I was struck with a really interesting thought process earlier.
Today, my accomplishments could best be measured (okay, I definitely almost split another infinitive, and I definitely caught it, again.) ...anyway, measured in terms of what I did not do, rather than what I did do.
Today, I didn't watch all three episodes of ST:TNG. I only watched two. In fact, I didn't even watch the 2am one. I didn't insist on my boycott of Denny's on account of their abolition of the smoking section. I didn't need that much help handling business at Job Deux. And most importantly, I didn't back down from my assertion that I was going to empty out my MySpace profile and never look back. So maybe I posted a bulletin explaining my departure. I think that's allowed.
I didn't surrender to porn surfing after I got home from hanging out. I instead listened to some music, and then picked up my guitar and gave it a bit of exercise. And now, I am blogging. And I haven't picked the same playlist to which I've been listening nonstop these past couple of days; I picked an album I've never listened to before.
Come to think of it, today's been really unusual, and I can't think of a good reason for that. At all.
I suppose I should do a little catching up, to cover the time between my last entry. God, I don't even remember what my last entry was about. Okay.. turns out it was a screen capture from a MySpace bulletin I posted. Wow.
Well, in short: I cut my hair. I was interviewed and hired at Signius Communications, where I answer phones for a variety of different people. Shelly had no small role in getting me considered for the position, for which I'm quite grateful. I've been training these past couple weeks, and honestly, I think everything's going to be fine.
I went on the camping trip, which was absolutely fantastic. The pictures are up and they are also fantastic. It was a fitting vacation, and it was most definitely the kind I'd been sorely needing.
Speaking of the camping trip, I have to go out to my car, and dig up my sketchbook. I did some writing out on a pier, the night we ended up leaving, and while it's raw material and I made no efforts to refine it whatsoever, at the time it satisfied my need for self-expression. And so, without further ado:
I am the full moon.
I am the lone headlights, a mile away, on a bridge.
I am this glass lake, a bay on one side, and a raging river on the other.
I am the barely perceptible breeze.
I am the call of all these unfamiliar birds, and the owl punctuating them.
The shadow on this page falls in a peculiar fashion.
These occasional moments of solitude remind me just how alone I am not.
The only sounds I can hear are the ones that speak to me.
The ones that reassure me there's more to life than seeking potentially lucrative uphill battles.
Wherever the storm, all the rain will eventually return to the sea.
I am far better at painting with words, or with light, than with a brush.
And it's amazing, how an hour can turn a glass lake into a maelstrom. A bunch of us were playing cards in our screened-in room, well after quiet time because, shit. It was our last night there. We didn't care about noise, plus everyone else had RVs that likely insulated sound. Anyway, we were playing cards, and two storms blew in simultaneously; one down the Potomac, and one down the bay. There was no rain, only lots of lightning.
Jason, Francis, and myself all decided to walk out onto the causeway so we could watch the storm roll over the bay. Keep in mind, where we were, the bay was about 30 miles wide, so we still had an unobstructed view of the one storm from our relatively safe intended vantage point. On the walk over there, the wind started to pick up like we couldn't believe. After getting slightly lost in the woods, we finally got out to the causeway.
The lightning was like the grand finale at any Fourth of July fireworks show you've ever been to, except it didn't end. You could read by it. Every half-second, another massive lightning bolt shot down to the water, illuminating the massive wall of fog forming on the horizon. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced.
Only moments after we arrived, that glass lake was spitting waves about six or seven feet beyond its usual shoreline, starting to lightly flood the roadway on which we stood. And only moments after that, a van full of our compadres rolled up, and informed us the wind was destroying our campsite. We returned, and found all the pop tents nearly collapsed, and the screened-in room reduced to a heap of metal and mesh. (My complicated-ass tent was the only one that survived the 60mph winds with no problem.) After determining the tents to be uninhabitable, and getting a weather report from someone back home stating the storm was supposed to get worse, we haphazardly broke camp and left, at 2:20AM.
The peaceful, idyllic trip ended in a clusterfuck of wind, lightning, and chaos. And that was about as beautiful as the rest of the trip, in its own strange way.
I think with that, I'm going to bed. Chances are, most people reading this have already heard this story anyway, but I don't think I've written it out before. I feel like I've accomplished something. Bonsoir,
(DB) out.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
good boy, bad blogger.
So, after nearly a month of negligence, I somehow feel compelled to return to blogging.
I think I was prompted to return by a paper Jaime's doing, asking about MySpace, and other social networking / instant communication phenomena and how they've been popping up in society as of late.
We did a phone interview last night, where she asked me a number of questions about MySpace, how important it is to my life, what it enhances, what it detracts from, et cetera.
She asked me to make a list of things, positive and negative, that MySpace has contributed to my life. Then she asked which list was more difficult to make.
Funny enough that the positive list was more difficult.
Then I read an article on Wired about committing "MySpacecide." And for the past hour or so, I've found myself increasingly entertained with the prospect of erasing my page and stating that I only want to be contacted via AIM, email, or phone.
I feel like it could be an important step in my personal growth. No idea what direction that step would take me, but I feel like it would theoretically be important nonetheless.
Oh god, why did I just notice that I was about to split an infinitive, and correct the mistake?
Would emptying my MySpace and allowing it to rot change me, or change how I interact with people? Maybe time will tell.
In other news, I haven't been blogging because I've been busy starting the new job, doing the camping trip, and otherwise sorting my life out.
Note to self: pay credit card bill for month before you forget.
Believe it or not, I haven't been spending as much time on MySpace. Maybe because I'm growing bored with it, maybe because I'm starting to realize that of all the strangers that've come my way, only a few have been worth keeping around.
If the whole purpose of MySpace is finding new friends, and I've only found a few, then who the hell are all those other people in my "social network?"
I think I've answered my own question.
I think I just might take the plunge.
Of course, this is speculative. I actually have to sit down and do it.
And I might have to do it in the presence of friends.
I think I was prompted to return by a paper Jaime's doing, asking about MySpace, and other social networking / instant communication phenomena and how they've been popping up in society as of late.
We did a phone interview last night, where she asked me a number of questions about MySpace, how important it is to my life, what it enhances, what it detracts from, et cetera.
She asked me to make a list of things, positive and negative, that MySpace has contributed to my life. Then she asked which list was more difficult to make.
Funny enough that the positive list was more difficult.
Then I read an article on Wired about committing "MySpacecide." And for the past hour or so, I've found myself increasingly entertained with the prospect of erasing my page and stating that I only want to be contacted via AIM, email, or phone.
I feel like it could be an important step in my personal growth. No idea what direction that step would take me, but I feel like it would theoretically be important nonetheless.
Oh god, why did I just notice that I was about to split an infinitive, and correct the mistake?
Would emptying my MySpace and allowing it to rot change me, or change how I interact with people? Maybe time will tell.
In other news, I haven't been blogging because I've been busy starting the new job, doing the camping trip, and otherwise sorting my life out.
Note to self: pay credit card bill for month before you forget.
Believe it or not, I haven't been spending as much time on MySpace. Maybe because I'm growing bored with it, maybe because I'm starting to realize that of all the strangers that've come my way, only a few have been worth keeping around.
If the whole purpose of MySpace is finding new friends, and I've only found a few, then who the hell are all those other people in my "social network?"
I think I've answered my own question.
I think I just might take the plunge.
Of course, this is speculative. I actually have to sit down and do it.
And I might have to do it in the presence of friends.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Monday, March 27, 2006
i tried my best to leave this all on your machine
Okay, so I thought I'd let another night slip by without a blog entry, that I'd just peruse my usual porn sites, get a little giddy about the camping trip, and go to bed.
But I just stumbled across one of the most amusing stacks of notebook paper that I've seen in a long time.
Apparently, when I was still in high school, I declared a Random Haiku Day. I wrote some, and others wrote some. Highlights include:
old poet
gets kicks hanging around ponds
...inner meaning...
