so very alone…

I don’t claim to be a perfect person. I am not good looking. I don’t think well on my feet. I’m not athletic.

So to suddenly have a bunch of people talking to me on this blog — even if some of them think I’m doing something like that LonelyGirl15 thing on YouTube a while ago — makes me want to seem to be more successful than I really am.

For example, it made me want to act like I had gotten a date, when in reality things didn’t go as well. Anyway, now I’m trying to tell the truth.

After Richard and people on this blog got me all psyched up to talk to Jane, I marched straight over to her office (she used to be in a cubicle but she moved when I did). I had a few butterflies in my stomach, but I wasn’t even close to feeling nauseous. Not yet, anyway. Full of confidence that in retrospect bordered on arrogance, I opened her door and had this conversation:

Me: Hi Jane!

Jane: Oh, hi Harlan.

Me: How’s it going?

Jane: I’m fine.

Me: Have you been playing any online poker lately?

Jane: Harlan, did you take one of my plants?

I don’t think simple dialogue can convey what happened next. I literally heard blood pounding in my ears. I should have just walked away or maybe denied it, but instead I got defensive, and the conversation went downhill fast.

I asked who told her about the plant, and she wouldn’t tell me, so I got a little angry, which made me stutter. I knew I should leave, but I had walked into the room with a film in my head of how the conversation should go and I kept trying to steer back to it.

After a minute or two (I can’t really say, maybe it was a lot more, maybe a lot less) of me trying to explain myself, Jane told me she didn’t want me to talk to her unless it was work-related.

I asked why and she said she didn’t like the way I looked at her. And then she said, and I quote: "You creep me out.” I headed straight for the bathroom and sat down next to a toilet for I don’t know how long.

Just like in this blog, I told Richard I have a date with Jane. It’s easier to confess to lying to a bunch of people you don’t know and have never seen, so I still haven’t told him the truth.

Anyway, I think I can safely cross Jane off my list of potential soulmates.

I’m home now. I’ve had something to eat — I went to my favorite drive through place, Steak ‘n Shake — and I’m going try to watch a movie and hopefully forget all this ever happened. Maybe I’ll watch the whole LOTR trilogy in a row. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, and since I doubt I’ll be able to sleep, maybe tonight’s the night to do it.

Isolation score: 9.9

45 Comments »

I have a date with Jane! I’m so excited. We’re going out tomorrow night, so I’m headed to the Old Navy and then the pharmacy.

Things are looking up!

Isolation score: 0.0001

16 Comments »

I’m sorry I wrote that last post earlier today. I was angry and I lashed out, but I should have controlled my temper.

I have my reasons and they feel like good reasons to me, but something I’ve always hated is when people say “I’m sorry. But…” and then they justify themselves and explain why they shouldn’t have to be sorry.

So I’m not going to do that. I’m just going to say “I’m sorry” and leave it at that and go to bed.

Isolation Score: 9

39 Comments »

Yesterday, I had a good day. I got along with a person, and found out from that person that the woman I like isn’t going out with the person I thought she was going out with.

So I tried to be positive. I talked about those things, instead of talking about what I could have talked about, which was everything else that happened during the rest of the day. For example, I could have talked about how I had what felt like a ten minute stammering fit when my boss surprised me with a question in a crowded meeting. I wound up looking like I didn’t know what I’m talking about, even though I knew the answer to the question and could have explained it easily if I hadn’t been ambushed.

And I didn’t talk — because I had had a good day — about how I nodded to my neighbor as I was going to my mailbox and she was coming back from it, and not only did she not nod back, but she looked down as if she hadn’t noticed me nodding.

And so, because I talked about how two good things happened to me yesterday (how crazy is that, that two whole good things might happen to a single person in one day?!?!) more people comment than have ever commented before on this blog, saying, with absolute conviction, because they’re crimefighters who detect fake people for a living I guess, that I am not real.

Fine. I’m not real then. This is actually a relief, because my life sucks a little bit more than a real person’s should, and this gives my life (or what I used to think was my life, but is apparently not a life at all) considerably more clarity.

Now that I am not real, I think it will be much easier for me to sleep at night. What do I have to lose sleep over, really? Nothing! Because I don’t really exist!

Also, I can stop worrying about whether there would even be a funeral if I died and how many people would attend. I used to think there would probably be my sister and her family, maybe my brother because that would give him "closure" (even though he deserves the opposite of closure, whatever that is), and some assigned representative from work. But now I realize that either whoever the godlike figure is that’s writing my fictional existence would either have a whole bunch of people attend my funeral, or none whatsoever, depending on whichever he thought was more dramatic. Regardless, I can stop thinking about that. Excellent.

And best of all, I can stop writing this stupid blog, where people spend more time questioning whether I exist than at least trying to be civil. Whoever invented me can start writing it, because I’m sick of it.

