I shouldn't listen to Jimmy Buffett

I just feel like I'm stuck. I want to get out of here. Just say fuck it to the job, get a sailboat and travel the world. Why don't I own a sailboat? Why do I allow these companies to only give me two weeks of vacation a year? I want out. I want to be sipping wine at a table on the sidewalk in Paris and talking about my travels through Cambodia. I want to be sore, tired, sunburnt, scratched, and nursing at least two injuries by the time I get to the train that'll take me to the border of China. I WANT OUT OF HERE!

Christmas present

The Christmas present from my mother arrived yesterday. Along with a big fuzzy blanket, and the book of the new Star Trek movie, there was a bag of Bertie Bott's Beans that they picked up last month in their trip to the Jelly Belly factory.
Now, to understand the implications of this, you gotta know a few things: My family is very (very) religious. Of the Pat-Robertson-listening, Jack-Chick-Reading, gather-round-for-a-good-old-book-burning variety. Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans are a candy that feature prominently in the Harry Potter novels, which of course, the fundamentalist churches condemn as evil. A fact of which she is quite aware. In past years, I've been given Christian books and heartfelt "Jesus is real" statements. For her to buy me a bag of them for a Christmas present is a hell of a statement: An acceptance that my beliefs differ from hers and that it doesn't matter. For the first time since I was like ten, I feel like I'm loved and accepted for who I am.

I'm not sure of all the psycho-sociological implications of a booger-flavored jelly bean being a symbol of a mother's love, but there it is.

San Francisco

Cleaning up, and preparing for the D&D game I'm running here tomorrow morning, I decide to just order food delivered rather than go out. So I call the Thai place down the street. Contemplaing a beverage, the lady taking the order suggests a Thai beer. "Deliver beer? You can do that?" That's just too fucking cool.