Saturday, October 30, 2004
I just had to say...
There's nothing quite like flipping a pillow over and feeling the fresh, cold cotton against your cheek.
That is all.
0 notes
That is all.
0 notes
My fantasy of the day
I'm addicted to thinking about drawing myself a bath. I can't stop thinking I should do just that. But I have yet to manage to turn that whole fantasy into a reality. After last night's escapades, I could really do with a nice relaxing soak in the tub. I somehow managed to turn my Friday night plans of going to watch a movie into a 9 hour long scandalous affair with a bar full of people. There was loads of beer consumed, so much that counting all of the people I was with (counting myself, of course), I'm certain we managed to consume at the very least two entire kegs worth of beer.
I woke up in relatively good shape, with little noticeable damage to my body. With the passing of time today, however, this contented state has changed dramatically. Every muscle in my body is reminding me that it's there just by aching - but only slightly. I need not even move for the validation. It's just there. And whoever it was that drove a steamroller over my sternum, I just want to tell you that bruised sternums aren't the most comfortable thing in the world. But thanks, anyways. I'm sure it was all in the name of good fun.
A little shopping was had today, but I have bad timing. I wanted to buy myself a corset because, let's be honest here, everyone needs to buy a corset every now and then. And I was feeling saucy. The shop's collection was slightly smaller than normal, given that there's a party tonight (that I would be at if I wasn't so lazy) where they have practically all of their wares on display. But back to my fun of shopping. Trying on different corsets is great fun, but somehow draws great attention to bruised sternums. I haven't pieced it all together to understand just how that is, but take my word for it. So instead of buying myself something that, honestly, I looked damn good in, I ventured back to my flat and have been fantasizing about taking a bath for a couple hours while reading a bit and watching dvd's. I'll have to go back and rifle through the new wares in the next couple of weeks.
Here's hoping the saucy attitude swallows me for the next couple of months.
2 notes
I woke up in relatively good shape, with little noticeable damage to my body. With the passing of time today, however, this contented state has changed dramatically. Every muscle in my body is reminding me that it's there just by aching - but only slightly. I need not even move for the validation. It's just there. And whoever it was that drove a steamroller over my sternum, I just want to tell you that bruised sternums aren't the most comfortable thing in the world. But thanks, anyways. I'm sure it was all in the name of good fun.
A little shopping was had today, but I have bad timing. I wanted to buy myself a corset because, let's be honest here, everyone needs to buy a corset every now and then. And I was feeling saucy. The shop's collection was slightly smaller than normal, given that there's a party tonight (that I would be at if I wasn't so lazy) where they have practically all of their wares on display. But back to my fun of shopping. Trying on different corsets is great fun, but somehow draws great attention to bruised sternums. I haven't pieced it all together to understand just how that is, but take my word for it. So instead of buying myself something that, honestly, I looked damn good in, I ventured back to my flat and have been fantasizing about taking a bath for a couple hours while reading a bit and watching dvd's. I'll have to go back and rifle through the new wares in the next couple of weeks.
Here's hoping the saucy attitude swallows me for the next couple of months.
2 notes
Friday, October 29, 2004
Down Low
I'll try my best to keep this low key. I've been awake today for at least 8 hours. And now...
I'M.SO.BORED!
Spoons lying about anywhere near me need to take cover as I'm ready to scoop out my eyes from sheer and utter boredom. I've been advised to wait on the scooping, and I'll likely heed the advice, but seriously. Somebody please do something because I am going out of my fucking mind.
I've cleaned out my wallet. I've cleaned out my purse. I've even worked on a document for a couple hours and got to the point where I can't even write in proper sentences anymore. I've had coffee. Twice. I've sat and looked at kittens to adopt. I've even played my gba. I organized the papers on my desk. And then strewn them across the desk - just for something to do. I've been assaulted by some guy wandering the halls of the office and then washed my hands because I felt dirty. I've read the credits in the GTA:SA manual. Three times.
I'm still bored.
0 notes
I'M.SO.BORED!
Spoons lying about anywhere near me need to take cover as I'm ready to scoop out my eyes from sheer and utter boredom. I've been advised to wait on the scooping, and I'll likely heed the advice, but seriously. Somebody please do something because I am going out of my fucking mind.
I've cleaned out my wallet. I've cleaned out my purse. I've even worked on a document for a couple hours and got to the point where I can't even write in proper sentences anymore. I've had coffee. Twice. I've sat and looked at kittens to adopt. I've even played my gba. I organized the papers on my desk. And then strewn them across the desk - just for something to do. I've been assaulted by some guy wandering the halls of the office and then washed my hands because I felt dirty. I've read the credits in the GTA:SA manual. Three times.
I'm still bored.
0 notes
Thursday, October 28, 2004
This just in...
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
What I did on Monday
Early in the afternoon on Monday, I stepped outside of my flat, locked the door and wandered out into the street to catch a tram. The sunlight was heavily filtered through rather thick, but white clouds. I moved fairly quickly so I could make my train, and at the intersection right outside my flat I was nearly run down by a man in a black BMW. He even had the gall to glare at me, as if my walking in the crosswalk when the light was green was a personal affront to his entire existence. I politely smirked at him, in a not-really-condescending way.
Once at the train station, I picked up a magazine, as something to keep me occupied for an hour was required. The bakery was kind enough to have chilled iced tea on sale, so I picked up a meekly lemon flavored beverage and made my way to the platform. Perfect timing - I had 4 minutes to hop on the train and find a seat. And when I sat down, it hit me. Ticket. Me. Damnit. Not a massive problem, but I knew it would cost me twice as much to buy a ticket on the train. Ahh well, I had a magazine, a window seat in a mostly empty car, an ice-cold iced tea, and an hour to kill before arriving in Krems an der Donau.
I knew I had about a 15 minute walk from the train station to the church. All in all, it took about 25 minutes because I couldn't help myself but wander through the park in the downtown area. The air was crisp, with a slight autumnal chill, and the sun dropped angled shadows across the tree laden park. Almost entirely out of character, I stopped and watched a handful of children giggling and laughing and playing with the fallen leaves with a smile on my face.
Nearly a block away from the church, I was reminded of Salzburg a little bit, but mostly of Innsbruck. I half expected each of the dwarfed doors to open, displaying typically tourist attraction gifts and wares. But there was no lederhosen being hawked, not a one. No colorful gifts for people to take home and give to their loved ones. Just a sweet, little old lady hanging out her street level window, watching the passersby with a smile in her eye and a flattened smile on her face.
Once in the church, I tucked myself away from the hustle and bustle of preparations being made for the concert. I rested against a pillar and watched as the band did some sound checks and repositioned some of their instruments. Rehearsal began, but it wasn't rehearsal. It was a spontaneous splash of lyrics, basslines, guitar riffs here and there, sheet metal gonging, jet engine humming, pvc pipe hissing and video cameras recording. It was a concert before the audience arrived. And I was there. It was in a word super-duper-cool.
