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[ May 26th, 2021 | 10:18am ] |
current location: Washington, DC.
spam, texts, emails, love letters, death threats, etc
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[ July 8th, 2011 | 7:51pm ] |
Self-reflection's an important part of growing up. Whether or not I have grown up any is debatable in itself, of course, but I've certainly posted enough long and rambling emo journal entries to at least make an effort.
However, often times, it's not as easy to realize your own flaws as it is to pinpoint those in others. There's a popular psychological test called a Johari window that demonstrates as much. They list 50 positive and 50 negative characteristics, and ask people to pick 5 that describe themselves. Then, they ask the person's friends and loved ones to pick 5. Oftentimes, those are matching, but often, there's something that the person hasn't noticed about himself.
Now, obviously, you can't base your self-worth on another person's comments. At the same time, there's an expression that says that: if six Russians tell you that you're drunk, it's time to lie down. What people think about you doesn't necessarily have to be true, but it's helpful to know that the perception exists, if you're interested in correcting it.
So, with that said, I'm asking my few journal buddies to fill it out, either under their names or anonymously, and list the 5 positive and 5 negative qualities that define me the most.
( Johari time )
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[ August 12th, 2010 | 4:53pm ] |
Recently, Mandie did a journal entry where she expressed love for people in her life. It was very sweet, very Mandie. I think people should try to articulate their love and appreciation for those in their lives more often.
That said, I'm going for an opposite approach in my journal. I appreciate warm regards, but I also try to listen to criticism as well.
That's one of the fun things about being a Congressman; I'm never lacking for negative feedback. I try to read the letters and emails from constituents. Most of them are surprisingly positive. After my gay marriage statements, I even got a marriage proposal, although I politely turned him down. Of course, there's invariably some angry ones too, and not just from Lydia's boyfriend. I got one email this morning that said, "FUCKIN DIE U BABY KILLER." Personally, I think calling a politician a baby killer is a tad unfair; after all, that baby swung at me first. Still, I understand that anger comes with the territory.
I guess I'm a glutton for punishment, because I was commenting with my occasional friend/nemesis/love interest Samantha Lake. She's usually mad at me about something or another, and I asked why she didn't like me. Her response:
"Because you're fucking annoying."
Now, you've got to hand it to Sammy there. 95% of people who know me have thought that at some point or another, but she actually came out and said it. It's good to get that out.
So, in honor of venting frustrations, I'm promoting America's fastest growing party game: What I don't like about Evan (TM). Comment below with your grievances, annoyances, dislikes. It can be anything, from a small quirk to a fundamental flaw. Luckily, I'm a good pick for the debut of this game, because there's plenty to choose from. Do you hate the floppy hair? Do you hate the long entries? The bad baby killer jokes? Fire away. I promise I won't be offended by anything -- unless Regan miraculously logs in -- so don't worry about pulling punches.
In fact, anonymous posts are not only allowed, they're encouraged. I want people to let loose without fear of repercussion. Take advantage, because you rarely get a chance to articulate every single thing that ticks you off about somebody. So, without further ado, step right up and play What I don't like about Evan (TM).
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[ August 30th, 2009 | 2:32am ] |
I suppose I shouldn't write about the fact that Ted Kennedy died, because there have been great memorials all over the news this week, recounting his legacy, his achievements, his faults. Given that, there's not much I can add. Still, I wanted to mention a very minor story that turned out to play a big role in my life.
For those of you who haven't memorized the Evan Hartwell biography yet, I went to law school in Massachusetts. Even back then, I wanted to be a politician, and even back then, I used to annoy people by talking about it. One of those people was my Con Law teacher, Professor Finneman.
Now, Professor Finneman was an old school blue-blood who actually went to Harvard at the same time as Ted Kennedy. I know this because he somehow managed to weave the fact that he knew Ted Kennedy into every story he told. We couldn't get through a lecture without at least five Teddy Kennedy references. Sometimes you'd doubt him. Sometimes his story would be about something else, like the Mexican restaurant he ate at last night. But sure enough, sooner or later, things would turn to Teddy. Either Ted Kennedy was going to show up halfway through the meal, or Finneman would notice a tortilla chip that bore an uncanny resemble to the Senator.
My tolerance for Kennedy stories is limitless, but kids started to get annoyed after awhile. There were even rumblings around campus that he might be making it all up. "Teddy" might be his imaginary friend. Our education might have been handed over to a madman. I wasn't quite sure what to believe, until the madman invited me to go to lunch with him after class.
That day, I grabbed a bite with Professor Finneman. and Ted Kennedy. As it turns out, Professor Finneman had mentioned me to Sen. Kennedy -- how I was doing well in school, and how I wanted to be a politician. The whole lunch, Sen. Kennedy talked to me about my career, which was strange, given the fact that his was just a tad more interesting. He gave me a lot of advice, despite the fact that he was skeptical that I'd ever actually use it; after all, I could make a lot more money as a lawyer than as a Congressman.
Years later, when I quit my law job and started to campaign for Congress, I kept in touch with his office; I don't want to sound like Professor Finneman and claim I was chatting away with Sen. Kennedy himself every night before bed, but I did talk with his senior staffers quite a bit. Their offices used to send me campaign breakdowns and foreign policy reports.
For Sen. Kennedy, that lunch wasn't a big deal whatsoever. He was one of the most powerful men in the country. But for a 23-year-old kid from the West Coast, it meant a great deal. More than anything in particular he said, it was the fact that he tried to say it. He had gone out of his way to talk to me about getting into politics. He didn't have any hidden agenda. I couldn't help him out at all. I certainly didn't have any money to donate to his campaign. And even if I did become a powerful Congressman one day, he most likely wouldn't be around to benefit. He just wanted to see more qualified people go into the government instead of chase money. He was passionate about helping serve the country.
Now that he's passed away, people will remember Ted Kennedy in a variety of ways. Most will probably remember him as JFK's brother. Some will recognize the fact that he was powerful senator in his own right for nearly fifty years. Others will dwell on the terrible Chappaquiddick incident. Personally, I'll remember that lunch.
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[ October 10th, 2008 | 1:41pm ] |
As most of you would acknowledge, or maybe even advertise, I tend to be self-involved. I've developed a crush on myself. I can't help it. Love is blind.
Anyway, the reason I'm saying that is because I'm actually not thinking of myself these days, at least in one respect. I've never been a big stock market expert, but I can't help but pay attention to watching the Wall Street crisis. Again today, the Dow was down 500 points, up 500 points, down again, and so on and so on. A bailout might be necessary, but that alone won't make things right. We're in for some tough times. I'm not going to claim its a doomsday scenario here, but it's certainly scary for our country.
At the same time, it's good for my career. During the 2006 election, I wondered if I missed my opportunity to get into Congress, considering how well the Democrats did that cycle. Well, if the economy keeps tanking, we should do even better. Obama's comfortably ahead now. The McCain camp might go nuclear now and throw whatever BS they can out there hoping some of it sticks, but the truth of it is, if the economy's this bad, the Republicans have a long shot at best.
