to the back side, where there was the mural of some ceremonial dance, and spread out. the sun was so hot and the ideas were exciting. i guess the natives had no idea that i was there, cuz they just kept doing their thing.

a pretty girl walked by while i sat at the stop, in a moderate hurry but didn't even have the time to look me in the eyes like some do. i realized i should probably stop looking at her, cuz i told myself i'd stop being so predatory. still, she was cute, and after she met with her friend on the next block i wondered if she lived right there. most of the people around our apartment make themselves scarce, so our little end of town seems pretty empty.

my co-workers must have thought i was nuts cuz i had so much energy. gail brought me the photoshop upgrade i asked for and i was giddy. a good use of government money. i don't think she shared my enthusiasm, but i'd been using 3.0, which doesn't export transparent gifs. at the level i use it there aren't many other differences. i just steal/scan, crop, resize, code, test, post.

i caught an older guy pulling down a big sticker from a stop sign. when he finally got it i could see it said 'DRIVING'. i looked at him and almost asked if i could have it. he had something to say, just like them. freedom of expression and all.

cherie is living here now, which makes us a big happy family. we set out a dozen or so candles and broke open the champagne that my stepfather had handed to me before i left. we toasted all that is good and drank and it went down so easy and left you with that tartness that's why you take another sip. everything was copasetic, and when wayne played for us it was almost like being back at the lodge. that place heard a lot of toasts. somehow we didn't burn it down.