I think it was only yesterday in Twitter that I posted how Patton Oswalt will be writing a book instead of posting in his usual Myspace blog, and how maybe I should follow his example and return to my Stephen King Encyclopedia project. I opened up the files and looked at what I had - not much. I need to dig out Needful Things and keep working on the three distinct sections; there are gaps in the People entries, and Places and Things have little to nothing in them, just placeholders to keep the files there.
I also advised Patton, in a reply, to use the blogging as either a warm-up or a vent - the analogies I used were as hors d'oeuvres or after-dinner mints. Maybe I should really follow my own advice, eh? Keep writing here as either a warm-up to some serious research, or use it to cool off from having my nose stuck in a book too long.
Well, now I have more reason to write here... I'm being watched.
No. It's a good thing!
I used to be pretty hardcore into World of Warcraft - after all, it was where I met my Caseman. After my financial situation started breaking apart, I suspended my subscription - any money I could save, and I wasn't playing that much. WoW flows in waves sometimes... new content comes, everyone gets excited and servers get overloaded and laggy, things get analyzed and formulated, and soon enough you're leveling alts and wondering if there will be enough people to raid Karazhan.
Well, the newest expansion, Wrath of the Lich King, came out in stores today. The back-order list must be astonishing... but neither Case or I have bought it, for monetary reasons. The other, more subtle reasoning is that with this new content, servers will be more laggy than ever, and it will be bug central. We've already got ants in our room, we really don't need the bugs on our computer screens as well.
Anyway... I'm being watched by one of our old friends from our guild, Impetus! Despite that we haven't been able to access their forums, for some odd reason, we are still members, and we are missed. It may still be a little while before we're back online, but we will be back. Back for pwning.
In the meantime, I'm still trying to find a second job, filling out online applications left and right. No response as yet, but I'll keep doing it until I get results. And I'm going to keep my mind and wit sharp by continuing to write. And, whoever else may be watching... give me feedback!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Short One
1. Drama is a weed. No matter how hard you pull at it or curse at it, it still keeps coming back. Now if only I had some screenshots to show you what I'm talking about...
2. If you ever find that one particular site isn't connecting, check your HOSTS file.
3. I'm looking forward to the 50's style experience of the Sonic Burger drive-in stalls.
4. Case cut me some roses today.
5. Tea is good, but is it possible that my insomnia is linked to over-caffeination? Seems likely.
6. Whenever I get my own household, I want no brooding, unexplained anger. Tell me what's bugging you and we'll work it out, and no one else will be affected. It gets really bad here, especially when it comes to Case and his dad. When they're in that sort of mood, they're practically inapproachable.
7. Credit card bill is paid, again. It's going to be a while before it's paid in full, but at least I'm starting to recover some of the remaining balance.
8. Halloween is on Friday, and I still haven't gotten into the flour or found a rolling pin. At least my hair will be weird enough to play Mrs. Lovett (and who says it has to be absolutely like Helena Bonham Carter's? She was just one of many Mrs. Lovetts during the past fifty years. The version I saw with Ben Kingsley wore a white wig, IIRC).
2. If you ever find that one particular site isn't connecting, check your HOSTS file.
3. I'm looking forward to the 50's style experience of the Sonic Burger drive-in stalls.
4. Case cut me some roses today.
5. Tea is good, but is it possible that my insomnia is linked to over-caffeination? Seems likely.
6. Whenever I get my own household, I want no brooding, unexplained anger. Tell me what's bugging you and we'll work it out, and no one else will be affected. It gets really bad here, especially when it comes to Case and his dad. When they're in that sort of mood, they're practically inapproachable.
7. Credit card bill is paid, again. It's going to be a while before it's paid in full, but at least I'm starting to recover some of the remaining balance.