The bad economy might help me get elected too, but I'm not happy with that. I'd much prefer things to turn around, to be honest. I do think that, while I'm no Robert Reich, I might be able to help, should I get elected. I'm stealing a statistic that I think is telling: in 1980, the top 1 percent of Americans had 8 percent of the country's wealth. That's 1980. Factor in three of last four presidents being Republicans, and now, the top 1 percent have 20 percent of the country's wealth. That's the highest percentage since 1928, right before the Great Depression. Something tells me that's no coincidence.
The Republican philosophy that wealth trinkles down when rich people get richer isn't holding up. The truth of the matter is, we need a healthy and growing middle class. Even the rich need a healthy middle class. If no one has any money, they can't buy their overpriced iPods and underpriced tickets to the new Danielle Belmont movie. The economy needs as many consumers with disposable income as it can have.
I can't wait to trade Washington state for Washington D.C. to try to help make that happen. It's a scary thought in some ways. I could actually be uprooting myself once again and spending most of my time in a new city. That means less time with the rain, with the fries at Greasers, with the vomit bags at Lim's, with the cute barista at the coffee shop. After all this time plotting my big future, is it actually about to happen?
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[ September 29th, 2008 | 1:12pm ] |
When I read those surveys, the most common fears that people have are death and public speaking. For whatever reason, I was born without the shame gene, so public speaking's never been an issue for me. In fact, I look forward to it. As for death... well yeah, that would admittedly be a bummer, but I'm holding out hope that I'll die in some spectacular fashion, either as the result of political assassination or being beaten to death with a hammer by some crazy ex girlfriend. For me, there's nothing I hate more than losing.
In high school, I used to sign up for all these extracurricular activities, primarily to look good on college applications. I've never played more than two games of chess in my life, yet somehow I was in the Chess Club. Cool guy alert. Even dorkier was how involved I was in this thing we had called Mock Trial. You assign everyone a trial room role; kids act as lawyers and pretend to be witnesses. We even had a poor pimple faced freshman who had to be the bailiff.
Of course, I wanted the plum role, which in my eyes was giving the opening and closing statements. Even back then, I didn't fear public speaking in the way that most normal person should. The kids in the club all voted in order to decide who got each role. Junior year, I finally won the right to give the opening and closing statements in a landslide election, 9 to 1.
I should have been happy, but that 1 vote against me got under my skin. It came from none other than Sleepy Leftwich. His real name was Steve, but everyone called him Sleepy because he had one droopy eye. For some reason, Sleepy Leftwich never really liked me. Looking back, I think calling him Sleepy didn't help. Still, Sleepy's disapproval bugged me, especially considering he'd voted for Susan Meyer-Jones, who couldn't put a sentence together let alone a whole speech.
I imagine most kids would have shunned Sleepy, but I took the opposite approach. From then on, after every Mock Trial practice, I asked Sleepy if he wanted to hang out with me and my friends. This was a major step up in cool class for Sleepy. He turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He didn't say much, but I appreciated that, because it gave me even more opportunity to talk. I'd even say Sleepy became a friend of mine. In fact, I went as far as to get him a cute date for the semiformal. Sure, she was a sophomore who still had braces, but hey, this is Sleepy Leftwich we're talking about. I was a friend, not a miracle worker.
Fast forward to the next Fall, my senior year, right about time for Mock Trial elections. It was a bigger pool than before with plenty of new kids, but I wasn't worried about my spot on the team. True to form, I won the right to give the opening and closing arguments 13 to 1. The dissenter? Sleepy Leftwich. Or as he is now known in my head, Judas.
Somehow, I got over that betrayal and made it off to college. This may seem strange to most outside observers, but I was a halfway decent baseball player. In fact, while I loved Mock Trial and trying to be class president, for most of my youth, I wanted to make it to the Major Leagues. It wasn't totally implausible either. I did have a baseball scholarship to play for a very good Stanford squad.
After a pretty good freshman year, I had the opportunity to start at shortstop as a sophomore. My competition was a senior named Eric Bruntlett. There was one thing getting in my way... I wasn't very good. I was a scrappy player, but I wasn't a very good hitter. As if to give an omen for my future dating life, I swung at everything and struck out a ton. Meanwhile, Eric was a much better athlete. He was stronger, quicker, more experienced. He could play every position on the field. I was a dead man.
Of course, I didn't realize that at the time. Knowing I was lacking in the talent department, I tried to make up for it by staying late after practice and fielding grounders even when my elbow started getting sore. I probably put in three times as much practice time as Eric did. I knew I couldn't out-hit or out-run him, but I thought it might be enough if I out-worked him. As the season started, it didn't work out. I kept struggling, and as a response, I kept putting in more and more hours. One day, while working after practice, I tore a ligament in my elbow. I needed reconstructive surgery and would miss the rest of the year.
Eric went on to hit .340 that year as our team made it to the College World Series. I watched from the dugout. After that year was over, Eric got drafted by the Astros. I never made it back onto the team. After a little time in the minors, Eric made it to the Major Leagues. He wasn't great, but he achieved his dream. I went on to start up new dreams, like becoming a lawyer and politician.
If you've actually made it this far in the journal, you're probably wondering what the point of these stories is. I've been wondering the same thing. I know the moral of the story isn't that you should be okay with failure. There are plenty of times when I've struggled at something, only worked hard enough to become a success. I guess, the lesson I'm trying to learn is, losing isn't always the worst thing in the world.
I'm reminded of that because I've been trying to repair some damaged friendships lately. It isn't going as planned. The people that I apologized to still dislike me to various degrees, and I don't know if that will ever change. I have this compulsion to keep fighting when someone doesn't like me, but I don't know how productive that is. I don't know any other guy who makes it an objective to stay friends with each of his ex's (or friends of his ex's). In fact, they'd probably think I'm crazy for trying. Still, I have to believe it's worth it. Lydia and Dani, as two examples, are people that I consider great friends, despite the potential awkwardness.
Of course, not everyone's going to be Lydia or Dani. There are people out there that just plain don't like me. They are the new Sleepy Leftwich's of the world. No matter how much I hang out with them, no matter how many brace-faced chicks I give to them on a silver platter, they're just not fans of mine. Maybe they never will be. I've got to accept that. Or at least, try to.
Losing's been a theme in other aspects of my life as well, as Angie decided that she'd rather pursue something with that bearded writer dude. I felt uncomfortable about getting in his way in the first place, and when Angie finally said she liked him, it was a no brainer to stay out of it. In fact, they actually seem like they're a much better match for each other, to be honest. I love politics; she loathes it like every other sane person. She loves movies; I haven't even used the DVD player in my apartment yet. They're a better fit, as quirky crazy artist types. Hopefully things will work out between them and they'll have a boatload of bearded little kids.
I can't get too down about losing out on Angie, even though I did really like her initially. The way I see it, it's not unlike me and Eric Bruntlett at Stanford. At the end of the day, Eric was meant to be a baseball player. He was much better suited for it than I was, no matter how hard I tried. And in effect, if I didn't lose out to Eric and get injured, I never would have pursued what turned out to be the life that I feel I was meant for, that of an obnoxious politician.
