Operation Branch Out

Searching through my gchat archives, I found a conversation between my roommate Leo and myself shortly after my breakup with Lynn.

I was cracking up in my lil' cubicle. Here's hoping you'll do the same.

* * *

February 21st, 2007

Leo: Well, I didn't want to have to do this but...

-walks over to map of the world, pulls down on cord-
-flipFLAPLFAPLFAP... reveals war-map of Los Angeles-

Leo: Operation Branch Out is hereby deployed

-pushes figurines into place-

.... As you can see, our location has changed
So@24: -nervously pulls off infantry helmet and holds in hands-

-hastily tries to fix hair-

So@24: Thanks for having me, General.
Leo: Evening, Private. You got here just in time.

-smacks pointer against map-

So@24: -flinches-
Leo: We've been getting unconfirmed reports from the western conflict zone of sightings of three regiments of Puhsee. While we can't substantiate these rumors, we have no other intel at this time to act upon.
So@24: -pulls out dusty, crumpled notepad from breast pocket and a tiny nub of pencil.- -Begins writing furiously-
Leo: It's long been known that the Western Front is rift with these elusive squadrons of Puhsee. Finding thing them isn't necessarily the hard part. Bringing them down is.
So@24: Goddamn those fucking Puhsees.
Leo: So let's go over our options. SO@24! Whattya got for me on the potential inroads to the Western zone??
So@24: N-n-n-nothing, sir. We haven't had any sighting or promising locales for months now.
Leo: ... I beg your pardon?

-strides up to Pvt. So@24, gets nose to nose-

Goddammit, that's not an acceptable answer.

-spit flies from mouth-

So@24: Flushing these Puhsees isn't easy, sir. Men have been trying to do so since the dawn of time, but these Puhsees have proven to be quite elusive and they're very hard to penetrate. So to speak.
Leo: -pulls up on pants from belt, leans back and inhales deeply-
What was our last known contact from the west?
So@24: That one is long gone sir. We monitored and had that particular Puhsee for a record of 6 years. But we lost it sir, we lost it. Since then, no potentials or anything promising. My squadron doesn't know what to do. My men are DYING out there, sir. DYING.
Leo: Do we have any leads anywhere on the western front that could just lead us to a potential hot zone?
So@24: We haven't really "branched out" sir. We have set up our camps in zones that are familiar to us. All the Puhsee have been accounted for and are either under the supervision of another squadron or they are just too dilapidated to waste any of our resources on.
Leo: It's going to be a long, dry summer...
So@24: That's what we're afraid of, sir.
Leo: JOHNSON! Bring me the intel on the East LA whorehouses.

-Johnson turns to leave-

WAIT!

-cue music... low snare drum march-

So@24: -gulp-
Whorehouses, sir?
Leo: - piccolo flutes chime in, a light and triumphant melody-
East LA...

-pacing-

Leo: Yes... yes if we.. just maybe...
So@24: Do we have any contacts out in East LA sir? What Puhsee are you thinking of??
Leo: Quite a while ago there was a skirmish, nothing substantial, but a skirmish nonetheless...
A contingent of our men happened across a camp of Puhsee under the command of M. Jeggs The other Puhsee that this Jeggs brought to the battlefield was formidable, but they were young, impressionable...
Leo: green.
Leo: and pink, of course.
Leo: Perhaps avenues can be made along those lines...
So@24: I had high hopes for our informant one L. Eslie. I had high hopes that she would guide our troops to Puhsee known only as (Name of Soap Opera Celeb Redacted). Our last sting operation was almost blown, but I believe that this message posted on MySpace by (NOSOCR) confirms that there still might be a chance for a meeting of storts to take place.
Leo: You shoot for the top, Private. I like that in a soldier.
I'm placing you with sole responsibility of this Operation Puhsee (NOSOCR). Make it happen.
So@24: If we are unable top capture (NOSOCR) herself as she is a high ranking official, I still have faith that she can also lead us to others Puhsee.
Leo: The clock is ticking. I want an operation this weekend.
So@24: T-t-this weekend, sir?