Oh, and while you’re at it, Mr. / Ms. Writing of a Fictional Character Person, could you do me one fucking favor and write me into bed with someone? Thanks.

Really, the only thing that’s sad about being non-existent is that I won’t ever get to see Peter Jackson’s production of The Hobbit.

Isolation Score: Doesn’t matter, because I am not real.

(By the way, if I were real, I would have gone and said "Hi" to Jane today, without incident. But that is just too unfuckingbelievable for it to have happened to a real person, so I guess that’s further proof that I am not real.)

17 Comments »

Everyone always talks about how they feel so bad after a night of heavy drinking, but you know what? I feel great. I’m not sure it has anything to do with the drinking, although the drinking didn’t hurt matters.

My point is that things are finally going my way.

Yesterday, I talked with Richard, asking him why he had been so sad last week. He told me it was because his lover left him. The conversation was kind of like this.

Me: Sorry. I wish I knew what to say, but I’ve never had a serious girlfriend.

Richard: Really, not one?

Me: No. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone out with a woman at all.

Richard: Me too. Ha ha.

Me: But you just said your girlfriend left you.

Richard: No, I said my lover left me. You know I’m gay, right?

Me: No. Well, I do now. But how would I have known before?

Richard: Do you seriously not have any "gaydar" at all? I never even had to come out. Everyone knew I would be gay even before I hit puberty. Even my parents knew I was gay.

Me: I don’t really notice stuff like that. Other people have said that before, too. I don’t understand how people can tell another’s sexual orientation by looking at them. Dividing people up by whether they’re gay or straight doesn’t really make sense to me

Richard: Well, how do you divide people up?

Me: I can either picture them laughing at me behind my back, or I can’t. Mostly I can.

So I asked him who it was who left him, mostly to be polite. It turns out that it was J.B., the prick who was with Jane at the Christmas party.

I felt like someone had hit me on the back of the head with a large textbook. If J.B. was gay, then he probably isn’t Jane’s boyfriend, especially since he is (I mean was) Richard’s boyfriend.

Richard started telling me about what happened between him and J.B., but I had a hard time paying attention. I was still trying to wrap my head around this news. Jane’s not taken. Jane’s available!

But I’m standing firm on J.B. being an asshole, to show solidarity with Richard. I told Richard we’d get revenge on J.B. Richard said that wasn’t really his way, but I feel like I owe it to him. I have a few ideas, but nothing I love. I’ll put it on the backburner. I’ll come up with something. I have a mean streak most people would never even suspect.

My next order of business, though, is to go talk with Jane. I’ve avoided her entirely since Christmas, a whole month now. So it’s not a good idea for me to go ask her out right away. First I’ll just go say hi. And then I’ll wait a couple days and drop by and say hi again. By this time next week, though, I’m going to ask her if she wants to go get lunch with me. I could have Richard come along so it doesn’t seem like I’m being too forward. Plus he’ll be around if I freeze up and can’t think of anything to say, which will probably happen at least a couple times.

I’ve got a friend, and I’ve got a plan for getting to know Jane. It’s like the best day I’ve had in nine years.

Now I just need to come up with an excuse to not go visit my brother and everything will be perfect.

Isolation Score: 1

29 Comments »

I’ll start off by saying first off that I am drunk as a skunk. i KNOW i’m viloting several rules here, especially the rule about not drinking and blogging, but I just need to get it out. Your’e probabloy wondering why I’m drinking so heavily on a Monday night. If i knew the answer, I probably wouldnt’[ be drinkiing. Or maybe I’d be drinking even more. My point is that a bunch of things happened today and I don’t know where to start. First there’s this blog which is like a fucking albatross. One of the reasons I’m so alone is that part of me needs to be fucking alone. Then there’s Richard. I asked him why he was crying this morning and we had a pleasant conversation going and I was thinking that Richard might be my first real friend since I was a kid. I dont want go into any details but I decided to tell him about J.B., the guy who was at the xmas party with Jane, and Richard started laughing. Long story short, Richard is a homosexual, J.B. is a homosexual (Richard assured me that this was true in vivid cock smocking detail), and Jane is still available or at least I think she is. My heart almost popped out of my chest which surprised me because I thought I was getting over her. So then I went to a bar after work and I don’t know if you knew this but there’s no such thing as a Cheers bar where everyone knows each other, at least no bar I’ve been too. I’ve been drinking at Black Cat Cove at least a couple dozen times and let’s just say that no one shouts “Harlan” when I walk into the bar and if someone did shout “Harlan” no one would know who the fcuk they’re talking about, the dipshit losers. So I was sitting at the bar looking at my reflection in the mirror behind the rum bottles, and I fucking hated what I saw. I was trying to find my real face inside the bloated face and I wanted to throw my glass at the mirror. Not even tequila shots would make that feeling go away. The guys next to me were badmouthing George W. Bush and I wouldn’t take any more so I almost said something and left. And then I got home and the phone was ringing and for some crazy reason I decided to pick up. It was my brother. In my mind I was saying to him, “Fuck off you fucking fuck,” but my mouth told him that I love him and miss him and I’m sorry, which is totatlly crazy because he’s the one who needs to be sorry. I even agreed to visit him in a couple weeks. I’m sure I’ll be mad at myself when I’m sober even though right now I’m kind of excited to see Becky. Maybe I’ve gotten over her betrayal. I already feel like I’m getting sobver so I’m going to click Submit and go wonder around and puke in that nosy woman’s mailbox again.

