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Mark Arbour

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  2. Mark Arbour

    Midget Sex

    By Mark Arbour,

    So I was reflecting back on my interesting sexual history, trying to decide what was the most bizarre thing I've ever done. Not kinky, bizarre. And I finally decided what it was:
     
    Jacking off with a midget (or for the PC crowd, mutual masturbation with a vertically challenged man).
    Incidentally, I found out that just because a guy is a midget, doesn't mean his dick is.
     
    If you give me shit about this, you have to tell me your most bizarre experience too. It's my blog, I get to make the rules. :king:
  3. Mark Arbour

    A word I hate

    By Mark Arbour,

    There are words that annoy me, words that are over-used ("dude" comes to mind), offensive words, but the one word that just turns my stomach is "huggles." WTF is that? It's like taking the word hug and the word snuggle, mixing them together, and forming this bubble-gum cutesy word that makes me want to vomit. Christ. Throw in some baby talk and just finish the deal, make me puke my guts up.
     
    It belongs with other cutesy shit, like rainbows and unicorns and ponies and puppies and kittens, used by people trying to look all sensitive and caring. Those are the people who have a knife in their other hand ready to lodge it in your back as soon as you turn around.
     
    Huggles. It's just dumb. Not that I'm a bitter and skeptical person or anything.
  4. Mark Arbour
    I'm working on the sequel to "If it Fits" in my "Chronicles of an Academic Predator" series. It's called "Bloodlines" and the first chapter will post in the next few days. The story takes place in 1998, and it was impossible to avoid Matthew Shepard and his tragic ending in October of that year, not that I wanted to. I'd heard of Matthew, I'd heard his story. It was horrible, a senseless waste. But to do the story justice, I felt I needed to draw him in, and that meant I needed to get to know this guy just a little better. So I scoured through his foundation's website, looked up anything else I could find on the web, and pieced together his life in my own mind. I knew that he was beaten up and left for dead in Wyoming. I didn't know he was raped in Morocco when he was in high school. Bad luck seemed to follow him. But I have this vision in my mind of him on that country road, getting the shit beaten out of him, pleading for his life, that just haunts me.
     
    Yet for all the bad shit that he endured, his parents, through the Matthew Shepard Foundation, along with others, have really made a difference in the GLBT community. I guess that makes the ending at least bittersweet, to think that in death Matthew may have helped to eliminate some of the tortures he himself endured. Matthew Shepard Foundation

  5. Mark Arbour
    I've spent the past week finishing up projects and doing a bunch of late-summer cleaning, and it struck me that the whole organization/de-cluttering thing is really futile. This time we managed to get the entire upstairs cleaned, including the teenager's room, and that takes some doing. Three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, an office, dining room, great room, kitchen, kitchen nook, foyer, and laundry room, all clean, all organized. Plus the garage, the porch, and the deck. Downstairs, in the basement, we cleaned up the bar, the media area, the game area, the two bedrooms, and the bathroom.
     
    BUT, deep in the basement is the unfinished area, the place where all the crap ends up. It isn't organized. It's a dark, evil place. What will happen is the crap will stay down there and gestate. It will breed and multiply. It will first emerge into the finished part of the basement, maybe one of the bedrooms down there. Then it will slowly work it's way back upstairs, probably first in the office, or the guest bedroom, then the kitchen. In a very short period of time, all of that organizational work will be completely destroyed.
     
    I'm exhausted and sick of cleaning, so I have no energy left to go down and slay this last bastion of clutter. I will pay for this. I will pay for my laziness. It will rise up again, and challenge me, chasing me into my own bedroom and I will have to fight it back down again, back into it's dark, evil cage.
  6. Mark Arbour
    When I was younger, I really had no use for doing any sort of crafty type of work. Re-finish a chair? No way. Build a deck? There are people you hire to do that. Put in a marble floor? Too easy to f**k up.
     
    Then somewhere along the way I decided to actually try doing some of this stuff, and I discovered that when I shed my pampered shell, I was actually pretty damn good at it. I just finished re-doing a bathroom entirely in tile (natural stone, I won't work with that fake ceramic shit). The floors and all the walls, everything. Well, except plumbing. That's something I'll learn later. And the electrical work. That's something I stay away from. It feels good to create something beautiful from something ordinary.
     
