Tears in Rain

“Why do I keep thinking about her… It’s been so long, and she never showed me more than kindness… But after all these years, I still wake up with her face in my mind… Dreaming about what might have been.”

In my continuing effort to be more open with the limited emotions I have, and my promise to blog more, today’s post will be an explanation of why I posted the above as my Facebook status at 4:30 AM this morning.

It’s always your first love that hits you the hardest. For me it was a girl I first noticed in 5th grade, just about the time I started noticing girls in general. She was smart, funny, beautiful, and I knew she and I would be perfect for each other. Of course,  being the social retard I am, that meant I avoided eye contact with her for the next year and a half.

Near the end of 6th grade, at the behest of my parents, I attended my first (and also last) school dance. Alone of course, I was more than content to sit along the west wall of the cafeteria and sped the evening gorging myself on the complimentary tortilla chips and fruit punch, but my plans were abruptly changed when the dj’s mix cd switched from the upbeat pace of Will Smith’s classic “Gettin’ Jiggy wit It” to the slower pace of Savage Garden’s “Truly Madly Deeply”. That vision of grace that had been the object of all my prepubescent fantasies floated across the room and asked me to dance. I was dumbfounded. This angel descended from the heavens, and in an unparalleled act of benevolence, granted me the honor of accompanying her on the dance floor. It took all my composure too eek out a weak “yeah” and stand up to follow her. I placed my hand at her hip with all the nervous delicacy of a museum curator handling an original Bernini statue. I was sweating bullets as I did my best to sway to the music, and not step on her toes. At the end of the song, she thanked me for the dance. I could swear she was glowing as I watched her glide away (though, in retrospect, that may have simply been back-lighting). It was a half a minute into Smash Mouth’s “Walkin’ On The Sun” before I realized I could move again. Being me, I took that opportunity to immediately leave the building.

After that night, I knew what I had to do. I somehow found the courage to ask her out on a real date. Granted, it took me a good year to work up the nerve to complete that task. Amazingly, she said yes! for the first time in my life, I knew what happiness truly was! It seemed somehow that all my prayers had been answered. It was April 1999. I remember, because I suggested seeing this new movie called “The Matrix” I heard good things about. We instead went to see the romantic comedy “Never Been Kissed” starring Drew Barrymore. I even felt bold enough to hold her hand during the movie (which is like getting to second base for a 7th grader). For the life of me, I can’t remember the plot of the movie, because I spent the entire time split between worrying about the impression I was making, and silent ecstasy that this was really happening. After the film, she bought me a gumball from the lobby vending machines (white I believe) before her parents picked her up from the theater. I was in such a happy stupor that I didn’t even care that my dad was an hour late to pick me up.

The happy feelings were not to last though. We were “a couple” for all of about a week before she called it off, citing my inattentiveness and immaturity as the reasons. Congratulations, Robert, you just alienated the girl of your dreams. However, considering this was in 7th grade, lasting one week is quite a successful relationship. (Not surprisingly, that one week in 7th grade constituted the entirety of my relationship experience prior to my sophomore year of college.)

At any rate, by 9th grade she was dating one of my best friends, and by that extension, we had become reasonably good friends. I came to accept that a romantic relationship with her was indefinitely off the table. But somehow my subconscious couldn’t let her go. Every day I would come to school and see her with my friend and I would be jealous and sad that it wasn’t me. For the remainder of my high school years she stayed with him and I feigned obsession with one popular bimbo after another to cover my feelings for her. I went to her graduation party, and aside from one chance encounter at McDonalds, that was the last I saw of her. Sure, we’ve kept in contact on Myspace and Facebook, but as far as face to face contact, I haven’t seen her in 6 years.

End of story? Not quite…

Here’s the part that haunts me: Sometime around the end of my sophomore year at college, I heard third handed info that she and my friend had split. The part of me that still had feelings for her saw this as an opportunity. It had been 7 years since she left me for being immature. “I must have changed enough that it would work out” I thought. I took my time and composed a page-long well-worded polished and refined email to her asking about how she had been doing, and  inquiring whether she’d like to have dinner some time. I was pleased with the message, and about to send it when I thought to myself “I had better check my bank account to see if I can afford to take her out.” I minimized the email, opened my bank’s website and logged in. As it happened, my account was $30 overdrawn. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Email scrapped. I now needed a way to cover my overdraft. I knew the university would be having its yearly book buyback soon, but since I never paid attention to school functions, I had no idea when. To find out, I decided to email a friend I made in my Japanese class.

I’m sure you can figure out the rest. That email was just the ice breaker needed to initiate a series of emails between myself and the Japanese major whom I would shortly thereafter begin dating, and the following summer, ask to marry.

At any rate, it worked out for the best.

But I still occasionally find my mind wondering, thinking about what might have been. Had I been more mature the first time around… If I had been in my friends shoes during high school…

And most often, what might have happened had I bought a few less DVDs my sophomore year and never overdrafted my checking account.