-fumbles helmet in hand-
-takes a step forward-

That's not much time, sir. Surely you don't expect us to pull off an operation of this magnitude so soon!
Leo: Tide and tide wait for no man, Private. The board is set. The pieces are moving.
So@24: Sir...

-musters up courage-

I strongly suggest you reconsider your orders. Being too persistent under such stringent deadlines will almost inevitably blow our sting with this particular contact. I'll send one message, but if we do not hear a reply, I'm afraid I'll have to pull our troops back to high ground.
Leo: Then I suggest you get on it, Private.
Dismissed.
So@24: -salutes, puts helmet back on head-
-helmet slumps over, covering eyes-
-turns on heel, marches, runs into wall-
Leo: Goddammit, Private So@24. The door is to your right.

-opens flask, takes a swig-
-grimaces-

So@24: Yes sir. Of course sir.

-quickly opens door and closes it... it's the closet-

Leo: You just earned yourself duty time cleaning the deck. Report upstairs immediately.
So@24: -opens door, a pink bra is on top of the helmet-
Yes sir. Sorry sir!
Leo: Uh Private? On your head...please leave that in the close. It's uh... for... evidence... exhibits for trail...

-mumble-

personal intel recon sit...-rep...data

-mumble-

Taken from the Archives Pt. 4

Caitlin shared with with me an old abandon blog she once had years ago. A LiveJournal.

This got me thinking back to a blog, I too, kept on LiveJournal before turning to blogger.

I had totally forgotten about it. Finding that link and opening it back up was the equivalent to some shitty 80's adventure movie where the shaggy haired boy in a striped shirt blows the dust off "The Book of Dreams".

Some of the entries, I keep in a section of the blog called "Taken from the Archives".

I posted below an exchange that Leo and I had awhile back. I got a chuckle out of it... it has to do with our very different approaches to women and dating:

January 19th, 2007

So@24: "Blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed."

Leo: blessed is the man who expects nothing, for he is a pussy unable to have the balls to pursue what he desires.
- macbeth

Taken From the Archives Pt. 3

It's been awhile since I have been on a long road trip. Everyone knows that when you take a road trip, one cant take for granted the power of a great mix cd. I would have loved to make a new mix, but my desktop from 1997 is whirring up a horrendous sound (the hamster running the wheel must be getting tuckered out) and I'm scared of my computer to be quite honest. So, before I made my 5 hour trek up to Stockton I blew the dust off my old Body Glove cd case and tossed it in the dusty Accord.

It's a unique feeling when you listen to a mix that was made years ago... it totally brings you back to that very specific time. I pulled out some classics and it was a lot of fun; and a great mix can almost makes you look forward to the long drive. However, I was running out of mixes and I still had 3 hours left. Flipping way in the back of the case was a teal, unmarked cd. I never have owned any blank teal cds, but there was one person who did... Lynn. I knew that whatever music that was on that cd would be songs that I would directly associate with her and me. Us.

I made a decision, I was going to take my music back. I found these songs first. I was the one who introduced them to her. These were MY songs.

I popped in the cd and just as I anticipated, a flood of memories came back to me: a trip to the beach, singing in the car around the hometown, driving down on the weekends from college. My stomach dropped after the first couple of songs and I chewed through my fingernails until I actually drew blood. I got through about 3 songs, skipped 4 and then ejected the cd. I dont think Im as over it as I thought I was. Underestimating the power of music & memory is a fragile thing. It'll be awhile before I play that mix again.

But I think it means something that I gave it a shot.

Rick: big ups for trying to reclaim and props for knowing when to stop

Taken from the Archives Pt. 2

I woke up Sunday morning. I'm in my favorite Polar Bear boxers, my watch on, shoes on, t-shirt (basically what I wore the night before sans jeans... that's just bizarre). My entire body bruised, I feel like I got hit by a train. Cuts in the most random places.

"What happened last nig... Uh oh," I'm panicking. "Better check the cellphone."

Whew, no Lynn calls or texts. A couple of random drunk dials, but nothing too out of the ordinary. How did I get back last night? Looks like my last call was 45 mins... I must have taken quite the journey.

Like some kind of zombie, I walk/stumble into Leo's room to check my gmail.