    Anyway, I was thinking back to my youthful arrogance. That happens from time to time, especially after a conversation with Chase. I eschewed any of those manual, crafty tasks, asserting that my mind was too powerful and nimble to be wasted on such mundane projects, and subconsiously thinking that my hands were too uncoordinated to do anything right. Well, not anything, but this isn't a blog about beating off or hand jobs.
     
    I had an uncle who was a self-taught carpenter. It wasn't his job, it was his hobby. He created some amazing things. I remember in particular a staircase banister he built. It was beautiful, so perfectly crafted. He was patient, a good teacher, yet I never took the time to learn from him. Now he is dead, and I think about him every time I turn on my power sander, wishing I'd put my pompous, arrogant attitude aside and spent a few days as his apprentice.
  7. Mark Arbour
    When I started writing Chronicles of an Academic character, my goal was to create a lead character (JP) who was smart and rich enough to surf through the era of the early sixties and experience the events of that time without being consumed by them. To do that, I needed a stoic, impervious character, someone who had a lot of secrets and buried them deep within and who thus was constantly guarded and deliberate.
     
    The response I got from readers was like a fuel to me, motivating me through that first story, and then on to 1968. There JP was at his nastiest, and his most self-centered, which I felt only added to his inner torment, and further hardened his shell. It also made JP despised by many of my readers, which I found particularly disturbing since I wasn't finished with him.
     
    I'm a great believer in giving people second chances, and I also strongly believe that people can change/improve/reform. Especially someone as smart as JP. Starting with Be Rad, I took him through lots of challenges to his attitudes, mostly through direct confrontations with Bradley. In Man in Motion, and then A Summer Love, he had to deal with Jeff and try to put his guilt to rest over that. Finally now, in "If It Fit," he's shed his secrets, one by one, until he can finally be a more open person, a happier person.
     
    It's funny, because if this series was only about JP, it would be appropriately finished now, with a "they lived happily ever after" clause at the end of Chapter 25. But along the way we picked up a few other characters, and I think they're still fun to play with. I think of all the characters, I like Stefan best, because he is the most fun. Bradley is fun as well, especially when he gets all self-righteous and dogmatic. So I'm not sure when or who I'll write about next, but I've grown attached to these guys, so I will write something. When I'm finished with "Master and Commander."
  8. Mark Arbour
    So I conducted a week-long seminar this week. The group was diverse in age, from young people just out of college to older people beyond 65. We were having a discussion and one of the older guys got into it with a younger woman. The topic was unimportant, but the undertones of their debate were.
     
    The young lady stated her opinions logically, based on facts, and was quite impressive. The older man based his on perceptions. His attitude was one of condescension, his overall message being that because he had spent so many more years on this planet he had more life-experience, and thus more wisdom, and that his points were virtually beyond reproach. The reaction from the class showed how little they thought of this attitude.
     
    Most of the older people I know do bring a certain "sage-like" contribution to topics, but it's not universal. I don't think that being around for an extended period of time makes you smarter. It just makes you older. Yet some would cling to this as their talisman. To me, it just cheapens them, as if they're saying "I have nothing else to back up my position, so I'll rely on my age."
     
    Then I think about attitudes here in the US, especially involving sex (gender and the activity) and race. Younger people are so much more open and accepting. Don't believe me, just look at the poll numbers from the last election. That tells met that there's another downside to the "sage" persona. It's the "I'm set in my ways" attitude. The inability to grasp and adapt to new concepts, new ideas.
     
    These things were rolling through my mind in this seminar when one of the other older men chimed in to support the young lady, pointing to her logical presenatation, and pointing out that just because things were "that way" didn't mean they should always be "that way".
     
    And that reminded me that all old people are not the same, and that my own generalizations were just as toxic as those stereotypes used to pillory others who are different.
     
    So are old people sages? Some are. But why do they all have to drive Buicks?
  9. Mark Arbour
    This is what I encountered today while driving on the freeway:
     
    A woman driving a white Lexus RX 350 SUV for about five miles with her left blinker flashing while she talked on her cell phone. She was blond.
     

  10. Mark Arbour
    Speed cameras, those cameras that take a picture of your car when you're speeding..they suck. When these things first made their debut around here, they were set up at intersections to catch people who ran stop lights. That seemed reasonable. Fair even.
     
