For those of you who might benefit, a brief explanation is not out of order. The hashtag arose with the advent of the Twitteroo. It's a simple way for a user to identify the nature of the tweet so that others looking for tweets of a particular nature can easily find them. For example, if I post about how the temperature is perfect, I might follow the tweet with the hashtag "# weather." The # was a significant part of programmer language and was tapped to solve a problem about how to associate certain, related tweety-peets.

So, when I use them on my status updates or in a text message, you should know that its use is deliberate. That is, I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING. I think this moderate inappropriateness is quirky and comical. It's even funnier because I'm not a part of the Twittersphere. Plus, a hashtag can establish a context that is otherwise difficult to create via written media. For example, compare the change in meaning in the following two examples:

1. "It's hard to juggle and talk at the same time."
2. "It's hard to juggle and talk at the same time." #deafpeopleproblems

I should not have to explain the added value that a hashtag can create to the Internet-savvy: it's like facial expression or voice inflection for the IntArWebZ. But, sometimes people just don't get it...

Today, while texting one of my hermanitos, he referred to my use of the hashtag at the end of a message as "weird." I thought the objectionable hashtag served a rather useful communicative function. It recognized that my particular shortcoming in this endeavor was natural for me given my history of general awkwardness. We were talking about some expression and he had turned it into a double-entendre, but I didn't know if he misunderstood the phrase or was making a joke...so I elaborated. Then, after a little more discourse, I realized that I had misunderstood and ended the string with #TypicalTrey. That's when I got the "weird" comment. Then he had the AUDACITY to say "I'm just trying to help you out..."

It's like he thinks I don't think about what I'm doing. This was upsetting.--more than upsetting. It was an outrage, as the picture indicates. BOOO! I was mad for a while. Then I got over it...mostly.

Do you ever use hasthags outside of Twitter? What does it add to your message?

I took this from @Aloysius_son, who credits @ancient_scribe. I dared to answer...and you can too!

1. What do you consider your first spiritual experience to be? I remember when I was 6 or 7 that I had a choice not to react in anger and that doing so would make God happy. It was simplistic but true.
2. What is the most religious thing you’ve ever worn in public? In high school, a lot of kids from area churches wore t-shirts that said "Follow me" on the front and "I know the way" on the back. I kept the shirt for a while...then I got hot glue on it and it was ruined...
3. What is the kindest act you’ve ever done for someone? A couple weeks ago I gave a guy just out of prison a couple bucks for a bus ride, a shirt because he said he needed one, and a prepared "hobo bag" that I often have lying around. I don't know if that's the kindest, but it's within my recent memory.
4. What is your favorite story from the Gospel or a religious movie? EASTER ZOMBIES! Matthew 27:51-53. I love that part. I don't get it. I don't know why. But, I'm glad it's there.
5. Have you ever prayed with someone from a different religion? Yes, in a public setting, not one-on-one.
6. Have you ever prayed in a public place? Quite frequently.
7. Have you ever participated in a religious service other than your own? Quite often.
8. Have you ever gone outside your spiritual comfort zone in order to move closer to God? Not nearly as often as I should.
9. Are you in a good relationship with God right now? Nope. I'm being rather defiant. I don't want to trust people. "I trust people to do things that are way more important than anything you need them to do," He says. "I know, but you like people more than I do," I say. "Yeah--so dump out the fear and let me fill you with affection," He says. "No, thanks." I say, "I'm still partial to the fear right now. Maybe later."...It's an ongoing dialogue...one that would make the book of Job look like John 11:35! (It's a little Bible humor for you!)
10. What do think God’s wish is for you? To know, grow, and glow in His glory.
11. Whose desires come first in your life: yours or God's? Probably neither...it's probably me being afraid of...everything.
12. Do you struggle with selfishness? What helps you overcome this? Yes, but I'm often too lazy to fight it.
13. Do you struggle with false or empty relationships that distract you from your relationship with God? What relationships help you stay close to God? I don't really do relationships. It's a problem, I know.
14. When you pray, what is your image of God? What do you think of? Image: at the risk of sounding heretical, sometimes He's grandfatherly, but not in a specific form. He's more a presence...and a giant ear.
15. What is on your “spiritual bucket list?” To "adopt" a missionary and help him/her out however I can.