At the scheduled break, a few of the volunteers, my friends and I went to a nearby locale for some dinner before going back to the venue for the official concert. After translating the menu for my friends and then ordering for them and myself, I ran outside to make a phone call. Upon my return, I had to laugh to myself, silently thanking one of my companions for choosing the largest table in the place. The band had come to join us for dinner. We drank various beverages - coffee, wine, mineral water, almdudler, red wine spritzers, beer, tea, a little more wine and cola - awaiting our dinner orders. We talked about all kinds of things - the rehearsal, the sound in the church, the tour, the states, the odd difference between vegetable names in german and austrian-german, the not-yet-agreed-upon set list for the night, films, etc. etc. - and the highlight of my dinner... I was complimented by one of the guys on my German. I couldn't help but blush.
Shockingly, when we returned to the venue, I spotted one of my co-workers, went to greet him and introduce my friends and then ventured backstage for a rum and coke before my friends were off to working their cameras. The entire show was great. All in all it was about two and a half hours of solid music. I found it endearing during the encore when Blixa - lead singer - stopped the band mid-song and told the audience that he just couldn't remember the lyrics and would somebody please lend him a cd so he could read lyrics from the sleeve. They invited some of their supporters - see the website to get a definition of supporter - onstage during the show to sing backup for them on two songs.
Once the show was over, I met my friends backstage and made plans for the evening. We had a beer with the band, talked with some people on the crew, broke down the equipment and packed it up so they would be ready to get into the bus the next morning to drive to Italy.
The rest of the evening was filled with beer, rum and coke, long talks with old friends and laughs. After very little sleep, Tuesday morning, I made my way to the train station and an hour later found myself back in Vienna.
0 notes
Once at the train station, I picked up a magazine, as something to keep me occupied for an hour was required. The bakery was kind enough to have chilled iced tea on sale, so I picked up a meekly lemon flavored beverage and made my way to the platform. Perfect timing - I had 4 minutes to hop on the train and find a seat. And when I sat down, it hit me. Ticket. Me. Damnit. Not a massive problem, but I knew it would cost me twice as much to buy a ticket on the train. Ahh well, I had a magazine, a window seat in a mostly empty car, an ice-cold iced tea, and an hour to kill before arriving in Krems an der Donau.
I knew I had about a 15 minute walk from the train station to the church. All in all, it took about 25 minutes because I couldn't help myself but wander through the park in the downtown area. The air was crisp, with a slight autumnal chill, and the sun dropped angled shadows across the tree laden park. Almost entirely out of character, I stopped and watched a handful of children giggling and laughing and playing with the fallen leaves with a smile on my face.
Nearly a block away from the church, I was reminded of Salzburg a little bit, but mostly of Innsbruck. I half expected each of the dwarfed doors to open, displaying typically tourist attraction gifts and wares. But there was no lederhosen being hawked, not a one. No colorful gifts for people to take home and give to their loved ones. Just a sweet, little old lady hanging out her street level window, watching the passersby with a smile in her eye and a flattened smile on her face.
Once in the church, I tucked myself away from the hustle and bustle of preparations being made for the concert. I rested against a pillar and watched as the band did some sound checks and repositioned some of their instruments. Rehearsal began, but it wasn't rehearsal. It was a spontaneous splash of lyrics, basslines, guitar riffs here and there, sheet metal gonging, jet engine humming, pvc pipe hissing and video cameras recording. It was a concert before the audience arrived. And I was there. It was in a word super-duper-cool.
At the scheduled break, a few of the volunteers, my friends and I went to a nearby locale for some dinner before going back to the venue for the official concert. After translating the menu for my friends and then ordering for them and myself, I ran outside to make a phone call. Upon my return, I had to laugh to myself, silently thanking one of my companions for choosing the largest table in the place. The band had come to join us for dinner. We drank various beverages - coffee, wine, mineral water, almdudler, red wine spritzers, beer, tea, a little more wine and cola - awaiting our dinner orders. We talked about all kinds of things - the rehearsal, the sound in the church, the tour, the states, the odd difference between vegetable names in german and austrian-german, the not-yet-agreed-upon set list for the night, films, etc. etc. - and the highlight of my dinner... I was complimented by one of the guys on my German. I couldn't help but blush.
Shockingly, when we returned to the venue, I spotted one of my co-workers, went to greet him and introduce my friends and then ventured backstage for a rum and coke before my friends were off to working their cameras. The entire show was great. All in all it was about two and a half hours of solid music. I found it endearing during the encore when Blixa - lead singer - stopped the band mid-song and told the audience that he just couldn't remember the lyrics and would somebody please lend him a cd so he could read lyrics from the sleeve. They invited some of their supporters - see the website to get a definition of supporter - onstage during the show to sing backup for them on two songs.
Once the show was over, I met my friends backstage and made plans for the evening. We had a beer with the band, talked with some people on the crew, broke down the equipment and packed it up so they would be ready to get into the bus the next morning to drive to Italy.
The rest of the evening was filled with beer, rum and coke, long talks with old friends and laughs. After very little sleep, Tuesday morning, I made my way to the train station and an hour later found myself back in Vienna.
0 notes
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Unanswers
For a week and a half, I haven't cared. I haven't bothered. I haven't been affected. At all. In any way. I even tried to will myself into being bothered, and it just didn't work.
Until tonight. Until right now. And I didn't bother. I didn't care. I didn't try. But it's there. And I couldn't say why and I couldn't explain it.
0 notes
Until tonight. Until right now. And I didn't bother. I didn't care. I didn't try. But it's there. And I couldn't say why and I couldn't explain it.
0 notes
Sunday, October 24, 2004
Something New
I was messing with the Links on my sidebar. I decided to start doing a "Link of the Week" for no particular reason.
I've been reading The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Writings: Poems, Tales, Essays and Reviews (Penguin Classics) from Poe. So this week, I've linked my favorite (to date) poem from Poe. Check it out!
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I've been reading The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Writings: Poems, Tales, Essays and Reviews (Penguin Classics) from Poe. So this week, I've linked my favorite (to date) poem from Poe. Check it out!
0 notes
Politics OD
I know I've talked a whole lot about some things political lately. But I couldn't resist this one. I fear that there will be at least one more politically themed post sometime next week, but after that, I would hope I could exercise some self restraint and wait until around this time 4 years in the future. All of that was my verbose version of "Sorry this won't happen often anymore."
I can understand that the media likes to propose that they are unbiased and that they present news in an unbiased way. Pray tell, how in the hell can they do that when they back a fucking candidate?