    But then they started using them to catch people speeding, and that doesn't seem fair at all. I've always felt there was this implicit agreement about speed limits. They were kept artificially low, to make sure that the little old lady who could barely see was safe, or for the really stupid people who can't seem to stay in a lane. That humored those somewhat vocal groups (stupid people can be quite loud). In exchange, the police ignored those who went about 10-15% over the speed limit (5-10 MPH) as long as they weren't weaving in and out of lanes like maniacs.
     
    Speed cameras break this compact. Speed cameras force everyone to drive like they have no brains and no coordination. As an experiment, I had a relatively long errand to run today (25 miles each way) so I decided to go the entire way doing the speed limit. People flew past me on the freeway, which was just fine, since I was so bored I spent most of my time fiddling with my cell phone and my IPOD. I almost rear-ended two people (in my car).
     
    So I concluded that going the speed limit is very very dangerous, and that speed cameras have the potential to cause more deaths than black ice.
  11. Mark Arbour
    I took Lacey's Color Quiz. Results below. Interesting.
     
    Your Existing Situation
     
    Likes to be in control and wishes to hold a position of power. Comes up with ideas and plans to overcome obstacles and likes to feel control over events and situations.
     
    Your Stress Sources
     
    "Demands to be noticed by others as an important individual, needs attention and recognition. His current situation is leaving him dissatisfied. He feels he needs to make friends with those who hold the same high standards he does. Wants to stand out as someone at the top of his class and be admired by others. He needs to feel in control which makes it difficult to give of himself to another person. He feels isolated and alone but refuses to appear weak and continues to be emotionally distant from others in order to keep his attitude of superiority. "
     
    Your Restrained Characteristics
     
    Open and emotionally involved in relationships and easily finds satisfaction through sexual activity.
     
    "Struggles to make his demands clear, but feels ignored. Feels resentful, but acts as if he doesn't care, doing what is necessary to keep peace."
     
    "Believes his hopes and dreams are realistic and sticks to them stubbornly, even though circumstances are forcing him to compromise. Very precise in the qualities he seeks in a partner."
     
     
     
    Your Desired Objective
     
    "Longs for a loving, caring, and supportive relationship, and fanaticizes of living in perfect harmony with others. Has a strong desire for tenderness and affection and enjoys things which are artistically pleasing to the eye."
     
    Your Actual Problem
     
    Fears others will try to hold him back from achieving his goals and the things he wants. Puts on the charm and can be manipulative towards others hoping he can get them to do as he wishes and making it easier for him to reach his own goals.
     
    Your Actual Problem #2
     
    "Impressed by unique and one of a kind things, and by people with exceptional personalities. Tries to takes the characteristics he likes in other people and apply it to himself as well as coming across as a unique individual."
     
    Thank you for using http://www.ColorQuiz.com/
    Please recommend us to your friends.
  12. Mark Arbour

    Pee Mail

    By Mark Arbour,

    Every day when I get home I take the dog out with me to get the mail. It's not a long walk, just down the driveway, but it gives her a chance to check her pee mail. I watch her sniff from spot to spot, figuring out who was there by her mailbox, who stopped by to pee a bit just to say hi. She of course pees there to let them know she got their mail. It's all very efficient, not quite as efficient as e-mail, but close.
     
    Then today we went down to check the mail and a dog had left a big crap next to it. I looked at her, and she looked at me, both of us irritated. My irritation was at this dog's owner, who didn't have the decency to clean up after their dog. That's virtually unheard of in our neighborhood. I stared at the dog and she stared back. "So who did you piss off?" I asked. She didn't say anything, she just peed near the pile of crap.
     
    I wonder what her pee-mail said.
  13. Mark Arbour
    I know I've been ranting about driving lately. Maybe I'm just driving during "early bird special time" when all the old people are out? Sigh.
     
    So why is it so hard to merge into traffic? I mean, getting on the freeway seems to be a life challenge for some. They drive down the ramp and maybe hit 45 then slow to 20-25 mph and try to move into the slow lane. That's not merging. That's just f**king up traffic.
     