I know of maybe two people in the entire world who could tell me the name of the poet I'm making fun of. (I did so because of the two weeks spent breaking down one single haiku.) One person was there throughout the whole thing. The other is thom.
jesus fucking ape shit
just stop testing the intercom
we know you're there.
cat pounces
fly makes narrow escape
blinds torn.
time glides as molasses
the clocks don't tick here
they oooozzze
That one was one of my personal favorites. Judging from the handwriting, it seems like one of my own.
i think that i like breasts
i don't know why i'm writing in french
mmm... breasts
smoke rises
devastation throughout
another cigarette dead
Come to think of it, a lot of these have a distinct "me" ring to them. This one, however, was not mine:
badgers bite your head.
people watch you fall down, hurt.
badgers worldwide win.
Bob Hunsicker, wherever you are, you're my hero.
I also found some stuff from my angsty drawing phase... most of it, now that I look at it, is pretty morbid. My favorite features a girlfriend (turned close friend, later) with whom I'd had a nasty falling-out at the time. It's really insane, thinking about how much bitterness I was trying to squeeze out in one picture.
However, with all that said and done, I am so damn excited about this camping trip. A bunch of us got together tonight to plan the specifics, and with each passing day it feels like more and more pieces are falling into place.
Speaking of falling into place, I went to a party with Francis on Friday night, and I distinctly remember falling into a bed. I woke up in a walk-in closet. My memories of the time between those two events are dizzy, hazy, and they return a 404 when I try to recall details. (GOD I am a dork.)
Needless to say, Saturday hurt. Ooh, and it looks like Francis is going to be able to come camping too. Qu'est excitant.
Thankfully, the weekend of headaches and shafted sleep schedules is over. Now, back to my regularly scheduled insomnia.
(DB) out.
But I just stumbled across one of the most amusing stacks of notebook paper that I've seen in a long time.
Apparently, when I was still in high school, I declared a Random Haiku Day. I wrote some, and others wrote some. Highlights include:
old poet
gets kicks hanging around ponds
...inner meaning...
I know of maybe two people in the entire world who could tell me the name of the poet I'm making fun of. (I did so because of the two weeks spent breaking down one single haiku.) One person was there throughout the whole thing. The other is thom.
jesus fucking ape shit
just stop testing the intercom
we know you're there.
cat pounces
fly makes narrow escape
blinds torn.
time glides as molasses
the clocks don't tick here
they oooozzze
That one was one of my personal favorites. Judging from the handwriting, it seems like one of my own.
i think that i like breasts
i don't know why i'm writing in french
mmm... breasts
smoke rises
devastation throughout
another cigarette dead
Come to think of it, a lot of these have a distinct "me" ring to them. This one, however, was not mine:
badgers bite your head.
people watch you fall down, hurt.
badgers worldwide win.
Bob Hunsicker, wherever you are, you're my hero.
I also found some stuff from my angsty drawing phase... most of it, now that I look at it, is pretty morbid. My favorite features a girlfriend (turned close friend, later) with whom I'd had a nasty falling-out at the time. It's really insane, thinking about how much bitterness I was trying to squeeze out in one picture.
However, with all that said and done, I am so damn excited about this camping trip. A bunch of us got together tonight to plan the specifics, and with each passing day it feels like more and more pieces are falling into place.
Speaking of falling into place, I went to a party with Francis on Friday night, and I distinctly remember falling into a bed. I woke up in a walk-in closet. My memories of the time between those two events are dizzy, hazy, and they return a 404 when I try to recall details. (GOD I am a dork.)
Needless to say, Saturday hurt. Ooh, and it looks like Francis is going to be able to come camping too. Qu'est excitant.
Thankfully, the weekend of headaches and shafted sleep schedules is over. Now, back to my regularly scheduled insomnia.
(DB) out.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
feeling like i like feeling, or fun with palindromes
I love Zero7.
So earlier this morning (well, yesterday) my brother came home. Actually, probably about 24 hours ago on the dot. He was plastered, put a pizza in the oven, then forgot about it and passed out. Fortunately my dad got up a half hour later, and noticed the pizza before it caught fire.
Tonight, my brother called and said he got a flat tire up in Loch Raven, and misplaced his housekeys, and told me to unlock the house. Fun, because I was at Shelly's, and then had to take Francis back to Abingdon. There really wasn't any vacancy in my schedule to go let drunky mcdrunkerson in. Fortunately he did find his keys; I walked in, to find him hunched over a bowl of stew on the couch, drooling on himself.
I thought his visit/return would be frustrating. I thought I'd be reminded of all the wicked things I usually think about him in his absense. But rather than being frustrating, his return is serving more as pure, unadulterated entertainment. If he can manage to curb that nasty habit of setting our house up to burn down, then I say he should stay for a while. It's really like Christmas. Every stupid little thing he does is like opening up a new DVD. I'm waiting with bated breath for the DVD player to be unwrapped.
But yeah, I saw Francis again, which I enjoyed, like last time. The question was posed as to whether or not we're "officially dating," and the answer was, "we're seeing where things were going."
A cookie for the person who can correctly tell who said what.
Ooh, and thus the fun with "like" and "feel" begins.
While I do have an aversion to "official" anything, I do like where things are going. I like how things haven't been rushed. I like feeling like they're not going to. Innocence and wonder are attractive and beautiful things. I feel like my sense of wonder could use some company, maybe a little rejuvenation. I feel like even though my innocence scabbed itself over with cynicism long ago, and even though I protect myself via deliberate detachment from what I perceive to be others' opinions of me, none of that really matters... I like the stirring of warmth underneath my weathered, cold, day-to-day psyche.
(i desperately wanted to use "tabula rasa" up there, but i couldn't in good conscience put it in there in a way that wouldn't flow, so just let that be known)
I like feeling new.
(DB) out.
So earlier this morning (well, yesterday) my brother came home. Actually, probably about 24 hours ago on the dot. He was plastered, put a pizza in the oven, then forgot about it and passed out. Fortunately my dad got up a half hour later, and noticed the pizza before it caught fire.
Tonight, my brother called and said he got a flat tire up in Loch Raven, and misplaced his housekeys, and told me to unlock the house. Fun, because I was at Shelly's, and then had to take Francis back to Abingdon. There really wasn't any vacancy in my schedule to go let drunky mcdrunkerson in. Fortunately he did find his keys; I walked in, to find him hunched over a bowl of stew on the couch, drooling on himself.
I thought his visit/return would be frustrating. I thought I'd be reminded of all the wicked things I usually think about him in his absense. But rather than being frustrating, his return is serving more as pure, unadulterated entertainment. If he can manage to curb that nasty habit of setting our house up to burn down, then I say he should stay for a while. It's really like Christmas. Every stupid little thing he does is like opening up a new DVD. I'm waiting with bated breath for the DVD player to be unwrapped.
But yeah, I saw Francis again, which I enjoyed, like last time. The question was posed as to whether or not we're "officially dating," and the answer was, "we're seeing where things were going."
A cookie for the person who can correctly tell who said what.
Ooh, and thus the fun with "like" and "feel" begins.
While I do have an aversion to "official" anything, I do like where things are going. I like how things haven't been rushed. I like feeling like they're not going to. Innocence and wonder are attractive and beautiful things. I feel like my sense of wonder could use some company, maybe a little rejuvenation. I feel like even though my innocence scabbed itself over with cynicism long ago, and even though I protect myself via deliberate detachment from what I perceive to be others' opinions of me, none of that really matters... I like the stirring of warmth underneath my weathered, cold, day-to-day psyche.
(i desperately wanted to use "tabula rasa" up there, but i couldn't in good conscience put it in there in a way that wouldn't flow, so just let that be known)
I like feeling new.
(DB) out.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
musical experiment
Right this very moment, I'm wondering if I can type a blog entry whilst listening to the Scissor Sisters. Either I'll start getting funktastic, or switch to my Tao playlist because it's much more mellow.
Do I even need mellow?
Tonight, I was an inwardly cranky bitch. I just felt bad. If I wanted to, I could count the reasons why on one hand. But in my head, none of it's really all that simple, and avalanches are the result of one snowflake too many.
I should probably clean my room, but it's nowhere on my list of real priorities. (A list that probably needs some reevaluation anyway.) Fitting that a cluttered head should keep its environs in kind. I kinda feel like I want ravioli, too, but I think we're out of it...