And don't get me started on Utah's Amendment 3. Or Oregon's Measure 36.
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I can understand that the media likes to propose that they are unbiased and that they present news in an unbiased way. Pray tell, how in the hell can they do that when they back a fucking candidate?
And don't get me started on Utah's Amendment 3. Or Oregon's Measure 36.
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Weekend in Review
Although I'm only 2 days into my 4 day weekend, I figured it was time to find something brilliant to write about. Failing that, I'll suggest to the timekeeper that weekends should always be 4 days long.
Friday night was good. Odd at some points because I somehow couldn't stop talking about the office with some co-workers, but good nonetheless. I consumed enough beer to be giddy, but of course not enough for a hangover. The best amount to consume, in my opinion. To hit par for the week, I got to sleep on Saturday sometime around 6 or so in the morning.
I shot up out of bed to the startlingly disturbing sounds of my phone at 10.30. I had expected a friend of mine from the States to call on Friday night to set up some time to meet while he's in the country. When I answered the phone in my 'I've just woken up' voice he expressed his sympathy and apologies for waking me up, telling me he'd call back later. We chatted later and set up our meeting time and point, and a couple hours later, I commenced my natural Saturday routine of grocery shopping and shopping for things I don't need.
What is it about Sundays that make me so lazy? I've had a difficult time getting out of my flat today. I did manage, but not for long. If I only I wasn't too lazy to make myself a proper meal, or draw myself a bath.
0 notes
Friday night was good. Odd at some points because I somehow couldn't stop talking about the office with some co-workers, but good nonetheless. I consumed enough beer to be giddy, but of course not enough for a hangover. The best amount to consume, in my opinion. To hit par for the week, I got to sleep on Saturday sometime around 6 or so in the morning.
I shot up out of bed to the startlingly disturbing sounds of my phone at 10.30. I had expected a friend of mine from the States to call on Friday night to set up some time to meet while he's in the country. When I answered the phone in my 'I've just woken up' voice he expressed his sympathy and apologies for waking me up, telling me he'd call back later. We chatted later and set up our meeting time and point, and a couple hours later, I commenced my natural Saturday routine of grocery shopping and shopping for things I don't need.
What is it about Sundays that make me so lazy? I've had a difficult time getting out of my flat today. I did manage, but not for long. If I only I wasn't too lazy to make myself a proper meal, or draw myself a bath.
0 notes
Friday, October 22, 2004
Banana Sluggery Defense
A week's worth of sleep should be had this weekend, as it's a nice 4-day weekend and I've had the cumulative worth of about half a night's sleep since last Friday. However, since I'm obviously so not into sleeping lately, I'll spend some time with a friend from the States who is flying in to film videos for Einstuerzende Neubauten concerts. So I'm going to a concert. Or two.
Chipper and cheery moods can keep you going far longer without sleep than I had realized. And the onset of inexplicably chipper moods lately has proven to me that I can go from cup of coffee to cup of coffee with the bare amount of sleep without completely falling to pieces. It helps you keep your shit together. I don't know that I have a reason to be in a chipper or cheery mood. In fact, it's likely that I can drudge up more reasons to not be in such moods. But I can't be arsed.
The rather great drawback I've been running into all week is that I'm slower than a slug doing everything. I had intended on making phone calls for the past week and only got around to that last night. I haven't cooked a proper meal for myself in over a week, but I have had the time and the food! I spent every single night out this week. Each time for very good reasons, thankyouverymuch. Except I got talked into it last night when I even intended to go home and sleep the sleep of the dead. Instead I slept the sleep of a small nap this morning. In retrospect, the sleep of a small nap is better than the sleep of not sleeping at all.
I'm not sure how to dive into a pool of thoughts here, so tag along cautiously - I'll do an elegant belly flop into the water. I've realized over the past discussions with a number of people that I'm surrounded by apathy. I'm swimming in it. My fingers are kinda prune-y! It would be wrong of me to categorize the Austrians as the apathetic people, as I also see it coming from citizens of other countries. There seems to be a general lack of interest in having an opinion. And somehow, even less of an interest in expressing an opinion. Asking a british friend of mine what they want, they don't have an answer. Not that I'm terribly better with the question, but it strikes me as odd that I would likely have difficulties verbally expressing an answer. I would likely have difficulties mentally concocting an answer, even. Disturbing. In a very serious way.
Maybe it's not just everyone else in the apathetic boat with me. Projection has usually been such an easily exercised defense mechanism.
0 notes
Chipper and cheery moods can keep you going far longer without sleep than I had realized. And the onset of inexplicably chipper moods lately has proven to me that I can go from cup of coffee to cup of coffee with the bare amount of sleep without completely falling to pieces. It helps you keep your shit together. I don't know that I have a reason to be in a chipper or cheery mood. In fact, it's likely that I can drudge up more reasons to not be in such moods. But I can't be arsed.
The rather great drawback I've been running into all week is that I'm slower than a slug doing everything. I had intended on making phone calls for the past week and only got around to that last night. I haven't cooked a proper meal for myself in over a week, but I have had the time and the food! I spent every single night out this week. Each time for very good reasons, thankyouverymuch. Except I got talked into it last night when I even intended to go home and sleep the sleep of the dead. Instead I slept the sleep of a small nap this morning. In retrospect, the sleep of a small nap is better than the sleep of not sleeping at all.
I'm not sure how to dive into a pool of thoughts here, so tag along cautiously - I'll do an elegant belly flop into the water. I've realized over the past discussions with a number of people that I'm surrounded by apathy. I'm swimming in it. My fingers are kinda prune-y! It would be wrong of me to categorize the Austrians as the apathetic people, as I also see it coming from citizens of other countries. There seems to be a general lack of interest in having an opinion. And somehow, even less of an interest in expressing an opinion. Asking a british friend of mine what they want, they don't have an answer. Not that I'm terribly better with the question, but it strikes me as odd that I would likely have difficulties verbally expressing an answer. I would likely have difficulties mentally concocting an answer, even. Disturbing. In a very serious way.
Maybe it's not just everyone else in the apathetic boat with me. Projection has usually been such an easily exercised defense mechanism.
0 notes
FY Part 2
I don't understand how Guantanamo is not in the news more. Where is the ACLU? Are they already on this, did I miss that?
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/3764954.stm
This isn't really as awesome as the FUCK YES Guantanamo article I posted yesterday.
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http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/3764954.stm
This isn't really as awesome as the FUCK YES Guantanamo article I posted yesterday.
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The New Plan
Thursday, October 21, 2004
FUCK YES
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/3761848.stm
Might I dare say...
It's about goddamned time!
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Might I dare say...
It's about goddamned time!
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Invitation
Them: "Wanna go get some coffee?"
Me: "..."
