So, I’m finally, finally going to finish answering your questions, and then it’s back to our regularly scheduled programming, whatever that is. I’m really sorry it’s taken this long. I’m starting to remember why nothing I did in school ever measured up to my own standards: When I have an assignment, my brain balks at having to answer to anyone, and crumples into a useless black ball.

Speaking of which, the prospect of grad school is really starting to freak me out. For one thing, once classes start, it might be months before I can actually read for pleasure, and that’s upsetting. I feel like my brain is going to be hijacked by one single focus. I hate that. I’m getting cold feet. I kind of want to ditch the idea, move to Vermont, open a bakery, and pretend to be a painter.

These days, I’m, like, half a dare away from shaving my head and devouring a pack of cigarettes. My life is highly stupid right now, I’m bored, and it’s pissing me the hell off.

Let’s move on.

Motherfucker. I’m going to finish answering these questions if it fucking kills me.

Go.

Q: What is your favorite memory? (Blaze)

A: Favorite memory, eh? Hoo, but memories are complicated, because they get all layered up with other things as the years go on, and too often come to mean something other than what they meant at the time. I have tons of lovely memories laced with the complications of retrospect, but in answer to your question, Blaze, I thought I’d pick something simple. I don’t know if this is my favorite memory, but it’s one of the only memories I can think of which stands alone and makes me smile for the same reasons it made me smile when it happened.

I used to be a huge jock, did you know? But, that was a long time ago. I still have strength and endurance, but I think all of my hand/eye coordination leaked out of my ears during puberty.

Anyway, when I was ten or eleven, I was on the worst softball team in the Junior Girls Softball League of Anytown, Massachusetts. My team, “Oakledge Construction,” (named for our sponsor,) was like softball’s answer to The Mighty Ducks. We were comically hopeless. I think we even had a “Fat Kid,” just like in every sports-related children's movie that Disney ever made. We sucked.

Somehow, through the course of the season, much to our own surprise, we got good enough to compete in the league championship tournament, and, in the final and deciding game, came face to face with the DESTRUCTORS of the 9-12 year age bracket, Deluca Construction. These girls were undefeated at the time of the tournament, and they were terrifying little brutes. They were strong, fast, tall, cocky, and aggressive, and I honestly don’t know what pact with the devil was signed by Mr. Deluca to get them all on the same team. We, in contrast, were sloppy, fun, fucking hyper, and got along really well. It was an absurd David and Goliath scenario, and we figured we were doomed.

In case I’ve been too subtle with the really obvious “underdog achieves victory” theme, I’ll alleviate any suspense. We won. Just barely, but we won.

It was the last inning, we were slightly ahead, and they were up. One of the girls hit a ground ball to me, I threw it to first … OUT! Then I ran back to second base, waved to the fielder on first base, she threw me the ball, and I swear to God “Chariots of Fire” was playing in my head when it approached my glove in torturous slo-mo. I was so terrified that I’d drop it, all of my limbs went numb. But, I caught it, which I still can’t believe, I tagged the runner heading to second, and DOUBLE PLAY! Final out, game over, and we won, won, won.

GOD, we were excited. As soon as I caught the ball, my team ran towards me and we formed a big, messy, happy, jumping blob. Our celebratory peals of pre-pubescent screaming shattered the silence of Anytown, Massachusetts for at least twenty minutes. After the obligatory handshakes and congratulations from the other team, we all went to Friendly’s, where I had a huge, disgusting sundae piled with sauces and peanut butter cups. When I got home, I passed out on the family room carpet, still in my uniform, watching “Full House.” Of all the damned shows.

I know that was really cheezily Norman Rockwellian, and not very interesting. The memory isn’t important, or symbolic, or life-changing. No epiphanies were had when Oakledge beat Deluca in our little town softball tournament. But I remember feeling so completely, thoroughly awesome about it, and a little in awe that I had experienced one of those simple, joyous stories that only happen in the movies. It wasn’t the actions that made it so great, but the feeling that followed. The solid, golden, innocent happiness and satisfaction. I couldn’t believe that we had managed to win, that we had proved everyone wrong, and that I had had a major hand in it. That stuff wasn’t supposed to happen to little me, but it somehow did, and I felt like I’d beat the system.

It was the first time I had felt such a simple, complete, searing happiness. I keep that memory in my pocket, and it’s still as fresh as a new apple.

Q: I'm fairly new to your site, so you may have addressed this already, but I want to know about the most significant romantic relationship you've had...who, when, why, etc. (Samantha)

A: Ha. Most significant romantic relationship? I’ll let you know. This is Unfortunately, so far, none of my significant relationships (no matter how well-intended) have been very romantic, and none of my significant romances (no matter how lovely) could count as relationships. That’s just how it’s worked out, so far.

Seems to me that traditional romantic relationships have three essential ingredients: feelings for your partner, dates or other non-sexual couples activities, and yes-sexual couples activities.