So yeah, I think that, despite the ridiculous length of this post, the moral's making sense to me. Losing sucks, but sometimes it's unavoidable and sometimes it's for the best. There are worse things in the world than not winning everything and everyone.
Someone remind me of that if I ever do lose an election and want to beat myself to death with a hammer.
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[ September 24th, 2008 | 6:56pm ] |
Apparently there's been a bit of an Evan backlash after Angie and I posted those matching journal entries. The idea sounded charming and cutesy when it was just the one, but posting them together probably seemed way too cheesy. I apologize to everyone who spontaneously vomited onto their keyboard.
Some of you might have different reactions. I imagine Jake Winters is digging me a grave right now. Jake, put down the shovel, things will be fine. I promise that Angie and I aren't going too overboard. We're both aware that we don't know each other that well yet. We're getting to know each other. So far it's a harmless and simple story -- boy likes girl, girl likes boy less but is willing to lower her standards because she's getting old and desperate. Tale as old as time.
There are a few people who have been more upset with me over different things, so I wanted to take the time to apologize to them each over private posts. If you aren't included, and feel like I owe you an apology for something else, let me know. No grievance is too small, whether I slept with your wife or cut you off in traffic. It's full blown Evan apology season here at the Hartwell house. So here goes the first round:
( [private to Sammy Lake] )
( [private to Sidney Remington] )
( [private to Roxie St. Clair] )
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[ September 17th, 2008 | 7:08pm ] |
As some people have observed, there's been a little social drama in my life recently. You see, I've been deadset on dating someone in the Winters family. Turns out, Jake is unavailable and Chase is uninterested, I've had to settle for the middle one, what's-her-face.
So, in my desperation, I have been forced to issue the following statement:
"To whom it may concern ;
I, Evan James Hartwell, esquire, am a jealous turd whose exasperatingly boring political mind and adorable dimples shall, from this moment on, be the exclusive property of Angela Elliot Winters."
Now, just to clarify, as lovely and charming as the girl is, we can't give her the Evan Girlfriend distinction yet. However, I'm not interested in seeing other people, partly because I'm an old fart, but mostly because she's driving me a little bit crazy. I should say, even crazier than I was before. So, in this crazy state, I'm happy to see how things play out.
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[ September 11th, 2008 | 9:30pm ] |
A few missing people have been accounted for, thankfully. Not sure what it was about, but I am sure it's none of my business, so I'm happy to move on. I have some weekend plans of my own to deal with.
I would rant about various political topics, but I've decided to spare everyone tonight. You're welcome.
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[ September 5th, 2008 | 1:32pm ] |
After a few days of being off my game, I'm back and ready to go win this election. After watching the Republican National Convention, I'm even more invested in the national election as well. Five years ago, I would have told you that I liked John McCain. The guy is a legitimate war hero. He defines the term public servant. And, throughout the course of his Senatorial career, he had boldly crossed party lines on numerous occasions in order to do what he thought was right, even if it meant working with men his party considered villains, like Kennedy and Feingold. He didn't care about being popular enough to sell cheap tricks; he wanted to help his country.
That guy doesn't seem to be around anymore. A few years after calling divisive reverend Jerry Falwell an "evil influence," McCain buddied up to him, just in time for the primary. His more moderate views on issues like immigration, the estate tax, torture, and abortion shifted and started to fall in line with the base of his party. According to reports, he wanted to pick Joe Lieberman as his VP. The party elites weren't having it, so he caved and picked an ultraconservative in Sarah Palin. McCain had always been reluctant to bring religion into politics, but Palin's the kind of gal who actually called the Iraq War "a task from God" with a straight face.
McCain's not a maverick anymore, but he's still selling himself as one. He claims that he's the one who would be able to change Washington. We hear that a lot, "change." My question is, what exactly does the new John McCain want to change? The Republicans can talk about the differences between them and Barack Obama, but they can't articulate any actual differences between them and George W. Bush. McCain's policy on Iraq is straight out of Bush's neoconservative playbook. His domestic policies have become a mirror image as well. Among other things, McCain's now pushing hard to keep Bush's tax cuts on the wealthy.
The issue of taxes is one that particularly concerns me, because my own opponent, the lovely Wallace Johnstone, has been touting that as his primary, and I'd say only, issue. That's sure as hell one easy issue to sell, isn't it? Who doesn't like the idea of lower taxes? When surveyed, people say they want to increase spending on health care, increase spending on schools, increase spending on defense, increase spending on every single issue... but at the same time, they want taxes to go down. Somehow the contradiction is someone else's problem.
I'm not in favor of high taxes. The case for lower taxes across the board is a legitimate one, but here's the part that's unacceptable to me: right now we're lowering taxes for the richest of the rich, and racking up a national debt at the same time. In effect, we're not lowering taxes, we're putting them off. Every dollar that we go in debt is one that we're going to have to pay back one day. And to think, in 20 years, we'll be at a position least able to afford it. The huge Baby Boomer generation will have stopped working and started to collect social security, furthering our economic burden. It's fiscally irresponsible. I think the idea of sacrifice our future is so inherently un-American.
It's not popular for politicians to worry about long-term issues. They all know it's going to be a huge problem for the country. But to them, it's somebody else's problem. Some politicians are brave enough to speak up about it. I remember one ardent critic of our mounting debt and fiscal irresponsibility -- John McCain. Well, the old model of McCain that is. Now, he's changed his tune. He's now supporting tax cuts for the wealthy. It's not because he believes in it. It's because... that's sure as hell one easy issue to sell, isn't it?
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[ September 2nd, 2008 | 10:43pm ] |
I got an advanced copy of the newspaper articles the Times is doing on us. I had hoped they'd get into some of the policy differences, but they did always say said this would be more of an introductory biographical profile. The side-by-side articles are running tomorrow on the cover of the metro section.
It's a good thing I read them though, because there's a lot I didn't know about myself. Turns out, my eating french fries with Keely was actually a steamy hot affair. Personally, I'm not too offended by the negative article, because most of it seems to be anonymous sources reciting what amounts to the equivalent of high school gossip. I like that Jake and Lyds got shout outs in the more positive article, because they really deserve it. I'm sure they're going to be stolen away by some high-priced campaign, which sucks for me, because I'll have no one to cover up my tracks when I do something more scandalous than eat french fries.
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[ August 26th, 2008 | 11:56pm ] |
I realize that a lot of you out there either ignore or abhor politics, but I encourage you all to watch Barack Obama's DNC speech on Thursday night. Regardless of your personal party affiliation, there's no denying that the man is a remarkable orator. The speech he gave at the '04 convention was one of the most brilliant ones I've heard. From that one speech, he was able to turn himself from a man running for his first Senate term, to someone who could viably run for President of the United States just two years later.
