Friday, April 05, 2002
All by myself.

I'm home at the mom's house, though not necessarily just for the usual laundry / free meal. My mom apparently bought some new furniture, so she needed somebody home to around when the store delivers in the house... and guess who gets to put it together to... thank you, part-time job at Dania, circa 1998.

The house is quiet except for the dull sound of the TV. I've been up since 8:00AM, which is strange since normally, the only day of the week I'm up that early is the Lord's day.

Part of it is probably still my post-finals recovery, the majority of these wacky sleeping patterns has more to do with how much my allergies have been acting up lately. I'm pretty stubborn about such things, so it takes me awhile to medicate myself and pop some pills. Of course, most of my pills are of the nocturnal variety, so pretty much, within a couple of hours, my mind treads off to realm of the unconscious. Waking up at odd hours usually leaves me in just the company of one, myself. Unlike most people, I find solitude refreshing, but I can see how it could drive a man insane. Having silence to oneself leads to a lot more reflection, especially conversations with God and conscience. That might explain why so many men leave prison either better men or even more wacked out... arguing against yourself and your Creator always seems to lead to extreme results.

For me, I treasure the times I can spend with myself. Sadly and very often , many of the people in my life, friends and family included, require me to expend large amounts of energy in order for me to tolerate their behavior. I don't despise them (quite the opposite actually), but I admit, it is difficult at times to see beyond their faults, especially after years of knowing them, they have neither matured nor made a sincere attempt to change for the better. Still, I guess there are a select few people who I could spend days on end with and not tire of them, because I enjoy their company and I find my relationship with them is centered on a mutuality and respect that the others lack.

Speaking of respect, kendo has been on mind lately, especially now that I have all this spare time. I got an e-mail from my old sensei at Renton just yesterday, asking me how I've been and when I come back to the dojo. Lots of my good friends now go to practice at Renton, even some of the friends I made at the UW Kendo Club before. I really want to get back to practicing, but sadly, the nature of my car-less life once again interferes with my wishes. There's no easy way to lug my practice gear on some bus... which is my mother's constant reply whenever I mention the situation... but that's another long lasting gripe. =(


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in?scrip?tion (n-skrip-shun)n.
1. The act or an instance of inscribing.
2. Something, such as the wording on a coin, medal, monument, or seal, that is inscribed.
3. A short, signed message in a book or on a photograph given as a gift.
4. The usually informal dedication of an artistic work.
5. Jeremiah 31:33

the facts.
name. Gar AKA "that Chinese guy" "Sleepy.McSleeping"
ethnicity/nationality. Chinese/American, 4th gen.
location. Sea-Town, WA, USA Kawanishi, JAPAN
occupation. less-cynical poor grad student
age. younger than you think, older than you know



UnseenGC @ AIM
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