My computer made random noises at the beginning of Constitutional Law today. It was the WORST. Everyone gave me stink eye.

I quickly closed up my laptop and put it away. Unfortunately, it kept beeping despite being closed. Luckily, though, it stopped before the professor got too far into the lecture. So...crisis somewhat averted! I had to take notes by hand, though. I think the entire point of today and yesterday's classes were to recognize that the provisions of the Constitution have to change over time. Maybe. (As you know, I have very strong ideas about the use and interpretation of language.)

That class is kind of awkward for me. For one thing, it's filled with people that I've been trying to avoid. I say "filled," there are like 3. The good news is that there are about 100 people--a fourth of the entire school!--in that class, so I can kind of disappear, which is nice. For another thing, despite my best efforts, I'm still me...which is just a tempest of awkward anytime I go anywhere. For a third thing, this professor and I once wore the same sweater to school on the same day. I'm still recovering from that one...I like to think that I don't dress like a man in his 70s. But, I'm often wrong on many, many things.

Anyway, I earlier proclaimed "I Like How it Feels" as today's anthem. It's been a good fit so far. Alas, now I must read the Tax Code. I am (unintentionally) taking three tax-heavy classes. The good part about it is that Title 26 of the United States Code is delightfully convoluted--just like me. I think the Tax Code and I should get along just fine this quarter. I've promised myself to be more diligent with homework this quarter, and I have a good promise about this resolution. "This time, it's forever; it gets better. And I-I..." well, you know the rest.

Earlier in a pulse I stated that I should stop cleaning up the dead cockroaches from around my apartment. My intent was to keep the living little buggers from making visits. In my mind, it made sense that they would run away if they saw their comrades dead and smashed into the tile in the kitchen...or up against the wall in the living room. However, it appears that this only makes them angry...

Lately, I have been playing host to a series of these. Periplaneta americana, or, the American cockroach.  The ones I find are typically three-to-four inches long. They seem to stand taller than other roaches--sometimes when I catch a glimpse of them from the side (because they're climbing up my cabinets at my eye level), I initially mistake them for grasshoppers. But, these move way, WAY faster.

This morning, as I was getting ready for church, I saw one of these "Americans" climbing near the top of the wall where it meets the ceiling. I dashed back into my room to grab a shoe to bring a hurt on this cockroach like it had never seen in its life. I got a wallop on it. Then, obviously startled, activated its wings and started in a fluttering-foundering descent TOWARD ME! I definitely overreacted...there may have been a girly scream, but I will confess to nothing. When it got to my hip level, I lost sight of it. I thought I saw it go down the stairs. But, I rarely use my hallway lights for electricity-savings so I couldn't see very well. I went back to my room, brushing my self off to 1. reassure me that I was okay; 2. undo my wrinkles; and 3. Check to make sure that roachy-kins didn't alight on my person...he got pretty close.

"Damn," I thought, "missed him." I was dejected. Roaches just make me so angry! I feel like they travel in marauding hoards just to irritate nice people like me...telling each other about their travels and plotting and scheming in their secret chemical language...laying poop trails to tell the others where the food is...copulating and laying eggs by the thousands just to leave their young to fend for themselves. Cockroaches have no redeeming attributes.

After I had a moment to compose myself, I tossed the shoe aside and recollected my things so I could get to church on time. One step out of my bedroom door I felt a tingle over my collar. The intricacies and speed of my next actions could only have been appreciated in slow motion.

I simultaneously retrieved my shoe, batted the cockroach away from my face, and located its landing point on the ground. The chase ensued! The first blow I struck was dead on, but accomplished little other than to make the exo-skelated fiend jump in the middle of his route. The next one, then two, then four strikes each landed a death blow. At that point, though, the violence became more about revenge for me than actually expelling an intruder. The ordeal unnerved me. I can still imagine the prickly sensation of each tiny-pointed foot scurrying from nape to throat....shudder...Only while the roach lie crumpled on the floor did I begin to contemplate the consequences of my actions.

Maybe the dead roach in the kitchen was its lover. Maybe the dead nymph in the dining room was its child. I can see how it would be pushed to revenge. But, this cockroach got neither respect nor sympathy from me. When it comes to arthropods, honey badger and I take the same stance.

