Sometimes it's nice just to cuddle and know that there is someone else in the world who genuinely values your existence.

...Wait...I DON'T know what that's like. I should probably settle on a different sensation...

One of the best moments I experience is the first sip of a new can or bottle of soda. In that instant, the bubbles are at a maximum. The taste of sweetness hasn't been dulled by previous gulps. There's a delightfully acrid quality in the wash of soda (or DDP in my case) that flows through my mouth. I wish every drink could be just as good as that first one.

I'll admit that my affair with soda has probably risen to an addiction. My teeth probably feel the worst of the effects. I've realized that I will likely need to have significant dental work done in the future (which is why I will need to find an employer that offers a comprehensive dental benefit). But, I can't resist. There's something poetically perfect in the blend of joyful effervescence, stinging acidity, and obvious sweetness that is the essence of the soft drink.

For me, soday is virtually the only way I take in caffeine. I like chocolate, but am far from a chocoholic. I drink tea only occasionally. And, I never really got into the coffee scene. I like the way coffee smells, but it tastes different when that umber liquid seeps across my tongue. Plus, coffee breath is the worst...I might as well eat poo. Instead, I knock back a couple liters of cool and refreshing soda.

I expect that coffee and tea drinkers would have a different experience. They risk a burn on their first sip. Rather than a full-on embrace of the liquidy goodness before them, tea/coffee drinkers must be more prudent and tenative as they initially sample their beverage. To do otherwise may absolutely impair their capacity to taste. For me, tea and coffee seem like an unnecessarily risky venture...especially on the scale that I drink.

So, as I'm now halfway through my can of DDP, I feel a slight disappointment with each sip. The memory of how alive my mouth felt after I opened the can is burned into the soft parts of my gums, tongue, and inner cheek. The good news is that I can remember it later or tomorrow when I start the process again.

There's a lot to be said about a first experience--even the first part of a recurring experience. They always command a disproportionately intense reaction. On the first try, what's good seems better, what's bad seems worse. What has mixed effects is flat out confusing. I guess that's the real advantage of time--the ability to work out how we really feel about something, or else recapture that first moment.

How do you get caffeine? Do you have a favorite beverage moment?

I really do enjoy Zynga's free version of Words with Friends. However, I'm frequently frustrated when I play people I know. Because I love words so much, there's an expectation on the part of the people I know that I will totes pwn at the game. BUT! Keep in mind, like any other game, WWF is about points, not "words," per se; winning is tied more closely to one's ability to see where words fit and how many points you can get per play.

When I play against people I know, I try to anticipate their moves using what I know about those people. Some people, I think, are limited by the type of words they'll play. For example, my grandmother won't play obscenities or words with a sexual nature...I, however, had no qualms playing "libido" when I played her. (Note, however, that she beat me...soundly.) Also, another friend (I think) is sneaky and underhanded IRL, so I expect that she'll be trying to cut off whatever good plays I might have before I can play them...more so than a usual opponent.

It's mildly absurd the amount of competitive effort I put into trying to vanquish the people I know. I don't consider myself a competitive person...something about WWF though just gets me. It's a drive I don't understand.

Lately, I've been appreciating the pleasure of playing randos. The process is much simpler. I assume that my opponent is not someone I know. More importantly, I assume that the player will not reveal any information in the way that he or she plays. All I know about the other playa' is what is revealed in the screen name (that one's for you RatherBFishin62). There is no chatting. It's simply getting down to business: the reveling in the wordy wonder that is WWF. C'est charmant.

For me, "Words with Strangers," is much more relaxing, perhaps because it eliminates the embarrassment of face-to-face encounters after a shameful loss. Plus, for the reasons outlined above, it's simpler: there's no complicated analysis. I don't waste my time anticipating other's anticipation. I can just focus on DOMINATING. Importantly, I have won every game I've played against a random opponent. My record against people I know is far less impressive. Remember: I got beat by my GRANDMOTHER. I still think she plays dirty, though...

Sigh...I'm realizing that this is the most blog-worthy thing that happened over Spring break--apart from meeting my niece of course. But she's not THAT interesting. She mostly just slobbers and soils herself. But it's cuter than when an old person does it. Side note: it turns out that it is way more complicated to change a baby girl's diaper than a baby boy's. Baby boy's can't get poop in their hoo-hahs...ANYWAY, Baby will be growing up in a bilingual household (French/English), which I find endlessly fascinating. I shall reserve that blog for later.

I softballed again last night. It was better than the night before. Although I struck out once, I got a run, a couple hits (big props to Buttons for that one!) and an out on foul ball. Whoop! So, even though we lost, I feel like I made a positive contribution to the team this time. All this came after the effective end of my week. Moot court is over. Spring Break starts tomorrow. There are two classes between now and then. So, while I had considered not going to play last night, I'm glad I did.