    Today it wasn't a freeway merge that got me. (And no, I'm not referring back to "Sex on the Freeway" although that event does flash into my mind periodically) There was a person in front of me trying to make a simple right turn onto a four lane road. There was no light, which means there's no hope unless you take a little initiative. This person waited and waited and waited, letting massive gaps in the traffic go by.
     
    So now you're saying, "Well gee Mark, you're probably an asshole on the road anyway. The traffic was probably too busy for any normal person to merge." Well you're wrong. How do I know? Two reasons. First of all, the guy behind me was honking. It wasn't just me. The second thing was that there were three people that made LEFT HAND TURNS onto the road I was on. If they can make a left hand turn and cross two lanes of traffic, a person making a right hand turn has plenty of room.
     
    Anyone wanna guess what kind of car this merge-reluctant individual was driving? If you said Buick, give yourself a gold star.
  14. Mark Arbour
    In political discussions, I've noticed distinct differences between Conservatives and Liberals.
     
    Conservatives tend to bluster. They usually cite facts they have read from the various conservative e-mails that fly around, the bulk of which have been exposed as false by sites such as Snopes. That doesn't matter. They'll regurgitate them every once in awhile to rile each other up. They are convinced they are right even when they are wrong. If you don't agree with them, you are wrong. Period. And that means you're probably a godless, child-molesting terrorist. Probably don't even say the pledge of allegiance every morning, and don't salute when the national anthem is played.
     
    Liberals are much lower key. They usually cite facts that are correct, but they distort them to serve their purpose. They will debate you in an intellectual way, but if you don't agree with them, they won't really deign to argue with you. They'll just move on, and as they do they'll make sure you know that they think you're an uneducated idiot. Clearly you have not thought things through well enough, otherwise you'd agree with them. You are obviously a symbol of what is wrong with the educational system in this country, since it has apparently left you intellectually stunted. You probably went to parochial schools and skipped logic to pray instead.
  15. Mark Arbour
    Any of you remember the "Far Side" cartoon on these people? It showed special chambers in hell, one for murderers,one for thieves, and one for people who drive slow in the fast lane? I wish I believed there was a hell; then I could believe there would be some justice for these morons.
     
    Today I was motoring down the freeway and came upon a minivan (of course) blocking my way in the fast lane. The speed limit on the freeway is 60, everyone was going 65, I was going 70, along with the people behind me, trailing in my wake. The minivan was going at the same exact speed as the car in the lane next to it, maintaining a position parallel to it. It showed no signs of speeding or slowing, or changing lanes. I tried the European approach, flashing my lights, but to no avail. The driver of the minivan was oblivious, but then again, aren't most minivan drivers?
     
    Being mindful of my last post, I figured maybe the people in these two cars were trying to, uh, get to know each other. It's a four lane freeway though. What's wrong with the two right lanes? So I fought my way to the lane on my right, then fought my way one lane over, then inched up and finally made it back in front of the car running parallel to the minivan. And then I swung into the fast lane. And hit my brakes. I watched the minivan driver temporarily interrupt her cell phone conversation to slam on her brakes, then saw her lean over to clean up the coffee she spilled when said brakes were applied too rapidly. I slowed down to about 40, watched with glee as she wildly gestured at me with her hands, and then she changed lanes to pass me. Only then I sped up, as did all the cars behind her, and our train moved on, now back at a comfortable 70 mph, leaving this idiot in our wake like useless junk.
     
    I hope the coffee stained her probably-light-colored-polyester-slacks and ruined her day. Sometimes revenge is such a cleansing process.
  16. Mark Arbour
    I had this rather surreal experience last week. I thought about blogging about it, but then changed my mind. I figured it might be a little bit out there for the prurient tastes of the GA crowd. But it continues to haunt me in a pleasant and unpleasant way, and I mean, what's the use of having a blog if you can't write about weird shit, right?
     
    I had gone out with a few friends (boys night out) and drank, played cards, that kind of shit, and ended up being the designated driver since all I did that night was have two beers and smoke an amazing amount of weed. After I dropped my friend off, I hopped on the freeway to head home. It was around 2:00am (long poker game. I won). I was driving down the freeway and pulled up next to another car and looked over to see a pretty cute guy driving. He was shirtless and had a foam cooler on the seat next to him, two good clues that he was fishing. OK, and the rods and tackle box in the back seat. Of course I slowed down to match his speed and take a look. Like I said, he was pretty cute.
     
