Thursday, February 24, 2005
Music
I'm not going to play right, because I'm sick and can change the rules at whim when I'm sick. (I've been in bed since 11 last night, nearly 24 hours ago, and don't feel much better now than I did earlier.)
Udge put my name down. So I guess I'll see what I can do.
What is the total amount of music files on your computer?
I'm so glad I just deleted a ton of mp3's off my hard drive a couple of days ago. I now only have 6.55 gigs.
The CD you last bought?
I think it was a purchase of more than one at the same time.
Flogging Molly (Within a Mile of Home)
Morcheeba (Fragments of Freedom)
Eagles (Hotel California)
Eric Clapton (The Cream of Clapton).
What is the song you last listened to before reading this message?
My best guess would be something by Air at work yesterday. Or the Dropkick Murphys, but I can't remember.
Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you.
1 - Dropkick Murphys, Do or Die
2 - Coal, Stay
3 - Toto, Africa
4 - Sarah McLachlan, Ice Cream
5 - Dave Matthews Band, Say Goodbye
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
This is where I'm lame. I'm not going to, as everyone has done it already. ;)
2 notes
Udge put my name down. So I guess I'll see what I can do.
What is the total amount of music files on your computer?
I'm so glad I just deleted a ton of mp3's off my hard drive a couple of days ago. I now only have 6.55 gigs.
The CD you last bought?
I think it was a purchase of more than one at the same time.
Flogging Molly (Within a Mile of Home)
Morcheeba (Fragments of Freedom)
Eagles (Hotel California)
Eric Clapton (The Cream of Clapton).
What is the song you last listened to before reading this message?
My best guess would be something by Air at work yesterday. Or the Dropkick Murphys, but I can't remember.
Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you.
1 - Dropkick Murphys, Do or Die
2 - Coal, Stay
3 - Toto, Africa
4 - Sarah McLachlan, Ice Cream
5 - Dave Matthews Band, Say Goodbye
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
This is where I'm lame. I'm not going to, as everyone has done it already. ;)
2 notes
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Sunday Link
I feel like sitting in front of a big screen and eating popcorn. But since I'm too lazy to get out of my flat, I've settled for movie trailers on apple.com. Check out the link for a spy movie trailer.
1 notes
1 notes
Friday, February 18, 2005
Because the night
Before I go out and have a good night with weird and zany people tonight, I wanted to get all the jittery-ness out. So blogging seemed like a good option. It's just that anytime I sit down in front of a keyboard with my blog open I lose whatever it is that I want to say. I know the general idea, but I lose the angle at which I want to approach the whole thing. Things just swirl in my head and I can't quite get into my own skin anymore to sit and write like I used to. Not that it's interesting at all, but I used to be able to write about anything. Without pause. Without the backspace. Without thinking or planning or rewording things. I used to have the flow of the blog entry. The starting point and the point where I wanted it to end.
I've been a little off lately. And I haven't explained why. And I find it hard to explain why. Not because I don't know. Not because I can't understand it myself. Merely for the fact that I can't find the words. I'm speechless, but only for lack of ability to put a sentence together in an understandable format. I write entries, entire blocks of text that I can't possibly put on my blog because at the point of rereading it, or reading it, I suppose, it's bullshit. It's confusion. It's nothing that says anything. At least in the past with all of my cryptic behavior, and all of my sly comments, I had a point. And I knew that should I ever reread any of the cryptic entries that I've already written that I would know just exactly what it was that I was talking about. And lately, I just can't do that. It's all on the surface and not going anywhere below. It doesn't touch me, it doesn't have anything to do with me. It's just fodder that means nothing to anyone.
I never made the time for blogging, I just happened upon it regularly. It was always just something I stumbled upon. I had something to say, something to write about, something to remind myself about at some later point. My audience drifted for a while, and I started writing for people that read this tiny little thing. I hated it, and I preemptively apologized for going back to writing for me. It bothered me that I did that. But what bothered me most is that my writing audience changed in what I wanted, but not what I wrote. It's part of the reason I've been so sparse lately - but trust me it's not the main reason. Working 12 hour days or 10 hour days since December hasn't done much for my energy levels outside the office.