I played catcher most of the time. It's a fairly active position, but it doesn't need much in the way of critical athletic ability: the way we play, there are few decisive plays made at home plate. I felt confident in the position, due in part to my new glove. Before, I had been borrowing gloves between the ups/downs of the innings, which was cumbersome. But, I bought one at Walsies. In a typically Trey fashion, I left the tag on the glove so I could return it later (after a little cleaning/buffing)...I wasn't sure how much I'd be playing.

In the interest of full disclosure, I did make a significant faux pas. At one point, I miscounted the other team's outs, so after out three was made, I stopped paying attention to the runner coming in. However, out 3 was actually only out 2, so I missed an opportunity to get out 3.

The tag-on-glove and missed-out-opportunity pose a delightful contradiction in the way I handled the game. On the one hand (was my glove--hah!), I wanted to preserve an opportunity--the ability to return the glove--at the cost of (maybe) playing better. On the other, I forewent the chance to make another out because I thought the inning had ended. Ironically, the cost of preserving the "missed out," was substantially less than preserving the glove's returnability. It's a lesson in goal identification...

Perhaps the scariest realization is that I was willing to "pay" more for my (selfish) right to return the glove at the expense of my performance on a team. Additionally, I was not willing to "pay" the few extra seconds of attention needed to complete a play and potentially benefit the team I was part of. It makes me think that I'm not a team player...which is bad news.

It seems to me that "teamship" depends on a necessary give an take. While teams are complex structures, I see two fundamentals of a team organization. First, an individual must feel confident in his or her ability to contribute. Second, the other team members must accept all the other team member's efforts. Where either of these fail, the team cannot function optimally. There's either a mistrust of self or the team's mistrust of the individual.

In my case, I think the team dynamic broke down for me: 1) because I think I'm a terrible player and was afraid I would destroy the team's chance at victory; and 2) because of my strong belief in my own incompetence, I felt like any (encouraging?) word to the contrary was misguided. Consequently, it hindered my believing in the "team's" ability.

Sigh...it seems like the only thing I confidently believe is my ability to understand what others (secretly) think about me...which is the absolutely WORST place to put self confidence. For one thing it's unknowable, and there's no way to check whether that confidence is merited. For another, I'm perpetually wrought with fear that others are looking for reasons to hate me. The sad part is that as long as this mentality pervades, I'm kind of socially handicapped. Until I can get past it, I'll strike out every time.

Because of moot court, I've been having to dress up almost daily. I feel somewhat stifled...especially we're required to dress professionally. I don't mind wearing a suit, but  I don't like having to wear a dark/navy blue suit all the time. So...I've decided that someday, when I have to wear suits for real, I'm going to embark on a daily voyage of tiny rebellion. Someday...underneath my rather professional-looking suit, I will be wearing criz-azy socks between my pants and my shoes. Perhaps socks like this:

I think what I find appealing is not the socks so much as what they mean. Wearing socks that clas with the visible character of outerware creates a sense of irony--a secret drama that could be exposed at any time, but that only I know about. The hidden mystery is thrilling. And it's a tiny, invisible exhibition of "me."

That's what my aspirations have become: small-scale attempts to demonstrate who I am. But, I think that's what aspirations are supposed to be. They get you from where you are to where you want to be. The sock thing is kind of silly (full disclosure: I'm currently wearing knee-high, blue-striped socks), but it's a concrete manifestation of a more-fundamental goal.

Similarly, I've been struggling with how to be a better me. It's one of the loftiest, most nebulous objectives a person can have. But at the same time, it's so universal that it's reified and the recurring subject of many conversations.

So, while I can see a way to breathe personality a into a professional wardrobe, keeping true to the person I want to be is difficult. It's easier, I think, to keep on being the person you are; it's more difficult to live up to the standard of the person you want to be. I'm disappointed/sad/tired of not being my aspirational person. And I feel like "I" can finally do something about it. This new whisper has resulted in a slew of new, springtime resolutions.

 First, I need to rehabilitate my prayer life...it's been suffering lately, to put it mildly. From there, I think I'll be able to be kinder, less guilty, less suspicious, and--hopefully--less fearful. Getting to that point will take a while. I feel myself preparing for this thousand-mile journey: double checking my socks and taking my first...breath.

That's not entirely true. We did talk about eviction in the context of leashold estates and landlord-tenant relationships. We did not, however, go over how to evict someone from your head. What would otherwise be an arm's length relationship, even if contentious, gets complicated when the landlord--your inner person--is especially subject to the wiles of the tenant--crazy concerns about being trapped in the middle of a game, the rules of which you don't understand and which NO ONE WILL EXPLAIN TO YOU! Not even when you ask.

