WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE?

Picture courtesy of JDate

I know I’ve touched on this subject of online pictures before, but bear with me. Do you know what the trouble with online dating is? Here are two reasons. One, you’ve seen the picture above. Below is the profile associated with said picture. Is the profile real? Is it fake? Is the picture real? Who the hell knows, but what’s the point anyway? The second reason? Single men in my area have made Little Miss Tickle the most popular woman on JDate between the ages of 28-40. What does that say about the intelligence of us guys? Yeah, it’s a sad state of affairs. I’ve been off JDate for six months and just signed up again for a month. I see I haven’t missed anything. It’s time to cancel.


ARE YOU TICKLISH? As crazy as this may sound, I have an intense tickling fetish. I LOVE TO TICKLE!! Let me know all of your ticklish spots.

UserName: LoveToTickle
Age: 28
Hair Color: Brown
Height: 5' 7" (170cm)
Body Style: Firm &Toned
Eye Color: Blue
Weight: 114 pounds (51.0 kg)
Job Description: Lawyer
Physical Activity: Active
Income: Over $100,000

Perfect Match

Since I have a fetish for tickling, I am definitely searching for a guy who is extremely, horribly, torturously, intensely ticklish. Tell me ALL of your ticklish spots (feet, ribs, stomach, armpits) and how ticklish each spot is. Also, describe the worst time you've ever been tickled and how you would react if I were to tie you down and tickle you mercilessly.

Ideal Relationship

Of course, there would be a lot of tickling (some playful, some serious). I am looking for someone to "hang out" with, to get to know, to have serious as well as fun times, and let's see where it goes.

Perfect First Date

Spending time with a guy, letting hours pass by but not realizing that hours have passed by; enjoying each other and becoming intoxicated by each others' stories, experiences, words, hopes, and dreams; finding out that he is too ticklish for his own good. Yummy!!

My ideal match would be

Desired Age Range: 18 to 45

ONE YEAR AGO TODAY...

...I received this simple email and a picture from CBG who was responding to one I'd sent her. I was telling her about the Evanescence concert I'd seen the night before, the one I had invited her to see. Trouble was, she was in Atlanta and she thought my invite did not include paying for the flight down and back. Damn those email miscommunications! Well, I'd get another chance 11 days later. Details before, during, and after to come.

From:***@aol.com
To: t.moser@att.net
Date: Tue, 27 Jul 2004
I started writing an awesome email and then something happened and half of it got deleted. Now I am being summoned to dinner. But I am FLOORED!

In suspense?

me

BOOK INTRO

I’m sure you’ve been curious. I guess I’ve waited long enough. Here’s how it all began…

PROLOGUE
Success is measured not so much by the position reached in life as by the obstacles overcome.
Sign at Ft. Lauderdale-Hollywood, Florida airport, February 2004.


May 30, 1996. It was 9:30 p.m. The images are as clear today as they were nine years ago. I heard the ambulance sirens finally approaching. For the past 30 minutes, I had been barely able to breathe. Barely conscious, I remember hearing my wife, who was seven months pregnant at that time, calling 911. I remember the paramedics rushing in and asking me a bunch of questions. I could barely breathe and couldn’t gather enough air to answer them. So my wife answered them for me. I remember being strapped onto a gurney and wheeled out of my house and into the ambulance. I remember seeing the flashing red lights reflecting off the neighbors’ houses and imagined what they must be thinking. For the first time, thoughts of dying crossed my mind as we sped away. The ride seemed to take an hour although, in reality, it was no more than 15 minutes. All I wanted to do was to be able to breathe. One additional thought crossed my delirious mind as we sped toward the hospital. If I ever make it through this ordeal, I was never going to work for Travel Card or Corporate America again...

I guess if you define success by the above definition, then I must be more successful than the Bill Gates’ and the Donald Trumps of the world. Life deals you some pretty tough hands for whatever reason. And the tough hands always seem to come in bunches which makes it even more difficult to cope. And so, like most everyone else, I wonder, Why me?

Everyone plays the hand they're dealt,
And learns to walk through life themselves.
Not everything in life is handed on a plate…

Lyrics by Staind, from the song, How About You?

I’ve far too often thought about that question, Why me? Why did I have to go through hell and back a million times? There has to be a good reason for all this. Remember this line from a famous movie?

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it!”