8. Halloween is on Friday, and I still haven't gotten into the flour or found a rolling pin. At least my hair will be weird enough to play Mrs. Lovett (and who says it has to be absolutely like Helena Bonham Carter's? She was just one of many Mrs. Lovetts during the past fifty years. The version I saw with Ben Kingsley wore a white wig, IIRC).
Saturday, October 25, 2008
The What-If's, Again
Thinking about the past can be comforting, but often it brings up questions that would be maddening. There will always be loose ends, unrequited feelings, mistakes. For all those little thoughts, there are the preceding words - "What if."
What if I had never fallen in love with Case? Would I have stayed with Miles? After that semi-slight from his family (I wasn't invited along to a family reunion-type thing down at Bar Harbor, although his bro's girlfriend was), and my own sacrifices (driving down to Massachusetts in the middle of the night with clean clothes so Miles could change at the hospital where his dad was suffering heatstroke), I seriously doubt it. Would I have stayed single after that? Maybe hooked up with another one of my close friends? If so, then it's very likely I would have stayed in Vermont, working, maybe going for my next degree.
Every guy that I've had an intimate/romantic connection with in the past tends to retain a fondness in my heart. This is true even for the ones who have upset me at certain points in the past. That is, to say, if I were to meet up with any of them right now, I would be friendly and warm and want to know everything about them since I left Vermont. This may be an upcoming situation - one man who was in love with me in college is coming to California within the next week or so, for work-related reasons. If he's within two hour's drive, I might try to find him. It wouldn't be much of an issue, save maybe for gas, since my work hours just keep getting cut (I'm pissed about that, by the way). If I find him, and I'm alone (which seems likely), what will I say? What will I do? Hopefully I would be as I said above - friendly, warm, and interested in the past year of his life. Hopefully I would not be scared shitless, as I said I would be if I heard the doorbell ring or see an antique car driving through this neighborhood.
I do what-ifs about intimate connections because part of my psyche is a little bored in my relationship with Case. I know that I can be a boring person, that I'm not always exciting when it comes to sex or romance, and I know these days I've been super-frugal. The idea of an affair, with a past flame, is both exciting and upsetting. I know that I would never do it - I'd rather break off my engagement (or all my fingers and toes) than cheat on Case. But the memories I hold, of years when I didn't have such moral strength, tend to provoke those kinds of ideas. Lucky, you might say, that I'm on the other side of the country from anyone that I would consider being intimate with - no temptations.
That I'm even talking about this stuff might raise a few eyebrows, put suspicion on my character. To even consider... c'mon, I'm no saint. Nuns and priests promise themselves to one being, and so can I. But I'm a writer with a fairly good memory, and the need to vent and get some possible perversions out of my head. Name one of my friends who hasn't had a fantasy about an ex or a flame or any sort of multimedia sex symbol (name anyone, for that matter), and I'll never talk to another man again. But you can't, can you? And if you could, that would make my guy friends very sad, especially the one who's going to be the man of honor at my wedding.
So no worries... just ideas, just what-ifs. Harmless ramblings. Get your mind out of the gutter and go to sleep.
What if I had never fallen in love with Case? Would I have stayed with Miles? After that semi-slight from his family (I wasn't invited along to a family reunion-type thing down at Bar Harbor, although his bro's girlfriend was), and my own sacrifices (driving down to Massachusetts in the middle of the night with clean clothes so Miles could change at the hospital where his dad was suffering heatstroke), I seriously doubt it. Would I have stayed single after that? Maybe hooked up with another one of my close friends? If so, then it's very likely I would have stayed in Vermont, working, maybe going for my next degree.
Every guy that I've had an intimate/romantic connection with in the past tends to retain a fondness in my heart. This is true even for the ones who have upset me at certain points in the past. That is, to say, if I were to meet up with any of them right now, I would be friendly and warm and want to know everything about them since I left Vermont. This may be an upcoming situation - one man who was in love with me in college is coming to California within the next week or so, for work-related reasons. If he's within two hour's drive, I might try to find him. It wouldn't be much of an issue, save maybe for gas, since my work hours just keep getting cut (I'm pissed about that, by the way). If I find him, and I'm alone (which seems likely), what will I say? What will I do? Hopefully I would be as I said above - friendly, warm, and interested in the past year of his life. Hopefully I would not be scared shitless, as I said I would be if I heard the doorbell ring or see an antique car driving through this neighborhood.