So, to all of the pesky pests out there who want to exact pestilence against me: you will meed the blow of my petulant shoe! None who wrongs shall escape my wrath!

Despite a promising beginning, my Friday night in Austin turned out be a bust.

With my last exam for the quarter over yesterday, I was looking for a fun way to commemorate the occasion. Since there's not that much to do in Waco, I decided to see what was happening in either Dallas or Austin--these are much larger cities with vibrant nightlife. In poking around the InTaRWebZ, I saw that there was a flamenco show at a bar in downtown Austin. Since I saw the flamenco show in Sevilla, I've found flamenco mesmerizing (I love the way that the steps become as much a part of the music and sound of flamenco as the guitar). I thought (1) that the show would be fun; (2) it would be a nice way to end the quarter; and (3) I'd like to see how this show compared with the "Espectaculo" that I saw in Spain.

The show started at 8:00, so I left my home a little after six. I didn't quite arrive on time, but there was no problem because the show was a little late getting started. I paid the cover, found a cozy corner and prepared myself for what was certainly going to be an auditory and visual delight. It was. I really did enjoy the flamenco. I'll post a more in-depth blog about how it compared to the one in Sevilla later.

This is the bar where I saw the flamenco show.

After the show, I went to check on my car to make sure that I hadn't gotten a parking ticket (I took a spot and didn't pay the meter! I'm living on the edge!) I hadn't. So, I decided to make the four-block walk to Sixth Street to see what was happening. This is where the story gets fun!

While walking along, there seemed to be a pretty substantial party happening on the roof of a club. There were cool light effects, and JAMZ with thumping bass. I wanted to be there. BUT! I didn't want to pay a cover. Instead, I walked back an alley and climbed up and over the roof to drop in (The roof was not at a steep pitch...and there was a telephone pole involved...I'm discovering that  I have a tendency to climb things when I'm tipsy. There's your fun Trey fact for the day.). I freaked someone out when I kind of popped over the edge of the roof and dropped into a little seating area. Fortunately, the couple wasn't making out--so no party foul on my end! After a "Shhh" gesture by me and after a short string of mild expletives, everyone seemed to move on from the moment.

The music was nice. But, what do you do when "Danza Kuduro" comes on and you're the only one who knows the words? You look ridiculous is the put your "manos arriba" in keeping with the song. You look just plan dumb when you "dar una vuelta" all by yourself. As I get older, I'm increasingly intolerant of monolingual Americans (which is probably hypocritical since I've been monolingual for a larger part of my life than I've been bi/trilingual...but, COME ON!). On a comical note, there was a random dancer dressed as a storm trooper/futuristic soldier. I didn't know the costume--it wasn't actually a storm trooper because the "armor" was like an army green color. His presence was fun for the peeps there.

Here's the downside: there was no one to dance with. There was one chick there who was a pre-med student at Baylor (where I go to school), but she ditched me for the bar. I was bummed. I know I'm not attractive; but I didn't realize I was positively repulsive. Furthermore, when I tried to send my friends texties about what was happening, they didn't seem to care. I CLIMBED A FREAKING BUILDING TO GO TO A CLUB. Meh...maybe they've just lead more-interesting lives than I have and aren't as impressed with things. After spending an hour or so there, my buzz wore off and I decided just to go home. So I did. The drive seemed longer coming back than going in.

So, for all that, Austin you could have done better. As I type this, I realize that I brought my issues to Austin, rather than encountering them when I got there. Still...for someone who's ready to live it up on a Friday night, you'd think Austin would be more receptive.

I need to procure a new pair of running/jogging/athletic shoes.

I had to leave my previous pair in Switzerland. For one thing, they had been worn and they were emitting a terrible smell (like cat urine). I think some part of the plastic had been exposed--the smell lingered even after a good washing. For another thing, not packing them freed up a lot of space in my luggage.

However, this left me without a pair of shoes that I can exercise in. As a result, I haven't really exercised. I'm just now feeling the consequences: I've gained a lot of weight. In my defense, I am 6'3", so adding a few pounds isn't as noticeable when its' stretched over that much human. I hope to have a chance to get new shoes this weekend and put the non-exercise and stress-eating phase behind me with my last exams. (Two tomorrow and one on Friday--Wish me luck!)

