Apology for FDR

16 June, 2003 || 18:04

Perhaps I overreacted... I don't know. I feel better now, now that the bulk of the creepy emotional bs is over. As I said, yeah, it hurts. So? Life goes on. It's not gonna change, so why spend life wishing different? And no, my father is not a heartless bastard. I never accused him of that, and I don't want anyone to think that I did. He's just got problems. Don't we all?

...

I finished Grayling's archives today, and I must congratulate the lovely Arborwin: You have a fantastic piece of work here. I was completely hooked, and I EAGERLY await more.

Quotes of the day from Grayling:

"I'll take the maniacal gleam in your eye as an order to summon public relations."

And also,

"You look like you've always looked."

"How have I always looked? Is there something unusual about me?"

"If by unusual you mean the lights in your vertebrae, yes, they're still there."

...

Had a lovely day. Work was good (I don't think it's ever been bad; I love my job!), and then I decided to go to Chinatown for lunch and errands. It was pouring rain on the way there, which, though unnerving on the highway (when the windshield wipers are at max speed and you slow way down just so you can see), it was incredibly enjoyable. The rain took a break once I got there. I went to Diho to get a couple of groceries, and cash: Lai Lai, the restaurant I was going to, only takes cash, and Mom wanted me to bring home dinner from there. Small problem: they don't give cashback at the register. Aah, crap. I guess I'll have to pay that $1.50 fee anyway. "Where's the nearest ATM?"

"At the bank across the street."

I guess I've been at UT a while. No way in hell I was gonna drive across the street. No way I was gonna cross it either. This is Bellaire. For those of you who don't know, Bellaire Boulevard is Chinatown's main artery. Three lanes either direction, feeding an endless supply of shops, supermarkets, restaurants, banks, salons, etc. You name it, it's there. I was not crossing that road on foot. It's dangerous enough in a car, and if I'm gonna die young, you can bet it ain't gonna be at the hands of a yuppie in an X5 on a cell phone.

"No problem," I figure, "there's bound to be one around here somewhere. Hell, we have a Starbucks across the street from a Starbucks here (no kidding, we really do), surely there will be an ATM." Wrong! The direction I picked didn't help; I thought there was a gas station there, but I was wrong by about, oh NINE BLOCKS. And a block in Houston isn't the same as a block in other major cities, it's about triple that length.

So I walked five blocks, in the middle of Sharpstown (I think some random person was gunned down in Sharpstown Mall at least three times in the last ten years [no, not the same person three times, silly]) in the sun and humidity, to a Fiesta to get money. Then walked back.

This doesn't quite capture the mood though. Though I was enjoying it really, you have no idea how traumatizing an experience it can be to walk places here. It's like there's a peer pressure to drive. Imagined conversation between a 30-something hip Asian woman in a Mercedes-Benz CLK320 and her mother, based on the looks the daughter shot me:

"Tuh! Moron. Who does he think he's kidding? I'm trying to turn right on red here! Stupid foreigner."

"How can you tell?"

"He's walking. What a dumbass."

However, I should mention, to those of you who don't understand, that driving is rather necessary here. It is either a drought here, or we're under three feet of water, and regardless, it's always 100% humidity *and* 95 degrees in the shade, but even still...