I do what-ifs about intimate connections because part of my psyche is a little bored in my relationship with Case. I know that I can be a boring person, that I'm not always exciting when it comes to sex or romance, and I know these days I've been super-frugal. The idea of an affair, with a past flame, is both exciting and upsetting. I know that I would never do it - I'd rather break off my engagement (or all my fingers and toes) than cheat on Case. But the memories I hold, of years when I didn't have such moral strength, tend to provoke those kinds of ideas. Lucky, you might say, that I'm on the other side of the country from anyone that I would consider being intimate with - no temptations.
That I'm even talking about this stuff might raise a few eyebrows, put suspicion on my character. To even consider... c'mon, I'm no saint. Nuns and priests promise themselves to one being, and so can I. But I'm a writer with a fairly good memory, and the need to vent and get some possible perversions out of my head. Name one of my friends who hasn't had a fantasy about an ex or a flame or any sort of multimedia sex symbol (name anyone, for that matter), and I'll never talk to another man again. But you can't, can you? And if you could, that would make my guy friends very sad, especially the one who's going to be the man of honor at my wedding.
So no worries... just ideas, just what-ifs. Harmless ramblings. Get your mind out of the gutter and go to sleep.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Candlelight
Today was a productive day, if you can believe it. Case and I went to the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf over on 10th, and finally spent the gift card I got from his folks last Christmas. I had some jasmine and green tea, Case had a vanilla latte, and I also bought some loose-leaf genmaicha green and a tea ball - it has a bumblebee on the end; the selection was limited, it was either bumblebee or ladybug, and they were supposed to have dragonflies but they must have been a popular choice.
After that, we cleaned up most of the common area of the house. The pool table is still covered with boxes, and a lot of Tucker's and Travis' stuff is sitting on the landing at the stairs, but for the most part, things are organized and/or clean.
My contributions - vacuuming the rugs, shaking out the door rug, washing out the cookie jar, consolidating some of Terri's boxes on the pool table, consolidating Audrey's toys into one corner of the living room, opening up the area in front of the fireplace (as the Stark's say, "Winter is Coming"), and dusting off the top of the television (it was a mess!).
Case's contributions - cleaning up most of the kitchen area; doing dishes, sweeping the kitchen floor, cleaning the fryer tray, cleaning countertops, taking out the trash.
Our room is the next target - I already took down most of the dishes, except for the plate I brought up tonight for my Hot Pockets. My little "barrier" between me and the door has mostly been eliminated as well, and a lot of my clothes are clean. However, my half of the desk top is a cluttered mess, as is most of the other flat surfaces in the room, so I imagine that'll be my project. And, of course, the rugs are covered with fragments of sunflower seed shells.
What else? Case broke his chair yesterday, now has two legs of five broken, pretty much useless unless he props it up with something. He's sitting in one of the spare dining room chairs now. Actually, at this very moment he's sleeping on the futon, with Kosmo curled up next to him. I know that as soon as I get in, Kosmo will shift himself and lie down on whichever arm is closest to the middle of the bed, depending on how I'm laying.
In the dark, lit only by my computer screen and a single scented candle, I think about secrets. I think about my conversations with my friend, how he's struggling to maintain some normalcy in his life. Because of the stress and strain, he's going to have to withdraw from his classes, and finish his credits next semester. He also has to move out of the place he's been staying - the apartment he was sharing with his girlfriend - to live with his dad, at least until he begins house-sitting over the winter.