A couple of people that I know are having a hard time. And not that it's anyone's business here, but I'm going to talk about it anyways. A friend of mine is going through a really tough time. For fun, I'll call him Frank. Frank's past is coming back to him. And god how I wish I could say something to make it easier. To make it better. To make it somehow bearable. Suicide isn't something that I have any experience with, but I'm no stranger to losing someone that you love.
I was chronicling this the other night - how distasteful, I know. Starting from the age of 1, I've regularly lost people in my life. Some due to accidents, some to cruel fates and some to just plain piss poor luck. I think most about my dad. I remember what it was like to watch him after a chemotherapy session. I wouldn't have missed it for the world, not because it was so great or fabulous or so awe-inspiring and magical. But because it was real. It was him. It was me. And honestly, I just couldn't do it again. I couldn't deal with it all over again. I hurt enough for one father.
Since he died, I've had a number of situations with friends, acquaintances or family members that want to know things about "how it was". And here it is. Here's how it was. This is what I'd say if I had the heart.
It was the worst thing in my entire life. It was everyday aching pain. It was every single moment of my life for one and a half years heart wrenchingly scared. Scared I'd come home and he'd be dead in his chair. Scared I'd go with him to dinner and he'd just pass away there. Frightened out of my mind that I would have to do deal with it alone. It was the saddest time of my life. Sad, not for the fact that I learned more about my dad in one and a half years than in 15 and a half, but sad for the fact that I could have learned those things later, or earlier, or never at all. Sad because I didn't need to know how he handled pain or fear. It was anguish and lonely. It was solitude in a room full of people. It was avoidance of the pity and the saddened looks of the onlookers that couldn't relate but tried to empathize in the best way they could. It was running away from the people that faked the empathy. It was frustration. It was anger. Why did it have to be him? It was tears and heartache. It's been a lump in my throat for the past 13 years. It's torture. And he didn't do it on purpose. So it's worse that you've no one to blame. No one to angle your finger at and say "You fucking jerk, why this? Why now?" And I think the worst part is that it's not over. All of those things - the pain, the fear, the sadness, the depression, the anguish, the loneliness, the running away, the frustration, the anger, the tears and heartache, the lump in my throat, the torture - it's not faded. It's still there. Every single thing is still there to its fullest extent. Time doesn't heal. Time doesn't make you forget.
But it does go on. No matter what you do.
5 notes
I've been a little off lately. And I haven't explained why. And I find it hard to explain why. Not because I don't know. Not because I can't understand it myself. Merely for the fact that I can't find the words. I'm speechless, but only for lack of ability to put a sentence together in an understandable format. I write entries, entire blocks of text that I can't possibly put on my blog because at the point of rereading it, or reading it, I suppose, it's bullshit. It's confusion. It's nothing that says anything. At least in the past with all of my cryptic behavior, and all of my sly comments, I had a point. And I knew that should I ever reread any of the cryptic entries that I've already written that I would know just exactly what it was that I was talking about. And lately, I just can't do that. It's all on the surface and not going anywhere below. It doesn't touch me, it doesn't have anything to do with me. It's just fodder that means nothing to anyone.
I never made the time for blogging, I just happened upon it regularly. It was always just something I stumbled upon. I had something to say, something to write about, something to remind myself about at some later point. My audience drifted for a while, and I started writing for people that read this tiny little thing. I hated it, and I preemptively apologized for going back to writing for me. It bothered me that I did that. But what bothered me most is that my writing audience changed in what I wanted, but not what I wrote. It's part of the reason I've been so sparse lately - but trust me it's not the main reason. Working 12 hour days or 10 hour days since December hasn't done much for my energy levels outside the office.
A couple of people that I know are having a hard time. And not that it's anyone's business here, but I'm going to talk about it anyways. A friend of mine is going through a really tough time. For fun, I'll call him Frank. Frank's past is coming back to him. And god how I wish I could say something to make it easier. To make it better. To make it somehow bearable. Suicide isn't something that I have any experience with, but I'm no stranger to losing someone that you love.
