Jan's Latest Version

Another trip!  Just like the other ones, this one too was on short notice.

News flash! I’m lazy when it comes to maintaining human interactions.  More at 11.  So there are still some letters and birthday wishes which have not gotten a proper replay.  I suppose I will have more time to get to them now…

Now that I am in Poland for another 77 days.  Yay!  I don’t know what to think about this whole thing…

I am glad I came, I had to much free time and no outlet to put most of it in.  I came and nothing changed.  I feel as if I was here couple weeks back (two years).  It is a blessing and a curse not to feel like a stranger whereever you go.  The curse part is hidden.  I also never feel quite at home anywhere anymore.

There are some mightly plans I laid out and hopefully great things will come.  For starters though I am going take care of Grandma (reason I came), then possibly a job, wife and world peace.

Side note, the plane flight here from NY was only 7 and a half hours long and even though I had a space hoarding neightbor it was one of the most pleasent long distance flights (3+hours) I got to be on.

Spell check is set to Polish, I’m dead tired… and you my dear reader going have to deal with my dail-up connection set up… am I still making sense?

Not since 1999, right?

Do you want a list of something?  Seriously you have been checking this blog to much, the chances of me updating it every day …. slim!  I tell you mister, it ain’t going to happen.

Another hike, almost three hours long with same 30lb dummy weight…  Now that I think about it I feel broken.  Walking on uneven terrain is one thing walking on wet-semi-compacted-somewhat-melted snow is another thing completely.  You use most of your energy to keep the balance rather than propel yourself forward.  Hopefully I get to what I’m going for otherwise this torture is like putting myself through masters program in Stony Brook.   Painful and leaving you sore all over…

I bought a cook book!  First cook book I ever bought.  Very exiting…  It is Italian in description (in English language) so it might be fun to try things from it.

Bothered a store clerk with a cute laugher and big blue (i think)  eyes.  Tall, in shape and with a dire need of some sleep.  The two things that stuck in my head were an honest smile/laugh and she said a book about concentration camps was her favorite (or maybe it was about a girl who got out… don’t quite remember, was try hard not to stare).

After I left the bookstore I ran into…  a guy.  From what I vaguely remember he used to work in my dorm as maintenance/cleaning crew.  He told me a sad story, job lost, kids death (4 months old)… asked for a raid to the train station and 40 buck for train tickets.  He promised to give me the money back this Friday (I gave him my PO Box address just so we can skip the embarrassment of meet up and possible complications).  I doubt I will ever see any of it, I might, but it seems very unlikely.

I don’t have much and being jobless for over a year and a half now, has depleted my savings (good thing I get to sleep at my parents, rent free).  Even though I don’t have a whole lot, I rarely see any reason not to share what I do have.  Maybe the money will be put into good use or maybe not…  I do hope for the best.  Bottom line is if one is desperate enough to ask for money from someone they knew in another life, 40 bucks is a low price to pay to see what they are made of.

Today was a good day, and maybe next time I get to ask the owner of those eyes out for a…

Now that I have little more time… (see IT).  I started to spend some of my time cooking, cleaning around the house, re-learning German and trying to teach myself electrical engineering.  I still spend considerable amount of time each day looking through job postings, mailing and emailing my resume.  Yesterday I decided it was time to get back in shape, seriously…

I still look great (naked?) but I know I am off from what I was over the summer.  I have been doing standard push-ups, pull ups (destroyed two door frames so far…).

Two days ago I saw a posting for a Park Ranger Volunteer position… skipping most of the posting… requirement was to be physical fit…  one of the tests was to hike 3 miles in/under 45 min with a 50lb backpack.  I can do a 15min mile, but 50lb is 50lb…

Long time ago, my old chemistry department used to use lead bricks to hold their doors open.

One of those bricks weighs about 25lb.  Yesterday I did a 3 hour hike with 30lb dummy weight.  It was interesting…

Weather conditions great, light breeze, relatively warm.  The interesting part was the wet and very slippery snow.  I’m a big guy.  My feet where sinking in both mud, snow and stream beds.  If I got lucky only couple inches if not I would get knee deep.

Over all it was a lot of fun!  Although today I was a sore bum, tomorrow I am going back out for another hike… me and one 25lb lead brick.  Maybe in a month or so I will buy a new hiking sack and start caring two bricks.  For now its me and little dummy weight.