There's a lot of impressive attributes about Obama the candidate, but his best is his speech making abilities. Strangely, I find that he's not all that great in debates, or even when he's reading a speech off notes. It's when he has these big moments, with the perfectly eloquent prepared speech ready for him on the TelePrompter, that he's at his best. That sounds like an insult, but I don't mean it to be. Many of the powers of the presidency are informal, so it's necessary to be able to persuade people, both the public and Congressmen, to buy into your agenda. It doesn't matter how brilliant your message is if you can't communicate it.
I'm more mixed on Obama's choice of Joe Biden for VP. For those of you fortunate souls who have been able to tune out the election, Biden's a long-time senator from Delaware who's recently been chair of the Foreign Relations Committee. He's one of the most influential and knowledgeable members of the party. Obviously, he's qualified for the job. My issue with it is that I worry it'll dilute Obama's message of change. It's harder to argue that you'll bring new blood to Washington when your VP has been in Congress since 1973. I understand why Obama felt he had to do it -- to help assuage doubts about his aptitude with foreign policy and to secure his standing with the base -- but my concern is, if he's worried about those two things, then he's in more trouble than I anticipated. Personally, I would have doubled down on the change message and gone with someone like Virginia governor Tim Kaine. Although, if that happened, people could have attacked him for politicizing the pick by choosing someone with ties to a swing state. I suppose there's no perfect pick. Well, there is, but I won't be Constitutionally able to run until I'm 35. America, you will have to wait.
Speaking of myself, since I can't go very long without doing that, I was reading an interesting interview with Obama in Newsweek. The interviewer made note of the fact that there tend to be two categories of presidents. Without fail, they either grew up with a larger-than-life father figure like Kennedy or Bush, or a completely absent father figure as was the case for Bill Clinton. Obama responds by citing the quote that, "A man's either trying to live up to his father's expectations or make up for his father's mistakes." Obviously Obama's in one camp, describing his father as a "a deeply troubled person," as well as an alcoholic and womanizer.
Obama also says that, "You can argue that if you're too well adjusted, you don't end up running for president." I wonder if those are indeed mutually exclusive. It's sort of sad to think that you can't be well-adjusted and president at the same time. It's probably even sadder that, after getting so excited by the national election and so invested in our own little campaign, I know without a doubt which of those two I'd prefer.
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[ August 16th, 2008 | 7:36pm ] |
The one great thing about my career, or at least, the career I'm trying to get, is that socializing is part of the job description. Previously, if I spent thirty minutes chatting up the girl behind the counter at Starbucks, it'd be seen as wasting time. Now, it's called campaigning.
Even still, every Evan needs a bit of normal socializing, just to keep the blood flowing and my sanity somewhat intact. It's strange that my best friends in Seattle happen to be working for me in Jake and Lydia. I'm blessed to be in that situation, actually. Law of averages says, in the average office, there have to be at least one or two people that you wind up despising. Maybe you don't necessarily hate them, but after so many hours spent sealed together in close quarters, their little habits start to grate on you, so much so that you can't wait to rush out at 5 and vent to your real friends before you explode. On the other hand, I get to spend the majority of the day with people that I actually like. Of course, maybe I am the one guy in the office that everyone can't stand. Law of averages says as much.
Even if I do enjoy work, I still need a life outside the campaign. That's one of the reasons I'm glad I patched things up with Roxie. Not in the sense that we're running off to Vegas to get married, but that we can hopefully hang out without it being awkward. I'm not sure what will happen in the future, but at the very least, I hope we can stay friends, even when she goes back to school next month. I should try to convince her to flunk out of school and stay on Evan duty full time, but I doubt that'll fly. Beckett, work on that.
Another interesting new character has emerged in my life in the form of the very lovely Sidney Remington. If you haven't heard of Sidney yet, you're clearly not a fan of the arts, because she's poised to become the next big thing. The economy may be struggling, but the sure fire way to put your kids through college is to invest in an original Remington piece. I'm investing my time in the woman herself. I've always had a thing for sweet-natured artists and, at the very least, maybe I'll get another vote out of it.
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[ July 23rd, 2008 | 3:52pm ] |
There have been way too many Emo Evan postings lately, so instead, this entry is an Assorted Evan Ramblings Edition --
-- At the risk of offending all my LA friends, I don't see very many movies. I probably go to one or two in the theater every year. (The exception of course is any movie that involves those wonderful LA friends. The Hitcher? How does that NOT win the Oscar?) Anyway, the one movie I was genuinely excited about seeing was the new Batman. Every since I was a kid, Batman was always my go-to superhero. I dressed as Batman for Halloween when I was 5. And 6. And 7 and 8. When I got too big for the chest plate, I kept wearing the mask and just paired it with a grey sweatshirt. Part of that was a money saving technique, but a lot of it had to do to the fact that we can all relate to Batman. He's not some alien lifeform with unstoppable powers; he's just a dude with some brains, kung-fu moves and a mask. I may not have kung-fu moves or much of a brain, but I still have that Halloween mask.
Anyway, the movie was amazing. Obviously the Joker was the most entertaining part, but I actually appreciated the way they worked real life issues into what would traditionally be a popcorn movie. The duality of man. The duty of public servants. They even threw in the prisoners' dilemma for all those Intro to Philosophy students out there. Bottom line: go check it out. After you rent the Hitcher, of course.
-- John McCain keeps making "oopsies," like repeatedly referring to the country of Czechoslovakia, which hasn't existed since 1993. (It's technically two countries now, for those scoring at home). Some people might chalk this up to the candidates being tired on the campaign trial, but I don't really buy that one. I'm doing the same thing, albeit on a much smaller scale, and it is tiring. However, you might misspeak once and a while, but I don't think I've ever routinely made factual errors.
The other way people can explain this is that McCain's just too damn old and losing his mind. I don't believe that's necessarily the case either, although I think it's legitimate to discuss whether the most pressure-filled, time-consuming, energy-draining job on the planet should go to a 70-year-old. I think McCain might not be in his prime, but his mind's still nearly as sharp as it used to be. He's not George W. Bush dumb, but at the risk of sounding snide, he was never known around Washington as the brightest bulb to begin with (see: his near-last graduation rank).
This is the real problem, as I see it. McCain's greatest strength, according to most people, is that he has great experience. However, people don't understand that it's much easier for people to learn information than re-learn information. It's the old "can't teach an old dog new tricks" theory. I'd hate to stereotype people, but I imagine most of you would agree that your grandparents are probably more stuck in their ways than you are. They probably aren't typing up blogs on the internet, for example. Once you get something stuck in your head, like say, there's a country called Czechoslovakia, it tends to stay there.
How is this relevant? Because it goes with my theory on Mr. McCain. I think his generation grew up in a Cold War mindset. Gotta get those commies. The older generation of politician tends to view terrorism as the same exact type of threat as communism, to be fought in the same way. The best way to beat the USSR was to build huge armies and march them across the globe like a game of Risk. Fighting terrorism is an entirely different operation and requires more intelligence gathering than tanks. While everyone seems to believe McCain would be best to fight terrorism because he's a Republican and a war hero, I think Obama's more equipped to understand the new age we live in.
