2002-11-18 - 2:32 a.m.

Sometimes I�m a really big asshole to myself.

Got up, made some coffee for my houseguest, hungover, and said to myself I could make this kid feel more comfortable than I am right now. And that was counterproductive.

Walked with him and the Roommate to Taqueria Jalisco, and they screwed up, and gave me chicken tacos rather than beef. OK--I handled that one right--I just ate �em (and enjoyed �em too), but I was still an asshole to myself by enjoying my time less by worrying about something I could not change.

Went to Target (this seems like days ago now) and got a new pillow, and a fancy coffee filter that I�ve coveted for two weeks now, things that I needed, but I hated myself for spending too much money.

(I also got a NASCAR Christmas stocking--couldn�t help myself--it was just too funny. I�m not sorry about that.)

Took the bus close to home (didn�t wait--it just happened to be there). Snap decision--I really love being on the bus, and what happened? Cursed myself for not walking, even though it was raining.

If I didn�t get on the bus, I would have cursed myself too.

Did two loads of laundry yesterday, after work, before the party, and I did one today too (sheets, the clothes I wore yesterday). Cursed myself �cause I waited too long to take my fancy pair of jeans from the dryer, �cause they got wrinkled.

Wasted four hours of day off luxury, watching the Patriots lose.

Put up Christmas lights today. I got the kind where you can control their blinking. That kind is hard to find--I went to seven or eight different stores last year, and in vain. I was so psyched to find the right kind, the type I had when I lived in Somerville before, that I bought the kind I did buy despite the this product contains lead warning.

By the way--I�ll be a grown, grown man, where there�s no hope of the possibility of anyone referring to me as a young man, and I�ll still have Christmas lights.

I really love Christmas lights. They make me very, very happy.

So, I put �em up with the Roommate, and they did fit what I wanted to do with them perfectly, and by perfectly, I mean in every conceivable way.

But I was sad, and will always be sad every time I think about it, that of the eight possible settings, none are perfect.

The closest one is a one, two, three, four. None on, slowly raise a third. As the first third lowers, slowly raise the second third. As the the second third lowers, slowly raise the last, which then fades to nothing at all, to complete the fourth.

So there�s a moment when nothing is lit. And I�m disappointed, even though I had a guest, and ate tacos and have a new pillow and got to spend some time at home and got all of my laundry done and watched a Pats game, and put up Christmas lights.

I really want to get over the fact that nothing is ever perfect. Nothing will ever be, and constantly second-guessing every potential object of beauty life randomly disperses is just plain stupid.

I also never want to stop striving for perfection. Yeah, I know nothing will ever be, but things will never get better if I give up--if I don�t work for it.

Fuck.

The only thing I did today that I did not second-guess, the only decision I made that I did not feel the need to evaluate later, the only no-brainer (I hate that I use that phrase sometimes) was when I put in some hustle, hurtling towards the phone, and only �cause I caught my dear friend H. in the act of calling me.

I always pick up when she calls. I don�t like that word absolute, but I always feel better when I talk to her. I�ve been ready for her to come back to Boston for long enough, and I�ve been more than ready for long enough too. And I�ve been it breaks my heart ready since the day she left.

Sorry to be such a ninny.

I�m not stupid enough to believe that some mythical and entirely probable event from the not-too-distant-future is going to save me, that it will solve all of my problems.

I�m not stupid enough to count on anything, either.

I probably am stupid enough to say stuff here without first knocking on wood.

But there�s so much joy in my heart. I can�t believe it�s still there. That�s my good luck, I guess. It�s sappy, I know (and no pun intended), but I still get dizzy from rain seemingly falling from trees, and from waiting for a bus at Sullivan Square station, and I guess from waiting for my dear friend H. to get back, get back, get back, and when she returns, my taking the day off from work with a good excuse, waiting for the Blue Line to deliver me to Airport station and then, triumphantly waiting for that goddamm shuttle bus to the actual airport, excited, joyous, and proud, rather than crying like a sissy in front of the shuttle driver like I did after my dear friend H. got on that fucking airplane away away away.