My next day off is next Tuesday. My first instinct was to complain about it, and I know by Tuesday I'll probably be a ball of nerves, but at least I'll feel more useful than I did over my last impromptu hiatus. Le giggity. That and I've got another hiatus coming up in three weeks anyway, followed by a rash of days I'll be off for some reason or another. Highlights include: bridal shower, camping trip, birthday, and a prom. Yes, you read correctly. Con Francis. Am I retarded for agreeing to something so relatively soon? Probably. But, what's the point in living if you don't act on random feelings every now and then, and see where you end up?
I'll have to pull together a tux and such... or do what I tried to do last time and raid the JCPenney men's clearance section. Hey, for the same amount of money, if I can summon a fashionable ensemble together and keep it, why not? I still have my pimp cane from my prom. I definitely plan on it making an appearance.
I really don't know if I can keep up with the Scissor Sisters at this time of night, and/or in this mood. And this is sad, but I've refrained from picking something else because I don't know... fuck it, I'll just revisit Incubus' "Make Yourself." It's been quite some time since I listened to that all the way through, or at least in any sort of consecutive track order.
My legs hurt, but I can't find any other sitting arrangement that's more comfortable. I feel like I want to sleep, make ravioli, hibernate.. who knows. Whilst on the phone earlier, I said that I occasionally delude myself into thinking this will be my last winter spent in Baltimore. I feel like I'm full of crap, because there's almost no way I could pull off a move to a warmer clime, but I can dream, right?
I miss my guitar. But it's out in my car, and I really don't feel like braving the cold to go get it. I'd pick it up, play for five minutes, become overtaken with a wave of uninspiration, and go back to thinking about eating or sleeping, or being in Phoenix. Perhaps it's that self-defeating train of thought that causes the uninspiration to begin with, and it's just a self-perpetuating cycle.
Thus, in order to create something, I have to feel like I can. It should be simple, right?
I love how things in life, more often than not, are perfectly capable of being their own antitheses.
Why am I even writing here? I only know of two readers. If I had ravioli, it'd be ravioli time. But I think I'm going to go make do with something else.
(DB) out.
Do I even need mellow?
Tonight, I was an inwardly cranky bitch. I just felt bad. If I wanted to, I could count the reasons why on one hand. But in my head, none of it's really all that simple, and avalanches are the result of one snowflake too many.
I should probably clean my room, but it's nowhere on my list of real priorities. (A list that probably needs some reevaluation anyway.) Fitting that a cluttered head should keep its environs in kind. I kinda feel like I want ravioli, too, but I think we're out of it...
My next day off is next Tuesday. My first instinct was to complain about it, and I know by Tuesday I'll probably be a ball of nerves, but at least I'll feel more useful than I did over my last impromptu hiatus. Le giggity. That and I've got another hiatus coming up in three weeks anyway, followed by a rash of days I'll be off for some reason or another. Highlights include: bridal shower, camping trip, birthday, and a prom. Yes, you read correctly. Con Francis. Am I retarded for agreeing to something so relatively soon? Probably. But, what's the point in living if you don't act on random feelings every now and then, and see where you end up?
I'll have to pull together a tux and such... or do what I tried to do last time and raid the JCPenney men's clearance section. Hey, for the same amount of money, if I can summon a fashionable ensemble together and keep it, why not? I still have my pimp cane from my prom. I definitely plan on it making an appearance.
I really don't know if I can keep up with the Scissor Sisters at this time of night, and/or in this mood. And this is sad, but I've refrained from picking something else because I don't know... fuck it, I'll just revisit Incubus' "Make Yourself." It's been quite some time since I listened to that all the way through, or at least in any sort of consecutive track order.
My legs hurt, but I can't find any other sitting arrangement that's more comfortable. I feel like I want to sleep, make ravioli, hibernate.. who knows. Whilst on the phone earlier, I said that I occasionally delude myself into thinking this will be my last winter spent in Baltimore. I feel like I'm full of crap, because there's almost no way I could pull off a move to a warmer clime, but I can dream, right?
I miss my guitar. But it's out in my car, and I really don't feel like braving the cold to go get it. I'd pick it up, play for five minutes, become overtaken with a wave of uninspiration, and go back to thinking about eating or sleeping, or being in Phoenix. Perhaps it's that self-defeating train of thought that causes the uninspiration to begin with, and it's just a self-perpetuating cycle.
Thus, in order to create something, I have to feel like I can. It should be simple, right?
I love how things in life, more often than not, are perfectly capable of being their own antitheses.
Why am I even writing here? I only know of two readers. If I had ravioli, it'd be ravioli time. But I think I'm going to go make do with something else.
(DB) out.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
guerilla entry
so, my objective for right now is to type the most pithy entry possible in the shortest amount of time. It's kinda ridiculous that I've been off work for five days and haven't blogged once.
I finally got a new phone. The Verizon flavor of the razr that doesn't crash and has a decent camera. St. Patty's Day was extremely anticlimactic, but I hadn't seen Tabby or Val in a while, so it was all right in the end. I met a guy named Francis (I know, from Myspace, shoot me) and we had a really awesome and random first date. I went to see Motion City Soundtrack and The Format with Bec, and their wonderfulness waxed and waxed, until ultimately we ended up getting autographs from two of the guys from the Format, and went home satisfied. Today was a random porn day.
I think that's about as close I can get to a short summary of my time off.
Oh, and my brother's home, and I haven't felt compelled to kill him yet.
I'm also completely broke.
(DB) out.
I finally got a new phone. The Verizon flavor of the razr that doesn't crash and has a decent camera. St. Patty's Day was extremely anticlimactic, but I hadn't seen Tabby or Val in a while, so it was all right in the end. I met a guy named Francis (I know, from Myspace, shoot me) and we had a really awesome and random first date. I went to see Motion City Soundtrack and The Format with Bec, and their wonderfulness waxed and waxed, until ultimately we ended up getting autographs from two of the guys from the Format, and went home satisfied. Today was a random porn day.
I think that's about as close I can get to a short summary of my time off.
Oh, and my brother's home, and I haven't felt compelled to kill him yet.
I'm also completely broke.
(DB) out.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
i'm told i should blog more
and so I will, at least while I'm thinking about it.
Let it be noted that I've tried to type this post repeatedly. It has succumbed to distractions, browser crashes, and general inattention on my part. But hell, I was doing my taxes. And let me just say, we're all just lucky that I haven't decided to shoot myself in the face. Which wouldn't be unreasonable, considering the abysmal refund I'm (hah) entitled to, in combination with my financial woes of late.
Maybe I should stop building servers out of ancient parts for my own gratification, and take up prostitution. Or pyramid-scheme marketing.
...or shoot myself in the face.
I am a tire, and the circumstances of my life are fallen, wet leaves. Thus, as per normal, I haven't got too many exciting things to write about. Aside from the amazing weekend I had - it wasn't amazing for any reason other than the weather - nothing's been going on. I definitely want the fantastic warm weather to come back and stay that way. Either that or I want to move to Phoenix.
Although knowing my ass, I'd get tired of the insane perpetual heat and want to come back. It can be funny, wondering how things would be different there, though ultimately coming to the conclusion that the way I get along with the world in general would remain largely unchanged. I'd still have too many bills, not enough money, a nearly nonexistent sense of purpose... the list goes on. But, at least styling my hair would be easier, as humidity in Phoenix is about as extant as my sense of purpose.
In some random fluke of scheduling, after tomorrow (well, today, Wednesday, wtf ever) I have five days off in a row. I didn't ask for them, nor am I entirely happy about them. Yeah, it's awesome having a lot of time off to do whatever I want, but when I don't have unlimited (or any) amounts of money to spend, five days without any structure is probably going to kill me. I'm sick of it being too cold to go and enjoy the low-cost option of spending time outside.
You'd think by now I'd learn that I can't control the weather. But, if I could, I'd definitely find something else to bother me when I was feeling restless and slightly cranky, so there's really no point. Speaking of restless and cranky, my brother's coming home Friday, for his spring break. And my five-day hiatus from work is going to partially coincide with that.
I think March 15th is going to be "Say 'Shoot Myself in the Face' Day."
The only plus side to my brother's return is going to be getting my new cell phone. I dunno... my thoughts on him are... unpleasant.
I've talked with my mom about this at great lengths, and also with friends who may or may not fully understand the scope of my feelings. When I came out, all of a sudden, he started treating me like I didn't exist. (I know, sometimes I wonder whether or not I do, but that's my call, and no one else's.) And it hasn't really stopped. He only contacts me for tech support on his godforsaken Dell. And he stole my Ethernet cable. Worse, though, about that, is that he doesn't even know what an Ethernet cable is.