-- Speaking of politics, I've heard through my spies (really just friends) at the newspapers that the Times is going to run a cover story on me. Two, actually, both under the headline "Going Green." One's going to be a profile of the excitement of new young candidates tackling environmental and energy issues -- so it's "green" like the environment. The other one's supposed to be more negative, criticizing me for my inexperience. "Green" in the sense that I'm an amateur. My only concern with that is that the first question that the reporter who called Jake asked was, "So what's the deal with Keely Williams staying at his house?" Great. I don't have a problem with newspapers or anyone else criticizing me for not having political experience, but there's a difference between substantive attacks and sensationalized ones. They're a newspaper, not TMZ.
Either way, there's nothing that I can do about the articles coming out. Worst case, it's so damning and horrible that I can never get elected like Harvey Dent did, so I'll have to turn into a secret do-gooder like Batman. That's not so terrible. And hell, I've already got the mask.
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[ July 17th, 2008 | 11:14pm ] |
I don't know what's wrong with me. For whatever reason, I need someone else to tell me that it might not be prudent to date a 20-year-old college student. I need someone else to tell me it's not wise to then start hitting publicly on public figures. I thought I was a relatively smart guy, but clearly my brain has a few blind spots.
This isn't a recent trend, of course. I've always had this problem, of inappropriately hitting on every girl around. Truthfully, it hasn't really been a huge problem per say, aside from that one time Keegan decked me. Aside from that, I've never gotten into any trouble off of it. But now, things are different. Now, this behavior of mine has the chance to mess up the one thing I want most in my life.
Apparently some newspaper called the office, asking if it was true that the actress Keely Williams had stayed over at my apartment. On a professional level, it was incredibly dumb of me to do. (On a personal level, really fun, but that's not the point). Obviously, issues like that shouldn't decide elections, but the truth is, they often do. Every other factor says I should win this election. The only way I'm going to lose, realistically, is if I fuck it up. If I keep behaving this way, I will.
I'm trying my best to figure out the root of this. I even took an online test to find out if I'm a sex addict. Turns out, I'm not. I kinda knew that anyway, because for me, it's not really about the sex. So much of the enjoyment is being able to turn a girl from not necessarily liking me to wanting to have sex with me. As soon as she does, my interest typically wanes. Don't get me wrong, I'll still have the sex and quite enjoy it, but this is my point: I'd rather make a girl fall for me and then not have sex with her than have sex with a girl who doesn't really dig me.
So why is that? To actually understand that, I probably need to see a shrink or something. Of course, I can't do that. Candidates seen with therapists are worse off than candidates seen with college girls. As far as my self-diagnosis and discussions with friends go, I have some theories:
I could be an attention whore. Or a crazy arrogant fuck who needs the constant validation to feed my ego. Or maybe it's just the natural politician in me, always needing to get people's approval, to win over their votes. I don't think it's a coincidence that so many of my heroes have been politicians/playboys. JFK, Bill Clinton. You'd be hard pressed to find a politician who wasn't sleeping around. It's in our DNA I guess. If you're constantly traveling, and constantly trying to be charming, you're going to end up in some pretty naked situations eventually. I bet even Bob Dole and Ross Perot got their fair share of ass.
There's two other theories, both far scarier than the ones mentioned above. Maybe I'm just not ready. I'm 28. Despite the teasings of all my friends, it's really not that old. Intellectually, I think I'm definitely ready to be in Congress. I can hold my own with anyone out there, I think. However, it's a lot of pressure to act like the perfect politician for a 28 year old. Hell, plenty of my high school classmates are still living with their parents and looking to find a good job. And here I am, pretending to act like I have all the answers to life.
The other theory's a little darker still: perhaps I'm self-destructive. Maybe I see the light at the end of the tunnel, that I'm so close to achieving this life-long dream of mine, and I'm sabotaging myself. That doesn't make sense, but it sounds like the kind of psychobabble I'd hear if I actually was allowed to go to a therapist. People repeat patterns of their parents. If your parents were divorced, you're more likely to get divorced. If your father was a drug addict, you're more likely to become a drug addict. I wish I was like JFK, but we Hartwells, we're no Kennedys. We're not a great line of achievers. Only a handful of us have actually gone to college. My dad's resume was a police blotter. If we're somehow forced to repeat my family's behavior, I'm fairly well fucked.
I worried about it for a long time, but now, I've convinced myself that I'm not going to end up like my Dad. I'm fairly certain, at least. After all, my worst case scenario's not so bad at all. I'd lose the election, go back to being a well-paid lawyer, and get to flirt and have sex with whomever I want. The only problem is, that's not what I want. I don't think I could be happy being this close, and then going back to something else. Ultimately, that's the reason that I have to change. Even if I do have one of these fundamental flaws, or maybe two or three added together, I've got to fight through them.
To do that, I'm going to need help. Everyone out there, please help me control my natural instincts to be an ass. If you notice me doing something inappropriate, don't hesistate to let me know. If you see chatting up some high school chick, kick me in the balls. And if you're an attractive women and I try to flirt with you, shut me down immediately. (Of course for most of you attractive women, that's your own natural instinct anyway.)
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[ July 8th, 2008 | 7:14am ] |
Every once in awhile I read a story about a volcano erupting and destroying the small town nearby. Maybe I'm insensitive, but my first thought is always, "why did those people build a town right by a volcano?"
See, some scientists looking at the history of Mt. Hypothetical would know its patterns. They might know that Mt. Hypothetical is bound to erupt every 300 years and it's been 299. But those poor villagers, they probably had no idea. They probably saw a nice green mountain and said, "Hey this looks like a good place to call home." Next thing they know, their baby's drowning in molten lava.
That's how I feel about my love life. Okay, maybe it's not half as dramatic as a baby burning alive, but the girls who date me might beg to differ.
The point is, an explosion was bound to happen. Things were quiet, too quiet. In the past year, almost all my concerns have been campaign-related. In fact, for the last month or so, girls have been reducing my stress levels, not adding to it. That's one of my favorite things about Roxie. No matter how draining my day was, I could hang out with her and feel recharged. Things were going quite well, I thought. So of course, as any scientist studying the history of Evan would know, it had to blow up eventually.
The impetus came in a discussion I was having with a friend. That's not to say she caused it; rather, she brought up an issue already there, sleeping. She was talking about issues in her own love life and said: "relationships aren't always as easy as sleeping around with a college student." I've developed a pretty thick skin, but for whatever reason, that one stung.
Well, I know the reason. Two of them, in fact. I objected to the notion that I was just "sleeping around" with Roxie. True, she hadn't been bestowed the royal designation of Evan's Girlfriend yet, but it was probably headed that way. We were dating, getting to know each other, etc. To simply it to merely sex seems wrong to me.
The other part of the comment that bugged me was referring to Roxie as simply "a college student." Of course, people tend to be summarized in a few words. (to name a few: Sammy Lake = hyperactive movie star, Lydia = smart Russian dwarf, Evan = ass.) There's a thousand ways to describe Roxie, but anyone who actually knows her well wouldn't settle on "a college student." Heck, I don't even know if she made it to half her classes.