    That was at a lighted part of the freeway. That ended, and now it was dark, just me and him, all alone on the freeway. Not wanting to seem to perverted, I sped up a bit to get just ahead of him and set my cruise control. He moved up to get next to me again, then pulled ahead. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or not because it was dark. Then he flipped on his interior light and the flipped it off again. I moved up again, next to him, and looked down into his car. (I have an SUV). There was a streetlight, and I got a fleeting look at his chest and bare legs. The cooler was blocking my view of other more important things.
     
    We came upon another light just as he moved past me again and I could see him clearly now, his face, looking at me. I turned on my interior light and smiled, then flipped it off. He passed me then slowed. I moved up on him again and he flipped on his light. This time I got a good view. He was driving down the road, stark naked, stroking himself. He saw me staring and moved his hand, showing me his dick. It was pretty big.
     
    He turned on his turn signal so I let him get in front of me then followed him as he exited the freeway. He drove to a shopping center right off the freeway and parked in the back. I pulled up next to him. He sat there in his car, stroking his dick, looking at me smiling. I hopped out and walked over to his window, but he opened the door. This guy was probably in his early thirties, but his face had that weathered look you get from a bit too much sun. He wasn't in gym rat shape, thin, maybe five extra pounds, just a normal guy. That made him even cuter. But it was his dick that was impressive. I'd guess seven inches and really thick, and it looked bigger since he had completely shaved his pubes and his balls.
     
    "Wanna watch me?" he asked in this really husky voice.
     
    "Yeah," I said. He reclined his seat so he was almost laying down.
     
    "You like that nice big dick?" he asked.
     
    "Yeah," I said. And then I watched him as he stroked himself, clearly turned on by doing it in front of someone he didn't know, and on being naked in his car in public (even though it was the middle of the night and no one was around). He let out a grunt and shot his load, a rather small one, all over his abdomen, then grabbed a towel and wiped it up.
     
    "I gotta go," he said.
     
    "You travel this way very often?" I asked.
     
    "Nah. Just heading home from a trip."
     
    "See ya," I said, hopped in my car, and went home.
  17. Mark Arbour

    Buicks

    By Mark Arbour,

    Anyone ever driven a Buick? They're designed solely and completely for old people. They are soft and cushy, so those brittle old bones won't get shaken up if the car hits a bump. They're quiet so old people can't hear everyone honking at them, although that's not really all that important. Just turn the hearing aid down. But they're like land yachts when it comes to take a corner, wallowing through the sea that is the road, listing dramatically either way. That doesn't matter to the elderly though. They don't go fast enough to even think about squealing a tire on a corner.
     
    It is important to understand the relationship between the elderly and Buicks in order to best plan your driving route. For example, if you come to a stoplight and there are two lanes, and you can get behind one of the cars, which do you choose? Hint: Not the Buick. If you're planning to merge onto a freeway and you're following a Buick, what do you do? Follow them down the ramp then swing around them and jump into the lane ahead of them. Don't worry. They're comfortable driving along the shoulder at 25 mph. What do you do when they stop at every intersection, seemingly confused? If you said honk, you're wrong. See above paragraph, referencing hearing aid.
     
    What if you come to the intersection and there's Buick in each lane? You have to look for other clues. If the driver is wearing a hat, beware. This is the most advanced of Buick drivers, adept at f**king up traffic at any time, night or day. If you see hair that is white, or, God forbid, blue, these people are only a shade better than hat wearing Buick drivers. Take another road.
  18. Mark Arbour
    I logged on tonight, ready to head off to bed, and went to check my profile to make sure no one posted something obscene or anything in the comments section, and I noticed that my reputation tag had changed. It said
     
    Reputation: 106
    Someone Might Think I'm Dom
     
    Now that's f**king funny. Even if it is heretical: I'm a Domaholic who's way beyond any 12 step program.
     
    I'm trying to figure out who did it. Joe is suspect numero uno.
  19. Mark Arbour
    Really. What did "y" ever do to the gay community to get it removed from their language? Why does boy have to be boi? Why does hey have to be hai? Is that supposed to be cute? A way to distinguish gai people from other people. A wai to describe or delineate other members of the gai communiti? What's next? Mai Dai celebrations? Will the holidais change too? I find this almost as irritating as Randy Jackson calling everyone "dog".
     