Liking + dating + sexy stuff = relationship.

I’ve experienced relationships with every possible combination of 1 or 2 of those essential ingredients, but never all three in conjunction. A little while back, in discussing this with my friend Lynn, I said “All I want are friends who don’t want to sleep with me, and maybe one boyfriend who does.”

I know that sounds weird, and I’m neither proud nor ashamed of it. I’ve puzzled over it enough to have come up with about ten thousand different hypotheses as to why that’s how it is, but the truth is that I have no more or less baggage than anyone else, and thinking about it too much makes me feel overwhelmed and inadequate, and all I want to do is run far away from myself. So I’ve stopped thinking about it as much, because over-thinking might be the cause for most of my downfalls. I used to be very romantically cautious, because I lived in my head. This got to be habit, and made me pretty oblivious to opportunities and advances. That’s in the past, though.

My first kiss might have activated some kind of gypsy curse. I was fourteen, we were in a janitor’s closet, and the kiss apparently threw my boyfriend for such a loop that a small part of him stayed behind, in the closet, only to reemerge three years later. On my superstitious, cynical days, I think that breaking my frenching cherry in a closet with a boy who turned out to be gay may have set a ridiculous precedent for the rest of my dating life. Usually, I just think it’s funny.

Oh, Samantha. I’m sorry I can’t answer this question, you have no idea. I could tell you about a brief romance I had in high school, but harkening back that far makes me kind of sad. I probably made my love life out to be far more bleak than it is, really. Please don't think I'm an ice queen. I was just clueless for a long time.

Someday, I’ll be somebody’s favorite, he’ll be mine, and we’ll both somehow figure it out so we can be together. I’ll let you know when that happens.

Q: When was your last poop? (“q”)

A: Oh, Q. Q, Q, Q. Do you really want to know this? Really?

Look. I’m regular enough that I don’t have to keep a schedule of my bowel movements, so I don’t know. Guess I’m lucky.

Q, I’m assuming you’re a guy. I have this theory (oh, Kellygirl, every day with the theories) that men, in general, make their shits into these big ceremonial deals because they feel the need to assert their masculinity whenever they have to actually sit on a toilet. Toilet-sitting is a matter of course for women, so we don’t commemorate our dumps with candlelight and cannon fire. Jesus.

(I know you're kidding, Q. So am I.)

Q: I'm no good at making up my own questions, but I've got a copy of 'The book of questions 2' handy (don't ask), so here goes: If you could relive one year of your life, without changing a thing, what year would it be, and why? (Skibigsky)

A: I don't really want to go back in time for any reason, but if I had to, I guess my favorite year would be September 2000 through September 2001, which spanned my last year of college and the summer that followed. The previous year had been a miserable shitstorm of depression and self-doubt, but when I came through it I started to really feel comfortable, and not guilty, eschewing traditions and morays that I never felt comfortable with. In short, I started having a lot more fun.

In school, I starred in two shows, one of which kicked my ass until I finally managed to nail my role, and the other of which was a completely ridiculous comedy that was a lot of fun to do. A reviewer in my college newspaper, someone I didn’t know, said of my performance, “Ms. Beans exhibits the comic genius which her audiences have come to expect.” Poorly phrased, but dude! I was known! Sure, it was a small pond, but I had no idea that anyone was paying attention to my little college theatre career, and I’d never seen anyone else in the department mentioned by name.

I received an award at a banquet at the end of the year, and, even though it was an award that was given to all of the seniors, I was the only one of my peers to receive a standing ovation. That was pretty cool, too, and totally weird.

I had wonderful roommates, awesome friends, and an easy workload. It was a good final year, but when it ended, I was really glad to be out of school.

After graduation, I worked at a summer theatre in Vermont. That summer, with its sexually charged energy, beautiful scenery, long bike rides, easy friendships, and goddamned fucking drama, was one of the best periods of my life. I was like the world's nicest prom queen that summer. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.

What did you have for lunch/dinner? (AG)

A: Lunch: instant soup and tossed salad.

Dinner: Um … baked potato chips and hummus. I have to go grocery shopping.

Q: Alright, this has been bothering me. I was discussing the nature of ethics & morality with a good friend a few years ago. I stated that I was still amused by the question of "Is it right because God say it is right, or does God say it is right because it is right?" I went into a drawn out explanation of the depth of this quandary, and as I was going into a routine about Abraham hearing God's voice tell him to whack his son, then God coming back at the 11th hour and saying, "Oh, psyche! Gotcha! Just kidding! Nice work though," Jeff explained that in the original Hebrew text there were different names used to refer to God as he manifested his different aspects.

Of course, having been raised Catholic, I am familiar with the concept of the trinity, and that never sat well with me on its own. This does seem to bear a resemblance to the trinity concept, but sounds more to me like a crack in the idea of the first real, powerful Monotheistic faith.