Sound familiar? There he was, standing there sopping wet wearing only a towel with his hair pointing straight up and looking directly at us. You got it. It was indeed Matthew Broderick as Ferris Bueller. Ferris was right. He convinced me that I, a rank amateur, had to write this autobiographical account of my ‘success’ as I chased The American Dream.

So I began writing. I wrote for several reasons. Without giving too much of the story away, I initially thought that the actions, places, and events that happened to me in the workplace could be easily related to, laughed at, and appreciated by most anyone reading this book. Second, I wanted to document the actions and behaviors of some of my perfectly awful bosses throughout these years. I wanted all their behaviors and actions known to everyone so that maybe they would think twice about their actions next time and try to improve themselves as people, leaders, and managers. Third, and maybe most importantly, writing about all this stuff was how I coped with each unbelievable event. It’s a tale of scandal, fraud, politics, love, romance, heartbreak, misery, and hope all wrapped up into one.

I came up with the title in the early stages of the book. The funny thing was, I didn’t truly figure out what it meant until the end of the book. I initially thought to myself, Man what does it take to find a great job doing something you truly love, with great people, decent pay, decent hours, and a decent organization? So few people have this in this world. Oh sure you have your actors, athletes, singers, rock ‘n roll bands that truly have the world by the balls. I came across an article in Links Magazine in which they were doing a Q&A with Tiger Woods. Tiger was asked if he ever got tired of being himself and being in the limelight all the time. Tiger’s response? He said, “Actually, I don’t because I enjoy what I do. I love getting up and going to work every day. Not many people can say that.” Perfectly stated, Tiger. When I read that I thought, THAT has to be the American Dream. How do you find such a job? Thus, a title was born. And I have spent the last nine years Chasing the American Dream, or at least that’s what I thought I was doing…

MISSING

I hate that blood rush feeling you get when you read about the death of someone you related to at some point in your life. A death in the family or the loss of a close friend is almost indescribable. I’ve had my share of those, and they’re the worst. But even the celebrity-type deaths leave me feeling empty knowing that a part of what I grew up with is no longer with me.

This past week, there were four deaths that struck me and gave me that uneasy feeling. First it was James Doohan whose name may not be too familiar, but his TV character sure is. Sure, he was the well-known “Scotty” from Star Trek. I’m a big fan of the original series. Scotty wasn’t necessarily a big star, but he sure had some classic moments. The classic line, “Beam me up Scotty,” has become part of our culture.

Then there were a couple lesser-known musicians we lost. Long John Baldry probably isn’t a household name, but British blues performer was a big influence in the careers of Mick Jagger, Rod Stewart, and Elton John just to name a few. In fact, did you know that Elton (real name Reginald Kenneth Dwight) took his last name ‘John’ in honor of Long John Baldry? Neat, huh?

Ever hear of Eugene Record? Didn’t think so. He was the lead singer for a 70s group from Chicago called the Chi-Lites. Chi=Chicago. Get it? Who could forget classic songs like, “Have You Seen Her” and “Oh Girl?” These were great songs I grew up with.

And then there was Andrew Desidoro. “Who,” you ask? I found out about his death yesterday when I went to my neighborhood Starbuck’s to get my Iced Venti unsweetened Iced Coffee. Andrew was the manager there. He looked like Wilfred Brimley. He was a sweet old guy who was always pleasant to me and even called me “young man” every time he saw me. This one was a real shocker; I just saw him a few days ago.

Damn, I feel empty; I miss these people. The good news is that there are plenty of memories that will remind me of the little joys they provided me. I’ll smile when I hear Elton, Rod, the Chi-Lites, or Mick and the boys, and I’ll smile even bigger when I walk into my Starbuck’s and imagine hearing the words, “Iced coffee today, young man?”

DEAR STEPHANIE,

Photo courtesy of Christopher Smith for The New York Times

Who can turn the world on with her smile?
Who can take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile?
Well it's you girl, and you should know it.
With each glance and every little movement, you show it.

Love is all around, no need to waste it.
You can have the town, why don't you take it?
You're gonna make it after all.
You're gonna make it after all.

Lyrics by Paul Williams for the Mary Tyler Moore Show.