One of my biggest hangups in life is how to deal with the golden rule. Generally, it's a good thing. But, it can lead to unfortunate or absurd results if there are fundamental differences in the way people want to be treated. For example, if I know something is going to come to a (potentially devastating) end, I'd rather end it. If I can't do it myself, I think I'd like someone else to do it for me. I hate having to make choices, and I'm bad at it. I think I would appreciate someone "forcing my hand," so to speak. Often, I feel relieved. Alternatively, it gives me someone to blame (other than myself) for the stuff that happens to me in life. (It should be noted, though, that evading guilt/blame/fear is probably the biggest motivator in my life.)

I've come to learn, however, that many people don't feel this in way. In fact, many people feel quite the opposite. There's a widely held belief that people should be free to make serious mistakes, even if the mistakes can be avoided. I understand that any decision rooted in preventing or encouraging a particular result is necessarily a "best guess" without certainty. Still, beliefs should be acted on, right? I don't know...I'm bad at humans.

This tension--between the golden rule and what I think is probably best--makes me exhausted. It may just be part of life, but it's one I dislike. It makes me feel like I'm caught in a trap. Largely, I've set the trap for myself; and my thoughts are the cage holding me in. I think it would be nice, though, if people could just be clear about what they expect of me...or why they can't tell me what they would rather me do. Again, I dislike this tension.

I also dislike it when people pressure me to come up with nicknames for them in Xanga entries when MY BLOG DOESN'T REVOLVE AROUND THEM. (When I need a nickname to preserve your anonymity IRL, you'll get one. I promise. The nickname needs to arise organically. It can't be forced.)

I'm slowly beginning to realize that perennially dwelling on topics like this isn't always helpful. I've begun to find the point of negative marginal returns; these thoughts aren't paying their way for the precious space they occupy on my wrinkly ol' brain. It's time to get them outta there.

Yesterday was a wild ride. I don't know that I can even develop a general impression.

Yesterday was payout day for the grocery store's points reward program. It's kind of cool that I get an extra $8 just for buying stuff I ordinarily buy. That was a major bonus, especially considering that I'm just about out of food and I need to go grocery shopping anyway.

But, while all that was happening, so was the moot court competition. We had our first real round yesterday following our practice round on Monday. We did much better on Monday. The difficult part was that my partner, or "co-counsel" in the jargon of the competition, and I knew the other team. We are all part of the same entering class. My partner is especially good friends with them. Plus, the girls one the other team are just likable, it's hard to not want them to win--even if that means you lose.

An unusual challenge for me was, being a guy, I had to argue my issue against a girl who has an instantly friendly and pleasantly demeanor. Plus, she was kind of small...and I am not. Sometimes I feel like in that scenario I have to hold back on some of the flaws I would ordinarily point out in my opponent's arguments for fear of looking like a bully. I think there's a natural sympathy for people who are tiny and cute and make a good impression. I think human nature would resolve doubts between parties in favor of the party who is likable and subjected to an attack by a less-likable party...I don't know if I made a bigger deal out of the situation than I should have. It sounds kind of sexist, I know, but that subtle reality is there, even if only a little bit. Do you disagree? I'd love to here from petite, likable females on this matter.

Note: I'm not saying feeling like holding back costed us the round...I screwed up enough on my own. I was may more nervous than I should have been. I don't know why. Maybe because the other team did such a good job or I secretly wanted them to win more than me? Also, the judges were more intimidating this time. They were upper-level students. But one of them had super dark eyes that looked like they could see right through me and every weakness in my argument. The other had a tremendous voice that filled the whole room. He would speak without warning, while taking notes, and not looking up from his legal pad. It threw me off my game.

Summarily, moot court was a downer.

Later, despite my better judgment, I went to play softball...or, more aptly called: running around and swinging/chasing at a ball for an hour. I struck out. I missed an easy ground ball. It was an epic bummer. My performance was loathsome. However, the team--and I stress the team--ended up winning. But, I feel like I couldn't share in the victory since I hadn't contributed to it. Even when I didn't strike out, I didn't advance any runners on base or make it to base myself. So, I think softball was a failure for me too.

So...bonus groceries - moot court + softball victory - terrible softball performance = ? I don't know how to feel about last night.

I guess I empathize with this poor little guy. And not only because I literally don't fit in my own skin. No matter what, sometimes it feel like there's always something keeping you down...

BTW, I've decided to resolve this issue (I know...the suspense was killing you...) by only sending out text message to those who infrequently miss. The first one will be a complete sentence, followed by, "Soup?" After that, I may use specific forms of soup or pictures. Let's hope I don't have to, though!

