Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Tellin' You Questions, Askin' Me Lies

While I'm skeptical that much will come of this, I don't think I can muster up any real content for today, so here's something that's been going around (catch it!):

Ask me something (in the comments thread) that you think you should know about me, or that you've always wondered about. I may answer honestly, or I may make something up. We'll laugh, we'll cry, we'll annoy our co-workers. We'll walk away better people.

I promise.

Now step up!

16 Comments:

Anonymous Pete Lit said...

How would you judge Dick Clark's appearance on this year's New Year's Rockin' Eve? Courageous? Pathetic? No more incoherent than your typical Bill O'Reilly screed?

10:45 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

So...why _is_ a raven like a writing desk?

- H

10:48 AM  
Blogger Dave said...

Pete, I give it a 53; the lyrics were funny, but there was no beat.

Hannah, you've asked that one before. Bzzzt! Try another.

10:59 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ack! I knew it sounded familiar. I hang my head in shame.

On the other hand, now that you've reminded me, I'm going to start calling you Bjorn. Take that!

- H

11:27 AM  
Blogger Dave said...

I'll take that, if you ASK A QUESTION.

11:31 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Aren't you at work? Aren't you supposed to be doing work instead of pestering poor innocent Hannahs who are now gunshy after having their original questions SO CRUELLY REJECTED?

(By which I mean, my question is, why the heck do you put up with me?)

(Also, ha! Look what I found while pondering alternate questions: http://www.stupidquestionsanswered.com/ansarch.htm)

(That should keep your coworkers laughing/crying/amused.)

- H

11:47 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Now that I've had a chance to stop crying over that CRUEL REJECTION I will ask an actual brain-requiring question in hopes of giving you something to do so you don't CRUELLY REJECT anyone else.

What books/writers do you think more people should be reading? Which people? Why?

Cheerio.

11:52 AM  
Blogger Dave said...

Yes, I am at work.

No, pestering PIHs (Poor Innocent Hannahs) is my job.

I put up with you because of . . . um . . . hang on, I know this one . . .

11:54 AM  
Blogger Dave said...

As to the books and writers question:

I hate this question, because I can never (OK, rarely) speak to anything new. But I will answer it because that is my job. (I have many jobs.) Um. I just read "This Shape We're In" by Jonathan Lethem, which was lent to me by someone cool. It was a very weird (hence good) story with a surprising sort of ending so I will not speak of it. I also read an essay by Michael Bishop about Jonathan Swift in Subterranean #2 which I liked, and while I must admit I haven't read very much Jonathan Swift I think Michael Bishop is the bomb, particularly Brittle Innings. I read Rats Saw God and it made me want to read all of Rob Thomas's books. This Tolstoy guy is pretty good, I don't know if anyone's heard of him. And if we're talking comics (which we always are, aren't we?) the series Demo is also very good--it was lent to me by the same cool person that lent me the Lethem.

12:05 PM  
Blogger Karen said...

I'm glad you liked the books! Now come visit so I can get them back, because I miss you. I mean them. I miss my books.

My question: tell us something about your first love. You can define "first love" however you choose, but try not to weasel out of it by talking about the first time you discovered cookie dough ice cream or whatnot.

7:50 AM  
Blogger Dave said...

Karen has a meaty question! Also, I have her books (and some that I want to lend to her). I would like to visit; this weekend isn't good, but maybe in the next few weeks, before school tightens its chokehold on my life . . .

To the question of first love: I never fell in love in high school, because I never dated. I used to be embarrassed about that, but the fact is that I wasn't mature enough for dating, let alone relationships. There is also the fact that, although there were a few girls in my high school whom I think would have been fun dates, for the most part the place was short on interesting girls. Girls with a little bit of attitude. Smart-assed girls. In fact, I have to admit, with apologies to the numerous fascinating women that I know now, that it wasn't until college that I realized girls could be interesting. Smart, pretty, sure; strange, incomprehensible, annoying (I'm thinking of my sisters) -- without a doubt. But probably because I was immature (see above) and wrapped up in my own neuroses, that's about all the thought I put into it.