NYNY,

Soon after I “met” you online this past October, I told my friends and family that you were going to be the next big thing. I never had a doubt. Stephanie, simply put, I’m so proud and happy for you. Jeez Louise, girl! Book deals, sitcoms, The New York Times, where will it end? So is it gonna be Leno or Letterman? Thanks for befriending me, trusting me, and bringing me along for the ride. Tell NBC you have a theme song in mind for your new show.

Luv,
Plantation

ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST

That’s right, folks. You now have one less thing to rag on me about. I got a new job. ”El Flaco” starts a new chapter on August 1st. As I fly over, I leave behind the above cuckoos, past and present, who have made my job most interesting.

WHAT WOULD YOU SAY?

Photos courtesy of Thomas Cordy - Palm Beach Post

“Yes,” of course, if your friend offered you a free Dave Matthews Band concert ticket. I can’t put my finger on it, but for some reason, I’ve never been a big fan. I loved his breakout his, “What Would You Say,” and some hit in between, but he’s never grabbed me. I dunno, I think he got too popular, too fast. Such is not the case for my friend, JDN. He’s seen the DMB 10 times and said he’d clue me in on all the songs.

Hmm. It’s been quite a number of years since I’ve been in that environment. The outdoor concert where you sit on beach chairs high on a hill in a laid back atmosphere. I don’t think I’ve seen so much beer and pot consumed since I saw The Allman Brothers Band in an outdoor concert back in 1988. This occasion was at the Sound Advice Amphitheater in West Palm Beach. The set-up was pretty basic. There was a huge stage with four large video screens. Marc Broussard opened, and his jazzy, bluesy set was pretty much ignored. I’d seen Marc open for Gavin DeGraw last August. My only disappointment was that he failed to play is hit, “Where You Are.” Dave came on stage around 8:20 p.m. He showed up in a pair of jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a smile on his face.

Before I knew it, I was in the middle of 20,000 screaming, dancing, song-singing DMB fans. Dave opened with “One Sweet World” and “Crash.” He sang many new songs off his new CD “Stand Up.” He sang staples such as “Don’t Drink the Water, Warehouse, Where Are You Going, and Two Step” (thanks JDN for the assist). I felt a bit like a tourist in a foreign country. They knew all the songs and all the words. I think I recognized one or two songs at most. I hadn’t realized what a loyal following the DMB had, and they were all loving it. Happy couples danced, kissed, and hugged to the music. Shirtless guys in backwards hats, girls in low-rider jeans showing off their g-strings and thongs, and middle-aged pot-smoking David Crosby look-alikes dominated the crowd. The people watching was priceless.

As for the music, I guess the non-fan like me would say the songs sounded pretty similar. I’m still not a big fan, but I certainly respect their music and the great show they put on. Amazingly, Dave played for over two-and-a-half hours. I think I could best describe it as a jam session. Some of the songs jammed on for 30 minutes. Other than, “thank you very, very much,” Dave didn’t have much else to say to the crowd. But all in all, the concert was a sensational value for a $40 ticket. Four hours of live music, a beautiful night, and plenty of entertaining people to observe. Who could ask for more? Well, I guess a date would have been nice.

HERO

Photo courtesy of AP

My childhood hero retired from major championship golf today. I've been following Jack William Nicklaus for 35 years now. I've admired his skills, his presence, his personality, and his sportsmanship. I remember sneaking under the ropes and grabbing his tee after he'd walked off. Man, I thought that was the greatest.

I have one other up-close Jack moment. My friend and I were in the PGA National parking lot and he said to me, "look at that guy over there." Sure enough it was Jack. He rode by us and we told him to play well. But as we looked up at the sky, it was pitch black and about to pour. I told my friend, "don't fear, it won't rain on Jack's parade." Somehow, it didn't rain. The clouds moved on and the sun came out just for Jack.

Jack old friend, I'm going to miss you. Golf just won't be the same without you. Best of luck, Golden Bear.

