Ideapad Journal

March 29, 2001 +

This time last year I reflected upon my impending 27th birthday, and how solid my life looked as I turned 27, exactly as I had hoped it would.

I am happy to report that I turned 28 this morning (9:20 a.m., according to lore) having had a near ideal year as a 27-year-old.

In the order I mentioned them in 2000:

Work has been just grand. We successfully relaunched and virtually doubled our traffic thanks to an assist from the voting booths in Florida. I have extended my responsibilities in the office in recent months and am looking forward to continuing to push myself in my new role.

Thanks to the job, I spent six weeks in London in the last year, and thanks to London, I got to hopscotch around the world, visiting friends and family in Paris and Hong Kong. I spent nearly two months out of the country and loved every minute.

My father retired in September and my parents have been in empty-nest bliss for the last six months. My brother got an unbelievable opportunity to work in Hong Kong and now has an exciting new job and his old girlfriend back. Having them all doing so well is endlessly pleasing.

I had a few misses. The music playing tailed off after an, um, "incident" in London, and I haven't been to the gym much lately. I tried to pick up voiceovers as a new interest but faltered when I realized how much I'd have to sit around talking to myself. I still may try again, though.

And, of course, I had a lot of fun socially, meeting new people in London, hanging out in Paris, and spending time with all my friends around home. I dated (sorry, Pam) a dozen women last year, having fun all the while, and wound up with a terrific girlfriend who, I will state for the record, I just cannot get enough of.

In short, I feel good yet again. Good once more about who I am, what I have in my life, and where I'm headed as I turn 28. I'm still growing in my job. I want to buy a home. I'm settling into a real relationship. And I'm still surrounded by people I love.

Twenty-seven has been just about perfect, as hoped. Twenty-eight looks to be a pretty good follow-up.


March 28, 2001 +

We mock what we don't understand.

And sometimes we make mountains out of molehills.


March 22, 2001 +

Get this: My gym has my day planner and keys from my stolen pants.

My pants were stolen five weeks ago. They called me this morning to tell me they have had my stuff in a safe all this time.


I asked to speak to the manager about this. The manager on duty refused my call, saying I had to ring back when the manager who had discovered my things was in the office.

Damned "not my fault" staff. Your superiors will hear about this.


My wise mother on the issue: "Don't get yourself crazy over someone else's inefficiency."

I go home a smarter man. Thanks, Ma.


March 14, 2001 +

It's time once again for a choice Yahoo Messenger moment.
beth: How do I have you and [another friend's instant message] at the same time? What do you guys do all day, IM?
wert_d: Well, yes


March 7, 2001 +

Today is the first time I've worn my dress watch in March.

I know this because I went to check the day -- the sixth or the seventh? -- and found a big 4 staring at me. Thirty days hath September, and all that.

That got me thinking about time and relativity and my life lately. It wasn't all that long ago that I started seriously dating Amy, my girlfriend, and yet I already met her parents and when she's in my apartment she sits on my living room sofa as if it were her own. What makes ten weeks feel as cozy as two years?

Last night one of my dinner companions was my friend Adam, who was arguably my first friend in college; we met during our first orientation class. Adam and I were relaying stories at dinner. Some of them felt like they happened yesterday. Yet I met him back in August 1991. What makes ten years feel like it could have been two weeks?

I must be thinking like this because I'm closing in on my birthday. I get reflective in March. The good news is that for the second year in a row things just feel right.




Ode to the Motherfucker Who Stole My Pants (with apologies to Keats)
That Girl: Unrequited longing on the morning commute
Extra! Extra! Read All About Me: Why I do what I do
Lucky Penny: Because love comes from the strangest places
Never Mind the Hobnob, I Have a 7-10 Split: Reflections on BlogBowl I
How Procrastination Occurs: How a college sophomore writes a paper in one night

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This was the original Ideapad, an outlet for personal observations, muses and essays. As the Ideapad grew into a weblog the journal spun off in its own direction. Journal entries often chronicle observations of the moment, and are sometimes written in a deliberately obtuse fashion. The essays are more well-rounded and introspective.

This is not a diary.

The history:
The Ideapad debuted on November 1, 1998 and the Journal was separated from the greater 'Pad in March 2000.

About the author

Copyright © 2001 David Wertheimer. All rights reserved.