Looks like today is another clean-up day. I’m getting rid of about half the books I own. (I keep telling myself, “It’s not about collecting books and simply keeping them. It’s about keeping the books I will—not can—use.”) I’ve also deleted all the games off my computer and will sell them to EBX next month (in exchange for Street Fighter Alpha 3 for the Play Station.) In other words, no more PC games and no more sci-fi trade paperbacks (among other books). I also spent some time cleaning out my computer. I deleted a bunch of the pics and sound clips that I’ve been storing over the past year. You know, like the Buffy, Gillian Anderson and Bruce Campbell files. My fetish for sci-fi ends with watching the t.v. show or movie. No more “extra” stuff. I like to watch The X-Files and Buffy, but that’s it. All I do now is watch them (and tape them?).

Ok, so my brother says to me today, “Everyone thinks you should get out more.” Yeah, so do I. But is it really any of their business? Geez. Of course they’d think so. That’s they way they live, so they think I should live the same way. I, on the other hand, think they should stay in more. But I don’t go and tell them that, because I know I’m only seeing the situation from one side of the coin—my side. Now, I want to get out more, so I’m not going to hold their sentiment against them. But if I wanted to be a total recluse like Emily Dickinson, I could very well argue that position to perfection.

When I was cleaning out my bookshelf, I ran across a notebook with these lines written in it. I threw out the notebook, but wanted to keep these lines:

Let the world become ugly and untempting.

The Apocalypse: Not the end, or even the beginning of the end. It is the end of the beginning.

I just went through a whole ordeal with my uncle and my father. They both seem to be against me in their own ways (and I’m just waiting for Jamie to become angry with me about something—then I’ll be getting it from all sides!), but I don’t want to talk about all that trouble now. I’d rather remark on my identification with a certain Diet Coke commercial I was watching last night. There was this commercial last night with an attractive young blonde woman trying-out for one of those video-dating programs. I never really paid much attention to what the message of the commercial was before, because I couldn’t stop thinking of how awesome the girl was (I swear, she is the absolute most beautiful woman in the world!). But the message was that this girl didn’t have a man. Rather, she had this life of freedom, walks on the beach with her dog, and countless video nights by herself. (Yeah, like me. Except for the dog part.) The interviewer remarks, “Sounds like you have a great life.” To which, the goddess takes a sip of soda and realizes that she really does have a good life and really doesn’t need a man to fulfill her. “Thank you,” she says, then leaves. Of course, I put myself in her shoes and started thinking. Although I realize that “it is not good for man to be alone,” I wonder if my life right now isn’t some kind of wonderful. Do I really want a girl to cuddle with and to love? (Yes.) Do I really want to have the financial burden of going out to movies and restaurants in order to entertain a girlfriend? (Yes.) Maybe I’d be better off without one. (No way.) Maybe all this wanting and wanting a girl is really just a shot in the foot. (Are you insane?) Maybe not, but it doesn’t hurt to stop and think about it for a while. Although I certainly think that a girlfriend would make my life, in many ways, better, it would be absurd to think that my life, now, completely sucks. How many guys in relationships wished they were in my shoes?

