From ez000691@vega.ucdavis.edu Thu Nov 30 23:29:39 1989
From: ez000691@vega.ucdavis.edu (0040;0000002718;0;530;142;)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Weariness...
Date: 29 Nov 89 02:29:40 GMT
Reply-To: ez000691@vega.ucdavis.edu (Shadow)
Followup-To: alt.callahans
Organization: University of California, Davis
Keywords: crash, tinkle, geez-I'm-running-out-of-singles
Summary: Another toast (probably no puns)
Status: O


	(There's something inherently friendly about third-person narrative...)

	"My turn to pontificate, eh?" he says, placing another single on the
bar. "Okay, Tom, set me up another one of these ice waters with a twist of
lemon, if you please. And for heaven's sake, don't anybody stop talking and
listen to me. I'm about to run off at the mouth."
	He glances around the room, mildly surprised. "No, I'm still here.
I haven't vanished completely, nor faded into the dark, but there was a bit of
a technical problem which resulted in my crouching sullenly in a corner, non-
participative, for a time (and Thanksgiving had nothing to do with it). Upon
my triumphant (?) return, I find, in addition to a gawdawful slough of music
puns, a good many gentle toasts from gentlepersons.
	"I owe a particular apology to a Ms. Jane Beckman, to whom I promised
a voice which has yet to appear. On her behalf, as well as on behalf of all
those who cannot speak through timidity or unreasonable system regulations, I
raise my glass," he drains the glass, "and toast...
	"...to Weariness.
	"So many of you are so drawn, look so tired. If I look a little wispy
'round the edges myself, there's the reason. Sympathy requires -- nay,
demands -- that I be somewhat subdued, recovering from an overdose of what is
not exactly unhappiness but is something more than dissatisfaction from many
of you, my friends and acquaintances...Families. Holidays. Lovers and friends.
These are subjects for rejoicing, ordinarily. But what begins as a murmur swells
into a tide of sympathy, as more and more glasses end their trajectories in
the parabolic pit of fire Mike kindly provides us and so many of us are moved
to speak, concurring, 'Yes, I feel the same...'"
	He pauses, thoughtful, and absent-mindedly slurps an ice cube. "Have
you ever wanted to help, not one or two close friends, but half a hundred
near-strangers? 'Let me help' -- words prized above even 'I love you' in a
well-known episode of a certain nameless television show..." He grins,
embarrassed. "Okay, you caught me. But keep that fire burning, boys; we'll
drink another round before the night is through. And not to weariness--" with
an effort, he hurls the glass into the fireplace, where it shatters, "--one
more, Tom -- if we have anything to say about it, right, my friends?"
	Abruptly he sobers, grin disappearing. "Pardon my waxing somewhat
rhapsodic. 'Somewhat?'" he adds, ruefully. "You could write a bloody soliloquy
with some of that nonsense! Once I get started it's rather difficult to turn
me off sometimes. Let's leave it at this, before they start flashing telethon
numbers across the bottom of the screen: We are here. In particular, I am here,
though I hope many of us feel the same. And the toast is just the beginning.
See that little box down there?" With a gesture, he indicates a .signature on
his foot. "Lots of us have them, and I for one am willing to use mine. The
tradition here has always been that, once someone has begun talking about a
problem, we help however we can. More often than not, that's by just talking.
	"I'm here. Lots of us are here. Don't just toast and vanish into the
night. Let us help. It's why we're here," he adds simply, then empties his
glass and steps back to the line. "To empathy," he announces, and the glass
arcs high. "And to what it produces."
	He sits, and gazes anxiously around. "Well? Am I really off base
here? I can't stand public speaking -- one never knows just how big a fool
one has made of oneself until one has finished, at which point it is already
too late for one...oh, for crying out loud, this is ridiculous. English can
be a most infuriating language at times, you know?"
	With that, he slips back into the shadows flickering over the room,
and there is silence, for a time.

Shadow
--
>From the only slightly twisted mind of...	"In case we decide to
    ez000691@vega.ucdavis.edu			 surrender to them, Number One."

From cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU Thu Nov 30 23:29:40 1989
From: cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU (Chris Phoenix)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Weariness...
Date: 29 Nov 89 05:01:02 GMT
Reply-To: cphoenix@csli.stanford.edu (Chris Phoenix)
Organization: Center for the Study of Language and Information, Stanford U.
Keywords: crash, tinkle, geez-I'm-running-out-of-singles
Status: O

In article <6071@ucdavis.ucdavis.edu> ez000691@vega.ucdavis.edu (Shadow) writes:
>	He pauses, thoughtful, and absent-mindedly slurps an ice cube. "Have
>you ever wanted to help, not one or two close friends, but half a hundred
>near-strangers? 'Let me help' -- words prized above even 'I love you' in a
>well-known episode of a certain nameless television show..." 
> ......
>	He sits, and gazes anxiously around. "Well? Am I really off base
>here? I can't stand public speaking -- one never knows just how big a fool
>one has made of oneself until one has finished, at which point it is already
>too late for one...oh, for crying out loud, this is ridiculous. English can
>be a most infuriating language at times, you know?"

No, you're not off base at all!  I often want to help people, and they won't
let me.  I think I've mentioned already that you can't offer too much help 
too soon, or you (at least I) will freak people out.  One story, if I may...
A casual acquaintance had to leave her house because of earthquake damage.
(Yes, Stanford "the Disneyland of the North" took some damage.)  She was 
talking to a mutual friend about how upset she had been.  As she was leaving,
I said, "If you ever want a shoulder to cry on, I'm available."  I got one
of the most heartfelt hugs I've ever had.  After she'd gone I said to the 
friend, "Of course, I know I won't hear from her."  His response:  "Of 
course not, she doesn't know you!"
So what can I say?  I hope that the people here will accept help, because a 
lot of us want to give it...
-- 
Chris Phoenix              | A harp is a nude piano.
cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU | "More input!  More input!"
First we got the Bomb, and that was good, cause we love peace and motherhood.
Disclaimer:  I want a kinder, gentler net with a thousand pints of lite.

From cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU Thu Nov 30 23:29:40 1989
From: cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU (Chris Phoenix)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Some appropriate lyrics (Was (Re: Life?))
Date: 29 Nov 89 04:14:25 GMT
Reply-To: cphoenix@csli.stanford.edu (Chris Phoenix)
Organization: Center for the Study of Language and Information, Stanford U.
Status: O

In article <9170@microsoft.UUCP> t-phils@microsoft.UUCP (the Renaissance Man) writes:
>Where will we go to find our freedoms in future? 

I kind of like the idea of cyberspace.  NOT cyberpunk--I think that particular
picture of the future is way too depressing.  Maybe that's the point of it.
For those who don't know, cyberspace is basically a virtual reality, modeled
on computers.  The idea is that people can interact with data, or with other
people, or with situations in general, with the computer producing the 
sensory data.  
In the full implementation, cyberspace has a lot of potential.  Want to visit
anywhere on earth?  Talk to anyone?  Use the most intuitive possible user
interface?  See any information you want, in any form you want?  Ride a roller
coaster?  Or just trip out on the most psychadelic light show you've ever seen?
Just plug yourself in...
The future may look like this.  Already kids are spending many hours a day
watching cartoons.  Imagine if their school, and most of their other
recreation, was also spent plugged in... Or soap operas you can actually be
an actor in?  Or newsgroups where you can see and talk to the people, as well
as watching any prior discussion?  Or conferences involving every scientist in
a field, or in all fields?
I said I kind of liked the idea... but I'm not sure people are ready for it.
We may just produce a generation of couch potatoes and computer junkies.
But for those who really want to explore, cyberspace will hopefully provide 
an unlimited amount of exploration space...
-- 
Chris Phoenix              | A harp is a nude piano.
cphoenix@csli.Stanford.EDU | "More input!  More input!"
First we got the Bomb, and that was good, cause we love peace and motherhood.
Disclaimer:  I want a kinder, gentler net with a thousand pints of lite.