    I'm not convinced that such differentiation does the gai communiti ani good. I'm not convinced it does ani harm either, other than to annoy people like me. I guess it's got a long histori. Back in the 50's and 60's, some gai men (especialli in England) spoke their own language, Polari. Of course, Polari is spelled with an i at the end too. Coincidence? Polari
     
    Maibe I'll just file this in mi folder of annoiing things, like when gai guys call their male friends girlfriend. Or straight white guys use the term "bro".
     
    Sigh.
  20. Mark Arbour
    It was different this year. Not the fireworks; they were no better than normal. Not the barbecue. It was as good as always. No, what was different this year is that for the first time in a long time, I actually felt like celebrating. I think that we (the US) actually have a chance of being a great nation again. A new president, a new approach, a new direction. Heady stuff.
     
    I'm not naive enough to think that just because Obama is President that things will miraculously fall into place. No, the damage over the past 8 years has been too severe, the levels of mistrust we have generated too great. But to see progress, to see us rejoin the world community as a participant and not a bully, well that alone is refreshing enough to make me feel optimistic on the 4th.
  21. Mark Arbour
    I was supposed to take a vacation to get away from the f**king heat here in the midwest (see last blog entry: Doldrums), so I did. To Cleveland. Now I know what you're thinking, not exactly a tourist mecca, and you'd be right, even though all the cute guys up there look a lot like Billy. And even though I went up there for a wedding (family thing...drank too much..puked...did it right) you may want to re-think that and make a stop at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
     
    It's set on the waterfront adjacent to a cool Science Center and the stadium where the lame-ass Cleveland Browns play, a picturesque backdrop for the ultra-modern pyramid like building that houses the Hall of Fame. I liked some of the interactive displays, thought the "Mystery Train" movies were lame, and enjoyed the Hall of Fame itself, the signatures of famous rockers etched on a backlit wall. But what really got me were two displays, both in an area devoted to bands.
     
    The first was the homage to Queen. Freddie Mercury: what a talented and tragic individual! One of my major life regrets: I didn't get to f**k him when I was young.
     
    The second was the section for Michael Jackson. I guess it was because he'd just died that made it so intense. Seeing the single glove he wore when singing "Billie Jean," the jacket he wore in the video to "Beat It"...those kinds of things just made his loss seem as tragic as, well, his life. I remembered fondly the years before he'd turned himself into a freak and exposed himself as a possible pedophile, to the heyday of his career, to "Thriller." Personally, I like the old Jackson 5 stuff better, but that video of "Beat It" always sticks in my brain. I remember when he filmed it, how the story (I assume it's true) was that he used real gang member as extras at a time when gang warfare was rampant, and very much in the news. That kind of cutting edge music and cutting edge social activism is what I'm going to try and remember when I think of Michael Jackson.
     
    So Cleveland....nice place to visit. Don't think I'd want to live there though (try ordering a pizza after 11 in the suburbs).
  22. Mark Arbour

    Doldrums

    By Mark Arbour,

    It's hot and humid here in the midwest. It's f**king miserable. I hate summers here. Summers where you can't go outside for more than five minutes without getting drenched in sweat. Summers where the air-conditioner never stops running, and the electric bill shows it. Summers where the sprinklers can't keep the lawn wet one week, then torrential thunderstorms threaten to wash everything away the next. Give me snow, I can handle that, but not this shit. It makes me feel depressed and beaten down. All movement, all activity just takes so much effort. Tough for someone like me who's inherently lazy.
     
    It kind of feels like that around here too. Seems people don't post as much, although maybe it's just my forum. People go on vacation. They do whatever they do. But they seem to be here less. I hope that's a good thing, that they're doing something fun, and that they live somewhere pleasant.
     
    Sigh.
     
    And Chase, before you tell me how wonderful SoCal beach weather is, let me preemptively tell you to bite me. And mention fog.
  23. Mark Arbour
    "16 Tons," a depressing oldie. So here I am on my birthday, watching the yard guys mow my lawn, enjoying a lazy day, and I hopped on over to GA just to see who wished me a happy birthday (and who didn't, so I know who to be mean to in the future). I'm just kidding. Anyway, I was thinking about this community and how vibrant it is, and how glad I am to be part of it again.
     