But I started out with secrets... and I suppose one that is half a secret is that this friend has done some harmless flirting and winking with me online - that same sort of banter that happens between two people who've had a bit of a history, and are still good friends. Pretty rare, eh? Here's another thing to think about - when you see advertisements mentioning "no strings attached", you should have a good sense that it's too good to be true. That holds true with affairs as well - there will always be strings, always be some sort of guilt that will come and bite you in the ass later. I know this from my past experiences; that sort of guilt still raises its mournful head in my mind, making everything clench up like a fist. My friend expressed his interest in an NSA relationship; I'm sure he would like that with any of the girls he's been attracted to in the past, but in mentioning it to me, it strikes a particular chord.
For in the past, I would have been interested in one with him.
But the past is the past, and don't you forget it. Those days of open intimacy are over - I imagine that was as close to being a hippie as I could come, being in college and starting to live away from my parents' ideals. These days, I am much more blue-collar - I suppose there's something sad about that, not being as free or creative. But it's made up for the fact that I've found my soulmate, that I wear his ring with pride, that we will have our future together, with no strings necessary, save the ones that tie our hearts together.
I am devoted. I'm sympathetic to my friend's situation, but that particular confession of his has made me nervous. I suppose the distance between us is a good safety measure right now.
He also mentioned a friend of his, which set off a trigger in me. I had hung out with this friend of his from time to time - first met him when he was still happy in a relationship, but later were the times when I was on my own, with Case across the country, and I met up with the guy again. At first things were fine, but he was a psych student, and he tried to psychologically manipulate me into a more intimate situation. That enraged me... and I guess, after a while, I had forgotten, and blocked it out. The mention of his name set off that chilled, emotionless feeling in me - something close to dread, I guess - but I couldn't remember exactly why. After a few minutes, it came clearer to me. I also remembered that when I moved across the country, I had sent friendship invites back to most of the people who I had had issues with... but not this guy.
I looked up his profile and saw that he's in a relationship again. Looking at his open, gregarious face on his profile made me frown - how could such an innocent-looking guy make me feel so uncomfortable? With any luck, I will never encounter him again... or at the very least, I won't encounter him alone. The next time I'm back east, my love will be at my side - and the only way I'd be able to meet the creep would be in the presence of my good friend... and with those two good guys with me, what could go wrong?
After that, we cleaned up most of the common area of the house. The pool table is still covered with boxes, and a lot of Tucker's and Travis' stuff is sitting on the landing at the stairs, but for the most part, things are organized and/or clean.
My contributions - vacuuming the rugs, shaking out the door rug, washing out the cookie jar, consolidating some of Terri's boxes on the pool table, consolidating Audrey's toys into one corner of the living room, opening up the area in front of the fireplace (as the Stark's say, "Winter is Coming"), and dusting off the top of the television (it was a mess!).
Case's contributions - cleaning up most of the kitchen area; doing dishes, sweeping the kitchen floor, cleaning the fryer tray, cleaning countertops, taking out the trash.
Our room is the next target - I already took down most of the dishes, except for the plate I brought up tonight for my Hot Pockets. My little "barrier" between me and the door has mostly been eliminated as well, and a lot of my clothes are clean. However, my half of the desk top is a cluttered mess, as is most of the other flat surfaces in the room, so I imagine that'll be my project. And, of course, the rugs are covered with fragments of sunflower seed shells.
What else? Case broke his chair yesterday, now has two legs of five broken, pretty much useless unless he props it up with something. He's sitting in one of the spare dining room chairs now. Actually, at this very moment he's sleeping on the futon, with Kosmo curled up next to him. I know that as soon as I get in, Kosmo will shift himself and lie down on whichever arm is closest to the middle of the bed, depending on how I'm laying.
In the dark, lit only by my computer screen and a single scented candle, I think about secrets. I think about my conversations with my friend, how he's struggling to maintain some normalcy in his life. Because of the stress and strain, he's going to have to withdraw from his classes, and finish his credits next semester. He also has to move out of the place he's been staying - the apartment he was sharing with his girlfriend - to live with his dad, at least until he begins house-sitting over the winter.