I started cooking more often and hopefully I will be able to control my diet better.  Now all I need is that damn job I have been looking for, for about 18 months.

Hi.
You’re confused… I would be too, but if you have a minute to spare, I would be very happy if you wasted it on me… well, reading my email.

If you ready to commit the next 60 some seconds of your life, let me tell you a story.  Disclaimer: bla bla.. and defiantly stuff and more so things, and more bla ^.-

Couple days ago, depending when are you reading this… Let us assume five.  So five days ago I brought home a huge bad of pistachio nuts.  I feel that is worth noting I could fill both of my hicking boots with just the remaining shells.  Thus it is fair to say I had a gigantues bag of shelled nuts.  Only some of them appeared to be salted.  All were roasted and cracked, ready to be broken and eaten!!!

I watched a movie, did some job applications, called my brother.  Every now and then nibbling at the pistachio’s in question.

Day, four days ago came around.  It was cold outside and mid day I took the big bag out of the cupboard to pour some nuts into a little bowl.  I untied the top, I peeked inside and there it was…

The one, pristine green, awesomely shaped, shell-less nut!  From my limited experience, every now and then one gets lucky to find a shell-less pistachio, a head turner, forget about the two hiking boots full of nuts nut.

It is fairly obvious that getting that one is more difficult then it would be to de-shell and hand full of the others.  This one however sparked my interest.  I stood there considering my options.  There is plenty to consider here!  And the approach is of up most importance!

I didn’t want to seem to forward and just grabbing a fist full of the nuts, hoping then with a closer selection I could find that one again.  I could have settled on eating all the nuts around this one, but after having every nut in the bag, that one would hardly be special and I’m almost sure I would hate it more.  I could use “tools” chop-sticks, fork, magnetic-phase-nano-gripper etc, this might have been successful but it seemed impersonal at the time.

I’m a hands on guy, and so after 10 min looking at it, I smiled and reach into the bag, after my wrists passed the rim, I couldn’t see it anymore, I knew the nut was there, but I had no idea where.

I missed it!  The nut, dove into the bad and I couldn’t see it when I pulled my hand out.  It was somewhat disappointing and I have skipped eating pistachios for the rest of the day.

Three days ago.  Although I didn’t forget it, I wasn’t expecting to see it that morning.  Right after breakfast, I reached into the bag, without looking, and without thought… When I pulled my hand out there it was, sitting in the palm of my hand even more spectacular then yesterday.  Little salt rubbed of on one of its ends.  I stared for couple minute in awe.  This was one of the best pistachios I had in my life, and it was defiantly worth the wait.

THE END

….
179. I would not nag you to hurry up.
180. Even if I waited outside in the rain for you.
181. For 3 whole days.
182. I would do something “big&dorky” for valentine.
183. And many more times a year.
184. I don’t have a green thumb.
185. But I rarely forget to water them.
….
231. I’m good with my hands.
232. Back rubs, check.
233. Crafting stuff, check.
234. Sawing, check.
235. Hauling groceries, fixing stereo, dusting…. check.
….
264. I love to cook.
265. I like red wine.
266. Don’t get drunk (period).
267. I like milk!
268. And cookies.
269. I make awesome apple cake!
…..
498. I’m dyslexic, can’t seppl somthimes.
499. English is my 3rd language.
500. I like puns, and toying with language.
501. I own a shirt.
502. I’m slow at learning languages.
503. But I would like to know more.
….
555. I’m Tall, like really tall.
556. I can just take the stars from the sky, if you wanted some in your bedroom.
557. I like hiking.
558. I like walking in general.
559. I wear colorful “friendship bracelets”.
560. Even if I have a suit on.
561. I know a lot about random things.
562. I like ties.
563. I like to wear comfy.
564. Will not go out in pajama pants.
565. Jeans and shirt comfy.
566. With a tie.
567. And a cute girl with me.
568. I would go in my boxers if the girl was there.
569. I’m a romantic.
….
602. I’m naturally curious.
603. I do get in trouble for pocking my head into places I should be in.
604. I like to know, and I’m OK with asking.
605. I drive a stick shift.
606. I like small cars.
607. I have a sense of humor
608. I take myself very seriously.
609. VERY….
610. No, hang on, I’m an arsehole don’t pick me.
611. PICK ME!!!
612. I’m honest.
613. Sometimes I forget to cotton ball what I say.
614. I say sorry.
615. And I mean it.
616. I think trust is important.
617. I like to laugh.
618. I like making people happy.
619. I like cuddling.
620. I need warmth.
621. Hammock, now that’s an invention!
…
777. I own fountain pens.
778. I like paper.
…
1014. My name is Jan.
1015. Pronounced Yan.
1016. I’m 26.
1017. I’m European.
1018. I wear purple glasses.