I was chronicling this the other night - how distasteful, I know. Starting from the age of 1, I've regularly lost people in my life. Some due to accidents, some to cruel fates and some to just plain piss poor luck. I think most about my dad. I remember what it was like to watch him after a chemotherapy session. I wouldn't have missed it for the world, not because it was so great or fabulous or so awe-inspiring and magical. But because it was real. It was him. It was me. And honestly, I just couldn't do it again. I couldn't deal with it all over again. I hurt enough for one father.
Since he died, I've had a number of situations with friends, acquaintances or family members that want to know things about "how it was". And here it is. Here's how it was. This is what I'd say if I had the heart.
It was the worst thing in my entire life. It was everyday aching pain. It was every single moment of my life for one and a half years heart wrenchingly scared. Scared I'd come home and he'd be dead in his chair. Scared I'd go with him to dinner and he'd just pass away there. Frightened out of my mind that I would have to do deal with it alone. It was the saddest time of my life. Sad, not for the fact that I learned more about my dad in one and a half years than in 15 and a half, but sad for the fact that I could have learned those things later, or earlier, or never at all. Sad because I didn't need to know how he handled pain or fear. It was anguish and lonely. It was solitude in a room full of people. It was avoidance of the pity and the saddened looks of the onlookers that couldn't relate but tried to empathize in the best way they could. It was running away from the people that faked the empathy. It was frustration. It was anger. Why did it have to be him? It was tears and heartache. It's been a lump in my throat for the past 13 years. It's torture. And he didn't do it on purpose. So it's worse that you've no one to blame. No one to angle your finger at and say "You fucking jerk, why this? Why now?" And I think the worst part is that it's not over. All of those things - the pain, the fear, the sadness, the depression, the anguish, the loneliness, the running away, the frustration, the anger, the tears and heartache, the lump in my throat, the torture - it's not faded. It's still there. Every single thing is still there to its fullest extent. Time doesn't heal. Time doesn't make you forget.
But it does go on. No matter what you do.
5 notes
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Just because
What I wanted
I wanted an easy night. Something where I wouldn't have to focus at all on anything that's been on my mind lately. But it didn't happen. Sorry for this, but it's just required.
I wanted you there when I turned 18. I wanted you to smile at me as I accepted my high school diploma.
I wanted to laugh with you some more while playing stupid board games.
I wanted to see your face when I started college.
I wanted to see your eyes when I moved out to finish my degree.
I wanted to feel you watching me when I graduated and was handed my degree.
I wanted to pose for pictures with you afterwards in the hot May sunshine.
I wanted to watch your shock when I would have told you I was moving away.
I wanted to see the pride in your face when I learned I could stand on my own two feet.
I wanted to be with you for the holidays, eating like a maniac.
I wanted to walk beside you as you greeted every stranger on the way to the park.
I wanted to look at your pictures and hear your stories - again and again.
I wanted to wake up on Saturdays before you just so I could wake you up.
I wanted to hear you laugh like I've not heard in 11 years.
Of all these things, of everything really... the lack of your laughter is what kills me the most.
2 notes
I wanted you there when I turned 18. I wanted you to smile at me as I accepted my high school diploma.
I wanted to laugh with you some more while playing stupid board games.
I wanted to see your face when I started college.
I wanted to see your eyes when I moved out to finish my degree.
I wanted to feel you watching me when I graduated and was handed my degree.
I wanted to pose for pictures with you afterwards in the hot May sunshine.
I wanted to watch your shock when I would have told you I was moving away.
I wanted to see the pride in your face when I learned I could stand on my own two feet.
I wanted to be with you for the holidays, eating like a maniac.
I wanted to walk beside you as you greeted every stranger on the way to the park.
I wanted to look at your pictures and hear your stories - again and again.
I wanted to wake up on Saturdays before you just so I could wake you up.
I wanted to hear you laugh like I've not heard in 11 years.
Of all these things, of everything really... the lack of your laughter is what kills me the most.
2 notes
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Happy Singles' Awareness Day aka Valentine's Day
If I could, I'd buy you a box of chocolates and a cheesy heart shaped card.
Instead, I'll give you a link to a random advice column.