CLOWNS TO THE LEFT OF ME, JOKERS TO THE RIGHT

More thoughts from 35,000 feet…

Don’t you normally find that the strangest and/or dumbest people are always aboard your plane? Are the 150 or so people on board truly representative of Americans or is my luck extremely bad? Before I plugged in and watched Fever Pitch, here’s what I observed:

I’m a window seat person. I sacrifice the extra legroom for a nice view and a place to lean my head when I sleep. As I’m boarding, I always look far down the rows to see if there is already someone in my row that I’m going to have to climb over. What a delight it is to see that empty row. Such was not the case this time. I got to row 21 and not only were there two guys already there, but one of them was in my window seat 21-A. Normally, the person gives you the head nod like, “you gotta get in here?” But I didn’t get the nod. So I did a quick check of the little diagram on the overhead compartment. Yes, A = window. I must have had a funny look on my face because 21-B asked me if he and his pal were in the right seats? Rather than create a whole big scene, I just said they were fine. So I plopped into 21-C and wondered why the hell two grown men couldn’t understand the little seating map? Oh, forgot to mention the fact that 21-B had the worst B/O and stunk like hell. Tell me, how do people NOT notice they smell so badly?

Then there was a commotion going on with 15-B. It seems he was in the wrong seat and should have been in 15-E which is across the aisle. So the flight attendant asks 15-E for his boarding pass. She looks at it and announces that it’s the same name as 15-E. Will the real Mr. Rodriguez please stand up? 15-B swears he’s not Rodriguez but Ruber. So tell me, 15-B, how do you *not* look at your boarding pass and notice that the wrong name is on there??? And how does the guy get through security with the wrong name? Do these security guys really look at one’s ID or do they go through the motions? The flight attendant panics and tells Ruber to get off the plane. Ruber refuses and we now have ourselves a situation. Several radio calls to security and airline personnel pave the way and, lo and behold, Ruber was able to prove he was Ruber. He stood up and apologized for making us late.

Then we have 20-D (aisle). He must have taken sleeping pills because he was dead as a doornail in his chair. 20-F (window) had to go potty so she repeatedly says, “excuse me, excuse me.” Nothing. 20-D was out cold. She stood there for a good five minutes saying excuse me. Even 21-D tried to awaken 20-D but to no avail. 20-D finally hit the flight attendant button. The flight attendant came and tried the ‘excuse me’ routine, but that still didn’t work. She finally pushed the hell out of him and woke him up. It was definitely a bad hair day for 20-D. Saying he had bed head is a total understatement. He wasn’t embarrassed at all, but poor 20-D was for having stood there being totally ignored.

Aww. Poor 17-C. The old man waited forever to get to the lavatory. On his way back to his seat, I noticed he had an extra passenger attached to him. He was dragging a streamer of toilet paper underneath his shoe and obviously had no clue. I tried hard not to laugh, but after all I just witnessed, I couldn’t help it.

All this within the first 30 minutes of the flight. So tell me, is it my luck or is the norm?

EYE SPY

With Hurricane Dennis lurking in the gulf, I wondered how we were going to get around it as I flew from Houston to Ft. Lauderdale? Our pilot answered the question when he said to look out the window. There on the left was the eye of the hurricane and the outer rain bands. It was an eerie sight knowing there was so much chaos going on below us while we flew smoothly above the storm. I love my new digital camera. I suck as a photographer, but I love being able to instantly capture these images.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANDY!

You’re growing up fast; you’ve gotten so tall.
You’re such a good boy, the best son of all.
You are so talented at whatever you do,
I’m here to tell you how proud I am of you.

You are such a smart boy, you read and write so well.
I looked at your homework; you’re great at math,too. I can tell.
Football, baseball, tennis, and basketball.
Take it from daddy; you’re good at them all.

I had such a good time on our little vacation.
I laugh when you call me Jerry, or George, or even Plantation.
I’m so glad we get to visit each March and every June.
Happy Birthday! I love you! I’ll see you real soon.

SEPARATED AT BIRTH?

At Starbuck's today, the barista asked me if anyone had told me that I looked like Dana Carvey? I laughed and said, "no," and that I couldn't really picture it. She said not only did I look like him, but I sounded like him, too. I politely thanked her for the compliment.

I think she had a bit too much caramel in her Macchiato or something, don't you?

GRANOLAGATE

Honestly, sometimes I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I wish people would have enough common sense, think outside the box once in a while, and really think about whether or not rules or policies actually make sense. For the past eight days, Andy and I have been eating breakfast at a Western-themed resort restaurant. We’ve gotten to know “Clementine,” our server, very well. And she’s gotten to know us very well, too.