I’m still twitter free.  There was never a computer around when I had one of those moments… when conclusions to my pondering would show up, surface and so I wrote them down on any thing I could get my hands on.  Napkins, old envelopes, scraps mostly… unfortunately the way the story goes most of those scraps have been destroyed, disposed and-or taken care off.  Some spare thoughts I manage to get, put into my notebooks, some…  I rarely draft what I want to write down in my blog (or notebooks).  The arguments and thought process are, I feel, sincere and gore made, on the spot.  Jokes, typos, etc all that done right there.  Uncontrollable chaos melded into a controllable creation, should have been the theme of this site.

So am here pondering again…  What would be the first five things you would have people to know about you?  Would owning a dance pole (a.k.a. striper pole) be one of them?

How much or how far beyond normal does one have to go to realize that the parameters for the normal conversation have changed?  They did not!  The definition of what a normal conversation is has changed.  It is not a bad thing, change, it is never good nor is it bad in and on its own.  But wouldn’t you be caught by surprise?  And if so what is decent in the new setting?  When is it to far?   Is all out It?

There is a question I rarely ask, mostly because I see people having hard time, struggling with it, as if I was exposing them to purgatory itself.

The question in question: “Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know but I would never (dare to?) ask…”

How does one answer a question that does not give you any parameters of who I am, not even a question mark…

I see this as a triple question.  One I’m actually asking for something about you, that being the easy part.  Second, I want you to gauge my supposed level of decency and tell me something that on “normal” terms would mean overstepping that boundary.  Thirdly, I’m going to be gauging your very own perception of me.  I see myself as a men of no limits.  Some sense of morality and decency are one of the only restrictions.  Non the less, even if some are artificially imposed on the way I interact with others, I see things as much more flexible…

So how does one deal with inquiry posed in such a manner?  Most people asked know something about me.  Some have met me in real life, some heard me speak…  Most seem to be convinced that although I’m from a different planet, I am pink and fuzzy on the inside or at least I resemble some form of so needed human emotion.  And they open up.

Plenty of the answers I have received are spontaneous moments of truth, people talk about extremely personal and intimate moments.  Failed relationships is a common one, virginity, fear of love and commitment, homosexual curiosity to name a few.  I’m glad they have found someone they feel comfortable sharing… but?  For a question asked by almost a complete stranger I am little puzzled by those responses.  Sometimes I’m worried that people read to much into my existence.  They do seem afraid of this scrutiny that is me…  Afraid to tell a lie?  Are they worried that I will read between the lines and judge them based solemnly on those answers.  I’m guessing, all I can do, it is a moment of awkwardness and that worries me.

I am going to read between the lines and I do judge people on what has not been said rather than what was, but I’m the last person to condem anyone to hell.  I gladly leave that dirty job to the cleargy.

Ever since I have written about “women” I’m very deeply puzzled about the effect of my words. What will one think of me, one who lacks the experience of pleasure or dread of my company? I am also thinking about the next chapter of my endeavour. The so called “cute” factor and its consequence on men. I can’t place it and worse I can piece it together. Not sure why and no one seems to know any better.

Friday. I packed my sleeping bag and mate and have gone on a long trip back to “the” place. The place I just have ran from in a hurry to save my sanity and my life. I went back to collage. I paid my respects and “hanged” with my friends. It was nice, although I do have the feeling that I am imposing every time I come.

Sleeping on the floor in my green-brown sleeping bag rarely bothers me any more. I just hope that snoring of which I have been accused of in the past does not drive my host crazy. I wish I knew if I really do and if so, how bad is it? I heard that “it” reminded people of a dragons’ breath mixed with a train and a little of a industrial H-Vac unite. I will never know.

Saturday, I bid my goodbyes and left for the City. Finishing final chapters of “Kite Runner” while the LIRR train moved slowly along its tracks. Good novel, by the way, highly recommended. Most of what I enjoyed about it was the quality of language used, the descriptions and the ease with which I could read it. There is so much one could skip over by accident. I’m glad I’m done and I am glad I read it.