From n8946177@unicorn.WWU.EDU Thu Nov 30 23:29:41 1989
From: n8946177@unicorn.WWU.EDU (Melissa Tabbifli)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: disatance (Re: No longer lurking in the corner)
Date: 29 Nov 89 06:35:47 GMT
Reply-To: n8946177@unicorn.WWU.EDU (Melissa Tabbifli)
Followup-To: alt.callhans
Organization: Western Washington Univ, Bellingham, WA
Status: O

thank you... more than you know.
distance can be painful.
so can ten hour time differences.

		-melissa tabbifli

From spl@mcnc.org Thu Nov 30 23:29:42 1989
From: spl@mcnc.org (Steve Lamont)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: A Toast
Date: 29 Nov 89 12:47:43 GMT
Reply-To: spl@mcnc.org (Steve Lamont)
Organization: Foo Bar Brewers Cooperative
Keywords: short
Status: O

A tall, laconic looking fellow walks in, plunks down his dollar, orders a
glass of water, consumes it, turns and tosses the glass into the fireplace.  

	<Crash!> "To brevity."

							spl (the p stands for
							probably wasn't me)
-- 
Steve Lamont, sciViGuy			EMail:	spl@ncsc.org
NCSC, Box 12732, Research Triangle Park, NC 27709
"There are two major products that come out of Berkeley: LSD and UNIX. We
 don't believe this to be a coincidence." ||   - Jeremy S. Anderson

From xibo@mts.rpi.edu Thu Nov 30 23:29:44 1989
From: xibo@mts.rpi.edu
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: A Toast
Date: 29 Nov 89 14:43:33 GMT
Keywords: darkness doom despair
Status: O


	A tall, dark, but not handsome stranger walks in from the cold.
He closes the door and pauses to catch his breath.  Then he heads over
to the bar, nearly tripping over a small teddy bear in the process.  He
continues over to the bar, this time more carefully watching his step.
	He tries to speak, but only a cough comes out.  He closes his 
eyes, pauses, clears his throat, and whispers to Mike, "Whiskey... better
make it a double."  Drops his money on the counter, and drinks it in
with one swallow.
	"To freedom"
	He tosses the glass <*CRASH!!!*> with a bit more force than
necessary.
	"Sometimes it's all you have left"
	And then he is gone, back into the cold.

From gilly@bucsf.bu.edu Thu Nov 30 23:29:45 1989
From: gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: soulmates
Date: 29 Nov 89 16:16:42 GMT
Reply-To: gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol)
Organization: Boston University
Status: O

The door opens slowly, and Gilly glumly walks in.  She nods a silent
hello to her friends.  They can see from her face that there is
something wrong, but for once, even the hugs they offer help but
little.  At the bar, Mike takes her wrinkles dollar bill and silently
hands her something a bit stronger than her usual hot chocolate.  She
sips it slowly on the way to the chalk line, shuddering a bit at the
unfamiliar taste of alcohol.  Gilly seems undecided as to whether or
not to make a toast.  There's nothing that anyone can really do - why
burden these fine people with unsolvable problems?  But then, shared
pain is diminished, and this pain has been building for quite a while
now.  So, with a half-smile toward the Shadow in the corner for giving
her the encouragement necessary, she finishes the bitter liquid in her
glass and prepares to make her toast.  Looking down at the glass, she
says with a quiet intensity, "Do soulmates really exist?  I wonder.  
Greywolf says he's found his, and that gives me some hope, but *where 
the hell is mine*?  Alright, I'm only twenty, and I know that's young.  
But dammit, there are times when I feel so damned alone.  I don't
understand it.  I'm a nice person, got a decent sense of humor, I'm
fairly attractive - you would think I could find someone.  But the
last time I had a real boyfriend was two years ago, and that only
lasted for a month.  I miss that intimacy so much.  I have friends I
can talk to, but it's just not the same."  She sighs, and a tear rolls
down her cheek.  "Bloody hell.  I'm sorry - no, I *won't* apologize
for my feelings.  It just - sort of builds up on you sometimes,
y'know?  Oh, I'll be alright in a little while.  I just made the
mistake last night of watching a romantic movie alone.  Not the
smartest thing I've ever done.  I had a good cry, and got a lot of it
out of my system, but it seems there's still some left I had to let
out.  Thanks for listening, guys."  She smiles wanly, and throws the
glass into the fireplace with more force than one would have thought
she possessed.  "To soulmates - and finding them soon."  She walks
quietly over to a table, rests her head on her arms, and prepares
herself for a quiet cry among friends.