There's something poetic about getting a new pair of shoes: your shoes literally help you go places. In the case of jogging shoes, there's an even stronger emphasis on the journey over the destination. I suppose, then, that it is well timed that my need for new shoes coincides with an awareness that I need just to keep moving forward...or at least to get away from where I am now.

There have been unending sources of anxiety for me lately: all the demands of school, my programs being in limbo, worrying about getting a job, what I want out of life, family obligations, etc. I've not handled them well. Like most things, I close my eyes and hope that they go away by themselves so I don't have to handle them. I don't like when things get messy or complicated...so I don't deal in those matters.

I've discovered that my motto for life is: "If it's worthy doing, it's worth doing right; if you can't do it right, then why even bother?" Where there is little expectation of handling an issue appropriately or that the outcome will be worth the trouble, there's little incentive to make the attempt. I'd rather just leave it and do something else...

But! Soon, I can run.

I'll put on my shoes and make an escape: across the street, down the sidewalk, maybe even through campus. It won't be fast because my "run" is halfway between a gallop and lumber. Still, I'll be moving. And it won't matter where I go, because just about anywhere will be better than here. Destination: flexible.

Hooray new shoes!

Why is that sometimes we feel the need to tell someone (anyone, no one specifically) something? What is the benefit of someone else knowing? A simple transmission of knowledge doesn't change anything...Why isn't honesty with oneself enough?

That is, if I believe X, or if Y is true about me, and I know it, what good does it do me to tell someone else? It doesn't change anything. The other can't do anything about X or Y. The curious thing is that that understanding is beneficial. It's completely irrational...still, there has to be some reason to it, right? I need to know! (Please note: it took a lot of restraint to use only one exclamation point there. A LOT.)

Cursed humanity!

School has been stressful lately. And normally I find things stressful...not because they have to be, but because I need them to be. I need a certain stress level to make myself do anything; or else, I always need to exert a certain amount of mental energy, and stress is the way it comes out. In any case, the history of my life has been a lot of stress, most of which was self-imposed. However, school lately has been the kind of stressful that I haven't been making for myself. It's completely out of my hands. With this kind of stress, it's illuminated certain other parts of my life...largely  because I've not been in "control" (in a obsessive, tightly wound sense) of my life.

I've lately convinced myself that I have some sort of personality disorder. It wasn't an easy process; I've been trying to divine whether avoidance personality disorder or borderline personality disorder was a better fit for my weirdo behaviors. But, because of the mood swings and impulses that I hate and the fact that I tend to get through group situations, I think it's BPD rather than APD. (Although, from what I can tell, there is some overlap, and the two aren't mutually exclusive.)

And I want someone to know...but I can't make myself say it because I don't understand why it will make me feel better (also, I'm not 100% sure it will). Plus, there's a chance that it's too burdensome for the knowledge holder. The last thing I want is someone to share knowledge with me that creates some sort of responsibility I feel unequipped to handle. So, by the golden rule, I don't really want to risk imposing that burden on someone else.

So, it's probably best for this just to stay with me for the time being. My intention really is to make this a public post, but at a remote point in the future (so that you'd really have to look for it to find it).

Anyway, Xanga, that is all for the evening. Have blessed memories.

EDIT: I finally made this public! (Nov. 16, 2012)

Dear NBC:

Your recent strings of abuses leaves me feeling hoodwinked, bamboozled, and run amuck.

As an avid TV viewer, I feel betrayed by your refusal to set a date for the new season of Community. As a result, I have no expectations. Your credibility is completely undermined with your viewers. Furthermore, this evening, I found a huge block of "The Voice." "Why?" I ask, "Why?" The failure of tonight's normal comedy line-up leaves me with a gaping void.

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LAUGH?!

TV is a big deal for me. I prefer it to movies. I need to watch the relationships that TV characters have in order to make up for the human contact that I don't have IRL. With TV, one gets to spend a little time with people one finds genuinely interesting over a long period of time. In a way, one gets to know the characters. I look forward to the thirty minutes that you'll get to spend with them every week. When that is taken away from me without an explanation, it leaves me confused and bewildered. It's like I have a friend who refuses to talk to me. While I am accustomed to that feeling, the familiarity doesn't make it any more bearable.