Them: "Coffee, coffee, coffee."
Me: "Yeah!"
Them: Runs off to talk about games.
Me: Waiting for coffee inviter to pause shop talk.
Moral: Don't stall the caffeine!
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Me: "..."
Them: "Coffee, coffee, coffee."
Me: "Yeah!"
Them: Runs off to talk about games.
Me: Waiting for coffee inviter to pause shop talk.
Moral: Don't stall the caffeine!
0 notes
"Roe v. Wade" v. "Scott v. Sanford"
Within two weeks of the presidential election, I've dug around in the roiling debates on news sites. I've been keeping an eye out for things that would make me go crazy - the kind of crazy you wouldn't associate with institutions, but the kind of crazy that would require a podium, microphone and a big fucking stick to knock people over the head with information.
So I present to you two historically significant Supreme Court Rulings. And I am not the first, nor the last, to look at the two and compare.
Roe v. Wade = Decision from the Nine... Abortion is not unconstitutional - that is to say abortion is not illegal. That isn't exactly the same as "Abortion is legal"
Scott v. Sanford = Decision from the Nine... Slavery is okay! Slaves are property. Please keep them.
Roe hasn't been overturned, and in the decision it was stated that the fetus is a non-person.
Scott has been overturned, and in the decision it was stated that slaves were non-persons.
And now read what spurred this whole post: http://slate.msn.com/id/2108083/
From http://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=true&doc=29
Other links:
Roe:
http://www.roevwade.org/
Full Decision Text
Scott:
http://www.landmarkcases.org/dredscott/home.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dred_Scott_v._Sandford
Roe and Scott Comparatives:
http://www.rightgrrl.com/carolyn/roe.html
And just to throw in a curve ball - http://www.landmarkcases.org/ - Check that place out.
On a completely different note - so not related to politics. Games industry and women. It's a hot topic in my life lately. And so it should be in yours as well.
Later today, I endeavor to be apolitical and uncontroversial here. So, get the toothpicks out to prop up the eyelids. It's going back to boring.
0 notes
So I present to you two historically significant Supreme Court Rulings. And I am not the first, nor the last, to look at the two and compare.
Roe v. Wade = Decision from the Nine... Abortion is not unconstitutional - that is to say abortion is not illegal. That isn't exactly the same as "Abortion is legal"
Scott v. Sanford = Decision from the Nine... Slavery is okay! Slaves are property. Please keep them.
Roe hasn't been overturned, and in the decision it was stated that the fetus is a non-person.
Scott has been overturned, and in the decision it was stated that slaves were non-persons.
And now read what spurred this whole post: http://slate.msn.com/id/2108083/
From http://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=true&doc=29
The decision of Scott v. Sanford, considered by legal scholars to be the worst ever rendered by the Supreme Court, was overturned by the 13th and 14th amendments to the Constitution, which abolished slavery and declared all persons born in the United States to be citizens of the United States.
Other links:
Roe:
http://www.roevwade.org/
Full Decision Text
Scott:
http://www.landmarkcases.org/dredscott/home.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dred_Scott_v._Sandford
Roe and Scott Comparatives:
http://www.rightgrrl.com/carolyn/roe.html
And just to throw in a curve ball - http://www.landmarkcases.org/ - Check that place out.
On a completely different note - so not related to politics. Games industry and women. It's a hot topic in my life lately. And so it should be in yours as well.
Later today, I endeavor to be apolitical and uncontroversial here. So, get the toothpicks out to prop up the eyelids. It's going back to boring.
0 notes
Sightings
Lately, I've seen some interesting things. Here's two of them.
On a sign in front of an elaborately decorated building:
In a movie rental store window, a cardboard cutout of a red-bull sized tin can, with "Horny" written in bright red lettering. Who doesn't need an energy drink called Horny?
0 notes
On a sign in front of an elaborately decorated building:
Traditional Chinese Medicine
For pets.
In a movie rental store window, a cardboard cutout of a red-bull sized tin can, with "Horny" written in bright red lettering. Who doesn't need an energy drink called Horny?
0 notes
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
I'll beg if I have to...
Open Question
You know how when you know someone really well, you can guess with a decent amount of certainty what their thought processes are about some things in their life and you can usually pretty well figure out where they're going with their decision making before they announce their decisions?
What's that like?
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What's that like?
0 notes
Inspiration: Aldous
It never failed, while taking classes at university. I never completed an assignment earlier than absolutely necessary. I was known amongst my group of friends to be the type to not fret about the fact that I had 3 different professors demanding 20 page papers on the same day. I could write better when I knew it just had to be done within so many hours. I could focus and concentrate. My thoughts had had enough time to orient and organize. Most papers required excessive research and reading materials. In order to suck up that information, somehow - I wouldn't let myself be distracted by neighbors walking into my flat or friends coming over to visit. I just didn't even acknowledge the fact that it would be possible to distract me. I could lock myself away for just the right amount of time to finish the 20 pages, thoroughly researched and properly cited - within APA style guidelines, even. I never felt that much stress or that much worry over my grades. I usually gave the assignments my best effort, I usually produced good work - and dare I add in an efficient manner. And I always caught up on my sleep. REM rebound is a good thing.
I used to stay up entire nights during finals week in order to study for my exams. I rarely had more than one exam on the same day, and I managed to somehow not die. I hardly cracked a book during the semester, but before the exams, I miraculously found my way around the texts rather flawlessly, wasting very little time on locating pertinent information. My notes were always in order and always legible. I never felt the need to clean up my notes in order to study, and I didn't need to rewrite them just to be able to study. I didn't create a huge amount of work for myself studying for exams because there wasn't really a need at all. When I would stumble across something on an exam that I was slightly unsure of, all I had to do was remember where in my notebook the notes about the topic were located. I haven't needed it for a while, but I suppose I have a semi-photographic memory with pretty robust association skills. And sleep somehow didn't seem to factor into my success rate. I didn't need to sleep. (I had coffee.) And I didn't need much in the way of
sustenance.
And now I have just two questions.
How in the hell did I survive and get a degree?
And what happened?
I still procrastinate. But it's a whole new world.
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I used to stay up entire nights during finals week in order to study for my exams. I rarely had more than one exam on the same day, and I managed to somehow not die. I hardly cracked a book during the semester, but before the exams, I miraculously found my way around the texts rather flawlessly, wasting very little time on locating pertinent information. My notes were always in order and always legible. I never felt the need to clean up my notes in order to study, and I didn't need to rewrite them just to be able to study. I didn't create a huge amount of work for myself studying for exams because there wasn't really a need at all. When I would stumble across something on an exam that I was slightly unsure of, all I had to do was remember where in my notebook the notes about the topic were located. I haven't needed it for a while, but I suppose I have a semi-photographic memory with pretty robust association skills. And sleep somehow didn't seem to factor into my success rate. I didn't need to sleep. (I had coffee.) And I didn't need much in the way of
sustenance.