Happy hearts and flowers day!
3 notes
Instead, I'll give you a link to a random advice column.
Happy hearts and flowers day!
3 notes
Science discovery
It's proven that Americans don't have rhythm - check the link, I wouldn't lie about this kind of stuff.
0 notes
0 notes
If only I could be bothered
So I've been keeping busy lately. I've been sleeping far too little, eating far too much and this past week I think I drank too much beer during the week. I'm struggling to find a way to keep up the blog with keeping work life in work. Since most of my time in the past couple of months has been either at the office or sleeping, I can't come up with any decent blog fodder. It's disturbing slightly. I'd like to start reserving some time everyday to find something to write about, but I fear I won't really get far.
3 notes
3 notes
Saturday, February 05, 2005
I shouldn't be allowed
Someone should make it impossible for me to post after a certain time of day. I've been awake longer than I should be so please accept my apology before reading this.
I've had a few things to deal with recently that tip me off to being incredibly not-so-good. For instance, who needs an email about how bad or good muslims can be? Apparently I do. And thank god I have people that will send me such emails.
On to other and better topics. I went out drinking tonight for my birthday. Someone remind me to not do that again. It's not good for my health. I had far too many drinks, and I didn't pay for more than one all night.
On an entirely different note... Some guys are good guys, I swear it.
There's this thing, this one thing that I can't really put my finger on. I'm not so comfortable with what I'm doing or what I should be doing or what I should be handling and how well. I'm not good at getting anyone to relax. What I really need is a good weekend at a spa with a friend. Anyone feel like a getaway?
3 notes
I've had a few things to deal with recently that tip me off to being incredibly not-so-good. For instance, who needs an email about how bad or good muslims can be? Apparently I do. And thank god I have people that will send me such emails.
On to other and better topics. I went out drinking tonight for my birthday. Someone remind me to not do that again. It's not good for my health. I had far too many drinks, and I didn't pay for more than one all night.
On an entirely different note... Some guys are good guys, I swear it.
There's this thing, this one thing that I can't really put my finger on. I'm not so comfortable with what I'm doing or what I should be doing or what I should be handling and how well. I'm not good at getting anyone to relax. What I really need is a good weekend at a spa with a friend. Anyone feel like a getaway?
3 notes
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Groundhog's day
It's like last Wednesday all over again.
The kids in the kindergarten are beating on their bongos.
It's snowing.
I'm one year older.
4 notes
The kids in the kindergarten are beating on their bongos.
It's snowing.
I'm one year older.
4 notes
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Mia talk
So at about 6 months old, the kitten is still cute. She's prone to walking around the flat while I'm here, meowing loudly, and completely ignoring my vocal reply. It's as if she wasn't talking to me in the first place.
She likes sinks, and the bath tub. Rarely does a shower not end with me stepping out of the tub, wrapped in a towel, as Mia hops over the edge of the tub and slides herself into the tub. From there, she's not yet figured out what to do, but fakes it well by sniffing around the floor of the tub and the edges near the corners.
After I brush my teeth, or after I finish washing dishes, I can't get out of the room before Mia jumps into the sink. As an example, I just finished washing my dishes from my snack this evening - let's not call it dinner, it was toast, tomatoes and cheese - and before I could dry my hands, Mia was stepping gingerly into my chrome sink. She laid down. She looked up at me and huffed as if she were telling me that I just don't know how to live properly. When I went to rinse off my hand, I opened the tap just a tiny tiny bit so that she would realize that the sink is a receptacle for water - which she's not terribly fond of. She leaped out and her feet barely hit the floor before she was out of the kitchen.
She's not fond of her water bowl. By this I don't mean she doesn't drink water, she just prefers to drink my water. From my glass. And I've noticed when she's done drinking from my glass of water, she snarfs in it. It then becomes her water.
Every time I open the fridge and she's close by, she needs to check it out. Just to see what's in there. She practically climbs inside.
Just to placate me, she seems to understand me when I say "Down" when she's gotten up on the counter. I know she's a cat and it's beyond their realm of abilities to obey, but anything's possible.