(I really am okay, I guess - or will be soon.  I just needed to get it off my 
chest, and I've used up most of the local ears.)
-- 
+--------------------+-------------------------------------------------------+
| Gilly Rosenthol    |"Don't dream it, be it" -The Rocky Horror Picture Show |
| gilly@bucsb.bu.edu |"On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur.                     |
|		     | L'essentiel est invisible aux yeux." -Le Petit Prince |
+--------------------+-------------------------------------------------------+


From cerebus@bucsf.bu.edu Thu Nov 30 23:29:46 1989
From: cerebus@bucsf.bu.edu (Tim Miller)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: soulmates
Date: 29 Nov 89 17:32:28 GMT
Organization: Boston University
In-reply-to: gilly@bucsf.bu.edu's message of 29 Nov 89 16:16:42 GMT
Status: O


	In the rush of the cold breeze as the door opens, a lone figure
enters Callahan's.  The wind whips the tails of his long overcoat into the
room, and threatens to push the hat perched on his head off as well.  He
smiles at no-one in particular, relishing the feel of the warm room and the
cold wind at his back until someone in the corner shouts for him to "Close
the bloody door!"  He grins, suitably chastened, and lets the wind close the
heavy oaken door.

	As he approaches the bar, he notices Gilly at the line and listens
to her tale.  His smile fades and his eyes turn inward; lost in thought he
lays his bill on the bartop and takes the proffered Coke.  The stranger
turns and leans backward against the bar, placing one foot on the tarnished
brass rail underneath.  He sips slowly and thoughtfully at his glass.

	Straightening with sudden decision, he takes a step in the
direction of the line; hesitates, then with renewed resolve toes the white
line and raises his glass, and brazenly announces,

	"To Gilly; you are not alone!"

quaffs the remaining Coke and hurls the empty glass into the fireplace
where it shatters with a satisfying crash.  Since all eyes in the bar are
now upon him, he feels the need to explain.

	"I find myself in a similar position; I have never been able to
form relationships above the level of 'good friend' with anyone of the
opposite sex.  I suppose the whole problem stems from the fact that I
dislike dating anyone I don't know well.  I prefer to get to know someone I
find attractive before I ask that person out; unfortunately, that puts me
in the 'friend' position early on in the game.
	
	"When I finally decide to take the plunge, I've known this person
for several months and she *inevitably* finds it impossible to consider me
as a possible candidate for anything other than 'friend.'  

	"I try not to take this personally; after all, the fault appears to
be mine.  Neither can I change; this is the way I think, and I would not
feel comfortable with any other approach.

	"It's been years since I've had anything approaching a
relationship; the last time was in high school-- and *she* asked *me* out.
I suppose I've given up on the possibility of things changing.  I am the
perpetual friend and I suppose that's better than nothing."

	He retreats from the line, disturbed by what he's just said to a
roomfull of strangers.  After gazing at his shoes for a moment, he heads
for the door.  As he grasps the knob, he glances around again, looking at
all the people arrayed in groups around the crowded room.  Then he quietly
opens the door, smiles at the bracing wind, and leaves.


					Timothy J. Miller
					cerebus@bucsf.bu.edu


From mjc@nl.cs.cmu.edu Thu Nov 30 23:29:47 1989
From: mjc@nl.cs.cmu.edu (Monica Cellio)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: friends
Date: 29 Nov 89 18:45:50 GMT
Organization: Carnegie Mellon University
Status: O

The short, stocky (she prefers "stocky" to any of the other euphamisms for
"overweight" that she knows) woman glances at the Shadow for encouragement,
then steps to the line and drinks the last of her Irish creme.