According to my parents, he occasionally asks about me, how I'm doing and such. We never really talk. We never really have, come to think of it. The fact that we had a generally unsubstantial relationship to begin with somewhat bothered me, but two years ago, it was better than it ever had been before. But all of a sudden, I come out, and I become the gay brother he avoids like the plague, unless he needs something. When he was here the last time, his very presence grated on my nerves. I guess it's frustrating, not knowing how he feels and only being able to rely on observations of his behavior. It's more frustrating knowing what those observations imply.
I hate the thought that my own brother personifies a good bit of what I hate about American society in general. I hate the thought that he could probably say the same about me. I hate the fact that being who I am automatically places me beneath fresh, sun-drenched dog shit on his scale of esteem for others.
When I was younger, and at Carver, my teacher was once sharing an anecdote about a student she once had, who was under some extreme duress, who could only express himself through profanity when asked about one particular thing/person/noun. She never fully went into particulars, I assume the student still went to Carver at the time...
I hate the fact that when asked about my brother, I'm reduced to that point of intense profanity, and bitter loathing. It's obviously a defense mechanism. I know he dislikes me, so somewhere in my head, I'll automatically do one better. I won't just dislike him. I'll stop just short of completely and totally hating him.
Seriously. Even as I'm typing this, the adrenaline's rushing, and I find my lip curling.
I hate the fact that the very thought of him breaks down all the walls and filters I try to maintain between rationality and emotion, and just go for the damned jugular. I like to think I've got a good grip on what goes on inside my head most of the time, and as we all know, I don't take very well to being told I'm wrong.
I'd better get to sleep before I find myself unable.
(DB) out.
Let it be noted that I've tried to type this post repeatedly. It has succumbed to distractions, browser crashes, and general inattention on my part. But hell, I was doing my taxes. And let me just say, we're all just lucky that I haven't decided to shoot myself in the face. Which wouldn't be unreasonable, considering the abysmal refund I'm (hah) entitled to, in combination with my financial woes of late.
Maybe I should stop building servers out of ancient parts for my own gratification, and take up prostitution. Or pyramid-scheme marketing.
...or shoot myself in the face.
I am a tire, and the circumstances of my life are fallen, wet leaves. Thus, as per normal, I haven't got too many exciting things to write about. Aside from the amazing weekend I had - it wasn't amazing for any reason other than the weather - nothing's been going on. I definitely want the fantastic warm weather to come back and stay that way. Either that or I want to move to Phoenix.
Although knowing my ass, I'd get tired of the insane perpetual heat and want to come back. It can be funny, wondering how things would be different there, though ultimately coming to the conclusion that the way I get along with the world in general would remain largely unchanged. I'd still have too many bills, not enough money, a nearly nonexistent sense of purpose... the list goes on. But, at least styling my hair would be easier, as humidity in Phoenix is about as extant as my sense of purpose.
In some random fluke of scheduling, after tomorrow (well, today, Wednesday, wtf ever) I have five days off in a row. I didn't ask for them, nor am I entirely happy about them. Yeah, it's awesome having a lot of time off to do whatever I want, but when I don't have unlimited (or any) amounts of money to spend, five days without any structure is probably going to kill me. I'm sick of it being too cold to go and enjoy the low-cost option of spending time outside.
You'd think by now I'd learn that I can't control the weather. But, if I could, I'd definitely find something else to bother me when I was feeling restless and slightly cranky, so there's really no point. Speaking of restless and cranky, my brother's coming home Friday, for his spring break. And my five-day hiatus from work is going to partially coincide with that.
I think March 15th is going to be "Say 'Shoot Myself in the Face' Day."
The only plus side to my brother's return is going to be getting my new cell phone. I dunno... my thoughts on him are... unpleasant.
I've talked with my mom about this at great lengths, and also with friends who may or may not fully understand the scope of my feelings. When I came out, all of a sudden, he started treating me like I didn't exist. (I know, sometimes I wonder whether or not I do, but that's my call, and no one else's.) And it hasn't really stopped. He only contacts me for tech support on his godforsaken Dell. And he stole my Ethernet cable. Worse, though, about that, is that he doesn't even know what an Ethernet cable is.
According to my parents, he occasionally asks about me, how I'm doing and such. We never really talk. We never really have, come to think of it. The fact that we had a generally unsubstantial relationship to begin with somewhat bothered me, but two years ago, it was better than it ever had been before. But all of a sudden, I come out, and I become the gay brother he avoids like the plague, unless he needs something. When he was here the last time, his very presence grated on my nerves. I guess it's frustrating, not knowing how he feels and only being able to rely on observations of his behavior. It's more frustrating knowing what those observations imply.
I hate the thought that my own brother personifies a good bit of what I hate about American society in general. I hate the thought that he could probably say the same about me. I hate the fact that being who I am automatically places me beneath fresh, sun-drenched dog shit on his scale of esteem for others.
When I was younger, and at Carver, my teacher was once sharing an anecdote about a student she once had, who was under some extreme duress, who could only express himself through profanity when asked about one particular thing/person/noun. She never fully went into particulars, I assume the student still went to Carver at the time...
I hate the fact that when asked about my brother, I'm reduced to that point of intense profanity, and bitter loathing. It's obviously a defense mechanism. I know he dislikes me, so somewhere in my head, I'll automatically do one better. I won't just dislike him. I'll stop just short of completely and totally hating him.
Seriously. Even as I'm typing this, the adrenaline's rushing, and I find my lip curling.
I hate the fact that the very thought of him breaks down all the walls and filters I try to maintain between rationality and emotion, and just go for the damned jugular. I like to think I've got a good grip on what goes on inside my head most of the time, and as we all know, I don't take very well to being told I'm wrong.
I'd better get to sleep before I find myself unable.
(DB) out.
Friday, March 03, 2006
the word of the day is "ruminate." WARNING: this post contains poetry
The blogger widget crashed my computer, and made it look like my last entry didn't post. But it looks like it did.
Before getting to today, and the poetry, I feel like I should backtrack a little.
Last night, I met a boy. Which isn't entirely unusual for me. What was unusual, however, is how our interactions unfolded. I went in with a perceived lack of chemistry hovering in the back of my mind, but remembered that expectations are, 99% of the time, precursors to disappointment. So I let things flow, and flow they did. Here's where the unusual begins: One minute, the TV's on, he's making a ton of phone calls, moving about a mile a minute, and I'm wondering how long it'll be before I start to take exception to it all. But, after a little while, we're sitting, listening to music, and talking. We talked for hours about everything and nothing. I was in awe that a connection was forming with such a relative stranger. All in all, it was nice. Nicer though that things didn't take that all-too-familiar turn to the purely physical.
While the compatibility of our lifestyles seems a little up in the air, I'm going to see him again. Nobody ever knows exactly what's going to happen to them, so why worry about details prematurely?
Tonight, I went to Denny's with Jinah. Just Jinah. It was unusual, as normally we're out in a whole huge crowd. After sitting and ruminating for a good bit of time, we both left feeling peaceful. It was nice, in a subtle sort of way.
Let it be noted that after my coffee binge last week, I seem to have developed a taste for it. As if smoking and constantly drinking soda weren't enough reasons to start carrying mints around.
When I got home I was in a tea and poetry mood, in keeping with the whole peaceful business. And now, for your reading pleasure, an ode to greasy-spoon diners.
low-rent, high class
or somewhere decidedly in between
that's where life is.
coffee, cigarette smoke, cooking oil
obscure differences normally
decided by thickness of wallet.
cacophony- is this the sound
of the space between your ears
or everyone talking at once-
or both?
loud answers to questions
you never knew you had
and loud questions
you might never want answered.
something will be brought to the table.
take it, leave it,
order something, put something out there-
or both.
this is where the philosophy happens, and
these are the philosophers.
dressed too nicely, or
sporting a misguided haircut
despite appearances everyone blends together.
history forgets most of the "comfortable"
grad students with all the answers,
and remembers most of the
"tortured" bums with all the questions, if sufficiently loud-mouthed.
there's no filet mignon here,
nor could most afford it if there were.
regardless of our lives,
this is where living happens.