I know on some level I never really got over her…  What’s worse is after all those junior-high years of fantasizing, my subconscious has apparently linked her with some kind of unspoken idealized perfect woman. Last night I woke up in the middle of a dream about her. First, those who know me know I rarely dream. When I do, usually I forget what the dream was about by the time I’ve brushed my teeth. But when I dream about her, the dreams stay with me for days… In my dreams, she’s a goddess; an ethereal embodiment of love and compassion. In her arms, I feel all the positive emotion of the universe and I break down and cry. Then I wake up and just feel empty again.

It’s strange, I can’t usually remember what I had for lunch the previous day, but somehow every detail of my limited time with her is still crystal clear in my memory. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t give up what I have with Adrianna for anything, I value our relationship too much for that. But I know I still have the ticket stub for “Never Been Kissed” in the bottom of some lost box in my closet at my parents’ house, and similarly, I have little pieces of memory in the back of my brain that occasionally rise to the surface and make me think about the past.

In closing, I’ll just repost my status update from 8:00 this morning, after I had a clear mind from a few more hours of sleep:

“NVM, insomnia makes you say funny things.”

I finally figured out the solution to some of the various inconsistencies in Bender’s metallurgical and mechanical properties.

Firstly, in “Crimes of the Hot,” it is shown that Professor Farnsworth developed the prototype robot that is a direct technological ancestor to Bender, so we can assume that any technology the Professor is competent with can also be assumed to be possibly included in Bender’s design.

In “Parasites Lost,” the Professor was capable of building nanobots smaller than human cells. Therefore, much of my theory rests on the assumption that one of Bender’s most important non-mentioned features is a highly advanced nano-reconfiguration system. This nano-reconfiguration system (or NRCFG for short) is capable of rapidly reordering matter at an atomic level, creating new systems, and repairing or reconfiguring existing systems.

In several Episodes, Bender appeared to grow new switches, knobs, access panels, outlets, etc… For example, in “Hell Is Other Robots,” Bender had a previously unseen plug resembling a speaker jack on his head which he used to connected to a narcotic electricity source, and in “The Deep South,” bender has a volume knob which is never seen again. These are created by the NRCFG, and his external casing is reconfigured to accommodate them. In “The Honking,” the NRCFG was the target of the Werecar computer virus, causing Bender to reconfigure uncontrollably.

The NRCFG is also capable of repairing Bender as needed. This is evident in “Raging Bender” and “Godfellas,” wherein both episodes, he was damaged to the point of having hole in his head, and both injuries were fixed by the next scene, when he would have no time to have them repaired any other way. Similarly, other damage is rapidly repaired as seen in “I Second That Emotion,” “A Tale of Two Santas,” to name a few occasions. The NRCFG is also the cause of Bender’s seemingly miraculous recovery in “Bendin’ in the Wind.” The damage caused by the can opener in that episode was extensive, damaging the NRCFG controller in addition to Bender’s hydraulics and outer casing. During that episode, the NRCFG was working at diminished capacity, first focusing on repairing itself, before fixing Bender’s hydraulics. This is why it took so much longer to repair than in other instances.

Bender’s metallurgical composition often changes from episode to episode. It is at different times referenced as comprised of 30% iron, 40% titanium, 40% zinc, and 40% Dolomite, an unknown amount of Osmium, as well as having a .04% Nickel impurity. This is also an effect of the NRCFG. The NRCFG gathers raw material from multiple available sources when repairing Bender, so his composition is never the same at any given point. Each time his composition is mentioned, it is referring to Bender’s makeup at that specific point. Therefore, each listed amount is accurate, but the information can only be said to be accurate at the time it is given.

Bender frequently is shown to have objects stored in his chest cavity that are to large to fit inside Bender, either collectively or combined, and his internal mechanical structure is never visible when his chest door is open. In “The 30% Iron Chef,” the fact that Professor Farnsworth installed a wormhole in his table is proof that he has a mastery of quantum physics (including faster than light space travel, possibly made possible by research in the same vein as the wormhole). Adding this skill to his robotics development process, the simplest explanation to Bender’s apparent use of hammerspace is that he has a stable wormhole mounted directly behind his chest door, which acts as a gateway to a non-local storage location. In this location, Bender can store his vast riches and favorite possessions (such as pianos, the contents of public swimming pools, or the preserved head of Lucy Liu). This wormhole is mounted in front of his internal mechanical elements, hiding them from view when his chest door is open (though they are still visible by F-Ray as seen in “Fry and the Slurm Factory”).

One last simple solution – Bender’s primary control circuitry is in his head, but his body parts are not wired directly to it. His arms, legs, and torso are all controlled by a wireless conection to his central processors. This way, his arms and body can be fully operated even when disconnected from his head.

—

Note to self: Stop watching Futurama at 3:00 in the morning when your brain has been running purely on refined sugars.

Who says I can’t cook?

Mesquite marinaded tenderloin steak, with french-cut green beans and a baked potato.

And I didn’t even burn it.

As you may know, I chew gum. A lot. Orbit Bubblemint to be precise. As a cost saving measure, I almost always buy my gum in 3-packs, but today I was out and had to get a single at the college gift shop.