So my first love was a case of puppy love, and the object of my affection was a girl who lived one floor below me in the dorms freshman year. I won't use her name because this is the Internet, but her first initial was W. I liked her because she was sarcastic, smart, and a redhead. There were other reasons; we were both big fans of the Police, we were both from Minnesota -- but mainly I was attracted to her wit and her looks.

However, the problem with finishing high school with good grades and no social skills is that, well, you enter college as a social retard. I don't think I even considered asking W. out until my feelings were strong enough that I was scared to talk about them. I would find reasons to wander down to her room, but never had anything to say; I was terrified that if I started talking that everything would spill out. Yes, I was one of those creepy/pathetic hangs-around-all-the-time-but-never-says-a-word guys. Not my proudest days. When, in a drunken haze, I finally (this was three or four months after the fact) told her about my feelings, I'm sure she already knew; either mutual friends or my own ridiculous behavior had tipped her off. She let me down very gently. The rejection wasn't a surprise, but it was still painful. If I looked I could probably still find some horribly embarrassing journal entries I wrote about how I would never love anyone again my heart was broken blah blah blah. And, you know, there's a grain of truth in all of that, because that love was pure and naïve and whole-hearted in a way that I don't think I can ever allow myself to feel again.

In retrospect I don't know that W. and I ever truly had much in common, and if I had asked her out in the early stages of my infatuation it would probably have amounted to naught. But then I wouldn't have been able to experience the searing pains and petty jealousies, the drowning of my sorrows in endless binges of cheap beer and Jagermeister. I wouldn't have written maudlin essays and poems about the futility of living without her. I wouldn't have regaled my friends with mournful soliloquies on the subject of why-doesn't-she-love-me until their ears bled! Think of all that I would have missed.

Hope that answers the question :P

11:49 AM  
Blogger Karen said...

Good answer! I laughed, I cried, I learned something about you. I am walking away a better person. Thank you.

About those Jäger days... it's all grist for the mill, baby.

12:01 PM  
Blogger Dave said...

Oh, absolutely. I wouldn't take it back, 'cause I'm sure that a) I wouldn't be here now if I hadn't gone through that, and b) if it didn't happen then, it would have happened later.

But I will never drink Jagermeister again. Ish.

12:16 PM  
Anonymous Meghan said...

God, I am still that lame sometimes. Though never the Jager. Good god, man. But what is it about the first few years of college that make you into an idiot?

OK my 2 questions, one silly, one serious:
1. What is your favorite outfit you ever wore (or wear on a regular basis) and why?

2. Do you get depressed? What sets you off? What do you do about it? (No i'm not looking for advice; just curious)

12:52 PM  
Blogger Dave said...

I cannot answer this question of college = idiocy. I think it has to do with a sudden lack of boundaries, but I'm no sociologist.

1. OK. This was the eighties, keep in mind. I used to have one of those whaddya call 'em shirts--the ones that have the high collars, and no lapels, and button over the throat? And I had to dress up for band concerts and stuff, so I wore it under this funky cardigan that was mostly black with this white chessboard pattern around the middle which was separated by a red stripe. The crowning achievement was the shoes; since I hated (still hate) men's dress shoes, I found some slip-on sneakers that matched the sweater; red, white, and black jazz. Add black pants, and you've got it. I was Bill freakin' Cosby. Or possibly Branford Marsalis. I was confused.

2. Yeah, I get depressed. Things that set me off? Feeling lonely is a big one. Feeling incompetent at school or work or with money; having frustrations with my writing. To some extent I'm prone to Seasonal Affect, although not as much over the past few years. (February is usually kind of a long month.) I used to not do much of anything about it, just wallow. Nowadays I consider whether I've been working out, and how I've been eating; I feel much better when I work out regularly, and if I'm eating lots of junk I tend to get worse. I try to work on stories, because finishing something is always a good feeling. I try not to drink too much, and I try to avoid the news, because it usually makes me feel worse. If there's someone around who doesn't mind listening, I'll talk, or--and this is often most effective for me--I put my frustrations into my writing. Finally, if time and/or money permit, I get out of town. Few things make me feel better than a good hike somewhere without any cars or power lines. I won't claim that those things necessarily work every time, but they usually make me feel better for a little while, at least.

2:04 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

re: Meghan's #1:

I think we may need photographs.

- H

5:04 PM  

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