Print that, find the nearest 24-hour diner, get there somehow, and do some ruminating of your own. (Not that anyone I know has ever had a problem finding a diner.)
(DB) out.
Before getting to today, and the poetry, I feel like I should backtrack a little.
Last night, I met a boy. Which isn't entirely unusual for me. What was unusual, however, is how our interactions unfolded. I went in with a perceived lack of chemistry hovering in the back of my mind, but remembered that expectations are, 99% of the time, precursors to disappointment. So I let things flow, and flow they did. Here's where the unusual begins: One minute, the TV's on, he's making a ton of phone calls, moving about a mile a minute, and I'm wondering how long it'll be before I start to take exception to it all. But, after a little while, we're sitting, listening to music, and talking. We talked for hours about everything and nothing. I was in awe that a connection was forming with such a relative stranger. All in all, it was nice. Nicer though that things didn't take that all-too-familiar turn to the purely physical.
While the compatibility of our lifestyles seems a little up in the air, I'm going to see him again. Nobody ever knows exactly what's going to happen to them, so why worry about details prematurely?
Tonight, I went to Denny's with Jinah. Just Jinah. It was unusual, as normally we're out in a whole huge crowd. After sitting and ruminating for a good bit of time, we both left feeling peaceful. It was nice, in a subtle sort of way.
Let it be noted that after my coffee binge last week, I seem to have developed a taste for it. As if smoking and constantly drinking soda weren't enough reasons to start carrying mints around.
When I got home I was in a tea and poetry mood, in keeping with the whole peaceful business. And now, for your reading pleasure, an ode to greasy-spoon diners.
low-rent, high class
or somewhere decidedly in between
that's where life is.
coffee, cigarette smoke, cooking oil
obscure differences normally
decided by thickness of wallet.
cacophony- is this the sound
of the space between your ears
or everyone talking at once-
or both?
loud answers to questions
you never knew you had
and loud questions
you might never want answered.
something will be brought to the table.
take it, leave it,
order something, put something out there-
or both.
this is where the philosophy happens, and
these are the philosophers.
dressed too nicely, or
sporting a misguided haircut
despite appearances everyone blends together.
history forgets most of the "comfortable"
grad students with all the answers,
and remembers most of the
"tortured" bums with all the questions, if sufficiently loud-mouthed.
there's no filet mignon here,
nor could most afford it if there were.
regardless of our lives,
this is where living happens.
Print that, find the nearest 24-hour diner, get there somehow, and do some ruminating of your own. (Not that anyone I know has ever had a problem finding a diner.)
(DB) out.
Monday, February 27, 2006
holy crap, this is awesome.
so, this is a dramatic milestone for me- I've never been able to keep up with a blog for this long. Well, not long, because chronologically, the last one is older. But as far as posting on a basis that borders on consistency, this one has them all trumped.
And it looks like Blogger decided to celebrate by making a widget, that hopefully works. If you're reading this, the widget worked.
Last week was a whole lot of boring, paired up with a whole lot of crazy. Highlights include a broken heater, Dave's sprained (but almost broken) ankle, three pots of coffee between the two of us, and going to Orpheus only to find out that while I ingeniously removed the X's on my hands, I forgot about the hand stamp that signifies "i'm over 21!" I then woke up to find that my mild cold had redoubled its efforts in making my head feel painfully detached from the rest of my body. At least, in the wake of all of it, I have a fabulous makeup job to look back on.
Things that are exciting: my having some time to do some songwriting tomorrow, because I don't work until later in the day, and my parents will be at work, and I'll have unrestricted access to the piano. giggity.
It's also been a considerable amount of time since I started this post. I got preoccupied trying to record a cover of "They Don't Know," by Tracey Ullman. Given that I haven't got access to a choir of joyful-sounding women, nor have I access to Garageband, it's largely Iron-and-Wine-do-Such-Great-Heights-esque.
Today, I spent way too much time on Myspace. I don't think I needed to sign in more than once. I hit "Reload" enough times to keep me logged in. That's pathetic. But, I did substantially update it lately, so you should check it out. And be my friend if you're not already. Think of it this way- if you're one of the regular readers who occasionally hounds me to update, Myspace gives you one more method of doing so. On that note, I'm going to bed- today's been pathetic enough.
(DB) out.
And it looks like Blogger decided to celebrate by making a widget, that hopefully works. If you're reading this, the widget worked.
Last week was a whole lot of boring, paired up with a whole lot of crazy. Highlights include a broken heater, Dave's sprained (but almost broken) ankle, three pots of coffee between the two of us, and going to Orpheus only to find out that while I ingeniously removed the X's on my hands, I forgot about the hand stamp that signifies "i'm over 21!" I then woke up to find that my mild cold had redoubled its efforts in making my head feel painfully detached from the rest of my body. At least, in the wake of all of it, I have a fabulous makeup job to look back on.
Things that are exciting: my having some time to do some songwriting tomorrow, because I don't work until later in the day, and my parents will be at work, and I'll have unrestricted access to the piano. giggity.
It's also been a considerable amount of time since I started this post. I got preoccupied trying to record a cover of "They Don't Know," by Tracey Ullman. Given that I haven't got access to a choir of joyful-sounding women, nor have I access to Garageband, it's largely Iron-and-Wine-do-Such-Great-Heights-esque.
Today, I spent way too much time on Myspace. I don't think I needed to sign in more than once. I hit "Reload" enough times to keep me logged in. That's pathetic. But, I did substantially update it lately, so you should check it out. And be my friend if you're not already. Think of it this way- if you're one of the regular readers who occasionally hounds me to update, Myspace gives you one more method of doing so. On that note, I'm going to bed- today's been pathetic enough.
(DB) out.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
if you're reading this, i haven't thought of a title
I spent the entirety of today feeling like I don't exist. Why, you ask? I slept til 4pm and didn't shower or get dressed until a good bit after 8pm. I sometimes disgust even myself.
I did nothing all day. I went to the diner though, and just got back not too long ago, so I guess that could count for something.
I think yesterday was pretty similar as well. I spent an inordinate amount of time re-doing my Myspace page, because I discovered how to use the br tag to keep the "About Me" section from removing line breaks. Oh, and I went on a date yesterday, which was nice. We saw "Transamerica," which was pretty good and not too heavy, considering the plot, then had coffee and a bite to eat.
Many hours have passed since I started this entry. i've attempted to develop an understanding of some basic Japanese. I have failed thus far. And now I'm going to bed, because I'm tired.
(DB) out.
I did nothing all day. I went to the diner though, and just got back not too long ago, so I guess that could count for something.
I think yesterday was pretty similar as well. I spent an inordinate amount of time re-doing my Myspace page, because I discovered how to use the br tag to keep the "About Me" section from removing line breaks. Oh, and I went on a date yesterday, which was nice. We saw "Transamerica," which was pretty good and not too heavy, considering the plot, then had coffee and a bite to eat.
Many hours have passed since I started this entry. i've attempted to develop an understanding of some basic Japanese. I have failed thus far. And now I'm going to bed, because I'm tired.
(DB) out.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
my tires are spinning
Despite my best efforts to get my shit together sometimes, I always seem to fall short.
I think in this case I'm referring to keeping up on my blog. It seems like I always forget about it, at least when things are interesting. When things are eventful, I tend to keep my mouth shut, because I'm not done processing my reactions to events, and I'm afraid of saying something that might be misinterpreted, or interpreted perfectly and unfavorably received. But, hell with it.
This is what's been bothering me these past couple days, and a number of people know about this and a number of people might not. Those who need to know will be able to substitute in the correct proper nouns.
A close friend of mine is getting married in a couple weeks. She's packing up her stuff and moving somewhere far off. I know I shouldn't look to pop culture for wisdom, but somewhere in the Matrix trilogy, it was said that "you can never see past a choice you don't understand." And I could go on forever talking about how I disagree with her reasons for leaving so soon, but all it comes down to is, no matter how many times I run the facts through my head, I can't come up with a solid understanding of any of it. So, I choose to understand something far more simple.