She used to (until I got smart) take used tea bags out of the garbage and, get this, break them open just to play with the grounded tea leaves. Which really just means that she likes to open tea bags and spread the tea everywhere for kicks. It's probably not as much fun to clean tea up as it is to play with the emptying bags, but that's just a guess.
This cat has a remarkable ability to be a complete pain in the ass while I'm in the kitchen making food. She attacks my legs, which proves dangerous since she's quite small still, and I either end up nearly stepping on her, or I get dangerously close to spilling something either on her or near her. I think she's conspiring for a snack. However, the pain in the ass behavior ceases once I sit down to eat anything and then she becomes the sweetest thing in the world and tries to get as close to my plate as possible. So she can have a snack. Which she never gets.
Mia likes me. And the reason that I know this is that anytime I'm under a blanket and she comes to lay on me, she licks my chin. If I move so that she isn't licking my chin anymore, she gets up from laying on me and moves so that I can't really turn my head away from her. If that doesn't prove how much she likes me, perhaps the fact that every time I come in the front door, she's sitting just far enough away from the door to allow me to come in without smacking her with the door does.
And she meows when I walk up the stairs outside my flat. I like to think of it as her very own welcoming party for me. Which indeed, it likely is.
She watches tv. From the arm of the couch. Or from a perch in front of the tv, at dangerously close distances. She's going to go crosseyed if she keeps it up.
I'm hoping to get her claws clipped tonight without losing all of my skin. Wish me luck.
2 notes
She likes sinks, and the bath tub. Rarely does a shower not end with me stepping out of the tub, wrapped in a towel, as Mia hops over the edge of the tub and slides herself into the tub. From there, she's not yet figured out what to do, but fakes it well by sniffing around the floor of the tub and the edges near the corners.
After I brush my teeth, or after I finish washing dishes, I can't get out of the room before Mia jumps into the sink. As an example, I just finished washing my dishes from my snack this evening - let's not call it dinner, it was toast, tomatoes and cheese - and before I could dry my hands, Mia was stepping gingerly into my chrome sink. She laid down. She looked up at me and huffed as if she were telling me that I just don't know how to live properly. When I went to rinse off my hand, I opened the tap just a tiny tiny bit so that she would realize that the sink is a receptacle for water - which she's not terribly fond of. She leaped out and her feet barely hit the floor before she was out of the kitchen.
She's not fond of her water bowl. By this I don't mean she doesn't drink water, she just prefers to drink my water. From my glass. And I've noticed when she's done drinking from my glass of water, she snarfs in it. It then becomes her water.
Every time I open the fridge and she's close by, she needs to check it out. Just to see what's in there. She practically climbs inside.
Just to placate me, she seems to understand me when I say "Down" when she's gotten up on the counter. I know she's a cat and it's beyond their realm of abilities to obey, but anything's possible.
She used to (until I got smart) take used tea bags out of the garbage and, get this, break them open just to play with the grounded tea leaves. Which really just means that she likes to open tea bags and spread the tea everywhere for kicks. It's probably not as much fun to clean tea up as it is to play with the emptying bags, but that's just a guess.
This cat has a remarkable ability to be a complete pain in the ass while I'm in the kitchen making food. She attacks my legs, which proves dangerous since she's quite small still, and I either end up nearly stepping on her, or I get dangerously close to spilling something either on her or near her. I think she's conspiring for a snack. However, the pain in the ass behavior ceases once I sit down to eat anything and then she becomes the sweetest thing in the world and tries to get as close to my plate as possible. So she can have a snack. Which she never gets.
Mia likes me. And the reason that I know this is that anytime I'm under a blanket and she comes to lay on me, she licks my chin. If I move so that she isn't licking my chin anymore, she gets up from laying on me and moves so that I can't really turn my head away from her. If that doesn't prove how much she likes me, perhaps the fact that every time I come in the front door, she's sitting just far enough away from the door to allow me to come in without smacking her with the door does.
And she meows when I walk up the stairs outside my flat. I like to think of it as her very own welcoming party for me. Which indeed, it likely is.