When I opened it I was greeted with this amazing sight:

Oh. Em. Gee. I just hit the jackpot.

…Oh and as a side note, I’m graduating college this Saturday, and on Monday I have a job interview with a big multinational company that has offices here in town. I guess that’s good too…

I realized on my way home today that somewhere along the line, thanks to my graphic arts training, I have lost the ability to see things as beautiful.

I was driving east as the moon was rising. Have you ever watched the moon rise? Have you looked at it when it’s just on the horizon and it’s a deep amber color, and it’s rays reflect off of the thin wispy clouds around it, and the silhouette of houses makes it look like the biggest thing imaginable?

Yeah. Most people would find that beautiful. All I can seem to do is dissect it and analyze it. I’m thinking, “the reason it looks so big is that it’s an optical illusion based on perspective. It’s the same size, but when the moon is high in the sky there’s nothing to compare it to, it looks smaller than when it’s behind houses. The deep color is caused by the low angle of viewing; there is much more atmosphere in the line of sight, so the moon’s reflected light has more dust in the air to filter through.”

I only see the science behind it… I can’t just see it as a pretty natural scene.

It’s the same with art and movies. I don’t feel any emotional context when viewing them. I can recognize the technical aptitude required to create them, but all I really see anymore is the formal elements of art like line, color, form, etc… I don’t ever cry or feel anything about movies or commercials because I know how each scene was specifically constructed with dialog, lighting, scene cuts, music, and such to achieve the maximum potential for evoking an emotional response.

It’s even worse with advertisements because I don’t stop with dissecting the attempted message, but I also tear apart the photoshop work. “Clone stamp here… dodge and burn here… bring up the saturation here… smooth out the texture here…”

Fuck… There’s no beauty left in the world. But at least I’m not jaded about people’s inner beauty.

At least not until I take that psychology course next semester…

42.2/100Rate My Life

Adrianna kicked my ass on all of these except the drug knowledge quiz. So apparently, my life sucks, I’m an idiot, and I’m worthless as a person, but I’m a genius when it comes to mind-altering substances. Yay…?

I had my internship interview today… I’ll get to that in a bit, but I want to address something first. Namely, the fact that people are assholes who only care about image.

I dressed up a bit more than usual today for the interview. Khaki slacks,  black button down shirt, and a tie. Over that I wore my nice trench coat so I’ll admit I was pretty slick looking. After the interview I decided to head up to the mall in Toledo to pick up a book at Borders and look around for Christmas gifts. In the mall I noticed something… People treat you quite a bit differently if you are wearing a tie. Every stand selling home improvement stuff for home-owners tried to sell me something. Any place I went to, salespeople came right up to me and asked if I needed any help.  Most addressed me as “sir,” like “do you need any help today, sir?” or “Is there something you want to look at closer, sir?” or “Six white castles, and an order of mozzarella sticks? Here you are, sir.” I never get that quality of customer service when I wear a Star Wars t-shirt.

All that is fine, but there was one thing that struck me as awful. I was walking in the direction of a jewelery store and there was a middle aged black woman looking at stuff in the case at the front of the store. I wouldn’t say she looked poor, but she certainly didn’t look rich. She was looking at stuff for a while with no sales personnel going over to talk to her, but when I walked by and stopped for just a few seconds to check out a watch, someone came right up and asked “Was there something you wanted to look at today, sir?” I just said “no thanks” and walked away, but I was upset that they just ignored a potential customer because she didn’t look like she had enough money to buy anything. I’m a poor college student, that was the only set of nice clothes I own… For all I know that lady probably had more money than me. After that, I left the mall… I ignored the people who tried to sell my vinyl siding and windows for my non-existent house. I ignored the group of businessmen in suits who smiled and nodded at me as if I was one of their kind. I got out of the mall, and as soon as I got in my car, the first thing I did was take off my tie.

I didn’t like ties before, but now I really hate ties. They’re just useless scraps of fabric that symbolize the “style over substance” mindset so many people have these days…

Luckily, the  agency I interviewed with seemed more relaxed. Nobody wore ties there. I think I made a decent impression, because I got a second interview to be held at their Findlay office after the holiday.

I’m headed to Indiana tomorrow… Gotta go see the family. I’ll be back Saturday.

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving. Now go eat some cranberry sauce or something…

I recently saw part of a documentary discussing the debate between science and religion, specifically relating to evolution. I forget the man’s name, but there was a very vocal minister who was a strong proponent of strict biblical interpretation. In one part of a video clip of him, he was preaching to his congregation, and he said something along these lines: “Scientists claim that the earth formed billions of years ago, and that humans evolved from apes over the course of millions of years, but we know that’s wrong, because the bible tells us that God created the world in six days about 5000 years ago. The next time someone tells you ‘millions of years ago’ I want you to hold up your hand and say ‘Stop! Were you there?’”

I want to meet this minister. I would ask him who wrote the first five books of the Bible, and when they were written. His answer, of course, would be “It was handed down to Moses by God 3500 years ago.”

My response: “3500 years ago? Were you there?“