And now I have just two questions.
How in the hell did I survive and get a degree?
And what happened?
I still procrastinate. But it's a whole new world.
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Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Gin and Juice
Today was one of those hectic days. It even started kind of fucked up, considering my activities last night were sober. I woke up at 5 in the morning feeling like I was going to faint. Lying in bed. Yes, that's right. Lying down. I was in as a fainting-friendly position as I could have gotten. So, I got up. And then my head swirled. And pounded. And instructed me that if I didn't just sit my ass down on the couch there was going to be trouble. I figured, since you know, there are some sharp corners in my flat, it would serve me best to sit my ass down. So I did.
I woke up at 6.30. On the couch. Feeling like I was going to faint. I considered that maybe taking a shot of vodka would make it a little less inexplicable. But I couldn't bear the thought of walking all the way to the kitchen, opening the fridge, finding a drinking receptacle, opening the bottle... you get the point, right? My head pounded, and then it throbbed for about half a minute. I nearly fell over because I stood up so fast, which in the course of this story is starting to sound like a really stupid way to exaggerate just how quick it was that I stood up. Somehow, I managed to make it onto my bed, and somehow, without my duvet.
Dizzy, nauseous, headache-y, and cold... I woke up at 9 am. I lost the nauseousness for about 2 hours this afternoon, but it's gleefully returned. The dizzy, headache-y bits are constants in my day. I don't look forward to them leaving. It will make me feel somehow hollow.
I kid, I kid.
In some strange way, I thought I'd go have some gin and juice with the local nutheads - to celebrate or something.
Cheers!
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I woke up at 6.30. On the couch. Feeling like I was going to faint. I considered that maybe taking a shot of vodka would make it a little less inexplicable. But I couldn't bear the thought of walking all the way to the kitchen, opening the fridge, finding a drinking receptacle, opening the bottle... you get the point, right? My head pounded, and then it throbbed for about half a minute. I nearly fell over because I stood up so fast, which in the course of this story is starting to sound like a really stupid way to exaggerate just how quick it was that I stood up. Somehow, I managed to make it onto my bed, and somehow, without my duvet.
Dizzy, nauseous, headache-y, and cold... I woke up at 9 am. I lost the nauseousness for about 2 hours this afternoon, but it's gleefully returned. The dizzy, headache-y bits are constants in my day. I don't look forward to them leaving. It will make me feel somehow hollow.
I kid, I kid.
In some strange way, I thought I'd go have some gin and juice with the local nutheads - to celebrate or something.
Cheers!
0 notes
Monday, October 18, 2004
The start of the slippery slope
I don't understand most people. I don't exactly try to. I have a lot of problems. I complain a lot. About the small stuff. The insignificant things. But the bigger issues, the ones that have been keeping me up most nights in the past few months, well, I've tended to keep quiet about them lately. I haven't really had counsel with anyone about them. Once you start on a slippery slope of silence, it becomes ever-increasingly difficult to talk, to break the silence.
Slippery slopes haven't served me all that well in the past few months. So I'm gonna strap on some crampons and throw my ice pick in to anchor myself as I go - ever-so-slowly.
I'm not concerned with what people think of me, what they think of what I'm doing. I'm not very big on fixing everyone else's problems. I have faith and confidence in most other people that they either don't want everyone else thinking about or fixing their problems, and I have faith and confidence in people that they can somehow manage to solve their own problems, however they see fit. I have my own laundry list of "shit that's going wrong" that I can't abandon in order to save someone else from themselves or their family or their friends or their own laundry list of personal problems. The non-ability or non-want to fix anyone else's problems still leaves me as somewhat useful. I still have a shoulder. I still have an ear. I still sympathize, empathize and care. I still offer all of that.
Hearing about someone else's problems is sometimes a relief to me. It allows me moments of non-self-indulgence, it allays the self-pity-parties. But it feels like a small get together tonight. I'd have prepared some vodka jell-o shots, but I was struck with the invitation not very long ago. So please accept my apologies.
I'm feeling pretty vulnerable lately. Somehow, unsure. Worried. Stressed. Anxious. I question my own decisions about whether or not I should visit my family over the holidays. I don't want to. I've decided I won't go. So, I won't go, but what if that's the wrong choice? I don't trust my strength or my abilities to keep things at an even keel. I hesitate to discuss the details of this whole thing. I waver about whom to trust. I can't figure out in my head if this is something that's been blown way out of proportion or if it's something to be this concerned about. It's all a little fuzzy for me. And all the thinking I've been doing hasn't clarified much. And what with the slippery slope of silence making it all but impossible at this stage for me to actually talk about it, I've found myself in a conundrum. I put myself there. Which means I can get myself out of it.
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Slippery slopes haven't served me all that well in the past few months. So I'm gonna strap on some crampons and throw my ice pick in to anchor myself as I go - ever-so-slowly.
I'm not concerned with what people think of me, what they think of what I'm doing. I'm not very big on fixing everyone else's problems. I have faith and confidence in most other people that they either don't want everyone else thinking about or fixing their problems, and I have faith and confidence in people that they can somehow manage to solve their own problems, however they see fit. I have my own laundry list of "shit that's going wrong" that I can't abandon in order to save someone else from themselves or their family or their friends or their own laundry list of personal problems. The non-ability or non-want to fix anyone else's problems still leaves me as somewhat useful. I still have a shoulder. I still have an ear. I still sympathize, empathize and care. I still offer all of that.
Hearing about someone else's problems is sometimes a relief to me. It allows me moments of non-self-indulgence, it allays the self-pity-parties. But it feels like a small get together tonight. I'd have prepared some vodka jell-o shots, but I was struck with the invitation not very long ago. So please accept my apologies.
I'm feeling pretty vulnerable lately. Somehow, unsure. Worried. Stressed. Anxious. I question my own decisions about whether or not I should visit my family over the holidays. I don't want to. I've decided I won't go. So, I won't go, but what if that's the wrong choice? I don't trust my strength or my abilities to keep things at an even keel. I hesitate to discuss the details of this whole thing. I waver about whom to trust. I can't figure out in my head if this is something that's been blown way out of proportion or if it's something to be this concerned about. It's all a little fuzzy for me. And all the thinking I've been doing hasn't clarified much. And what with the slippery slope of silence making it all but impossible at this stage for me to actually talk about it, I've found myself in a conundrum. I put myself there. Which means I can get myself out of it.
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Sidenote
I was going to write a whole lot, but I got distracted with something. Luckily, I found a reminder that I thought should be passed along.