She watches tv. From the arm of the couch. Or from a perch in front of the tv, at dangerously close distances. She's going to go crosseyed if she keeps it up.
I'm hoping to get her claws clipped tonight without losing all of my skin. Wish me luck.
2 notes
Not a myth
(I know this will sound remarkably stupid to those of you who lived in places where it snowed your entire life, but for those of us that grew up in sunny California, allow me a little leeway here.)
Snowflakes really are six-sided-pointy-star-shaped pretty things. Or for visual reference: click here - only imagine it's not pink
Who knew?
0 notes
Snowflakes really are six-sided-pointy-star-shaped pretty things. Or for visual reference: click here - only imagine it's not pink
Who knew?
0 notes
Wherein I update more than once a week
My fever woes from the last day of the weekend, well, let's just say that the fever only lasted a few hours. And I figured I should go to work on Monday. So I did do. And I promised myself I wouldn't be at the office more than 10 hours. Woah! Wait just one second. TEN HOURS. And this was a BARGAIN? Yeah, that's right. I made a deal with myself to not stay at the office -nearly ill- for more than 10 hours while it gusted outside and dumped frozen bits of water from the sky. The building swayed and I felt a little more than nauseous. Aches and pains made themselves known sometime in the afternoon and I hurriedly tried to finish what absolutely needed to be done for the entire rest of the week to allow me the leniency of not being terribly stressed for 4 days. I plotted and schemed to allow myself sick time! From work! Surely, this can't be acceptable.
It took me eight and a half hours to leave the office yesterday. EIGHT AND A HALF. It's like a miracle! Or I could have just forgotten about 6 things. But let's not dwell too much here.
I left the office and ordered indian, after an exceptionally high amount of debate with myself. I ate. And I ate. And I ate. It was like I'd not had any food in 5 years. And then I slept. When I woke up this morning at (god-fucking-forbid) 8 am, I thought to myself, "Where do I ache, and by what degree?"
Analysis said I ached in far too many places and by too high degree to allow myself another eight and a half hour day. So I slept. For 6 more hours. Walking to the grocery store -in the snow!- was fun, if not merely for the fact that I was outside of a building for a few minutes. (Note to self: Please, for fuck's sake, Kirsten, go to the goddamned bank and renew your stupid goddamn bankomat card. It's been a month already.) Winter, by the way, is so not over in Vienna. It's snowing every day (finally) and it gets dark super early. That's my excuse for the (second in one day!) nap I took about an hour ago - darkness makes you tired! But only when under the weather.
I don't have a fever (I keep checking - I'm paranoid.), I ache only slightly however constantly, and I look less than pretty, but not as sickly as I did yesterday, which means I look less like a scary grimy monster or my eyes are damaged again. What with these kind of improvements, I just might have to promise myself an eight and a half hour workday tomorrow.
0 notes
It took me eight and a half hours to leave the office yesterday. EIGHT AND A HALF. It's like a miracle! Or I could have just forgotten about 6 things. But let's not dwell too much here.
I left the office and ordered indian, after an exceptionally high amount of debate with myself. I ate. And I ate. And I ate. It was like I'd not had any food in 5 years. And then I slept. When I woke up this morning at (god-fucking-forbid) 8 am, I thought to myself, "Where do I ache, and by what degree?"
Analysis said I ached in far too many places and by too high degree to allow myself another eight and a half hour day. So I slept. For 6 more hours. Walking to the grocery store -in the snow!- was fun, if not merely for the fact that I was outside of a building for a few minutes. (Note to self: Please, for fuck's sake, Kirsten, go to the goddamned bank and renew your stupid goddamn bankomat card. It's been a month already.) Winter, by the way, is so not over in Vienna. It's snowing every day (finally) and it gets dark super early. That's my excuse for the (second in one day!) nap I took about an hour ago - darkness makes you tired! But only when under the weather.
I don't have a fever (I keep checking - I'm paranoid.), I ache only slightly however constantly, and I look less than pretty, but not as sickly as I did yesterday, which means I look less like a scary grimy monster or my eyes are damaged again. What with these kind of improvements, I just might have to promise myself an eight and a half hour workday tomorrow.
0 notes