    The last few months have been a wild ride for me. I posted my first story ever on GA, in e-fiction, on September 18 of last year. Actually, Sharon had to post it for me because I didn't even have author's status then. And now, some eight months later I've published 7 stories (and a new chapter in the new book in the Bridgemont Series should go up shortly), plus two short stories here, and achieved hosted status. That's pretty cool.
     
    But what's even cooler is all the friends I've made along the way. Some of you I knew when I hung out here BK (Before Kitty), back when I first discovered GA by following DomLuka over here. I'm like Vic; I'd follow him anywhere. But most of you I've gotten to know since September. You put up with my rantings in the Soap Box, and my blunt style on the other forums, and you're even nice to me anyway. Some of you read my stories, making it rewarding to publish them. Some of you post hot pictures of yourselves, making me dream of the days when I was young, and wishing there were sites like this around back then. Damn, I'd have been so hitting on some of you. Now, though, I get to hear your tales of glee and woe, and live vicariously through your trials and tribulations. Or the new boyfriend, or losing the existing boyfriend. You help keep me young.
     
    My real life is pretty good, but there are always challenges, and it is never totally satisfying. For me, my online life fills the voids that are there, and the people of GA are a big part of it.
  24. Mark Arbour
    I've been involved in lots of online sites, anything from this one to my Yahoo group. There have been times in the past when I've felt the need to move on, either permanently or temporarily, for various reasons. Sometimes someone pisses me off, sometimes I simply grow tired of the group or bored with the posts. In fact, there was a period of time when I took a sabbatical from this site. Why? It falls into the "someone pisses me off" category and revolved primarily around someone who's name started with a "K" and ended with "itty". But that's not the purpose of this entry. When I left, I just left. No fanfare, no big deal, I just wasn't around.
     
    On the other hand, sometimes when people leave, or take a break from a group, they seem to feel the need to make a big production out of it. They write long posts about how they have to move on, or how their personal IRL lives are being ruined by their online life, or how their computer broke or the country they live in has banned internet access (OK, not that one), or some other reason. To me, many of these posts seem designed to elicit sympathy, and all of them seem to have, as their purpose, the need to draw attention to themselves. So when I read them, most of the times I just roll my eyes and say to myself "OK, another drama queen" or "Someone desperately needs some attention." Falling into the same category are posts from people saying they need to be less involved, or they need to post less.
     
    But I wonder if that's fair. I can think of lots of people here, for example, that should they decide to take a break I'd want to know about it. I'd want to know why. I'd want to know these things because I care about them. If they posted something about vanishing, I'd feel appreciative.
     
    So what's the difference? Is it the fact that some people I like and some I don't? That makes some sense, but then again, there have been people who have done the whole "I'm leaving for awhile" thing, and I like those people, but I still think they're being attention whores. I thought about this a lot and ultimately I decided that there are two things that make the difference. The first is the tone of the departure post. Is it whiny? Does the person seem to be begging for attention? Or does that individual seem truly sincere?
     
    The second factor is whether or not they really leave. Does the person post this poignant message and then two days later they're posting again? To me, this makes the whole departure post seem hollow, and exposes the individual as someone who simply wants to be the focus of attention.
     
    Regardless, I usually don't dislike the person for doing that, I don't begrudge them their decision. Rather, I feel pity for them, not because of the reason for their departure or truncation of activity, but for their apparent all-encompassing passion for attention, which in this case comes at my expense. That doesn't make me angry, but it does make me lose some respect for them.
     
    I don't know. Maybe this is just the prick in me coming out again.
  25. Mark Arbour
    OK guys (he says, using the asexual version of the word "guys"), I'm having a dilemma. I'm writing two stories now, "A Summer Love," and "The Gunroom." My original intent was to write them in tandem, to try to publish alternating chapters of each. That's not working for me, primarily because I need to write where my muse takes me.
     
    I've been enjoying "The Gunroom" lately, and have done more work on it than ASL. I decided that I'm going to go with it, which means I'll probably publish more chapters of that one, at least initially, than ASL.
     
    I tried to force myself into it, to adhere to my plan, but it wasn't working. The chapters felt flat. I wasn't happy with them.
     
    So I'm giving into my drives and urges, something very typical for me actually.
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