Reason for me in NYC, my brother was going to sing in Carnegie Hall. Beethoven’s 9th I reckon. “He deaf when he wrote it…” I was reminded.  No kidding, judging from how the 9th started he was probably deaf since the 2nd.  I was very cool to hear it in person.  Although my inability to survive extended periods of high-pitch noise made it a nightmare after the sopranos joined the orchestra.  At the end of the night my elbows hurt from the cold and I felt my ears bleeding.

I would love to take credit for my brothers greatness.  I can’t, non the less, his voice can be heard in a 150+ person choir.  I am happy he is my brother.  The simple moments when he effortlessly proves he is the best are like a cherry on top of the icing of who he is day in and day out!

Today was the day, the day that has been coming for the past 7 years. Ever since I have moved out from my parents nest I would end up eating the last piece of mine birthday cake alone. No matter how many people were around me, now much they loved me and cared, I dinned alone. There is something disturbing, really… I pour a tall glass of milk, take a fork and stab the juicy, coffee soaked, buttery cream cover master piece. Each year they look different, taste different and disappear the same way. The last bite is swallowed in the serenity of my presents, the sound of my breathing, the existence of true me, unfortunately alone.

I don’t plan it, I never really want it to go that way, somehow I manage though. Some years back I had argued with the person I was sharing the remote privileges with and that morning I sat to the ritual undisturbed and alone. Cardboard walls are not the separation, it is the silence, the lack of vibrations in the air. I feel like a rock, just sitting in the middle of a underground lake. The water surface un-moved, un-touched, still and steady. The shimmers of the wind are all but faded memories, the surface like a dark onyx, staring, hungry for the little life. I can feel the silence creeping as if dragons were coiling their bodies. Far out of the sight, as if on the other side, walking among the stone walls, invisible, silent. Never touching the water, never sending a single ripple. I can feel their presents, I know their there, I’m not crazy, alone but not crazy! Yet to see what you know is there is harder than one can imagine.

Each year I drop a tear, don’t know why, I feel sad, I can feel the time passing, I’m afraid of it, I don’t want to be forgotten, I don’t want to forget… there is so much beauty one misses, I don’t want to loose the chance to see it. I’m the rock again, sitting still, on top this un-rippled mirror like surface. Hell does not have to hurt to be scary, hell is being alone with oneself.

This evening, I cracked a cap off. Honey-Lager the label proclaims, it is a decent drink, nothing embarrassing to put my lips to. Smile. I wrote long, I wrote without thinking, I wrote to wake up, I wrote to remember I was alive. I ranted with no syntax, only seeing the rock I have tried forgetting, only seeing it once. I’m alive, I am well. The beer is drained slowly from its crystal, dark cage. Half of it escaped the stillness, I feel that reminiscing about the other half would insult the message. I feel the success of the first half is what mattered before the image of the rock, cold, smooth, dark, moist… a tear… a water droplet rolled over the rim, sliding down. It stopped, as if deciding the direction, slowly, moving down… so lively so small, so special. I didn’t want to disturb, there is the sunshine ray, even if only for couple seconds, there is a light…

I found It. I found it last Tuesday. I found it and tried to forget about IT. I have been looking for so long that when I saw it, I didn’t want to believe. One could say that after legions of HR-personal sending me rejections, I have gotten used to the downside. The simple notion that, although I might be happy, I will not find a dream job became real. That I will have to do other stuff, till the people at my dream job find me good enough. House broken enough, trained and groomed enough to give me, what I have been looking for…

I have let the job ad sit on my desktop. I saw it every morning, every evening, I saw it every time I change the song on iTunes. I was there, taking over space… Since end of September I was looking up 20 jobs a day, 5 days a week, since September I have not seen more than one that I would be mesmerized by, since September I have not felt my finger tingling this way. It has been like love at first sight. It is like the stomach pain before the first phone call, you know what the date should look like, you know what … Not true, I don’t know, I’m lost, I’m scared.

I am worried I will mess up and this will be the end. No “dinner and a movie” and I will be left alone again. I don’t know anything aside what has been posted at the job’s description. I have some sense of the company but it is far from clarified. I love what I see, and what I don’t know makes me excited. As with real dates, the expectations are just slightly higher above my qualifications. As with real dates I have one chance to make enough of an impression to make a change, to bend the standard for the perfect match. I have one chance to show that I’m worth a damn.