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Friday, October 15, 2004
Mel(o)ncholy
I had imagined that when I woke up this morning I had awoken somewhere in some tropically warmed, lit by the bright sun and fantastically close to the ocean bungalow. It turns out I was in my bed. My bed is in Vienna. Now, don't get me wrong. I love this city. I love living here. Most of the time, I actually love the initial reason that I moved across the pond - work. And presently work is going well. Slow, but steady. And it's not as if I am hating being here, I'm content with it at the moment. I just fancied the thought of being in an overwater bungalow in, say... Bora Bora. And my day started off with a small, albeit indescribably unrealistic, disappointment. And it took me a few seconds, or rather realistically a few minutes, to get over it.
Padding around in a dark and dim flat, I looked outside and it was grey. The grey that is nearly the same shade as the fog from San Francisco. The fog that rolls in overnight and hangs around, thinning with the warming of the morning, burning off completely in the light of pre-lunch hours.
Officially, I have a lot of work to get done. For the life of me, I can't stop staring out the window. The distant hills are veiled in a thin fog, and I can't stop thinking about sitting at a cafe with a book. But I have a deadline niggling at the back of my head. I have the visual distraction of a co-worker bouncing around in their seat. It's cute. I swear it. It's good to know that somewhere in someone's world, there's an awesome concert being conducted. I have the outline of documentation that is yet to be written battling it out in my head for proper organization. And I keep looking across the southwest districts, as the view affords me from my desk chair. For want of a free day in the big, scary city.
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Padding around in a dark and dim flat, I looked outside and it was grey. The grey that is nearly the same shade as the fog from San Francisco. The fog that rolls in overnight and hangs around, thinning with the warming of the morning, burning off completely in the light of pre-lunch hours.
Officially, I have a lot of work to get done. For the life of me, I can't stop staring out the window. The distant hills are veiled in a thin fog, and I can't stop thinking about sitting at a cafe with a book. But I have a deadline niggling at the back of my head. I have the visual distraction of a co-worker bouncing around in their seat. It's cute. I swear it. It's good to know that somewhere in someone's world, there's an awesome concert being conducted. I have the outline of documentation that is yet to be written battling it out in my head for proper organization. And I keep looking across the southwest districts, as the view affords me from my desk chair. For want of a free day in the big, scary city.
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Listening
Right now: Ants Marching
He wakes up in the morning
Does his teeth bite to eat and hes rolling
Never changes a thing
The week ends the week begins
She thinks, we look at each other
Wondering what the other is thinking
But we never say a thing
And these crimes between us grow deeper
Take these chances
Place them in a box until a quieter time
Lights down, you up and die
Goes to visit his mommy
She feeds him well his concerns he forgets them
And remembers being small
Playing under the table and dreaming
Driving along on this highway
All these cars and upon the sidewalk
People in every direction
No words exchanged, no time to exchange and when
All the little ants are marching
Red and black antennae waving
They all do it the same
They all do it the same way
Candyman tempting the thoughts of a
Sweet tooth tortured by weight loss
Program cutting the corners
Loose end, loose end cut cut
On the fence, not to offend
Cut cut cut cut
Take these chances
Place them in a box until a quieter time
Lights down you up and die
Lights down you up and die
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He wakes up in the morning
Does his teeth bite to eat and hes rolling
Never changes a thing
The week ends the week begins
She thinks, we look at each other
Wondering what the other is thinking
But we never say a thing
And these crimes between us grow deeper
Take these chances
Place them in a box until a quieter time
Lights down, you up and die
Goes to visit his mommy
She feeds him well his concerns he forgets them
And remembers being small
Playing under the table and dreaming
Driving along on this highway
All these cars and upon the sidewalk
People in every direction
No words exchanged, no time to exchange and when
All the little ants are marching
Red and black antennae waving
They all do it the same
They all do it the same way
Candyman tempting the thoughts of a
Sweet tooth tortured by weight loss
Program cutting the corners
Loose end, loose end cut cut
On the fence, not to offend
Cut cut cut cut
Take these chances
Place them in a box until a quieter time
Lights down you up and die
Lights down you up and die
0 notes
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Babes in Toyland
Most times I consider the office to be a remarkably sane place to be. I say remarkably because of the amount of crazies that work in the same office space I do. That's not to say that some of these people like to have a little fun and play small practical jokes on each other. Some of them don't mind slamming their heads through walls (although I haven't seen that in nearly 2 years). I have witnessed scarily intimate moments with vacuum cleaners. Somehow we managed water fights in the hallway - albeit with a very small crowd of participants. I've been witness and victim to plastic beebee's from toy guns in the office, of course not since it became clear that we shouldn't shoot anyone's eyes out with small plastic beebee's. The boys can go a little nutty every now and then. They can make you laugh like a maniac sometimes, just because they're just that good. And sometimes, well, sometimes they can just make you shake your head.
Every couple of weeks, there's a collection of tasks planned out and assigned to be executed in a particular order by certain employees. Those collection of days/tasks is marked by an iteration sponsor - a babe! The sponsor is often a female. Yet, (somehow) this makes sense, as the team that uses this method is comprised completely of those of the male persuasion. As seems to be practice, I was consulted for a number of these sponsors, as asking a girl apparently negates the sexist nature of the whole idea. So yesterday, when counseling began, I suggested this brilliantly famous British Dame, (Thora Hird) at the suggestion of an English co-worker.
Unfortunately, and for inexplicable reasons, that suggestion was rebuffed and I was sent back to the google images search engine. So I supplied pictures and suggestions found from researching from this site, also at the suggestion of the same English co-worker.
I don't believe any of my suggestions were accepted, and I may not be the most favorable person to ask for more 'babe' suggestions in the future. I'm, of course, saddened by this, but it also relieves me of much research work and will allow me the opportunity to focus more fully on my other assigned tasks. If I'm not the girl, I'm not the girl. I can live with it, I hope.
On the other hand, I had a discussion with another co-worker about the babe search, asking me whether it would be possible to find a male-babe-sponsor, as he was unsure whether or not men can, in fact, be babes. I assured him, that of course, this is possible and even happens once in a while, it's just that we don't print out posters and supply any tack boards with proof - at the office at least.
For instance... Frank's a babe. (I just thought you should know.)
0 notes
Every couple of weeks, there's a collection of tasks planned out and assigned to be executed in a particular order by certain employees. Those collection of days/tasks is marked by an iteration sponsor - a babe! The sponsor is often a female. Yet, (somehow) this makes sense, as the team that uses this method is comprised completely of those of the male persuasion. As seems to be practice, I was consulted for a number of these sponsors, as asking a girl apparently negates the sexist nature of the whole idea. So yesterday, when counseling began, I suggested this brilliantly famous British Dame, (Thora Hird) at the suggestion of an English co-worker.