But I started out with secrets... and I suppose one that is half a secret is that this friend has done some harmless flirting and winking with me online - that same sort of banter that happens between two people who've had a bit of a history, and are still good friends. Pretty rare, eh? Here's another thing to think about - when you see advertisements mentioning "no strings attached", you should have a good sense that it's too good to be true. That holds true with affairs as well - there will always be strings, always be some sort of guilt that will come and bite you in the ass later. I know this from my past experiences; that sort of guilt still raises its mournful head in my mind, making everything clench up like a fist. My friend expressed his interest in an NSA relationship; I'm sure he would like that with any of the girls he's been attracted to in the past, but in mentioning it to me, it strikes a particular chord.
For in the past, I would have been interested in one with him.
But the past is the past, and don't you forget it. Those days of open intimacy are over - I imagine that was as close to being a hippie as I could come, being in college and starting to live away from my parents' ideals. These days, I am much more blue-collar - I suppose there's something sad about that, not being as free or creative. But it's made up for the fact that I've found my soulmate, that I wear his ring with pride, that we will have our future together, with no strings necessary, save the ones that tie our hearts together.
I am devoted. I'm sympathetic to my friend's situation, but that particular confession of his has made me nervous. I suppose the distance between us is a good safety measure right now.
He also mentioned a friend of his, which set off a trigger in me. I had hung out with this friend of his from time to time - first met him when he was still happy in a relationship, but later were the times when I was on my own, with Case across the country, and I met up with the guy again. At first things were fine, but he was a psych student, and he tried to psychologically manipulate me into a more intimate situation. That enraged me... and I guess, after a while, I had forgotten, and blocked it out. The mention of his name set off that chilled, emotionless feeling in me - something close to dread, I guess - but I couldn't remember exactly why. After a few minutes, it came clearer to me. I also remembered that when I moved across the country, I had sent friendship invites back to most of the people who I had had issues with... but not this guy.
I looked up his profile and saw that he's in a relationship again. Looking at his open, gregarious face on his profile made me frown - how could such an innocent-looking guy make me feel so uncomfortable? With any luck, I will never encounter him again... or at the very least, I won't encounter him alone. The next time I'm back east, my love will be at my side - and the only way I'd be able to meet the creep would be in the presence of my good friend... and with those two good guys with me, what could go wrong?
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Just Feel Like It
3:30 AM. Across the country, my mom is probably already up and getting ready for work. My uncle with cancer is resting, hopefully without too much pain. My cousins are getting their children ready for school in some cases, daycare in others. My fiance is snoring behind me, having fallen asleep to an episode of Star Trek: Voyager; his dad snores in the master bedroom, loud enough that I can hear it through his door. Outside the small window, Ripley is meowing to be let in off the garage roof - I tell her to bug Travis, because she managed to get on the roof through the hole in his screen, whilst ours is still intact. The letter I sent to my uncle is sitting in the mailbox near the house.
And I still feel like writing. For once in a long while, I feel like writing. I put pieces of my heart into that letter earlier in the afternoon, and was getting choked up near the end. Maybe - just maybe - I can keep in practice. Maybe I can pull myself out of this depressive rut.
Today I found out one of my closest guy friends had his girlfriend of over two years leave him. It was her fault - she told him she doesn't love him anymore, but I know that he still loves her. Part of him hopes that she'll come back, but his better judgment knows that won't be the case. I wish I could give him a hug, but he's all the way across the country. He was telling me about how he wishes he had someone to care about to sleep with (not sexually) in the empty bed; three years ago, that might have been me, but now everything has changed. I still wish I was over there, so I could take him out to tea at Dobra's, or play Smash Bros. Melee with him until our thumbs fell off. Or he and Case and I could talk Star Trek until our heads spun. My friend is holding up well, but he LOVED her, and she left him... it wasn't his fault that she was so screwed up.
