At an open studio for Alex’s aunt (who did the cover artwork for Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon” album and has the platinum CD to prove it), Kevin and I saw a white cat with black spots.

“Kevin, that cat looks like a cow.” I told him.

“Must have come from Gateway,” he countered.

* * * * *

“Did you get a haircut?” Alex asked me when I walked in at midnight.

“Nope.”

“Oh. It looks shorter in the back.”

I grinned. “I been makin’ out.”

“Bwahahaha,” Alex laughed and said into the phone, “My roommate’s groovy.”

* * * * *

“Lynn, there is no way you’ll resist sex till you’re married.” Alex proclaimed.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. You know me, like when I train I’ll say I’m going to run four miles but actually only run two and a half? Well, I figure I’ll need to up my estimate so that when I flake I’ve committed for longer than I actually originally intended.”

“But why even try?” he asked me.

“Well, when I’ve been dating a guy for a while and we’ve been having sex, I get wrapped up in the physicality of it to the point that it clouds every other aspect of the relationship. If my physical needs are being met, then I don’t think about whether my mental and emotional needs are also being sated. Consequently, I stay in unfulfilling relationships longer than I should.”

He nodded. “I can understand that. You’d never hear a guy say what you just said, but it makes sense.”

* * * * *

Aside: Those who don’t know me very well have congratulated me on my recent embrace of the celibate philosophy. Those who do know me pretty well laughed when I mentioned it. I think someone’s even started a pool…

* * * * *

“Unrequited sweat is clammy.” Edwin

* * * * *

Kevin and I were in my rental car in Truckee, stopped at a red light behind someone whose bumper sticker read “What are you looking at, Butthead?”

We were laughing about it when the guy stuck his hand out of his (open) sunroof, gesturing towards us with his index finger and pinkie extended.

“He just told us to f*ck off!” Kevin exclaimed

“Is that what that means?” I asked.

“Well, it sure doesn’t stand for ‘world peace’,” he countered.

• * * * *

These are my first ever words entered into a computer purchased by me, moi, myself.

I feel so grown up!

When I first started my Silicon Valley career, I resisted the whole computer-at-home thing. I knew that once I got a home computer, I’d be doing technical support all day, every day.

I think I’ll just use it for writing and e-mail and USENET. It’s been mentioned to me by higher-ups that one-third of the incoming Internet traffic at my present company goes to my computer. It’s also been mentioned that I might want to cut down on that a bit (I swear, 90% is for research. Honest! Infoseek loves me, and I love Infoseek. Plus, I have pen pals to keep up with.).

So, once I got my domain-name settlement (they reimbursed me for the time it would take for me to re-do the graphics on my Web page) I sought out my coveted steed: Macintosh PowerBook Duo 2300c. I mentioned to Dragon that he would do well to send any sale listings my way. He had a phone number and full pricing for me within 20 minutes.

The Duo 2300c is now discontinued. I don’t understand why… it’s truly adorable. I bought a 32 MB RAM simm for it, to add to the 8 MB simm already on the board. So now I’m screaming along at 40 MB. I told Brandon that tonight and he said “Wow! That’s fast!” He’s a difficult one to impress so I’m rather tickled.

Of course, it didn’t come with *any* modem software, so I couldn’t get the modem to dial out so I could FTP my Internet tools. Sigh.

But, I got Word on it, and I even named it today.

What did I name it?

Why, “woohoo”, of course!

I haven’t written in almost a month. It’s not because I’m blocked. It’s because I’m torn.

I’m torn between wanting kiss my ex-beau and yet wanting to shake him till his eyes rattle around in his head.

I’m torn between wanting to live “chastely in singlehood” (a new edict by the Presbyterian church for all people who want to attain positions of respect and power therein) and yet wanting to go out and have incredible escapades with any of half a dozen guys.

Between my desire to be a good girl, and my desire to party it up.

Between being the sweet, understanding one and wanting to be a bitch on wheels.

Between wanting to be young and single and wanting to be married and pregnant.

I feel like I’m 12 years old again. My hormones are in full force but I’m not really sure what to do with them. I’m an adviser for the junior high youth group at my church and when I look at the girls I see myself mirrored in them.

A lot of this probably stems from the fact that I’m single again after four years of monogamy. It’s really quite a change. The last time I didn’t have a long-term boyfriend (or a serious beau) I was 20 years old.

My roommate doesn’t understand why I’m not pursuing a full-time romantic relationship when he knows (and I know) that’s what I want. His suggestion is “Go for it.” This week he said, “Lynn, I hope you’re not just holding out for the perfect man because you’re never going to find him.”

But why should I give my time, my effort and myself to a specific man if I’m not certain he’s the one I really want to be with?

It’s tough when your greatest fear is that of being alone, but you’re not sure your attention span will ever allow you to spend the rest of your life with just one person, despite the fact that your number-one goal in life is to be pregnant and have babies and you know you couldn’t do that without companionship.

Ugh. Is this why women start drinking?

I thought so.