I’m stuck with my CV, my transcript, three references (like those ex’s you rarely talk to), and letter of intent. Intent? I want to get married and be happy, I know those are the dreams of a hopeless romantic, by why would you apply if all you thinking about is how much can you earn? For me it is a lost, if pre-nup is all that is visible. It’s a dream job, I want to live the dream. I have been awake to long, seen to much reality. I seen, I learned and now I don’t want to worry about it any more.

But, I’m worried that my way with words won’t convey enough, I’m worry that the state will run out of popcorn, and what if I have to meet with the people who have the power to decide if my love is a legit pursuit or not? Does this sound like an arranged marrige nightmare, or is it just me?

Happy to be alive, while the raid loots Sartharion.

It has been a while since I have talked about Dragons. I wrote about the frost cover, stone halls of Sapphirons mausoleum, the amazing feeling of happiness after his body crumbled under my sword. I joy of success, and pleasures of loot. Today I have couple more Dragons on my conscience. Couple more times I have survived, couple more that have no have enough magic in them to kill me, couple more which I have killed.

We all heard stories about Dragons while we were growing up. We all heard tales of courage and valour, tales of knights that came out victorious. We forget about the dead ones, we prefer to omit them, the epic failures, the mistakes, the poor souls of which we shall never speak again. We see the scorched armour, the cleave marks on their shields, we can smell the burned blood and flesh… Yet, we cheer, we congratulate, the fight itself is diminished by the success, the efforts are forgotten, the pain is neglected and the sweet is ignored. I have been killing Dragons, Giants, Demons, and monsters I would not tell my kids about, untill they were married. I fought fights where my life flashed before my eyes, every time I blinked, I saw the white light and yet I stood. I held the ground, even when growing weak and tired. The repeated clawing, cleaving and fire breaths became my heart beat. Dictated my breathing rhythm.

I come to each fight wearing better armour, bigger shields, sharper swords caring blessings of greater Gods. Each fight, I manage to slip the grim-reaper only by a hair’s thinkness and each fight I see what I have missed in the preparations, I see my short comings. I see his huge claws swinging towards me, I hide behind my shield, I forget about the god-forsaken world… I have to live, I have to whistand his attacks, I have to survive his breath, I can feel pain, I can’t die! I focus my breath, I synchronize my movement with his, I raise my shield to his claws, I feel my heart beat to match his. I see nothing, another flame breath deflected by the my shield, I feel stronger, I feel the courage, I feel blessed by the light.

A glance to the beasts side, there he stood, a paladin of the holy order. Just as I, he forgot about the rest of the world. I see him conjuring the powers of light, ignoring fire demons trying to tear his soul out, he sees just me, he cares only about me. I have to hold this Dragon, I have to hold him! If I fall they are will fall, the paladin will fall, I can not permit it. Another blessing, I go into a rampage, just to survive his breath, just to keep his attention on me. Let him get mad, let him enrage, let him pound on me, tearing my armour appart, but keep his focus, he cannot look away. I’m the spliter in his arse, weak and small but as long as I am the biggest threat, he might not noticed the glass cannons fireing at him…

We forget about the others, we don’t see the knight, we see the hunter, assassin, mage who happend to be lucky enought to make the killing blow, we envy his power. Then we forget the knight. Fights over the barly breathing night elf, in it’s almost completely destroyed “tin can” served his purpose. No one is able to phantom the beating he took, the sacrifices he made, no one cared, no one but… the servvant of the holy order, he knows, he prayed for survival, blessings and fought with magic that which knights armor and shield could not stop. He smiles, he knows, he saw it. I have to thank him, I have to let him that I am so thankful for keeping me away from the death, I have to… I manage to wave, he teleported out. I’ll thank him next time. I look around, there are people scrambling around the corpse, collecting gold coins and loot, picking up arrows and reminising the scars on the beasts body as to who made him bleed more. I take my cut of gold and I leave. It is never my place to compare notes, my purpose is to keep the moster pissed off at me, so they can play killers.

My armour is broken, those dents need to be fixed, my shield is half melted, I envy the silk wearing casters, their repair costs are “nada”, they would not lived through more than a strike. I lived, I need to ambush some bandits and collect their treasures to pay a blacksmith to fix this, tomorrow we are going to go after Malygos, and he hates me on the principle…