|8:16 PM|
Strange. I must have sinned against a tech deity or something along those lines, as I am currently plagued with all manner of technological tortures. What is interesting about this situation is that I can stop feeling like crap merely by not doing the task that pisses me off!
While this may not seem like the biggest deal, it does mean that things are not haunting me like they did before. Why I resisted medication for so long is something, well, I do know the reasons. I just think the advantages have now outweighed my concerns. Wonderful stuff.
I am still angry when I work on the computer i'm suppossed to be repairing. The power supply died and now the CD-RW has gone kaput. I went down to my car to get some parts and and almost brought my crowbar. A thrashing of this hunk of shit rig would solve all the current issues and simply leave me with one big issue.
I would like to note that toasters are much more important to happy living than you'd think. I cannot find my toaster and it's making quick food preperation difficult. A buddy of mine at work equates believing in microwaves to current religous beliefs, as almost no one using a microwave understands what it's doing or how it does it or why it isn't dangerous. They just stick food in a magic box and hope it gets warm. Well, microwaves are still more reliable than most religons. Oddly enough I had been bothered by microwaves 12 hours before that conversation, since my microwave now sits at groin level. If it got damaged in the move, I would assume I would feel it affecting me in a foul way.
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Friday, October 12, 2001
|11:53 AM|
This is a page to entertain me, and if it entertains other people then I feel better about myself. What does this all say about me?
My house is still filled with boxes. I spent 20 minutes looking for my utensils and pots and pans but I ended up with a saucepan, and a giant box of plastic spoons. The spoons, and styrofoam bowls were all from the day I brought ice cream to work to be nice to a girl who had lost her cat. She was cute and was nice to me. She once gave me a backrub that saved my job.
I believe myself to be a good person.
So I ate my noodles with a spoon. My house stinks of noodles, and so do I. My clothes and my bed and my damned urine all reek of starchy chow mein. What does this mean, how do I live my personal life? I don't know if the drugs I'm on are working. I seem to be in a cylinder though. I don't get ultra angry, or depressed, or ultra happy. I'm filled with only enough purpose, only when it is needed. I complete my tasks on time. I guess one advantage of a chemical imbalance is passion on tap. I could get very passionate about things in a hurry.
I decided to be silly and walked around the Lexmark office bumping into stuff. Bump. Bump into the printer and knock some papers off. Bump Bump. If anyone had seen me they would have wondered what was going on because I wasn't laughing.
I'm babbling. That's good I guess. Same old literary dysentary.
A friend of mine who sometimes goes by the name of an object that controls light, is sick. She is sick with the flu, and a deep personal strife, but that last one is my theory and who is a machine to comment on human motivations? I hope she gets better. She is a good person and doesn't deserve the particular strain of crap she has right now. I'd link to her page but I cannot.
Things seem transitional. Maybe it's just me. I moved, I try new treatments, I'm looking at a career change of some kind in a week... But those people who are important to me all seem to be in a state of change as well. As of 8am this morning my boss should be a Father. We stared at his face before he went home yesterday so that we could detect the weird fatherly glow when he shows back up. Some friends of mine are getting married, other friends are in a kind of relathionship limbo. Maybe not limbo, but everything is falling, people, places cars cats, they are waiting for it to land and really want to be THERE, the ground, the 'after-all-this'. But they are good people and want to take care of this falling process properly.
I'll try to be funny again shortly. Until then here is some third grade bathroom humor, in that you should never urinate and yell "Dinner!"
Excellent. It's working properly. Just wanted to make certain of that. Though I did some tweaking, and spent a couple hours making this format work with Blogger, this design is the work of one Rock Epidemic. His link button is on the side, Lost in the Contraption. I want to thank him for the work he did on this, well, sorry excuse for a site. Thank you.
|8:58 PM|
Christ. I feel like a million bucks again! I'm not going to worry, I'm not going to fret. I'm going to dance on tables and stare at cloud scapes and declare that I am in fact, the king of Spain.
ooooh
Dunno if it's the drugs, or the slow day at work, or what. But golly gee willickers, I could just waltz or sing or frickin' mountain climb the night away. I feel like I could eat a hundred damn hamburgers, blow my nose with the table cloth, tip extravagently and drive home sitting on the hood of my car.
Placebo? Who knows. I'm going to go play my didjeridu and howl at the moon.
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWL
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|4:39 PM|
At work my co-worker and I reviewed the Russian alphabet, and began translation of
Notes form the underground. From it's original text. Though it took an incredibly long time, we successfully translated the first paragraph and when checked against an english translation done by people who can actually speak Russian, we were impressed at how little we sucked. Russian seems to be an incredibly modular language, much less complicated then the romance languages it would seem. I still plan to learn German, but without help I'm dead in the water, where as at work I have someone is also learning Russian, so we can screw up each others accents.
I have to go to the household of some apparently very nice, very homosexual interior designers. They are successful enough to afford my services, and I refer to my computer expertise before this gets too suggestive.
I feel so very fatigued despite ingesting huge amounts of caffiene and amphetamines, but I am in a great mood, just a sleepy one.
|2:09 PM|
There was a thrum noise. The sides of my skull seemed to vibrate, and something stopped. If I may be so lame as to use a roller coaster analogy the top of a roller coaster, and you looked forward to the edge where the track vanishes, that is a far as my depression got. I saw myself about to lose it over some mundane crap, I knew i couldn't stop, and suddenly it was gone. It's impossible the drugs are working this fast, but still it was the
highlight of the hour that I didn't flip out.However...I do know that the side effects of the drugs have kicked in, I'm a belchin' machine. I'm sure you all needed to know that.