Hmmm... looks like I was on the computer last night since, it's still turned on. I find 4 different Google windows open. All of pictures of Emma Bunton (for those who are not familiar with this name, this is the blond Spice Girl... Baby Spice).

Why did I look up Emma Bunton pictures? In 4 different windows? I guess some mysteries weren't meant to be solved.

Taken from the Archives Pt. 1

I kept a short journal around the first couple of weeks after my breakup with Lynn. It's interesting to me that even though where I'm at a better place now, I still occasionally find myself still the victim of these moments that I describe. This entry was written only a few weeks after the breakup:

Another long, long weekend. I learned that you don't know what hell is like until you wake up at 6:23 in the morning and can't fall back asleep because you keep thinking about your girlfriend kissing/holding/napping with another guy. And no matter how many times I try to force myself to think of something else, it always comes back around. A million questions, scenerios, and visuals are like poison. It's so hard to finally be able to fall asleep.

My friend Robert came down from Seattle to visit his girlfriend. I'm not terribly close with Robert, but we've had some great times in college. He's one of those friends you get a call from once every 3 months and the call doesn't last long, but it doesn't really need to. I hadn't told him about what had happened, but he never calls me when he comes down to LA when he visits his girlfriend Tracey, so I was more than surprised when he did so on Friday afternoon:

Robert: Hey
So@24: Hey
Robert: How are you?
So@24: Not so well actually.
Robert: I heard.
So@24: Yeah.
Robert: Cancel whatever plans you have Saturday night. I'm picking you up at 8.
So@24: Wow. Uh. Okay, sure. That'd be great actually.
Robert: See you tomorrow

Saturday night came and I literally paced around the house all afternoon. My roommates were all gone and nothing is worse than being alone without distractions. After what seemed like an eternity, Robert picked me up a little after 9. I had called Robert earlier to see who all was coming: needless to say, I didn't want to be around another lovey couple all night + me. I was told we were going to a placed called The Cabana Club and that some of Tracey's friends were coming, but I had no idea what was in store.

We were all on "the guest list" but even then we waited in line for 30 mins. I had no idea this was a popular, cliche' LA club. Everyone is dressed to the 9s and they won't let you in unless you had a majority of girls with you. I am completely broke, but Robert was kind enough to float me my cover and drinks for the night. Tracey's friends show up and to my dismay it's another couple. My heart sinks. I'm going to be spending my Saturday night... at a trendy club... with two other couples.

The inside alone shows you why this place is popular. Spacious, with a pool in the middle (and a bridge over that). Walk down a hallway and you'll hit a separate HUGE room that is the dance floor. I pray that they don't dance. I wanted to be able to talk to Robert about my whole shitty situation, but it's too crowded and I don't want to bring it up with Tracey and her friends. The only time I can really fill him in is when him and I go and get drinks and that's not even sufficient over the music and the short time it takes to walk from the bar and then back.

Towards the end, Tracey grabs Robert and begs him to dance... so does Tracey's friend to her boyfriend. I give Robert the stare of death, but he keeps telling me to go. I politely shake my head and stand by myself shielding my embarrassment with text messaging friends pointless comments. I'm in disgust at all the women at the club. These aren't Lynn. I don't want to have to be forced to interact with these people. I want my girlfriend. I wonder what she is doing now and I find myself visualizing her at this very moment begging her new boyfriend to hit up the dance floor with her.

Finally, Robert and Co. come back from the floor and say they want to go home . I feel bad, because Robert paid for me to cheer me up, but it's only made things worse. On the ride back, Tracey tells me that she spent all last night moving... "where to I ask?". "Irvine" she replies. Figures. Lynn's town.

Robert follows me into the house to see if I am alright. It's finally a moment where I can talk to him, but it feels rushed and hurried since Tracey is in the car waiting. He just tells me the same thing everyone else does, "Chin up. If she loves you, she'll come back. You need to move on. If you need to talk to me, you can always call." And then he does something that no one else has done since this whole thing. He gives me a hug. And it's at that moment, I fight every urge to cry (and for those of you who know me, I am NOT a crier). It's only for about 5 seconds, but it's huge. He tells me again to "keep busy" and "no matter what I do, to not call her". I thank him and he leaves.