The problem is, not everyone would take the time to know Roxie. They'd refer to her, in the papers and the smoke-filled rooms, as just that: "a college student." It's certainly not respectable for a budding politician to be dating "a college student." It makes me look like the lecherous perv that I most certainly am.
So yeah, I went to her place and talked about that. We resolved that maybe it wasn't the best idea to date, casually or officially. It doesn't feel like the right thing, but then again, maybe it is for the best. She can go back to school and go back to being a carefree college student, quote marks or not. Still, I feel terrible about it. This wasn't her fault whatsoever. I practically begged her to come spend her summer in Seattle, and then, a month later, I said that I couldn't date her. If that earlier analogy, she'd be the innocent villagers who accidentally set up shop next to a natural disaster.
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[ July 2nd, 2008 | 5:38pm ] |
Let me start off with two preemptive happy birthdays, because there's a pair of big ones coming up on July 4th, which is only two days away. The United States of America is turning 232 years old. And, almost as importantly, our own Lydia Brooks has the same birthday. Funny enough, Lyds is also turning 232 this year. I'm told that's just a coincidence, but I wouldn't be surprised if baby Lydia was there back in the day, shouting at Thomas Jefferson to finish the damn Declaration of Independence already.
I'm not sure if Lyds has anything planned, but maybe we'll have a barbecue for her/America. So if you're in the Seattle area, be sure to check that out. I promise to keep her away from the grill too. She might claim to know how to make chicken soup, but I'm sure if she was in charge of the barbecue, our entire state would be burned down within a few hours.
I imagine Keely will stick around for that, because that girl loves her hot dogs. If you hadn't heard, Keely Williams, also known as the megafamous movie star, has been slumming it in Seattle for a few days. I'm trying my very best to give her an unglamorous good ol' time, complete with greasy food and filing at the office. I've been trying to fatten her up, because I figure once she hits the 300 pound mark, I might have a shot. Although she probably can't wait to take the next private plane back home to the good life, she's been a good sport so far. And no, I'm not sleeping with her either, although that might change as soon as I figure out how to pick the lock on her bedroom door.
I've also been hanging out with Roxie St. Clair, the not-quite-as-famous beauty from LA. Roxie's been a great sport as well, even though I tricked her into living with that nutbag Beckett. As a reward for her good behavior, I overpaid for some jewelry. And they say I'm not romantic. In fact, it's the most gorgeous fifty cent necklace/bracelet I've ever seen in my life. Roxie's passing every test so far, but there will be a lot more hoops to jump through before she can claim the ultimate prize of Evan's Girlfriend (TM). She'll have to solve the riddle of the sphinx, slay the three-headed dragon on the lava lake, and, worst of all, be able to tolerate me for more than an hour at a time. Poor girl doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.
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[ June 25th, 2008 | 10:24am ] |
One of the biggest cliches in politics is when candidates claim to have been moved by some person's stories. Like Al Gore really had an in-depth conversation with little Juanita about how her class was too crowded, and Hillary had a heart-to-heart with some 90-year-old retiree and changed her stance on social security. Whenever I watched those speeches, it always seemed contrived and phony.
After going around on this campaign, I do have to say, there's some truth to that. I talk to dozens and dozens of people every day, and you can't help but be impacted by them. More than anything, people seem to be concerned with where this country is headed. Truthfully, some of those fears are a little silly. A local businessman was worried about a terrorist attack. Even if there's a terrorist attack, I sincerely doubt Al Qaeda will consider his fish and bait store a high-priority target. A truck driver I spoke with was vehemently opposed to gay marriage. Even if gay marriage becomes legal, I sincerely doubt that this guy's barber is going to so turned on by his mullet that he'll pop down on his knees and propose.
Of course, a lot of the concerns are legitimate ones. The teacher worried about gas prices. The dock worker worried about losing his job. You can't talk to these people and not want to help them out, if you can. The thing that's a little depressing to me is that these people have been lied to so often by our politicians. Most politicians are used car salesmen, lying through their teeth to get that temporary sale without any concern about how the person's going to feel in a month. Truthfully, Congress and the president can only do so much. They can't flip a switch and lower gas prices, and they can't turn the tide on outsourcing. People can't expect the government to solve all their problems. The government will try its best, but personal responsibility has to play a role as well. The best thing you can do about gas prices is make your next car purchase a hybrid. The best thing you can do to avoid boatloads of health care costs is to make a commitment to prevention. The best thing you can do to help your finances is to avoid mounting credit card debt. I know I sound like some crazy Republican here, but that's not it. I genuinely believe that the government can be more effective in helping people with their problems, but they can't solve every single one of them completely. We all have to work together to make this country stronger. Jeez, now I sound like a cliched politician myself.
I do love talking to people, if you hadn't noticed. Candidate Evan is not the same as Out-on-the-Town Evan, of course. I try to keep my obnoxiousness down and try not to hit on every girl I see. However, I can't help but try to engage and joke with people. It makes me wonder how I ever survived life as a lawyer. I do love a lot of the aspects of being a lawyer -- the intellectual challenge of it all -- but it can often be a solitary existence. You can be a sensational lawyer and never leave your office. Being out on the road is so much more suited to my personality, even if it means I can't sleep in my own bed every night. That's just another reason it'll be crushing to lose this election. I feel like I know what I was meant to do in life, which is such an exhilarating feeling. To realize that, and then to have it taken away... well, I can't imagine.
In order to avoid being imprisoned in an office again, I'm increasing my work hours. I kept calling the Republican candidate's offices and, through trial and error, figured out their work hours. They get in at 9, so I decided to get in at 7. They leave at 6, which means I'll leave at 8, if not later. Given how obnoxious and cliche I am, I'll need every advantage I can get.
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[ June 10th, 2008 | 9:13pm ] |
Aside from Christmas, July 4th has always been my favorite holiday. Sorry to break the news to you, Arbor Day, but you can't compete with hamburgers, hot dogs, and fireworks. The only problem I have with July 4th is, I'm about to ruin it forever.
Since the campaign geared up, I've been making attempts to be healthier. As a handful of women out there can attest, I wasn't in terrible shape before. Still, my body was fueled mostly by a steady IV drip of coffee and ginger ale. That kind of diet got me through law school and the law firm all right, but for the campaign I needed a whole new level of energy. I needed to train like an athlete, I thought. It was either that, or develop a cocaine habit, and that didn't really appeal to me.
So, as the first step towards becoming Evan 2.0, I started working out more than usual. Running for an hour as soon as I got up, even if the sun wasn't out and I happened to stub my toe in the darkness from time to time. Next was saying goodbye to the coffee. Now, it's only tea for me. If you saw me order at Starbucks, you might confuse me for a Brit, if only I had some slight semblance of class.