So is this seeming flaw in fact a flaw, is it a design in the early days of a Monotheistic Judaica to ease a transition away from Polytheism, or is God simply suffering multiple personalities, and in dire need of therapy (pharmaceutical, and electric)?

Question 2) Do you like me? (please check one) []Yes []No (Klugarsh)

Sinclair Mitchell Edward St. Vincent Millay Klugarsh IV De la Mancha, or whatever the hell your name is … you are a bastard, because you knew I’d be compelled to actually answer this question.

When you mentioned “God as He manifested His different aspects,” my first association was to Vishnu, but that’s irrelevant, because Vishnu didn’t hang out in Mesopotamia in any of his forms. From what little I know about Mesopotamian polytheism, it could be referred to as “primitive” form of religious expression, as it was not based on an alleged profound experience with the divine, but as a reaction to what was happening on earth.

However, there don’t seem to be many records on the origin of Mesopotamian polytheism, so what scholars have concluded about it is largely based on conjecture. This makes your question difficult to answer, because even if I did know jack shit about early Mesopotamian polytheism, there just ain’t very much to know, as compared to what is known about other religions.

Just so happens that the mythology of their existing mythology/religion could have been shaky, making Mesopotamia ripe for conversion to something more concrete. One of the main reasons it is a historically significant polytheism is that it was one of the first to be recorded in writing. Still, the origin of it is unclear, because there’s just not a helluva lot on record. Could be that the Mesopotamians got distracted by the influence of Judaica, but it could be that God got testy and wiped out their scriptures with a lightening bolt. Who’s to say?

Far as the mental health of the Heavenly Father as depicted in the Old Testament, he might have been a petty, wrathful meanie, but I have no doubt that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Okay, Klugarsh, I totally didn’t answer you. Sorry.

As for your second question: even if I didn’t already know you, just based on the nature of the first question, I’d guess you were a troublesome pain in the ass. Which I usually go for. So “[X] Yes,” I think I’d hit that.

Q: Kick-ass hybrid vehicle or an all-paid vacation to Morocco? (Friday)

A: Hybrid vehicle! Admittedly, I don’t know my hybrid vehicles from my pureblood vehicles, but hell. I’d love to have a car. If it’s good for the environment, rock-n-roll. I’d just have to be careful to keep it charged (or whatever one has to do) before I drive through the desert.

Q: Are you going to answer all these questions in one entry or a billion, OR, are you going quit working in general to devote full time to answer them by email? (Gerg)

A: Three damned entries. All boring and poorly written. I’m so sorry about that, but I promise I’m almost done.

Q: It's a well-established fact that a fresh, soft batch of "Red Vines" is mankind's greatest invention. What are some others? (Petrouchka)

A: Here are a few, completely devoid of explanation:

1. Public transportation.
2. Umbrellas. (I rarely use them, but I think they’re cool.)
3. Teapots.
4. Pearl-handled switchblades.
5. Haribo black and red gummy raspberries.
6. Champagne.

PS= I prefer Twizzlers to Red Vines, you weirdo.

Q: burning or drowning? deaf or blind? greek or roman? potato or potahto? popcorn or chocolate? zimbabwe or toledo? that enough? (ms. m)

A: Burning/drowning: DROWNING. Burning would be horrible and smelly and crackly.

Deaf/blind: DEAF. When your sight is gone, it’s just gone. But sound is something you can feel, and I think you’d adapt to the point where you could hear with your bones.

Greek/Roman: Like, ancient? Greek, I think. I dig their gods and their wars. Though it doesn’t really matter, because as a woman in either ancient culture, unless I was a royal, I’d barely be able to leave the house. BORING.

Potato/potAHto: Potato, unless I’m imitating my mom on one of her weird “I’m a Proper Bostonian” kicks, during which she pronounces everything like she’s a Kennedy.

Popcorn/chocolate: It entirely depends on my mood, but I’m gonna go with popcorn. I like things I can nibble.

Zimbabwe/Toledo: Zimbabwe, because I’ve never been there. I’ve never been to Toledo, either, but I’ve been to Cleveland and Cincinatti, and it’s nothing to write home about. This sounds shitty, but I can’t imagine any one part of Ohio being radically different from any other part of Ohio. And, dude. Zimbabwe’s got rhinos. Would I have to live there? If I did, could I bring a friend?

Is that enough: YES! That’s plenty.

Q: So, why do you think luvabeans is such a spazz? (Monkey King)

A: Cheater. You already asked me a question, nosy.

I am a “spazz,” as you say, because I have too much awesomeness for one human body. It makes me react to Newtonian physics and normal social situations in strange and unpredictable ways.

And, that’s it. Holy crap, I’m sorry it took so long. It was fun, but I don’t think I’ll be repeating this exercise anytime soon, because I somehow managed to stress myself out about it. But anyways, thanks, everyone.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Arm-in-Arm Down Burgundy - 09.05.05

Motivated! - 08.25.05

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

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