He's given up calling hotlines when in a bad depression place because, he says, they just feel scripted, and if the conversation gets too involved, they'll tell you to call 911.

It's such a sad truth that real, compassionate human contact is sometimes hard to come by...especially in any kind of organized 'system.'

I hate that we have grown into a CYA culture that makes it so hard for people to get what they need, but have no better idea of what to do. Thank goodness, I have a list of 'saves' long enough to soften the blow of the many 'fails.'

Luckily we were able to talk him into reaching out again. He went to the pastor of a church he used to go to and the pastor listened for an hour. He seems to feel better.

You should never be so desperate for a cigarette that you succumb to arrest to get one.

So true!

It's weird the way one's weather expectations change. The sun's mostly out, so I can look at the thermometer and says "Hm, 28 degrees, not so bad I guess. And hey, it's going to be in the mid-30s this week! Balmy!"

That IS the message!

See, he didn't misconstrue it. It's all good!

Next year I think you should get him a giant cuttlefish. They have a habit of cross-dressing, which the females find very sexy.

Plus they are wicked smart.

Yay, beth, for the interview going well! Fingers crossed!

Just put Dylan to bed an hour early for whining at the dinner table. Note to child: Mommy is not a fucking short order cook. You decide what we're having for dinner when you are old enough to make it yourself. In the meantime, shut up and eat or face the damn consequences.

Remind me again why I wanted to go through this phase TWICE???

I usually go back and forth among three different radio stations as I'm driving. Three is generally enough that, at any given time, at least one of them is playing something I want to listen to. I haven't found any other radio stations I like around here. I think I'm going to have to switch to listening to my iPod now -- one of the three has gone over to 24/7 Christmas music for the entire month of December, and another seems to be at about 1/3 Christmas music already.

It's way too early for continuous Christmas music.

So I spent Thanksgiving at home. As you might expect, I have much to report.

Remember Doctor Girl? The potential future wife I tried to e-mail with on my own terms but instead caused a "blunder" since you're not supposed to try to be friends with potential future wives? To my great surprise, I received an e-mail from her. She's still interested in chatting if I am, except now I'm really confused about what the hell happened since all the parents are upset. She agrees that it's hard to find Indians who are interested in art, literature, and theatre. She still seems cool, but I don't want to make more waves by continuing to communicate with her.

Remember how she was supposed to be the last one, promise? Yeah, surprise, not so much. I got roped into an awkward meeting with another potential future wife suggested by a family friend. The girl was nice (and she'd gotten the meeting similarly sprung upon her), but I didn't feel any spark or connection (it's kind of hard to in a meeting like that, I guess). Apparently asking not to be presented with potential future wives is not an option, no matter how many times I request it. Maybe I should just give in while I look for someone on my own, even though I doubt I will find someone who meets their stringent requirements. I know I'm not doing enough to actively find someone, but it's a daunting task, even without all this pressure. I think I'll try to prioritize going to more Indian gatherings and functions in hopes of meeting someone I like. Maybe I should get over myself and stop resenting potential future wives on principle. I'm still opposed to the wife factory, though, which my mom wants to take me to next year, but she wants to take me there every year, so that's nothing new.

The situation with my brother has made things worse for me, as now they are terrified of "losing" another son. My dad stated that they would never be okay with his having a white girlfriend, so I shouldn't even think about it. My mom said that if I ended up marrying a white girl, she'd prefer that I had never been born.

"Well, that makes me feel really good," I said. But that's how she felt. We are always so concerned about our feelings and we never think about their feelings. "Are you proud of me at all?" I asked. Yes, she was proud that I was educated and had a good job, although it would have been better if I were uneducated and listened to my parents instead. Didn't she crow about all my achievements in high school? Didn't she? But all of that would be meaningless if I married a white girl, of course. Indians marry Indians; we are all in the same clan. (She kept saying "clan" over and over, and I resisted the urge to bring up a certain other Klan.)

My mom was fucking sobbing when I hugged her goodbye at the airport. I couldn't even hear what she was saying through the tears, but I think she said she cries herself to sleep every night. She's going crazy, she said.

Staying strong doesn't seem to work, and neither does giving in. There doesn't seem to be any good outcome. It continues to be an awful mess.

In other news, I came home with a lot of new shirts, a new razor, and lots of food.