"To partings," she says quietly, and hurls the glass toward the fireplace
with such force that it surprises even her.

The glass brushes the bricks above the fireplace on the way in.  "Oops," she
says sheepishly, peering out from her thick glasses.  "Misjudged the distance
again."

"You know," she continues, "you never know just how important your friends
are until they're gone.  Mind you, I have had friends before, though not
many, and I still have some.  Friends have left town before, and some have
left more permanently, and I've always taken it in stride.  So I was kind 
of surprised at the reaction I had this time.

"A friend left for a new job in a distant city this morning.  On a week's 
notice.  He'd been here for several years, and was just part of the small
group of people I consider my friends.  We all knew he'd be leaving someday,
maybe even soon, and this didn't really bother any of us.  But when he gave 
me that goodbye hug, it suddenly seemed much more important."

She stares into the fire.  "Farewell, and please, please keep in touch.
Friends are too rare to let distance get in the way.  I'll miss you."

She finds her way to a table and sits, staring into the flames for a while.

Monica
mjc@cs.cmu.edu

From n8946177@unicorn.WWU.EDU Thu Nov 30 23:29:48 1989
From: n8946177@unicorn.WWU.EDU (Melissa Tabbifli)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: explanations (long!) and a toast.
Date: 29 Nov 89 20:29:21 GMT
Reply-To: n8946177@unicorn.UUCP (Melissa Tabbifli)
Distribution: alt
Organization: Western Washington Univ, Bellingham
Status: O

**poof**
     the soft sound of air being displaced is barely audible above
the general noise level in the room.   gradually, people become quiet
as they realize that there is a small grey-point tabby kitten with 
large blue butterfly wings hovering over the bar.  with a small shimmer
of light, she lengthens down into a female form, one which is
definately human when the wings at last fade.
     'a glass of your house wine, please' she asks in a soft voice.  
taking her glass she moves to the fire, claims a chair nearby, and curls
up in it like a cat.  Nodding and smiling at the people she knows, she is
on the outside happy... but as you look at her you realize that the 
happiness is only on the outside.
     'let me tell you a story,' she says, in her soft voice, 'a story about
a young girl.  it is not a happy story, really - at least, not yet.
     'some years ago, there was a four year old girl by the name of Missy.  
she was happy in her world, and thought that everyone else was, too.  her
parents, however, were not happy, and got divorced.  Missy was confused,
not understanding why her mother and father were not together anymore,
but she saw them both often, so it was almost all right.  one day, her
mother came and took her, and all of her things, to a different house,
where her mother and her mother's boyfriend lived.  Missy was upset -
she no longer saw her father, or her grandparents, and her mother's 
boyfriend was not a good man.  one night, when mother was out, the
boyfriend decided he wanted to play with Missy.  what he considered 
playing is also known as sexual abuse.  eventually, Missy and her 
mother moved out on their own, and the boyfriend was never heard of again.
    'well, the mother got married to a wonderful man.. and they had
two sons of their own.  the family moved a lot, until they finally 
settled down in wisconsin.  Missy, by this time, was almost 16.  over
the next two years, she had a few things happen to her, quite a bit of
which changed her.  then, when she was eighteen years old, the boy she
was going out with got her pregnant.  he had told her to trust him.. that
he would take care of her, and she believed him.  now, when she told him
that she was pregnant, he refused to talk to her.  there was a further
complication - due to chemical mixups, there was a very small chance of
the child living, and a very large chance of Missy dying.  with this in 
mind, she did the only thing she could do - she had an abortion.  the
procedure itself was frightening enough for her... the fact that she
had to go through it almost totally alone terrified her.  After it was
all over, her boyfriend tried to tell her that he loved her.. that he 
was hurt by what she had done.. that he did not understand why she would
not sleep with him any longer.  when she continued to refuse to sleep with
him, he tried to force her.  soon after, she graduated from high school, 
and moved to washington, where her father lived, and started a new life
of sorts.  she met people.. and made friends with them.  one of them
teasingly gave her a name that stuck to her - and has become her own.'
     the young woman paused for a moment, then continued.
     'how do i know this? because, as you may have guessed, Missy was me.
i go by Melissa now.. it is more appropriate, as i have not been that girl 
for over a year now.  Tabbifli is my given name, and it is as much me
as any other.. and more so than most.  no, it is not a happy story, but
it is true.  i request no sympathy - i have learned to deal with it.  but
why is the tabbifli the way she is?  because she has **accepted** her past,
and now looks to the future.  things are not always wonderful - to whomever
talked about academia, i fully agree... and distance is something i have
learned to deal with.  i have found a love, greater than any i had hoped
for - and he is in finland, rather far in both time and distance.  but i
do hope, and i do dream... and i do listen.'
	'***HUGS*** to all.  if nothing else, i am good for that.'
     now, at long last she steps up to the line, wineglass in hand - 
	'to life and love, to hope and dreams, and to distance in both
	  time and space.  but most of all, to the one i love'
				*crash*
there is a small shimmer in the air around her, and the tabbifli is once
more hovering in the air, once again in search of a lap.