She knows Andy orders pancakes, sausage, and fruit. And she knows I order a plate of fresh pineapple with dry low-fat granola. A couple of days ago, she asked me how the granola was? I told her that it was really good and that I ate it often back home in Florida. She told me she’d try it, but the best granola she ever had was her grandmother’s homemade granola. When she described the granola, it sounded really good. I asked her if she could bring me in a sample, and she happily agreed.

The next day, Clementine forgot the granola and felt horrible about it. I told her not to worry; she promised she’d not forget it again. So this morning I anticipated tasting the yummy granola. Clementine greeted us not with a happy smile, but with a face wretched in disappointment. “You’re gonna kill me, but I didn’t forget it,“ she said. She told me that she indeed brought in her grandma’s granola for me, but her manager wouldn’t let her give it to me. I listened incredulously to the rest of the story. It seemed her manager deemed the granola as a health code violation because hotel management couldn’t guarantee the quality of it and that the hotel would be liable if I got sick. Plus, if other guests saw I got the granola, they might want some too and that wouldn’t be fair to them.

I shook my head in disbelief. I couldn’t believe this manager would not let Clementine give me the granola. I told Clementine to go get her manager, and I would try to see if I could talk some sense into her. A few minutes later “Miss Manager” showed up. “Can I help you?” She knew what I wanted, but I had to explain the whole story to her anyway. I explained to her that I knew all about health code rules having owned my own restaurant. I told her I’d be happy to sign a liability waiver for the hotel and for the health department, and that I really couldn’t see the other guests getting upset over a little granola.

Wow, she told me she’d never come across anything like this, and that she’d have to call her Vice President. I’m thinking, Vice President? You have to call your VP over a little granola? You can’t make a common sense decision yourself? Good grief. Our food arrived and I ate my low-fat granola. Miss Manager showed up while we were halfway through, and apologized to me for not allowing me to have the granola. It seemed the VP agreed with her on the hotel liability and health code violations, and that my signing a waiver wouldn’t truly eliminate the hotel liability. What???

And then things got stranger. Another server showed up and brought me the check. I asked where Clementine was and the new girl said, “she was busy in the back somewhere.” What a line of BS. We waited around for another 15 minutes, but no sign of Clementine anywhere. Jeez, I wondered if this stupid granola got the girl fired? I honestly don’t know at the moment, but I’m going to find out. Shit like this irks me to no end. Miss Manager has no common sense to let a simple thing like this go, then she can’t make a decision on her own, and now she fires the employee over granola? I hope for her sake she didn’t fire Clementine because I’m about to make her life really miserable if she did. More to come.

HOT HOT HEAT

Fooled ya. Nope, this isn’t a music post. It’s not about *those* guys up there. You see, I’m roasting here in what’s known as The Valley of the Sun. It was 112 here today. One hundred and twelve. Can you fathom that? How about it’s 9:30 p.m. right now and it’s still 97 degrees? Whew!

Except for a five-year stint in the Northeast, I’ve lived my life in the heat. Most of it was/is spent in the hot and humid heat of Florida. But I spent two years in Phoenix, as you know. People have often asked me this question, “which is worse, the Florida heat or the Arizona heat?” I’ve thought long and hard about the question. I can explain it this way.



See my Starbuck’s friend here? When I order my Iced Venti Iced Coffee in Florida, by the time I get to the car, my friend here is dripping with condensation. It’s so bad, I have to wrap a napkin around it to keep from dropping the slippery thing. That’s in 90% humidity 90-degree weather. Here in Phoenix, despite the 110-degree temperatures, I don’t need the napkin because my Starbuck’s cup doesn’t sweat. A dry heat, some would say. Here’s another interesting, albeit it TMI, fact. In Florida, I’m running to the bathroom, shortly after finishing one of those Venti Iced Coffee. Coffee has a tendency to do that to me. But in Phoenix, I noticed that even after two Venti Iced Coffees, there is no urge to run to the bathroom. Why? Because the heat amazingly zaps all the liquid from you and dehydrates you.

A lot of people have said to me that the Arizona heat isn’t so bad because, “it’s a dry heat.” I gotta tell ya folks, that dry heat theory holds no water (no pun intended. Well, maybe it is intended). True, the combined heat and humidity in Florida, or the so-called heat index makes it *feel* like 112, but the actual 112 is dangerously hotter. If you don’t drink water consistently here, you can develop heat stroke without even knowing about it. It almost happened to me today. Heck, Andy and I were just playing putt-putt and, yes, we were drinking water. But when we were done, I realized my head was hurting like someone clocked me with one of Wile. E. Coyote’s anvils. It took me a good 30 minutes to regain normalcy. Andy was fine, go figure (yes Andy’s mom, we were drinking water and used sun screen).