I'm going to be losing contact with someone I've known since I was practically a child. I don't want her to go. And since I haven't fully come to terms with why she's leaving, I know that when she goes, it's going to be quite some time that I'll be worrying about her, wondering whether or she's okay, and moreover whether or not she's happy. It's not my place to tell her what to do, and it's really not even my place to be worrying. But such are the failures of human nature; our abilities to act as we think we should become impeded where the people we care about are concerned.
She wants me to help her pack sometime this week. And I'm afraid. The five-year-old inside says, "why should I help her pack up and leave me for reasons I disagree with?" After stifling that particular voice, I get a feeling that I can really only describe like this:
When you take your cell phone out of your pocket, and it's been on silent, and it says "One New Voice Message," and you're waiting to hear whether or not someone made it through surgery, or whether or not you got a job offer, or something equally important. You want to know, and you know you have to confront the situation, but you hesitate before you press the "Check Messages" button. If the moment of truth is going to change everything, you want to hold on to reality as you know it for just a little longer, even if it doesn't help anything in the long run.
I don't know how I'm going to be affected by watching one of my closest friends put her life into boxes, and take her leave of me. I don't know if I'm going to approach the situation with grace, or if I'm going to break down into a blubbering fool, or if neither of those will happen. We might end up spending the whole encounter laughing about little things, having lunch, and making fun of her old possessions, just like she wasn't leaving at all. Historically, neither of us have good track records avoiding elephants in the room when it comes to our feelings, and either of us finally pulled it off, I don't even know how I'd feel about that.
When all is said and done, I fear this change, but I don't want to avoid it. I just need to take that leap of faith.
In other news, there is really no other news. We had a snowstorm. Whoopee. I haven't worked much this week, and accordingly, I haven't had too much to do with myself. I need to get on the ball with waking up before my parents come home from work, because I feel like I could use a little therapeutic "me" time in front of the piano, which doesn't happen often when they're here. Too loud or something. Well, that and sometimes I'm self-conscious about music unless I know exactly how I want what I'm playing to sound. when I start to patch songs together out of nowhere, I don't like having other present during the creative process. Which may be something I should look at working on if I ever hope to be something other than a bad musician.
Right now, I'm rejoicing in the fact that I know how to type, and I don't have to look at the screen. I've got my head thrown back on my chair, I've got my headphones on, and an adequate knowledge of keyboard shortcuts. I don't even have to look up to change the song I'm listening to. Which feels good. Sometimes it's nice just to write. Which I should probably look at doing more of, if I ever hope to be anything other than a bad writer.
So, readers, I will now torture you with every single thought that runs through my head, because I haven't really got any other form of constructive outlet for them.
Either a cafe needs to open up right by my house, or I need to move somewhere with independently-owned coffee shops. I also need to get a new working laptop, so I'm not confined to my desk. I think I've handled this bad reed switch situation a lot better than I thought I would, but it's impacting my creativity. Sitting around in a room populated almost exclusively by laundry probably stifles more than it inspires.
I've been exchanging emails with someone over the past week or so, and I haven't received one today (this waking cycle, anyway) and it's thrown off my routine more than I thought it would. Granted it's just an email, and considering how not close I am to the person I've been talking to, I still wish I'd gotten one. Oh well, I suppose i leaves me something to look forward to the next couple of times I go to check my emails.
Speaking of waking cycles, why do I go to bed at 11:30 thinking that my body's going to let me get a normal night's sleep? Of course I then wake up at 2, and can't get to bed. I work at 5 today (tomorrow) and I know I have to fit in a nap somewhere between now and then.
Okay, wow, so I just looked up and realized how idiotically long this post has become. So now I'm going to take my leave of it. As practice, maybe.
(DB) out.
I think in this case I'm referring to keeping up on my blog. It seems like I always forget about it, at least when things are interesting. When things are eventful, I tend to keep my mouth shut, because I'm not done processing my reactions to events, and I'm afraid of saying something that might be misinterpreted, or interpreted perfectly and unfavorably received. But, hell with it.
This is what's been bothering me these past couple days, and a number of people know about this and a number of people might not. Those who need to know will be able to substitute in the correct proper nouns.
A close friend of mine is getting married in a couple weeks. She's packing up her stuff and moving somewhere far off. I know I shouldn't look to pop culture for wisdom, but somewhere in the Matrix trilogy, it was said that "you can never see past a choice you don't understand." And I could go on forever talking about how I disagree with her reasons for leaving so soon, but all it comes down to is, no matter how many times I run the facts through my head, I can't come up with a solid understanding of any of it. So, I choose to understand something far more simple.
I'm going to be losing contact with someone I've known since I was practically a child. I don't want her to go. And since I haven't fully come to terms with why she's leaving, I know that when she goes, it's going to be quite some time that I'll be worrying about her, wondering whether or she's okay, and moreover whether or not she's happy. It's not my place to tell her what to do, and it's really not even my place to be worrying. But such are the failures of human nature; our abilities to act as we think we should become impeded where the people we care about are concerned.
She wants me to help her pack sometime this week. And I'm afraid. The five-year-old inside says, "why should I help her pack up and leave me for reasons I disagree with?" After stifling that particular voice, I get a feeling that I can really only describe like this:
When you take your cell phone out of your pocket, and it's been on silent, and it says "One New Voice Message," and you're waiting to hear whether or not someone made it through surgery, or whether or not you got a job offer, or something equally important. You want to know, and you know you have to confront the situation, but you hesitate before you press the "Check Messages" button. If the moment of truth is going to change everything, you want to hold on to reality as you know it for just a little longer, even if it doesn't help anything in the long run.
I don't know how I'm going to be affected by watching one of my closest friends put her life into boxes, and take her leave of me. I don't know if I'm going to approach the situation with grace, or if I'm going to break down into a blubbering fool, or if neither of those will happen. We might end up spending the whole encounter laughing about little things, having lunch, and making fun of her old possessions, just like she wasn't leaving at all. Historically, neither of us have good track records avoiding elephants in the room when it comes to our feelings, and either of us finally pulled it off, I don't even know how I'd feel about that.
When all is said and done, I fear this change, but I don't want to avoid it. I just need to take that leap of faith.
In other news, there is really no other news. We had a snowstorm. Whoopee. I haven't worked much this week, and accordingly, I haven't had too much to do with myself. I need to get on the ball with waking up before my parents come home from work, because I feel like I could use a little therapeutic "me" time in front of the piano, which doesn't happen often when they're here. Too loud or something. Well, that and sometimes I'm self-conscious about music unless I know exactly how I want what I'm playing to sound. when I start to patch songs together out of nowhere, I don't like having other present during the creative process. Which may be something I should look at working on if I ever hope to be something other than a bad musician.
Right now, I'm rejoicing in the fact that I know how to type, and I don't have to look at the screen. I've got my head thrown back on my chair, I've got my headphones on, and an adequate knowledge of keyboard shortcuts. I don't even have to look up to change the song I'm listening to. Which feels good. Sometimes it's nice just to write. Which I should probably look at doing more of, if I ever hope to be anything other than a bad writer.
So, readers, I will now torture you with every single thought that runs through my head, because I haven't really got any other form of constructive outlet for them.
Either a cafe needs to open up right by my house, or I need to move somewhere with independently-owned coffee shops. I also need to get a new working laptop, so I'm not confined to my desk. I think I've handled this bad reed switch situation a lot better than I thought I would, but it's impacting my creativity. Sitting around in a room populated almost exclusively by laundry probably stifles more than it inspires.
I've been exchanging emails with someone over the past week or so, and I haven't received one today (this waking cycle, anyway) and it's thrown off my routine more than I thought it would. Granted it's just an email, and considering how not close I am to the person I've been talking to, I still wish I'd gotten one. Oh well, I suppose i leaves me something to look forward to the next couple of times I go to check my emails.
Speaking of waking cycles, why do I go to bed at 11:30 thinking that my body's going to let me get a normal night's sleep? Of course I then wake up at 2, and can't get to bed. I work at 5 today (tomorrow) and I know I have to fit in a nap somewhere between now and then.
Okay, wow, so I just looked up and realized how idiotically long this post has become. So now I'm going to take my leave of it. As practice, maybe.
(DB) out.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Notable Diner Quotes
"Oh, you know what I hate? When little dogs smell of cheese." ~me
"It smelled like I'd just been sleeping, wrapped up in a zombie." ~Devlin
"Sexual etiquette 101: Always leave at least five minutes between coming and leaving the bitch in the fucking dust!" ~me
"XTig RAXX" ~everyone
"Dude, you got eyed up like a cat in a Thai food market." ~me
Discuss.