I don't know what to do; I don't know how to handle it. What can I count on? Where is the accountability? Where is the recourse?

I understand that TV scheduling is a complicated business and that new technology makes it difficult to bring in advertisement revenue. Still, don't stop trying because it's difficult. There is an entire class of tightly wound Americans (like me) who depend on you to make their lives whole (or at least whole enough to distract themselves for another week).

I implore you: make up your mind about what to do with Community. I am confident that this show has one of the most loyal fan bases around--even if they are technologically savvy and don't watch live. I am also confident that you will find a way to convert that goodwill into profit--but please, PLEASE don't deprive your viewers that brings such a diverse group of people together.

Sincerely,
Bitter in Waco

P.S.
If you have any leftover Monica Gellers , please send one my way. I'm in desperate need. I'll even take one that's been in storage since the 90s. Thanks!

But, I just submitted my last paper! For me, classes are officially over for this quarter. Whoo!

It's probably a time for reflection on what I've learned, what next quarter holds, and all that. But, I'm not feeling it. Instead, I'm luxuriating in the free 36 hours I have before my first exam. I will be so glad once this quarter is past me...and next quarter, and then the three quarters after that...and the bar exam. Then, I should be set...you know, once I find a job and buy a house and work for 42-45 years and can finally retire. Life seems daunting. AHHH!

Reflection was probably better choice than proflection. Yep. I made up a word.

Anyway...I'm not doing anything the rest of the day. Hopefully I can catch my Thursday evening stories before going to bed. I would LOVE to get a good night's sleep. I slept less than five hours last night...and I woke up every ten minutes worrying about my paper...and Guatemala for some reason. The class was international business transactions and I guess Guatemala is the international connection? Just another strange dream lately...

Stink. I just go the confirmation that my professor received the paper...I misspelled the subject line of the e-mail transmitting my paper. Oh well. It's too late to do anything about it now.

Random question: Is saying "a good night's sleep" an instance of hypallage? Great...now this will keep me up all night. UGH!

Several nights ago, I had a dream where I remember getting a sunburn. At this point, the surrounding circumstances are a little fuzzy. However, I do remember that I was wearing a polo-style shirt that I got rid of a while ago with my navy blue cardigan (this was one of my favorite outfits in the appropriate weather). In the dream, I put on the cardigan to cover up my skin from the sun. I was also in the middle of doing something--talking to someone or moving something, some pedestrian business--when I dream-felt that unmistakable sunburn tingle.

It was an unusual moment to remember. I found it even more unusual to ascertain its meaning. Sometimes, for the jollies, I look up the parts of my dreams that  I remember in a dream dictionary, like this one. For "sunburn," I found this:

"To dream that youhave a sunburn indicates that there is an emotional situation or problem thatyou can no longer avoid. Some urgent matter is literally burning through to yoursoul and demanding your immediate attention."

Aside from what "literally burning through to my soul" means, I began to think about all the emotional problems I've been having--they're wide and various, but not significant. Example: what are the emotional consequences of realizing my computer data may be lost? How do I feel about always losing words with friends to my grandmother? These things solicit some emotional reaction (frustration in the first instance, inadequacy in the second), but aren't enough to demand my immediate (or any) attention.

Yet, somehow, here I am several days later, my soul still intact (to the best of my knowledge...how do check your soul for burns?).

I think it was more likely a memory of actually getting a sunburn. The last time I remember wearing that outfit was when I went to visit my sister in Switzerland the first time. We met some of my brother-in-law's friends at a rustic, mountainside restaurant with a panoramic view of Mt. Blanc. Because the air at that altitude was cool and crisp, I didn't realize the creeping, crimson affliction the sun shone on me.

My conclusion is that that this incident was simply a resurfacing memory that presented itself while I was asleep. Mayhaps it was inspired by my having worn that sweater earlier that day?

Of course, there's the possibility that my subconscious intentionally brought a certain memory to mind in order to communicate something to my other cognitive processes...something that I am actively suppressing. However, I will leave that monologue to work itself out inside my own noggin.

What do you with your dreams and dream-memories? How do you process them? Do you have physical sensations (like a pre-sunburn tingle) in your dreams?