1. Creeping myself out

A friend recently had his birthday. As a gift, I bought him a bottle of hooch but replaced the label. The new label had several inside jokes on it, plus a very obscene sketch on it. At first it was kind of funny. There was a shock value that solicited--I would think demanded--laughter. But, last night, I realized that the image still existed...and I was creeped out that I could draw such a thing. Just a few blocks away a damningly distasteful picture...and I'm creeped out...literally by my own hand. I hope that label's been thrown away by now. It's almost weirder to keep it than having drawn it.

2. Relating too strongly to characters on television

This one's easy. Sometimes I watch TV, and I realize, "Wow...I AM Trudy Weigel" or anyone from the Big Bang Theory. While it's generally a good thing to see yourself in other characters, I always feel like I relate to the weirdies. That doesn't bother me so much; but, at least once, I'd like to see one of the nerdy/unsophisticated/awkward characters...I don't know...succeed? triumph? maybe transcend...Lofty ambitions, I know. But, if you can't throw your dreams into a magic picture box, where else can you put them?

3. Eating too much and feeling like a slug afterward

I'm sure part of its stress eating. But, the coupons don't help either. Yesterday, I ate TWO meals at Burger King. Then, there was free food at school. And I still ate dinner late last night! I was disgusted and just wanted to crawl into bed and lay there feeling like a bloated grub, which I did. Then I fell asleep. Fortunately, today feels better.

So...that's where I am. I don't have anything else to add. Although...I am planning to make a cake soon. I found an excuse to try making a new kind of mousse. I hope it turns out well.

What sorts of moments make you say "mmmuuuhhhgggguuuuhhhhlll"?

Early last quarter I accidentally missed a class and nobody realized that I was gone. I was somewhat devastated. (You can read about it here.) So, I made a mission of trying to send a text message to people when I noticed that they weren't in class. Initially, I asked people if they needed soup.

 

The implication was that they might need soup in order to get over the illness they were pretending to have to not go to class. At first it was kind of funny. It was eventually shortened to an MMS that read "Dude...do you need soup?" And the "dude" applied indiscriminately to males and females alike. With time, it became one of my catchphrases, along with "crazy cakes," "I need some booty-shaking tunes," and "You're probably right." (The last was attributed to me, but I still contest that it's properly termed a "catchphrase.") While it was fun for a time, I feel like the expression has become trite.

The problem is that those who receive the message are frequently "repeat receivers." They have little interest in a constant barrage of inquiry about the status of their soup necessity. The repetition wears people down. The sentiment loses its flavor. The yummy morsels of quirkiness and care become trite and bland.

The lack of response I get from these text messages further compounds need for a minor revolution is further compounded by the lack of response that I get to the text messages. When that happens, I feel like the texts just linger on the telephone waves and on the minds of the readers. It makes me feel awkward. It's clear then, that I need to solve this problem, but I'm not sure where to start.

Having rooted the entire phenomenon in "soup," it seems like there is a means for a natural evolution. For example the standard "Dude...do you need soup?" text message could simply become: "Soup?" The difference is that the course of prior dealings has constructed a context that conveys the message absent the otherwise-necessary subject and verb. Similarly, I thought about using specific types of soup also followed by a question mark: Ex: "Vichyssoise?"; "Gazpacho?"; "Tomato bisque?"; etc. However, I feel like this step may move the textual exchange from the realm of an inside joke to the kingdom of the esoteric.

Alternatively, I thought of building on the pretense. That is, I know you're not really sick, but I'll play along anyway. A sample text message under that theory may be: "Do you need some aspirin?"; "Do you have enough motrin?"; "What did the doctor say?" Here again lies another issue: raising medical questions flies in the face of the jocular tone of the "soup" interrogative. Soup is kind of funny. People rarely get upset about soup. A proffer of soup is usually warmly received (even in the case of gazpacho...which is a cold soup...the joke is about "warm" and "cold" in the context of soup...esoteric point proven!) even if made in jest. Further, people don't usually demand soup once it's offered. Although, I should note, if anyone had demanded performance, I was ready to make a variety of soups to fulfill the promise.

Finally, it may be a serious contender to eliminate the texties altogether. This would avoid the angst of what to say, but also contradicts the goal at the inception.

What do you suggest? Does this discussion of soup make you as hungry as it did me?

While thinking about, the topic of this blog post was a toss up between tequil and sketch comedy. But, since tequila can improve the quality of sketch comedy and the effect doesn't always work in reverse, I chose tequila. Plus, it's Friday. Senor Cuervo and I have a standing date for tonight.

In the ancient hills of Mexico, Aztecs knew where a potent plant did grow.

They harnessed its essence, making a shortcut to convalescence.

When coupled with lime, it has a better time,

And parties just get better.

The dear agave makes everything ma' suave.

I wrote an ode to tequila, but I'm not an alcoholic I promise. Plus, the poem's not even that good: I didn't count the beats in the meter and rhyme scheme's terrible. Plus, I'm confident there's a better word than "convalescence," but I don't want to look for it right now.