"It smelled like I'd just been sleeping, wrapped up in a zombie." ~Devlin
"Sexual etiquette 101: Always leave at least five minutes between coming and leaving the bitch in the fucking dust!" ~me
"XTig RAXX" ~everyone
"Dude, you got eyed up like a cat in a Thai food market." ~me
Discuss.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Do it. Take your mama out all night.
And I did, in a manner of speaking.
She was in some old photos I found whilst recovering my oldest hard drive yet. All my old pictures and music are now back. Last night was uneventul save for that.
I'm still elated about that. Every picture from late 2000 til now! Recovered! Giggity!
The gaping hole that Firefly left in my spirit has now been filled again, if only ephemerally.
Tonight, my friend Dave's cat decided to sit down with his junk square on my cell phone. We decided to call the phone, as it was on vibrate, and watch his cat rocket across the room. But, as soon as the call went through, the cat sat there and allowed my phone to intimately massage him.
Dave has the gayest cat ever.
I wish I had more profound things to say. But alas, I'm really, really tired. And I need to go clean off my cell phone. On that note, bonsoir.
(DB) out.
She was in some old photos I found whilst recovering my oldest hard drive yet. All my old pictures and music are now back. Last night was uneventul save for that.
I'm still elated about that. Every picture from late 2000 til now! Recovered! Giggity!
The gaping hole that Firefly left in my spirit has now been filled again, if only ephemerally.
Tonight, my friend Dave's cat decided to sit down with his junk square on my cell phone. We decided to call the phone, as it was on vibrate, and watch his cat rocket across the room. But, as soon as the call went through, the cat sat there and allowed my phone to intimately massage him.
Dave has the gayest cat ever.
I wish I had more profound things to say. But alas, I'm really, really tired. And I need to go clean off my cell phone. On that note, bonsoir.
(DB) out.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
and the lord said...
thou shalt sleep until 4-fucking-pm.
and thy pants shalt fall nearly off as thou walketh inside from thy "morning cigarette."
and thou shalt never forget to put on a belt again.
In other news. not too much has been going on. I finished watching all of Firefly, and then finally Serenity, and there's a hole in my life where the promise of new episodes to watch used to be. Last night I watched the Discovery Channel and Ocean's Twelve, and it just wasn't the same as watching three or six episodes of Firefly at a time.
I should've known, though, that with 15 episodes, available in blocks of three each, it wouldn't have lasted very long anyway.
Other than that, I've been working, sleeping quite well, and playing the gee-tar.
I was supposed to go to the gym with Louise today, but I slept straight through her phone call, which was at... eww, 11:10? She should've known better. Hah. Although, last night, I did tell her just to "see if I'm conscious" before committing to anything. I don't know if I foresaw myself sleeping so late, or if I was subconsciously aware of that loophole and then allowed myself to sleep so late. Questions for the ages.
Tonight, I'm apparently going to see Lilu Dallas at Sonar, with everyone from the store. If I'm going anywhere, with any other human being in my presence, I need to go clean out my car, because it probably stinks.
(DB) out.
and thy pants shalt fall nearly off as thou walketh inside from thy "morning cigarette."
and thou shalt never forget to put on a belt again.
In other news. not too much has been going on. I finished watching all of Firefly, and then finally Serenity, and there's a hole in my life where the promise of new episodes to watch used to be. Last night I watched the Discovery Channel and Ocean's Twelve, and it just wasn't the same as watching three or six episodes of Firefly at a time.
I should've known, though, that with 15 episodes, available in blocks of three each, it wouldn't have lasted very long anyway.
Other than that, I've been working, sleeping quite well, and playing the gee-tar.
I was supposed to go to the gym with Louise today, but I slept straight through her phone call, which was at... eww, 11:10? She should've known better. Hah. Although, last night, I did tell her just to "see if I'm conscious" before committing to anything. I don't know if I foresaw myself sleeping so late, or if I was subconsciously aware of that loophole and then allowed myself to sleep so late. Questions for the ages.
Tonight, I'm apparently going to see Lilu Dallas at Sonar, with everyone from the store. If I'm going anywhere, with any other human being in my presence, I need to go clean out my car, because it probably stinks.
(DB) out.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
He lives!
After a brief hiatus due to:
1) drama with Nameless Boy that held true to my probability predictions
2) a pretty serious crash involving trying to put ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag (iLife '06, 500MHz G3)
3) picking up my damn guitar
I've returned. NB is totally done and over with, and I've been sleeping much better because of it. My computer lives once again, but it's seriously time for a new one, which should be happening around tax refund time. And I've missed my guitar so very much.
The question of the week for me is, do I want to join a gym? Do I really need to spend money I don't have so I can go and run on a treadmill and play with fancy weight machines, both of which can be easily substituted with free, home-brew exercise solutions?
All signs point to no, but we'll see where my checking account (HAH) points, and that will guide the final decision.
In a matter of hours, I have to go down to Bethesda. And I don't trust myself to wake up in four hours, so I think it might be another Super Sunday for me- no sleep until around 11:00 or noon.
My stomach is grumbling, and I don't feel like spending money to fix that. Unfortunate, because my house is entirely devoid of food. Fortunately, a pack of cigarettes costs much less than a meal, and works as an appetite suppressant.
If I had an armband, i'd probably go running right now, because I need something to do and I feel like I've got calories to burn. But running around while holding a hard drive based iPod = really bad idea. I don't need to land myself at the Genius Bar again due to an ill-conceived idea that seemed much better before it came crashing down on my head, and all the devices that I'd readily sacrifice my spleen to protect.
Yes, he lives, but is he really living? That's for you to decide.
And now, for your regularly scheduled insomnia,
(DB) out.
1) drama with Nameless Boy that held true to my probability predictions
2) a pretty serious crash involving trying to put ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag (iLife '06, 500MHz G3)
3) picking up my damn guitar
I've returned. NB is totally done and over with, and I've been sleeping much better because of it. My computer lives once again, but it's seriously time for a new one, which should be happening around tax refund time. And I've missed my guitar so very much.
The question of the week for me is, do I want to join a gym? Do I really need to spend money I don't have so I can go and run on a treadmill and play with fancy weight machines, both of which can be easily substituted with free, home-brew exercise solutions?
All signs point to no, but we'll see where my checking account (HAH) points, and that will guide the final decision.
In a matter of hours, I have to go down to Bethesda. And I don't trust myself to wake up in four hours, so I think it might be another Super Sunday for me- no sleep until around 11:00 or noon.
My stomach is grumbling, and I don't feel like spending money to fix that. Unfortunate, because my house is entirely devoid of food. Fortunately, a pack of cigarettes costs much less than a meal, and works as an appetite suppressant.
If I had an armband, i'd probably go running right now, because I need something to do and I feel like I've got calories to burn. But running around while holding a hard drive based iPod = really bad idea. I don't need to land myself at the Genius Bar again due to an ill-conceived idea that seemed much better before it came crashing down on my head, and all the devices that I'd readily sacrifice my spleen to protect.
Yes, he lives, but is he really living? That's for you to decide.
And now, for your regularly scheduled insomnia,
(DB) out.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Requiem for a Dream
WARNING
The following post contains tons of bitterness, and probably, tons of idiocy.
Why do you get to keep me awake at night, when you've been out drinking and you've been asleep for hours?
Why is it that considering the fact that nothing I say to you is going to change you, and considering how you've acted in the past, plus considering my own thoughts, there's only a 0.06% chance of a mutually happy ending?
(Don't ask questions about how I got to that number. There's a method to the madness.)
And let's not even go into probability estimates as to whether or not you're going to call me and explain everything, as promised. The last time we'll speak most likely already happened.
And why is it, that in the face of those odds, I still retain hope? Why do you deserve any shred of optimism from me? What is it about you, and me, that makes me want to hold on so dearly?
Because despite my best attempts to dance around the word, I'm in love with you, and I desperately hope you just tell me what to go do with myself, because that'll be easier than wondering every waking moment whether or not you're a figment of my imagination.