Unfortunately, and for inexplicable reasons, that suggestion was rebuffed and I was sent back to the google images search engine. So I supplied pictures and suggestions found from researching from this site, also at the suggestion of the same English co-worker.
I don't believe any of my suggestions were accepted, and I may not be the most favorable person to ask for more 'babe' suggestions in the future. I'm, of course, saddened by this, but it also relieves me of much research work and will allow me the opportunity to focus more fully on my other assigned tasks. If I'm not the girl, I'm not the girl. I can live with it, I hope.
On the other hand, I had a discussion with another co-worker about the babe search, asking me whether it would be possible to find a male-babe-sponsor, as he was unsure whether or not men can, in fact, be babes. I assured him, that of course, this is possible and even happens once in a while, it's just that we don't print out posters and supply any tack boards with proof - at the office at least.
For instance... Frank's a babe. (I just thought you should know.)
0 notes
Monday, October 11, 2004
A Quickie
Saturday, October 09, 2004
Catching up
I had imagined I would take the time to write about a little old man that talked to me and a friend a while ago, but let's face it, I'm more lazy than even I would want to admit to. Here's a Reader's Digest version, because at this hour I really can't be all that bothered.
In the middle of a discussion about how unthrilled I was with life and what I should do about it - go on vacation - a little old man, with a sickening penchant for not wearing a belt, interrupted my friend and I.
I shopped for hotels and airfare to Bora Bora Thursday. It was productive, yet somehow a little disheartening. It will be a while before I can get the trip planned, but I will be going to Bora Bora before I'm 30. Not that that's right around the corner or anything, it's far enough away that that goal shouldn't be entirely impossible. I don't know what it is about that island that I have this sick fascination with... It's gorgeous. And I just have to go.
I found myself in an exceptionally good mood on Friday evening, blindsided by giddiness and teenage girl giggles. I was recovering from being locked in a flat for most of the day, I think it was just the joy that is being outside. Locked in, on a sunny day, with the desire to go shopping... well in hindsight, it wasn't so bad that I didn't get out until early in the evening. I probably saved myself a couple hundred euros.
I spent a couple hours on the phone to the states this morning, catching up with a friend - moaning and groaning, talking, laughing, giggling, making stupid jokes and laughing a lot. Although life's been better in some ways, worse in others and exactly the same in some ways, I'm still feeling a little left of center.
But the most unsettling news is that I have "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" stuck in my head.
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In the middle of a discussion about how unthrilled I was with life and what I should do about it - go on vacation - a little old man, with a sickening penchant for not wearing a belt, interrupted my friend and I.
You speak English pretty well. Hey, I just want you to know that everything will be okay.I nearly burst into tears when he said that. I was a little on edge and had been teetering back and forth between nearly sobbing in the middle of a restaurant and keeping my shit together. Managing most of the time to keep my shit together, I couldn't help myself when the little old man placed his hand on my shoulder and told me what I needed to hear from someone else. I knew it would be okay. I knew things would get better. I just wanted to hear it. And then he said something else.
You should go to Prague. Two weeks. Most beautiful city in the world. And cheap! But not for long. Go to Prague.I should totally take this man's advice. I loved Prague two winters ago when I went for a weekend. I loved it last summer when I was there. I also wouldn't mind a little vacation, somewhere outside of town.
I shopped for hotels and airfare to Bora Bora Thursday. It was productive, yet somehow a little disheartening. It will be a while before I can get the trip planned, but I will be going to Bora Bora before I'm 30. Not that that's right around the corner or anything, it's far enough away that that goal shouldn't be entirely impossible. I don't know what it is about that island that I have this sick fascination with... It's gorgeous. And I just have to go.
I found myself in an exceptionally good mood on Friday evening, blindsided by giddiness and teenage girl giggles. I was recovering from being locked in a flat for most of the day, I think it was just the joy that is being outside. Locked in, on a sunny day, with the desire to go shopping... well in hindsight, it wasn't so bad that I didn't get out until early in the evening. I probably saved myself a couple hundred euros.
I spent a couple hours on the phone to the states this morning, catching up with a friend - moaning and groaning, talking, laughing, giggling, making stupid jokes and laughing a lot. Although life's been better in some ways, worse in others and exactly the same in some ways, I'm still feeling a little left of center.
But the most unsettling news is that I have "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" stuck in my head.
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Thursday, October 07, 2004
Can't you read the signs?
"Wow, you don't look very good."
"Are you feeling alright?"
"You're sick, where are you going?"
Is it a bad thing that people keep saying these things to me? Do I really look like death on a stick? I thought I was at least death warmed over, which, in my mind, looks much nicer than death on a stick. I think I might be wrong there.
It's not that I'm dying a slow death kind of illness, I just look like it I guess. I'm not even in bad throes anymore. I just look like it I guess. I haven't had a fever since last weekend, but I apparently look like I do.
I want the happy, healthy person's membership card. I want in on that club for a while.
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"Are you feeling alright?"
"You're sick, where are you going?"
Is it a bad thing that people keep saying these things to me? Do I really look like death on a stick? I thought I was at least death warmed over, which, in my mind, looks much nicer than death on a stick. I think I might be wrong there.
It's not that I'm dying a slow death kind of illness, I just look like it I guess. I'm not even in bad throes anymore. I just look like it I guess. I haven't had a fever since last weekend, but I apparently look like I do.
I want the happy, healthy person's membership card. I want in on that club for a while.
0 notes
Monday, October 04, 2004
Frankly, dear...
So, in order of thought process, here's what's been on my mind lately. Please note that all names have been changed to protect the innocent.
So I have this friend, Frank. He's in this relationship, that frankly, I know too much about. I haven't talked with Frank in a while, but to be honest, I don't really have much that I want to say to him. The only things I have said to him lately have been here, in my very own cryptic tongue. And I meant it. I did it on purpose. I put the blog entry up to tell him something. I wonder what he meant when he said he would stop the madness, stop the insanity. It's not over for him, but that's his choice and I don't have anything to do with it. And I won't.
My doctor, Frank, told me I have stuff in my ears. I don't know what that means. And I don't know if there should be stuff in my ears or not. Frank also told me to stay home this week.
I decided not to go to the states for Christmas this year. A lot of reasons are behind this decision, but two of them are - I don't want to and I can't afford to. Yes, that's right. I don't want to go spend the holidays with my family. My brother, Frank, will just be off with his new little kid, anyways, and my other brother, Frank, might not even be in the same state. This leaves me with... well...