				

From egly@hplred.HP.COM Thu Nov 30 23:29:49 1989
From: egly@hplred.HP.COM (Diana Egly)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Distressed (and a toast)
Date: 28 Nov 89 17:51:02 GMT
Organization: Hewlett Packard Labs, Palo Alto CA
Status: O

Mike, give me a stiff drink.  I need one.

Not caring what it is, I drink it down...  Do I have to make a toast before
I talk for a bit?

I just got a phone call from my SO.  He was distraught.  While walking to
work today (in San Francisco) he saw a crane fall.  Five people are dead...
At least five people...  A school bus is somehow involved, nothing has been
said about it yet on the news, but he saw it.  Any case, he called to tell
me that he's OK, just upset, so that I wouldn't worry when I heard the news.
He's more upset than he was by the recent earthquake.

It seems like the people around me are having some serious problems.
At Thanksgiving, a woman had a stroke while making the gravy.  It seems
that she's going to have some resulting paralysis.  The day before 
Thanksgiving my boss (who is a wonderful human being) learned that his
cancer had spread to other systems.  He's on oxygen now and can barely
breath.  A couple days before that we learned that one of my former
co-workers has liver cancer.

And then there's anniversary grief which lead to my first post/toast.

I hurl my glass into the fireplace:

		"To luck -- both the bad and the good"

Now that I'm calmer (what did you put in that drink, Mike?) I gotta
figure out if there's any way that I can help...

From hammer@pawl.rpi.edu Thu Nov 30 23:29:49 1989
From: hammer@pawl.rpi.edu (James A. Damour)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: soulmates
Date: 29 Nov 89 21:46:02 GMT
Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy NY
Keywords: love, friends
Summary: friends
Status: O


 gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol) writes:
> "Do soulmates really exist?  I wonder.  
> Greywolf says he's found his, and that gives me some hope, but *where 
> the hell is mine*?  Alright, I'm only twenty, and I know that's young.  
> But dammit, there are times when I feel so damned alone."

 Gilly, I believe you have just hit upon the basic crux of male/female
relations. Sure people look for others that are sexually compatable, but
what I (and most people, I believe) *really* want is someone who they
are willing to send eternity with. People want someone who is fun to be
with... someone they can tell all their secret fears and desires to. I 
know I am. The problem is that this "perfect companion" is very elusive.
To retain my sanity I HAVE to believe that *someone* out there is "right"
for me (if I didn't have that to hold onto, life would be nothing but
torture), and that I will find her... but the wait does hurt. I know
what you mean when you say that you feel alone. I'm lonely too. But I
am NOT alone. I have friends who are fun to be with (and that helps,
but not enuf) and I have alt.callahans where I can find comfort from 
people who care about me, even if they have never heard of me before.

> "I had a good cry, and got a lot of it out
> of my system, but it seems there's still some left I had to let out."