9 Comments »

Sometimes I think that Walmarts were specially designed to be stolen from. It’s like the company owners were thinking, “You know, we’re evil heartless robber barons; let’s at least make it simple for people who can’t afford something we have to acquire it on a non-cash basis.”

Anyway, Friday on the way home from work I went to the Walmart to buy some groceries, which I did purchase. I also stole a Hannah Montana “Life’s What You Make It” DVD, because I was curious what the Hannah Montana craze is about.

Friday night, I watched the DVD, but am now more deeply mystified by the Hannah Montana craze than I was before.

I put the DVD back in the case, then put that on my back porch, as an experiment. In the morning, it was gone. I don’t consider that theft; I consider it a gift anonymously given and anonymously received. Although I do think that maybe I should have put a note in the case apologizing for the poor quality of the entertainment therein contained.

I may try putting other things out there. Like, would my new friend (and why shouldn’t I think of the person who took the DVD as a friend?) like season 1 of Battlestar Galactica? That might be a considerate thing to do, considering how lame my first gift was.

Talking to Richard
I spent some time Saturday reading the comments people have posted to my blog. It made me think that I should try to help Richard with whatever is wrong. But the thing is, about two days out of every three I feel like breathing is more trouble than its worth, but if anyone asked me what was wrong, I’d say, “Nothing; I’m just focusing on my job.” I’ve said this before a few times, and nobody’s ever followed up.

But Richard seems to like talking to people more than I do, so I think I’ll at least say, “Hey, you doing better today?” when I see him tomorrow morning. And if he wants to say, “Yeah, I’m fine,” then we’re done with it. If he wants to tell me more, I’ll try to listen. But I have no advice to give to anyone, so I hope he doesn’t expect a solution from me.

Going to South By SouthWest to Get My Bloggie Award
I got email today (the first email I’ve ever gotten at my blog address) from the guy who manages the Bloggie nominations, asking if I’m coming to the awards ceremony. This is funny for several reasons.

1. Out of the five finalists, the only possible blog that will get fewer votes than mine is Trevor’s blog, because I simply cannot imagine someone looking at that thing and not immediately getting a strong taste of saccharine in your mouth. This is in fact my one goal: to get more votes than Trevor. Do they tell you how many votes you got and what place you took? I hope so.

2. I feel alone when I’m at home, but I feel about thirty times more alone in a conference center (I usually go to one or two trade shows each year). And while it’s never happened to me before, I suspect I would feel ten million times more alone if I were at an awards ceremony where I were a finalist with no chance of winning the prize. I feel sick thinking about it right now.

I guess that’s only two reasons, not several, but it’s enough.

24 Comments »

I came into work a little late today because I’m still feeling sluggish, so I was surprised when Richard wasn’t there. He came in about an hour after I did, sat down without saying a word, and started crying. He didn’t respond when I asked if he wanted to be alone. And then he just started bawling with his whole body. Since my office was the last place in the whole world I wanted to be, I left and wandered aimlessly through the hallways.

In the kitchen area, I ran into the guy who was with Jane at the Christmas party. I had no idea he even worked at our company. Wow! Seeing this guy was like seeing the devil. What does he have that I don’t have? Maybe his personality is a little more outgoing, but whose isn’t? I followed him back to his office, so now I know his name. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about this information, but knowledge is power. I need to learn more.

Richard had stopped crying when I returned to the office. He was so quiet the rest of the day that I almost wanted him to start up his chattering again.

Isolation score: 7

17 Comments »

I just saw a bunch of comments saying I’m a finalist in a contest I didn’t even try to enter.

I’m struggling a little bit with the irony here. I’ve spent countless hours trying to learn to connect with people, wondering whether I’ve done it properly, and feeling like a fool when I’ve found out I did it wrong. And now I seem to have managed to connect with a bunch of people without even meaning to.

There’s probably a life lesson here. Something like, "Quit trying, because good fortune is random."

Maybe this is the thing I’ve been waiting my whole life for. Maybe I’m going to meet a lot of people who recognize that I like being alone sometimes, am somewhat shy, but am an OK person.

I wish I could tell Jane about this. Or anyone. Obviously, though, I’ve got to keep it to myself. But it’s nice to have a good secret.