What's there to wonder, you ask? I don't fall asleep thinking about someone who ignores me until it becomes convenient not to. I didn't make a mixtape for someone who I could envision using it as a coaster. Cell phone bills be damned. Even if you picked up the phone to tell me to fuck off and call you later, I'm sure you'd keep it under one billable minute.
If this is the person you are all the time, I'd rather hang on to the memories of the version of you who cared, file them under "We'll always have Paris," and get on with my life.
But as it stands, I don't know if I'll ever find out. Hah. Here I write this, probably... hmm... seven or eight hours before I masochistically attempt to call you and make sure we both understand what was said tonight, because even if you do, you've probably got no idea how to handle it.
And I don't care how much you say you want me in your life. If that's so goddamn true, start acting like it.
(DB) out.
The following post contains tons of bitterness, and probably, tons of idiocy.
Why do you get to keep me awake at night, when you've been out drinking and you've been asleep for hours?
Why is it that considering the fact that nothing I say to you is going to change you, and considering how you've acted in the past, plus considering my own thoughts, there's only a 0.06% chance of a mutually happy ending?
(Don't ask questions about how I got to that number. There's a method to the madness.)
And let's not even go into probability estimates as to whether or not you're going to call me and explain everything, as promised. The last time we'll speak most likely already happened.
And why is it, that in the face of those odds, I still retain hope? Why do you deserve any shred of optimism from me? What is it about you, and me, that makes me want to hold on so dearly?
Because despite my best attempts to dance around the word, I'm in love with you, and I desperately hope you just tell me what to go do with myself, because that'll be easier than wondering every waking moment whether or not you're a figment of my imagination.
What's there to wonder, you ask? I don't fall asleep thinking about someone who ignores me until it becomes convenient not to. I didn't make a mixtape for someone who I could envision using it as a coaster. Cell phone bills be damned. Even if you picked up the phone to tell me to fuck off and call you later, I'm sure you'd keep it under one billable minute.
If this is the person you are all the time, I'd rather hang on to the memories of the version of you who cared, file them under "We'll always have Paris," and get on with my life.
But as it stands, I don't know if I'll ever find out. Hah. Here I write this, probably... hmm... seven or eight hours before I masochistically attempt to call you and make sure we both understand what was said tonight, because even if you do, you've probably got no idea how to handle it.
And I don't care how much you say you want me in your life. If that's so goddamn true, start acting like it.
(DB) out.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Sometimes, I just have to ridicule myself.
On the agenda for tomorrow: Continue to ridicule my song-writing ability, then attempt to do something useful with my guitar, considering the crap lyrics I managed to spit out tonight.
On the agenda for the week: Find a sunny day and go hang out in Mt. Vernon, because I think I could stand to do so.
On the agenda for the year: Visit family in Phoenix, AZ, then take an overnight trip to Mexico where I shall buy prescription drugs, and attempt to contract a tapeworm, nature's miracle weight-loss cure.
But now, I sleep.
(DB) out.
On the agenda for the week: Find a sunny day and go hang out in Mt. Vernon, because I think I could stand to do so.
On the agenda for the year: Visit family in Phoenix, AZ, then take an overnight trip to Mexico where I shall buy prescription drugs, and attempt to contract a tapeworm, nature's miracle weight-loss cure.
But now, I sleep.
(DB) out.
things that are weird
I opened Safari and typed "blogger" before I typed "myspace." After months and months, maybe all this blogging is working.
Or maybe I've learned that when I don't have any new emails, I really don't have anything new on Myspace.
Today I worked, and went to Denny's. It's funny because everyone alive decided to go there. Given that it's a Monday night, it was a little weird. Although all the regulars were there, and we exchanged knowing glances about all the idiots filling in the tables between us.
Translucent Metaphor Day was not very translucent, nor very metaphorical.
You know, I'm not really feeling the blogness right now. So maybe I'll holler later.
(DB) out.
Or maybe I've learned that when I don't have any new emails, I really don't have anything new on Myspace.
Today I worked, and went to Denny's. It's funny because everyone alive decided to go there. Given that it's a Monday night, it was a little weird. Although all the regulars were there, and we exchanged knowing glances about all the idiots filling in the tables between us.
Translucent Metaphor Day was not very translucent, nor very metaphorical.
You know, I'm not really feeling the blogness right now. So maybe I'll holler later.
(DB) out.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Jan. 30 is Translucent Metaphor Day
karma- It would figure. The one night I start to think, "you know, I'm not gonna sit on my ass and watch TV, I'm gonna listen to The MoPod Show and tend to my blog," bam. No MoPod Show update. It would figure, as I haven't updated my own blog in a couple days.
The past few days have been eventful / not at all. I spent a lot of time watching Firefly, a sci-fi show that surprisingly enough, flew under my radar long enough that a feature film release brought it to my attention. It only ran for one season, and all 15 episodes are available OnDemand. Friday night, I didn't leave the house.
My sleep schedule's reversed itself over the course of the past few weeks. I've been working more nights than I was before, so now, the late-night hours are my afternoon. At least that's how it would seem. I don't know how I feel about that, but as long as i'm getting something close to enough sleep, I guess that's okay.
I've been on an emotional rollercoaster with Nameless Boy. I really think I must be a girl or something. I worry about things. He redeems himself with a few well-chosen words, not even knowing that's what he's doing. I stop worrying, then a few days later, it all repeats itself over again.
Everyone remember A and B days from middle/high school? It feels something like that. A Days = everything's fine in my head, B days = everything's going straight to hell, in my head.
This is probably because there's not enough going on in the world outside of my head for me to analyze or base any thought processes on.
I've been told before to stop thinking, and to just feel. Weird scenario: The presence of certain emotions doesn't fluctuate very much, but how much I'm affected by it certainly does.
Sailboats only move when there's wind filling their sails. And try though as we do, none of us can say with any certainty when wind is coming.
I'd almost declare it another Short Paragraph Day, but it's already been used up. Maybe today is "translucent metaphor day." Not transparent, because even though it doesn't take too much to see what I mean, it's not immediately apparent what exactly I'm referring to.
I think I'm going to take a nap now, because I've nothing else to do and every baby step I take towards getting my sleep schedule back to normal is a good step.
Random thought of the moment: I want to put on nice clothes and go out on a date, that isn't to Sushi Hana. That's more of a sanctuary for me now. Take me somewhere with nice food, low lights, and unobtrusive ambient music. I want to feel... you know, that ellipsis could just as well be a period.
(DB) out.
The past few days have been eventful / not at all. I spent a lot of time watching Firefly, a sci-fi show that surprisingly enough, flew under my radar long enough that a feature film release brought it to my attention. It only ran for one season, and all 15 episodes are available OnDemand. Friday night, I didn't leave the house.
My sleep schedule's reversed itself over the course of the past few weeks. I've been working more nights than I was before, so now, the late-night hours are my afternoon. At least that's how it would seem. I don't know how I feel about that, but as long as i'm getting something close to enough sleep, I guess that's okay.
I've been on an emotional rollercoaster with Nameless Boy. I really think I must be a girl or something. I worry about things. He redeems himself with a few well-chosen words, not even knowing that's what he's doing. I stop worrying, then a few days later, it all repeats itself over again.
Everyone remember A and B days from middle/high school? It feels something like that. A Days = everything's fine in my head, B days = everything's going straight to hell, in my head.
This is probably because there's not enough going on in the world outside of my head for me to analyze or base any thought processes on.
I've been told before to stop thinking, and to just feel. Weird scenario: The presence of certain emotions doesn't fluctuate very much, but how much I'm affected by it certainly does.
Sailboats only move when there's wind filling their sails. And try though as we do, none of us can say with any certainty when wind is coming.
I'd almost declare it another Short Paragraph Day, but it's already been used up. Maybe today is "translucent metaphor day." Not transparent, because even though it doesn't take too much to see what I mean, it's not immediately apparent what exactly I'm referring to.
I think I'm going to take a nap now, because I've nothing else to do and every baby step I take towards getting my sleep schedule back to normal is a good step.
Random thought of the moment: I want to put on nice clothes and go out on a date, that isn't to Sushi Hana. That's more of a sanctuary for me now. Take me somewhere with nice food, low lights, and unobtrusive ambient music. I want to feel... you know, that ellipsis could just as well be a period.
(DB) out.
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