Shoot. I had something funny to say. Instead, what movie since Pulp Fiction has had anything approaching that movie's impact on film and pop culture?
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Tuesday, October 09, 2001
|6:36 PM|
Back online. Too bad I was completely crazy during my time away from home internet connectivity, I might have done something else. Oh well. Cleaning the house, that usual. OH! Got my drugs. Sweeet life balancing drugs. They have a silly name....uh... valcar? Vailkyre? I don't know, something like that. Huzzah and all that.
Note: I am joking. I am not taking the drug from "Max Payne"
Just in case.
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Monday, October 08, 2001
|9:10 PM|
SUCCESS. I didn't claim to be a raving lunatic, so I'm not seeing the doc tonight. I did claim it was something of an emergency though, so I am instead seeing him tommorow afternoon where I will describe the ups and downs I feel every 10 seconds or so. With any luck he will bury my head in drugs and I will be free to live out my life in a bird cage of mind altering substances. I will think deep thoughts and generally try not to drool on myself. I write this on a computer I have just restored to life for my aunt and uncle. With a combination of some of my best hardware and some cold hearted file deletion, I've got a computer that has gone from crap to Supreme Office Machine of Power. Perhaps it can open Castle Grayskull. Wait, I'll need Skeletor's sword as well for that. I only bring this up because the bits and pieces I have installed here are performing so much more impressively than they ever did under my control. It kind of bothers me.
As I am wrapped up fully in the events of my own selfish head, the lives of my friends are thrown into disarray. I am unable to offer any manner of aid to them other than perhaps an ear and the occasional rational thought. It makes me feel all the lower that I can only think of myself in what is obviously a very turbulent time for those I care about. Shortly, I hope, I will be able to be the kind of friend I would respect in someone else. I will still strive to be that kind of person in the meantime. Things may have changed, but I am still committed to the ones around me.
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|1:36 PM|
Side note: It has been claimed that I would fit into a character list from "The Wizard of Oz". I had seen the movie a very long time ago, and more recently read the interpretations of the books as an allegory for the silver standard in currency, so I had forgotten how, well, silly the tinman in that movie was. For a mechanical man he was quite jovial. Not that I expected a brooding Robocop esque cyborg running around in a children's movie. But during Cross Country in High School I was given the nick name Tinman for the robotic style of my running, and that my last name is very similar in construction to that dis-membered woodcutter.
And yes, someone named zusty has gotten back into town.I welcome her to her new home. I don't tradtionally link off this page, there was at one point the want to hide somone's identity, but I don't think that will be an issue. Then again, I'm a bit crazy. Oh, update on that. I have called two more times and been given new reasons, like a busy signal. Soon, soon I will start crushing up adderall and injecting them into my eyeball.
I wrote something and put it here. I now move it elsewhere to save space.
Wow. Despite my wanting to limit daily updates, this has all gotten rather out of hand, hasn't? Remind me to only write short stories, as novels might cause hernias.
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|1:02 PM|
Called a co-worker a "Goat raping nun-suckling shit eater" a few moments ago. The doctor I'm seeking help from is apparently permanently away, as I have now called a half dozen times and have gotten new excuses each time as to why I can't talk to anyone but the answering service. I'm tempted to go snort cocaine or something, as it would have the same effect.
Someone mentioned Omega-2 supplements or something, but I'm quickly losing all semblence of order. I started cursing and flipping out and it all sort of dissolved in a f-u-fu-fucking Fuckity fuck fufffkfyck as my stutter returned and I ran out of curse words. With no words stronger than fuck, I fell back into my chair, as angry as I was before but now even more frustrated. I have now, through my illness, run into the same wall as a friend of mine, though her needs for words stronger than fuck seem much more legitimate.
I've found that if I drive at speeds over 75 mph, and scream WOOOOOOOOO really loud, it makes me feel better. I inflicted this on Derek last night and he quickly decided to go home.
I do have periods of intense good will, and self confidence to make anyone clear from my path. I get more done during those periods than I used to in a week. It means my Adderall medication is still working, since these periods coincide with me being well rested and under the influence of that wonderful stuff. I might have to sell some things to pay for my prescription. Christ, I'm out of things to sell. This update is getting too long. Spoke to Derek last night, might have found a back door into college, (one different from the "waiting 10 years for the fresh start") so who knows. I am feeling better right now, blabbing this all out seems to help. I don't really want pity, yet I feel compelled to slush all this stuff out of my head like a broken 7-11 machine. I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore.
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Sunday, October 07, 2001
|7:31 PM|
A note: If you saw my AIM name online and tried to message me, then I promply vanished like a jerk, it was me screwing around with my phone. I spent most of the day either reading or cleaning or watching a tiny TV for news updates and I got intensely bored. I made some phone calls, and then started to futz around with my phone. I managed to activate the AIM feature and realized two things: I'm a damned internet addict and 2. I don't know how much this thing costs. I shut the service down, only to start recieving AIM messages on the phone like voicemail. All attempts to shut the phone's control of my aim name failed until I got my ass up to work, and logged on as me and changed the password. Score one for fixing fuck ups in a too complicated fashion. So anyway, I should head home now, this whole event being a nice disctraction from the Chaos that is my current home. I'll go grocery shopping as long as I'm out. I bet I look like hell.
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