Internet Relay Chat

From July 4, 2008.

I don't think this fact is one I have ever necessarily tried to avoid, but if you'll talk to me, I'll talk to you. I love to talk. I really always try to refrain from pontificating, unless its just what you've asked me to do. Or unless I've made it perfectly clear that it's no certain truth, no objective knowledge, rather just the way I see it. But I'll be happy to tell you. Happy to explain, happy to regale, happy to advise.

In some ways, my appreciation of a good meal is distinctly and especially harbored by its power over the people who partake of it. And not in sustenance. Ask my brother-in-law (the me of Hannah and Caroline and Me) and he will tell you (at least so I assume he might), that somewhere even if in the back of his head, he looks forward to family dinners out as a chance to do some well-deserved catching up, whether only about movies I haven't seen, or about my thoughts on our HUMC past, present, and future. Ask my girlfriend (the lady leading the life behind A brief history of life) and she will tell you, though she has in the past grown weary of my sometimes groundless anchorage to breakfast, lunch, and dinner, that she well appreciates the time "alone" we can enjoy, the time to expound and unwind we find seated out around town. Ask my mother (... my mom - no internet connection to draw here), and she might confess her undying lover for the nights we spend every so often at one of dozens of Mexican restaurants... or Olive Garden. Because it is there that she feels I will really talk to her, and though I promise - to you, mom, and to all my readers - that this is nowhere near necessary, it does make it easy. No TV to watch, no internet to lose myself in, just us and the stuffed chicken marsala.

And I do love it.

In case you didn't know it, I work at Movie Gallery. As is likely the case with many late teens and twenty-somethings in the odd job world, it took me a while to settle in. It took me longer to find my comfort zone. Then... I got dangerous. Started watching new releases before they were released. Asking question instead of dodging them or reluctantly answering.

Funny thing is, I sound like I've gone through a drawn-out, 3 stage egg larva pupa metamorphosis. Reality: I've been there exactly a month; I know because I had to change my password today (real talk).

I told you, I love it.

Snoop on me gabbing with customers, or waxing poetic with my philosopher peers, or blogging to a faceless digital mass, and I might not sound like anyone you've ever heard before. No one is always the same someone to everyone.

I don't know if I went anywhere with that; if I did, where I went, or even if I meant to in the first place. But here we are. Care to talk?