I have this mother, Frank. He has some health problems. He just went to the doctor in the last few weeks and got a diagnosis that scared the shit out of me. I haven't spoken to him on the phone for a number of months. I can't. I can't bring myself to talk to him. It's a conversation that would be riddled with "Why?" "What do you mean you aren't coming to my house for Christmas?" "How could you make that decision?" "Why?" "Why aren't you ever home?" "Why?" "What do you do all day?" "Why?" and a few more "Why?" questions thrown in for good measure. And my only answer is "Because" "I mean I'm not going to fly to the states for Christmas" "It wasn't easy" "Because" "Because" "Because" "Stuff" "Because" and a few more "Because" replies. Frank thinks of me as a 12 year old, and I wouldn't blame him for that except I'm not 12. Frank treats me like a 12 year old, and I wouldn't blame him except I'm not 12. He throws guilt trip after guilt trip at me, partly because he's scared out of his wits at losing his children, and partly because it worked in the past. He threatens me with things like hey don't be like your brother, Frank, because if you do that, I'll take you out of the will and never talk to you again. Frank and I can never have a conversation about Frank and I, or how Frank is doing or how I am doing. We always have to talk about one of my brothers and how badly they are treating Frank. We always talk about the injustices that he has to deal with, the horrible behavior of my brothers, how bad or mean or disrespectful or horrible they treat him. I have to then try to figure out what to do with this information when I talk to either of my brothers. And now it's not just my brothers that are doing it, but I've hopped on the bandwagon, what with not phoning Frank in a couple of months and most of the time not being around when he calls. And not answering when I am around. And then there's this health thing with Frank. The scare-me-out-of-my-wits health thing. Even though it probably shouldn't be as frightening, it just is. And I am not dealing so well with it.
I can't sleep very well. Well, I can't sleep when I want to. And I can't manage to stay awake when I want to. It's like narcolepsy, only it's selective and disturbingly so. My vision is fuzzy, but only when I put stuff in my eye, so I'm not entirely worried about that. I'm constantly cold, I can't do much to change that - I've tried. The thermostat is at 25 and I always have a blanket over me and lots of clothes to keep me warm, although it doesn't. My joints ache and my head throbs, but only in alternating fashion so aches and throbs never occur at the same time. I'm nervous, anxious and agitated. My hand shakes when I lift it to see if it's shaking. I'm worried. And I'm feeling mostly solitary.
There's also Frank. I adore Frank. I don't get Frank. He's a difficult card to read sometimes. Frank knows about my mother's health situation. Frank doesn't know much about my not having talked to my mother in a couple of months. Frank knows I'm miserable right now. He doesn't particularly like me that much when I'm miserable. Hey, Frank, frankly, neither do I, but that's a thing for another day. Bottom line about Frank is... I miss Frank.
I don't know how to ask Frank for support without being entirely terrified that he is going to tell me to piss off. I don't know how to ask Frank for help without being entirely terrified that Frank will laugh in my face. Because, frankly, I'm not very practiced at knowing how or when to say - Help me out here. I think I need a little assistance.
2 notes
So I have this friend, Frank. He's in this relationship, that frankly, I know too much about. I haven't talked with Frank in a while, but to be honest, I don't really have much that I want to say to him. The only things I have said to him lately have been here, in my very own cryptic tongue. And I meant it. I did it on purpose. I put the blog entry up to tell him something. I wonder what he meant when he said he would stop the madness, stop the insanity. It's not over for him, but that's his choice and I don't have anything to do with it. And I won't.
My doctor, Frank, told me I have stuff in my ears. I don't know what that means. And I don't know if there should be stuff in my ears or not. Frank also told me to stay home this week.
I decided not to go to the states for Christmas this year. A lot of reasons are behind this decision, but two of them are - I don't want to and I can't afford to. Yes, that's right. I don't want to go spend the holidays with my family. My brother, Frank, will just be off with his new little kid, anyways, and my other brother, Frank, might not even be in the same state. This leaves me with... well...
I have this mother, Frank. He has some health problems. He just went to the doctor in the last few weeks and got a diagnosis that scared the shit out of me. I haven't spoken to him on the phone for a number of months. I can't. I can't bring myself to talk to him. It's a conversation that would be riddled with "Why?" "What do you mean you aren't coming to my house for Christmas?" "How could you make that decision?" "Why?" "Why aren't you ever home?" "Why?" "What do you do all day?" "Why?" and a few more "Why?" questions thrown in for good measure. And my only answer is "Because" "I mean I'm not going to fly to the states for Christmas" "It wasn't easy" "Because" "Because" "Because" "Stuff" "Because" and a few more "Because" replies. Frank thinks of me as a 12 year old, and I wouldn't blame him for that except I'm not 12. Frank treats me like a 12 year old, and I wouldn't blame him except I'm not 12. He throws guilt trip after guilt trip at me, partly because he's scared out of his wits at losing his children, and partly because it worked in the past. He threatens me with things like hey don't be like your brother, Frank, because if you do that, I'll take you out of the will and never talk to you again. Frank and I can never have a conversation about Frank and I, or how Frank is doing or how I am doing. We always have to talk about one of my brothers and how badly they are treating Frank. We always talk about the injustices that he has to deal with, the horrible behavior of my brothers, how bad or mean or disrespectful or horrible they treat him. I have to then try to figure out what to do with this information when I talk to either of my brothers. And now it's not just my brothers that are doing it, but I've hopped on the bandwagon, what with not phoning Frank in a couple of months and most of the time not being around when he calls. And not answering when I am around. And then there's this health thing with Frank. The scare-me-out-of-my-wits health thing. Even though it probably shouldn't be as frightening, it just is. And I am not dealing so well with it.
I can't sleep very well. Well, I can't sleep when I want to. And I can't manage to stay awake when I want to. It's like narcolepsy, only it's selective and disturbingly so. My vision is fuzzy, but only when I put stuff in my eye, so I'm not entirely worried about that. I'm constantly cold, I can't do much to change that - I've tried. The thermostat is at 25 and I always have a blanket over me and lots of clothes to keep me warm, although it doesn't. My joints ache and my head throbs, but only in alternating fashion so aches and throbs never occur at the same time. I'm nervous, anxious and agitated. My hand shakes when I lift it to see if it's shaking. I'm worried. And I'm feeling mostly solitary.
There's also Frank. I adore Frank. I don't get Frank. He's a difficult card to read sometimes. Frank knows about my mother's health situation. Frank doesn't know much about my not having talked to my mother in a couple of months. Frank knows I'm miserable right now. He doesn't particularly like me that much when I'm miserable. Hey, Frank, frankly, neither do I, but that's a thing for another day. Bottom line about Frank is... I miss Frank.
I don't know how to ask Frank for support without being entirely terrified that he is going to tell me to piss off. I don't know how to ask Frank for help without being entirely terrified that Frank will laugh in my face. Because, frankly, I'm not very practiced at knowing how or when to say - Help me out here. I think I need a little assistance.
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