Today is Valentine’s Day. I wouldn’t have noticed if my mother hadn’t exclaimed, “Happy Valentine’s Day” when she called this afternoon. It was simply another boring Sunday. I woke up at noon, watched a T.V. movie, then went out for groceries. It was at the grocery store, however, that my Valentine’s Day story takes place. I thought the store would be practically empty, because of Valentine’s and the fact that it was about 8 o’clock in the evening, but there were several couples around and a few teenage boys rushing to get last-minute flowers. I zipped through the aisles and fetched what I needed and quickly headed for the checkout counter. I was in a bit of a rush, because I didn’t want to miss the special episode of The X-Files. As is always my custom, I picked the lane with the cutest clerk. The girl who would soon be zapping my snack foods and bagging my toiletries was young—maybe 21—and, I would guess, partly or wholly Spanish. Even though she wasn’t as attractive up-close as I had figured while browsing the checkout lines, she was still definitely attractive. Of course, up-close I also discovered that she was wearing a ring on “the” finger. My mind began to wander as she began to scan. Since there was nothing even remotely possible between us, I started thinking about the fastest route home. That’s when she asked me how my Valentine’s Day had been. Well, at first, I couldn’t hear what she said. She was very soft-spoken and sort of mumbled out the words. Instantly, I realized that I was exactly the same and how I was now perceiving her was exactly how others perceive me. I don’t know why she would seem so timid, but I decided to respond to her in a very bold way. I spoke clearly and loud and said, “Excuse me?” She asked how my day had been again, and I responded, “Well, I don’t have anyone to share it with, so I guess it’s been pretty bad.” To this, she smiled and maybe said, “Oh no!” I continued, “How was yours? Have you been working all day?” She had started to say something before I had completed my sentence—I have no idea what. She nodded and echoed that she had been working all day. I was about to mention her ring and how she at least had someone to share the day with—either after work or some other time. But then she said something that I didn’t quite know how to respond to. “You probably say that to everyone, but you probably do have someone,” she said—or rather mumbled, maybe not even in a complete sentence as I have attempted to make sense of it. I was still trying to think of something to say about her ring, and my words just got all jammed up in my throat. “I wish,” I said, though I wished I had found something to say that would flatter her. Flattery. That was what she had just done to me, and I wanted to return the favor. But I couldn’t. My checkout had ended, there was a bag lady and a customer behind me that were listening to this conversation I was having with the clerk, and I just froze. I couldn’t believe I had just been complimented. By an attractive young girl, even! As I rolled my cart out the door, I realized that, instead of this being another time where I handed out a kind word or a compliment to a complete stranger, this was one time someone did it to me. Yes, I wish I could have said something to her that would have made her feel great, but I wasn’t all that disappointed to bask in moment. It was definitely a moment to jot down in my journal. It was certainly one of those moments that are few and far between. Such a compliment will probably never grace my ears for another year or so. I’ve spent so much time convincing myself that I am one ugly duckling—that I’m overweight and repulsive to every attractive girl on this earth. Maybe that’s true and this girl was just a freak. Maybe she just said what she said to be nice—her way of making losers like me, who find themselves grocery shopping on Valentine’s Night, feel good about ourselves. Maybe she held the same conversation with 10 other single guys throughout the course of the day. Maybe. But it still felt good to me when she said it. And even though I don’t have a girl to share this evening (or any evening, for that matter) with, I still go to bed tonight in good spirits. Maybe if I asserted myself a little more and stopped feeling sorry for myself, I’d have that special someone to buy a Valentine’s Day card for. Maybe I wouldn’t even be considering the possibility of that right now, if it hadn’t been for that grocery store checkout girl with the thin ring and the soft, timid voice. Hey, it was a meaningful day after all.

Last night I dreamt I was in school. High school, I think. There was this boxing event in the gym. I believe Mike Tyson was supposed to fight. I was pretty much roaming around backstage. I noticed Sixpence None the Richer in one of the dressing rooms. I peeked in and said hello. Chris B. was sitting with them, but I didn’t really look his way. As I walk away, I think that I should have said hello to him specifically, but continue walking. I eventually find myself in a classroom (I don’t know what class). There are lots of students I don’t recognize, but there’s one I do. It’s Jennifer H. from an old GMU English class I used to have. I sit across from her, but act like I don’t know her. She sees me, smiles, and says, “Hey, Michael. Remember me?” Of course I do. I think we make some small talk for a while. She acts really friendly with me—playing footsie and laying her head on my shoulder. We’re apparently supposed to be working on some sort of individual project or report. Jennifer tells me about hers, but I don’t remember what it was. Then the teacher made an announcement about mine and handed it to me. I am working on some sort of graph that helps you translate Chinese characters into English. I have a really nice looking graph (a Quark design?), and everybody starts wooing and admiring my project. The teacher explains to the class what the project is, then leaves the room. One classmate objects to my project and says that what I’m doing is wrong—that we should leave languages in their pure form and not try to translate it. Although I know the idea is ludicrous, I don’t try to defend my work. The other students are arguing my case, but I tell the one who objected that I understand his position. Anyway, I’m not really concerned about my project. I’m more concerned with hitting it off with Jennifer. I lay my head on her shoulder, and she places her cheek against mine. The feel of her soft skin against my face is complete bliss. It feels like the happiest moment of my life. I wake up, but amazingly not on a down note. I didn’t want more from Jennifer. It’s not like I woke up unsatisfied. I just wanted to hug her or cuddle or whatever. That moment with our cheeks together was the climax. That’s what I want. I want someone whose shoulder I can lay my head on. I mean, Jennifer isn’t glamorous or sexy. She’s just plain and naturally beautiful. But I would be completely happy with living the rest of my life with her and sharing such innocent, yet intimate, moments as this with her.

I’ve scratched all my adolescent quirks. No more comics. No more Buffy posters. No more GMU Lacrosse. No more thoughts of girlies and pursuing those who have no interest in me. My walls are bare. I feel renewed. I want to be an adult. I want to be a writer. I want to own my own business. I want to be taken seriously. I will not be complacent. I will exercise and lose weight. I will finish my jobs quickly and efficiently. I will write and will work and I will succeed. Through God who strengthens me. When I was a child, I spoke like a child and I acted like a child. But now that I am a man, I have put away childish things. God, I want a life. Renew me. I want a new, successful life with God as my focus. If I put Him first, everything shall be added to me.