  That's fine, let it out... if you don't, it'll tear you up inside.
Just don't let it ruin you. If you need a shoulder to cry on, use mine.
If you need someone to hold you, I'm right here. It's a frigid world out
there, but in here you have the warmth of people who hurt when you do
and delight in your happiness. We're here for you.

> "Thanks for listening, guys."  

  As if we would ignore you (tsk, tsk ;)

> "To soulmates - and finding them soon." 

  While you are waiting to find a soulmate, will you settle for some friends?



James Damour
hammer@pawl.rpi.edu

From spier@umd5.umd.edu Thu Nov 30 23:29:50 1989
From: spier@umd5.umd.edu (Lori Spier)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Another toast
Date: 29 Nov 89 20:50:47 GMT
Reply-To: lori@merlin-tr.umd.edu (Lori Spier)
Followup-To: alt.callahans
Distribution: na
Organization: Mariversity of Uniland (University of Maryland), College Park
Summary: toast
Status: O

And yet another toast:
	"To forgiveness, to death, and to doing the former before
	the latter makes it impossible."
		<CRASH>
Lori Spier

From jmdoyle@phoenix.Princeton.EDU Thu Nov 30 23:29:51 1989
From: jmdoyle@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Jennifer Mary Doyle)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: soulmates
Date: 29 Nov 89 19:45:47 GMT
Reply-To: jmdoyle@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Jennifer Mary Doyle)
Distribution: usa
Organization: or, conversely, Chaos:
Status: O

In article <43561@bu-cs.BU.EDU> gilly@bucsf.bu.edu (Gilly Rosenthol) writes:
>"Do soulmates really exist?  I wonder.  
>Greywolf says he's found his, and that gives me some hope, but *where 
>the hell is mine*?  Alright, I'm only twenty, and I know that's young.  
>But dammit, there are times when I feel so damned alone.  I don't
>understand it.  I'm a nice person, got a decent sense of humor, I'm
>fairly attractive - you would think I could find someone.  But the
>last time I had a real boyfriend was two years ago, and that only
>lasted for a month.  I miss that intimacy so much.  I have friends I
>can talk to, but it's just not the same."

Oh God, *YES*!  I *know* what you mean! I'm 20, also (21 in 4 days) and
haven't had a real boyfriend, well, ever, I suppose, though 1 or 2 that
have come close. Now, my best friend (he's my best friend, I don't think
I'm his) has found a girlfriend, and I'm very happy for him, but, dammit,
I'm jealous, and unhappy, and feeling neglected as well. A wall has gone 
up. I don't want to talk to him about it, because I think things will settle
down once he's comfortable in this relationship, but it's hard to wait.
I thought *he* was my soulmate, once. Occasionally I still do. I feel like
there's no one who understands me, sometimes, and no one I can learn from
and teach to. I'm nice, too, and I listen, and I want to be there for 
someone. Everyone around me has a real soulmate, or at least a boy/girlfriend,
or a possibility.  I don't even have a possibility.

"Mike, the usual, please. To relationships! <*CRASH!*>"

Jen

p.s. I'm kinda ok, but this has been on my mind lately, and Gilly's post hit
a nerve.-- 
       "Make mine a root beer, Mike. Thanks. To communication! <CRASH>"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
   Jennifer Doyle   //   Princeton  '92   //   jmdoyle@phoenix.princeton.edu  
Disclaimer: I am a student, I represent the future.

From kdo@lucid.com Thu Nov 30 23:29:51 1989
From: kdo@lucid.com (Ken Olum)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: lovers and friends
Date: 30 Nov 89 00:27:51 GMT
Organization: Lucid East, Sharon MA
Status: O


"Mike, some cherry wine if you have it."  Of course he does.

"To lovers and friends and all the relationships in between."

Sometimes I wonder...so often we feel like there's an empty spot that
only one perfect person can fill, and no number of friends, no matter
how close, can take away that emptiness.  Does it have to be so?  Do
we have to search for the one right person, or can we gather friends
around us and let them come as close as possible and give us whatever
they can?  In the words of Betsy Rose, "I'm not so sure I want to
find / just one heart to blend with mine / so I'm looking for some long
time friends."

						Ken