I am probably hexing myself by saying this, but what the hell: I really hope I win a Weblog Award.

Isolation Score: 2

[UPDATE] I just went and looked at the other entries for the "Best-kept secret blog" award. Here’s what I think:

• Greeblemonkey: This is the blog of a mother who loves her school-aged kids and wants nothing but the best for her children. She seems very smart, focused, and thinks deeply. She makes me ashamed to be as selfish and petty as I am. I would definitely vote for her over me.
• That Night: This blog is written by a gifted college student. She is an excellent writer and photographer. She has a positive, balanced outlook on life. I’m sure she’ll go far. I suspect that she is the one who will win.
• Das Becca: Another mother who wants the best for her child. That seems to be an ongoing theme. Also, it looks like she’s grieving for the loss of a friend. Even though she’s sad, she’s hopeful. And she’s thoughtful and deep. If it weren’t for the "That Night" blog, I bet she’d win.
• Trevor’s Blog: Trevor uses his blog to beat us over the head with what a smart, wise, caring, artistic and handsome man he is. So he can sell us books and movies, I’m guessing, that further sell us on what a smart, wise, caring, artistic and handsome man he is. Don’t tell me you don’t sense that guy’s a phony.

21 Comments »

That was the worst five days of my life.

I came home from work feeling kind of lousy on Friday, which is when I wrote here that I have a cold.

By Saturday I felt really bad. Cold, except when I’m hot. Sore throat. Nothing tasted good, and drinking hurt. I stayed in bed. The inside of my mouth hurt.

By Sunday afternoon I couldn’t walk very well. The one time I peed my piss was closer to pumpkin-colored than yellow. The inside of my mouth hurt so bad, I thought it must be bleeding inside, even though it didn’t taste like blood.

I looked in the mirror and it wasn’t bleeding. My tongue was covered with cankers. It turns out that the reason everywhere in my mouth hurt when I touched it with my tongue was because my tongue was messed up.

I considered the irony of this for a while, but the Ambien kept me from figuring out how it might be a funny joke. Not that I had plans to call my sister and tell her, even if I had come up with a BRILLIANT joke. We’ve had this conversation before:

Me: I’m really sick. Could you come take care of me? I’m really sick.

Her: If you really need me. I’ll have to figure out who’s going to take care of the kids. And I’ll have to get someone to cover for me for teaching piano lessons. And I’ll need to get the oil changed in my car before I drive down.

Me: Never mind. I’m fine.

On Monday morning about 3am, I emailed my manager and said I wouldn’t be coming in the next day.

On Monday about 5pm, I went from having a hard time walking to not being able to walk at all. I called my doctor. Closed. Figures.

I thought of all the people I could call to help me out, but decided that list was pretty much my sister (no chance), although I briefly considered calling Richard. But that would have been weird.

So I called a taxi instead, crawled down the stairs and to the front door, got the driver to give me a hand into the car (he didn’t complain or refuse, which I was worried he might do) and got a ride to the Emergency Room at the hospital.

Monday evening must be a pretty good time to get sick, because I only waited in the Emergency Room for about 90 minutes.

The doctor there took a look at me, smelled my breath (!!!), and said he was sure I had a really bad case of strep. I asked what my breath had to do with it and he said strep has a certain smell.

Strange. I wonder if my breath always smells like that.

He also said I seemed really, really dehydrated.

So he put me on something for the strep (amoxydihoxyaphmedocillin or something just as weird sounding), hooked me up to an IV to get me rehydrated, and put me in a room to stay overnight, just to make sure I was better.

Of course, it wasn’t a private room. That would have been too comfortable. The guy received phone call after phone call after phone call, and then — even after 10pm, his wife hung around and talked with him. I don’t think she left until close to midnight.

My right arm, the one with the IV in it, was cold the whole night and I couldn’t sleep.

Tuesday morning, the doctor said that the strep was responding, but I was still dehydrated, and that I should tell my family I would be staying another day.

I called my manager and said I wouldn’t be in, but I didn’t call anyone else, including my stupid sister, who would have given me hell for not calling her.

People were bringing balloons and shit for my roommate all day. Eventually, I took a walk with my IV out into the hall and called FTD from my cell phone. I ordered a bouquet to be delivered to my room.

I know that sounds pathetic but I had to have something.

The guy brought in the flowers and left. And meanwhile my bed was part of the parade route for my roommate, who had at least twenty people stop by. I am not exaggerating.

He didn’t even seem sick to me.

This morning, I felt so much better. Not achy. My tongue feels scabby, but not covered in cankers anymore. So I finally came home.

I’ll go back to work tomorrow.

Total visitors while I was at the hospital: 0

Total comments on this blog after I mentioned I was sick and then didn’t post for 5 days: 2. Thanks for caring, folks.

Isolation Score: 9.99

24 Comments »