This past week I started the next step -- cutting out red meat. Red meat's apparently bad for my cholesterol and blood pressure and all that, not to mention the environment. Don't get me wrong: I don't want to become some sort of hippie health nut who only eats grains and berries out of my fanny pack. I'm not giving up all meat, and no one's touching my ginger ale. However, if this keeps me awake and energetic for another thirty minutes a day, it'll be worth it. Not to mention, I do think I'm looking sexier than ever, even if I don't have any girls to show that off to.
There's only two problems with my new lifestyle, and the big one is July 4th, when I'm supposed to be enjoying those hot dogs and hamburgers. I'll be the nerd sitting in the corner, nibbling on my turkey burgers and chicken dogs, dodging spitballs from all the cool kids.
The other problem with living a healthy lifestyle is that it might be too healthy. Instead of die at a normal ripe old age, I might live until I'm 142. If I'm going to be around that long, I'm going to need a whole new set of goals. 142 years is a long ass time on this planet, and I figure I can get a lot of things done. I've listed my goals before, but now I have to revise them. Here goes:
Age 28 -- Get elected to Congress. That could happen as early as this November, but even if it doesn't, I'm not going to give up on this one. If I'm going to live 100 more years, I can try 50 more times to win an election. Even someone as obnoxious as myself has to get lucky 1 of 50 tries, don't they? That's my philosophy on hitting on women, at least.
Age 36 -- This would be after three successful terms in the House, where I aptly stayed out of any sex scandal, particularly ones involving prostitutes. I'll try to make the jump to the next level, whatever is most realistic. Governor? Senator? Mayor of Seattle? America's Next Top Model? Any of those would do.
Age 44 -- At this point, I want to have finished up two great terms as something like governor of Washington. In two terms, I should have been able to accomplish a lot. I'd want our state to be the nation's leader in terms of our educational rank, our economy, and the amount of our women who won a place in Maxim's hot 100 list. Then, using that resume, I'll be ready to announce my candidacy for President of the United States. Bad-ass.
Age 45 -- Oh, I'll probably need to have matured and settled down by this point. So if I haven't already, I'll have to hire a talented actress to play my doting wife, not to mention a gaggle of adorable, camera-ready little tykes. I'm thinking I need at least nine kids. I'm just narcisstic enough to think that nine more Hartwells out there is a good thing.
Age 52 -- After the most successful presidency in American history, I will politely decline the nation's request to change the Constitution so that I can run again. However, due to public pressure, I will reluctantly and humbly agree to have my face added to Mt. Rushmore, and for a holiday to be named in my honor, replacing Arbor Day.
Age 67 -- I'll cheer from the bleachers as my nine sons, who make up the starting lineup of the Seattle Mariners, make it to the World Series. However, when little Evan Jr. goes down with an ankle injury, I'll have to jump down from the stands and play third base. Of course, I provide the key hit in the bottom of the 9th and get named World Series MVP.
Age 83 -- Along with my presumably very beautiful and very sexually liberated wife, I will retire from public life for good. I'll wave goodbye to Washington and move to my sprawling secret island estate off the coast of Hawaii, where I will interview quirky midgets to be my sidekicks. I'll spend my days writing political theory books, and working on wild science experiments where I mate zebras and polar bears.
Age 98 -- My zolar bear experiment will result in mass failure and a zolar bear infestation in Hawaii. However, in the process, I'll stumble upon the formula for reusable energy, forever reducing our dependence on foreign oil and earning me the first of seven Noble Prizes. Even the people of Hawaii are extremely grateful, and are willing to overlook the dozens of their children who were eaten by my zolar bears.
Age 107 -- I'll come back to the United States to watch the presidential inauguration of Lydia Brooks, who, after being the puppet-master to decades of presidents, finally decides to take the reins herself. She'll not only be the hottest and Jewish-ist president of all-time, she'll go down in history as the shortest. After all, people shrink as they get older. By this point, Lyds will be so small, she'll forgo Air Force One and ride around in a paper airplane.
Age 121 -- I'll attend the funeral of my beloved wife, and stay strong as the nation weeps for my loss. I'll wonder whether life is even worth living at this point without my true love.
Age 121 and a half -- Then I'll meet a gorgeous 20-year-old supermodel, and decide that yes, I should continue on, for the good of the country. An internationally televised wedding will follow, garnering the highest ratings since my memorable World Series victory.
Age 142 -- I die peacefully in my sleep, after an exhausting night of wild sex with my new wife and her three sisters.
Age 29310 -- Scientists use my DNA to bring me back to life so that I may lead the Earth's resistance from an invading alien life-form we call Margleplex. I unite the broken countries of the world into one great collective force, where we will put aside all our differences to kick some serious Margleplexian ass.
Age 29348 -- I die again, for the last time, as a hero as I sacrifice my own life in order to kill the Margleplexian overlord Zanud, a spider-like beast half the size of Texas.
Okay I'll stop there. Clearly, this new diet of mine is giving me way too much energy and time on my hands. In fact, I probably need to rethink some things. I'll keep trying to stay healthy, but I won't overdo it. I'll sneak a burger here and there, on July 4th at least. I mean, what good is our independence from the British and Margleplexians if we can't enjoy it?
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[ May 26th, 2008 | 4:48pm ] |
I apologize for neglecting my journal and my friends lately. Ever since the wedding, I've been in overdrive, working on the campaign. In the past, I used to be pretty good about balancing my work and my social life. That is, I went full-tilt on both. In college, I'd study for a test until midnight and then go out and party until the morning. Once the work got done, I made sure to get my fill of fun.
Now, it's not so easy. The work never technically gets done. In school, you finished your paper, took your test. Things got done. Working at the law firm was similar. I worked until the briefs were done, the case was prepped, whatever boring lawyerly thing that I needed to finish first.
There's certainly an end point to the campaign, in November. But until that time, there's no set amount of work. It never ends. There's always someone I could be calling, for advice, for support, for a contribution. There's hundreds of thousands of people I could talk to, every single day. There's no way I can ever be satisfied with what I've done that day. It's easy to overwork yourself in those situations. I'm lucky that I don't have a wife or family yet, because they probably would have shot me by now with my schedule.
I suppose, I could look at it the other way. There's no set amount of work, so I could theoretically do nothing. Go to Hawaii for a few months and work on my tan. It's a shame I don't think like that. And besides, my tan's still decent from Australia.
Anyway, back to work. I just finished a great book -- The Post-American World, by Fareed Zakaria -- that I'm going to recommend the whole staff to read. It's about how the rise of developing countries like China and India will affect unipolarity. I recommend it to all those non-Evan-staffers as well. I mean, hey, it couldn't be more boring than this update.
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[ May 9th, 2008 | 6:06pm ] |
I told myself that I wouldn't travel anywhere out of state until the election in November, but despite that, I found myself halfway around the world in Australia last week. I think I had a good reason to break my plan -- JayDen and Kylie's wedding. I couldn't miss that. I mean, seriously, that's a huge event. A JayDen wedding only happens 6, 7 times a year, max.