So the answer to the ‘which is worse’ question is easily the Arizona heat. It’s like sticking your head in an oven, and it is extremely dangerous to your health. The Florida heat = uncomfortable. Arizona heat = hazardous and extreme. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go out and grab another Venti Iced Coffee.

SAM I AM

…my thoughts from 35,000 feet high above Texas somewhere…

She was sitting next to me on the plane, and I noticed she was reading. I saw the book’s title and couldn’t help but smile. It was "Brave New World" by Aldous Huxley. I could only think of one thing, naturally…

I asked her how the book was and whether she was reading it for school or for pleasure. She told me she enjoyed the classics and was just reading it for pleasure. I asked her if she ever saw Garden State? Much to my surprise, she hadn’t. She’d heard of it though. I told her she simply must rent it. I told her there was a scene involving her book, but I didn’t want to spoil it for her so she’d just have to rent it and see for herself. I also told her the music soundtrack was awesome, too.

Then an idea hit me. I asked her what kind of music she liked. She gave me a typical “all kinds” response. So I asked her if she’d ever heard of The Shins? She said no. I told her to bear with me because I was going to act out one of the scenes from Garden State. I handed her my iPod and headphones and told her, “You gotta hear this one song, it'll change your life I swear.”

I watched her face like Samantha watched Andrew Largeman’s face as he listened to The Shin’s, "New Slang.” She nodded and smiled. She liked it. I told her to go ahead and listen to the other Shins songs I had on there. She liked them, too and said she was going to buy the CD *and* rent the movie.

It’s very rare that I converse with the person sitting next to me on an airplane. But it was enjoyable sharing music and talking about restaurant careers. Thanks Bridgette for letting me re-enact one of my all-time favorite movie moments.

BITS & BYTES

…my thoughts from 35,000 feet high above Texas somewhere…

I’ve ‘met’ a lot of people as a result of this blog. Some of you out there will never like me or this blog, and that’s OK. But for the overwhelming majority of you, I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful your friendships have become. I’ve gotten to know some of you really well and would deem our relationships as close, lasting friendships.

And over the course of the past eight months, there are a select few of you who have found a place in my heart. I never imagined this could have happened, but it has. A simple blog comment usually starts the wheels in motion. Emails, IMs, phone calls, and the next thing you know, it seems I’m in love. Is it just me or has it happened to any of you? We think we’re in love. But are we really? One of my dear readers (choosing to remain anonymous) explained these online relationships to me. My friend explained to me that despite what I may feel or what the other person may feel, the relationship is merely words. Mere bits and bytes of a keyboard until a person-to-person meeting takes place.

Is she right? Is that all these online, long distance relationships are? I don’t know. Believe it or not, despite the online aspect, I’ve experienced most of the usual physical and mental emotions of a true, normal relationship, if there is such a thing. Even the sex can be amazing. Yeah, you heard me right. My problem, as you’ve read before, is that I tend to rush things. I can be impatient because I really want to validate my/our feelings. Is there really something there or was it there because of the safety of thousands of miles between us?

Unfortunately, I’ve never gotten the chance to meet anyone who I’ve had feelings for. And it hasn’t been my choice, of course. Reality setting in? Cold feet? Other priorities? Who knows? It’s always *something.* I think what turns me off the most, slaps me in the face, and causes me to pull away, is the fact that I’m supposedly “The Guy.” “Mr. Right.” Yet, some reason, any excuse gets in the way and we never meet.

I know this sounds like a broken record so far, but I think my friend may be right after all. Despite all the love, may it *is* just an unfinished script until physicality takes place. I didn’t believe my friend at first, but I’m gravitating toward the bits and bytes theory.

There is so much going on in my head now. What’s the old cliché, “Confusion reigns supreme?” I’m being tugged in many different directions and emotions. My biggest fear is that someone will end up getting hurt. I thought all these bits and bytes were going to be translated to validation and clarity. And we all know there’s only one way for that to happen. But now, I’m not so sure it’s gonna happen. Or maybe it will happen with someone or somewhere when I least expect it? Should be an interesting summer to say the least…