I hope JayDen and Kylie realize that's a joke. Realistically, they're probably so busy getting their sex on during the honeymoon that they won't have the time to check my journal anyway. Plus, they have little babies running around, so I have even more freedom to get away with all kinds of jokes.
Unfortunately, I don't have any more jokes to offer. I was glad to be invited, and happy to go, even if the flight seemed to take a month and a half. I always enjoy weddings (especially when they're near the beach). Dancing, cake, bridesmaids, what's not to love. However, the best weddings don't necessarily have to be the ones with the prettiest flowers or the best catering. For me, a wedding's most enjoyable when everyone in the room's aware of how great a decision the couple's making.
I've known JayDen since I was in law school, so I've seen him with a number of women through the years. Some good, some not-so-good, some certifiably insane. After being witness to all that, I can honestly say that he found the right one to settle down with. I'm an enthusiastic member of the Kylie Krew, even after I found out that her site doesn't even have naked pictures. Anyway, it's safe to say that JayDen and Kylie will be together forever. Like any director, it took JayDen a few takes to get it right.
And hey, when I say JayDen find the "right one," I don't mean that as a knock on any of the other girls. I happen to be a huge fan of Alice, of course, and still harbor an inappropriate crush on her. I meant it as more the right one for him. You can't explain why certain people end up together over others. I've certainly failed to make things work with some amazing women, who went on to find the right person for them. Alexei and Kylie didn't work out with each other, but they both found the right person for them. And... I should probably stop pointing how incestuous our weird group of friends is. Bottom line: to the Newlyweds -- congratulations. To Alice -- call me, baby. Who knows if we're right for each other, but it'd be awfully fun trying to find out.
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[ April 28th, 2008 | 11:01pm ] |
It's taken me nearly 28 years to realize what most people figure out in a matter of minutes -- that I'm kind of an asshole.
I discovered this during Roxie's return trip to Seattle. She was here to check out possible summer jobs. Although I'm sure she regrets enduring the hassle of LAX and the bigger hassle of Evan time, I'm glad she was here. The campaign's stressful, so it's helpful to able to step outside of it once and a while, especially with someone like Roxie, who has a great natural spirit.
To that end, I asked her if she could be so kind as to possibly avoid sharing that natural spirit with any other menfolk down in LA. As I said, I'm selfish like that. However, she turned the question around, asking if I'd consider not sharing my own mysterious charm with women up in Seattle. For some reason, that caught me off-guard. It was as if that thought didn't even occur to me.
It got me thinking about some of my past relationships with women, and how selfish I've been. When I trick someone into agreeing to be my girlfriend, I stay faithful to them. However, the in-between time is a little fuzzier. There was a period when I was seeing both Finn and Maddy, for example, and another time I was seeing both Maddy, Lydia, and Dani. We weren't in exclusive relationships at the time, but I just presumed that none of them were messing around with anyone else. In fact, I'd be quite upset if they had been.
Kind of a double standard, isn't it? Well, I guess it's the definition of a double standard, so there's really no point in adding a question mark there. It's completely unfair of me to expect a certain behavior out of these women while I do whatever I want. Hence, the asshole revelation.
Although I have identified the asshole gene, I'm not exactly sure what I can do about it. I can't help how I feel. When I like a girl, I don't want to think about her being with other dudes. Other dudes suck, in general. I remember one time, I got so angry that Finn was flirting a ton with some guy that I punched my wall. Broke my hand. Aside from being an asshole, I am also a weakling when it comes to wall fighting, apparently.
The other solution would be if I just stopped being interested in other girls when I started to like one. That doesn't sound all that appealing either. Other girls are interesting, in general. Well, at least when you run in the right crowds. There are a lot of interesting options out there, so it takes a while to commit to one.
Even when I commit to someone, I'm still interested in other women. The difference is, I keep that interest to myself. Or at least, I keep my junk to myself. I'm surprisingly good at staying monogamous, but it just takes me a hell of a long time to get started. I don't know why. Oh, right. 'Cause I'm kind of an asshole.
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[ April 14th, 2008 | 7:48pm ] |
I haven't updated since my bad baby-daddy joke on April Fool's didn't find very many fools. Clearly I need dumber friends. You'd think that since most of them live in LA, I'd be set, but apparently not. It's just my luck to hang out with the handful of smart celebrities. One of my goals in the new year is to mix it up and befriend Paris Hilton.
There hasn't been a lot to update on. Lydia has us all working to the bone. We have some interns in the office, none of whom I'm allowed to hit on. That doesn't make much sense, now does it? Who knows how long that rule's going to last. That college kid Philip's acne is hard to resist. I'm only a man, Lydia. I can only hold out so long before I just need to rub popped pimple juice all over my body.
I was thinking about getting a dog. There's this pet store on the way to my office and these puppies keep staring me down with their sad puppy dog eyes. And as far as pets go, dogs kick cats' ass any day. They're loyal, always by your side, eager to hang out and lick your face. They're the Danielle Belmonts of the pet world. (Joke. Dani you know you're the best. I'd put you in a cage and keep you if the law allowed). Anyway, I guess I don't have time to take care of a dog. They smell, they pee on furniture. (Surprisingly, also like Dani in that regard). I don't even have time for a night out, for a date, or for a good update, apparently. Blame Lyds.
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[ April 1st, 2008 | 2:42pm ] |
Roxie, the lovely college coed, was been kind enough to spend her Spring Break with me. I'm not quite sure why she made such a foolish decision, but I chalk it up to one too many games of beer pong.
We had a fun time over this week. With her, things are usually carefree and easy. But then, yesterday, she drops a bombshell on me.
She's pregnant.
I'm going to be a dad.
Holy shit.
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[ March 16th, 2008 | 2:11am ] |
Usually I try to make my updates have a certain theme or some semblance of coherency, but it's hard to do with such different things on my mind...
--First and foremost, my thoughts and prayers are with Tori and her family and friends. I can't even imagine how broken up her family must be, waiting to hear some news on her well being. She's so young and has so much ahead of her, including a new family of her own. Hopefully we'll hear some good news soon.
--Changing tones completely, I wanted to congratulate JayDen and Kylie on the birth of their twins. I've known JayDen for a long while now. Some things have changed: he's gotten more and more succesful (with his career and the womenfolk), more and more hairy... but one thing that hasn't changed. I've always known what a great and loving dad he'd be. There's no way those kids will go unloved. And with the boobtastic Kylie around, there's no way they'll go hungry either.
--Another person has been on my mind, although I don't know him at all. Eliot Spitzer. The man is brilliant, but committed a horribly dumb act. Yet somehow, I can relate. Now, I've never gone to a prostitute. Luckily, women seem to overlook my wretched personality enough to perform those acts without compensation. However, it's still a warning for me. I've worked incredibly hard to build a career for myself. If it's ever going to blow up in my face, it won't be a result of my incompetence or laziness; it'll be because I did something dumb like cheat on my wife with a pair of 19-year-old Swedish twins. I'd like to think I'm smart enough to avoid that, but I imagine Spitzer thought the same thing.
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