When I was younger, I was screwed up too. Not enough to require anti-depressants, or psychiatric help... but I was screwed up. My morals were ambiguous in terms of relationships - basically I was a walking hormone. The second long-term relationship that I left was mostly because I didn't feel an emotional connection with the guy anymore. He was often very clinical, detached... he didn't want to talk things out, even though I knew we were having problems... he didn't want to hear about the problems I felt I was having. I went out searching for men I could connect with on an emotional level - and found plenty... and when I knew I had found someone who suited me better, I talked with my guy one last time, and we broke up for good. It hurt us both - just because he was more emotionally detached didn't mean that he didn't care about me, and I still felt a lot of love for him. But we're both well aware that it was for the best. We had started out as friends, on a much more intellectual level, and that continues to be how we are today. His personality has shaped mine in terms of humor and knowledge (I wouldn't have become such a hard-core gamer without him), but I'm still very emotional. Despite our differences, he was still very glad to see me visiting this past summer, and let me crash on his couch for several days.
My friend's situation isn't going to be so easily remedied. He comforts himself with the agreed fact that there was nothing he could have done to save things - he was himself, and a loving, attentive boyfriend. I'm well aware of how sweet and kind and fun he can be... and how someone would be able to give him up is beyond me. But she did. Her loss. All the plans they may have had once are now thrown into tangles... not sure how it's going to work, except I think she's moved out, and he has to go live with his folks because he can't afford the apartment alone. He'll be commuting an hour or so between classes and home... luckily he got a new car recently, so he should be able to manage it without fear of breakdown.
Goddamn it, I wish I was there. I wish I was back east, so I could be there for the people that really need me. My uncle Burl died - I wasn't there. My uncle Earl is dying - I'm not there. My friend needs a hug - I'm not there. My other friends and my parents miss me - and I'm stuck out in California, in the suburbs, getting pissed off at yappy dogs and car alarms and regular alarms and my work hours being cut. Stuck in this room because there isn't anywhere else to go, no one to hang out with except Case and his family (and his family isn't really my sort of social company), gaming and watching recorded TV and DVDs, trying to get my ass out of debt...
What happened to me? Where did that hopeful, diligent, creative young woman go? All the projects I was working on in college have fallen by the wayside. I've painted a few times, and drawn a few times, but when was the last time I really sang? Or danced? Why can't I find a good job that uses my talents? Why can't I make friends out here, after a year?
The past month or so has really taxed my sanity, I guess. Sickness, death, money issues... sometimes I've almost felt suicidal, wanting to end all the stress... but it's never been so serious. There's still too much hope for my future, for my life with my fiance, and so I heave myself out of another rut and trudge on towards that distant brightness.
One last note - Case has expressed genuine interest at naming one of our daughters B'Elanna. I am the luckiest geek girl ever. :)
And I still feel like writing. For once in a long while, I feel like writing. I put pieces of my heart into that letter earlier in the afternoon, and was getting choked up near the end. Maybe - just maybe - I can keep in practice. Maybe I can pull myself out of this depressive rut.
Today I found out one of my closest guy friends had his girlfriend of over two years leave him. It was her fault - she told him she doesn't love him anymore, but I know that he still loves her. Part of him hopes that she'll come back, but his better judgment knows that won't be the case. I wish I could give him a hug, but he's all the way across the country. He was telling me about how he wishes he had someone to care about to sleep with (not sexually) in the empty bed; three years ago, that might have been me, but now everything has changed. I still wish I was over there, so I could take him out to tea at Dobra's, or play Smash Bros. Melee with him until our thumbs fell off. Or he and Case and I could talk Star Trek until our heads spun. My friend is holding up well, but he LOVED her, and she left him... it wasn't his fault that she was so screwed up.
When I was younger, I was screwed up too. Not enough to require anti-depressants, or psychiatric help... but I was screwed up. My morals were ambiguous in terms of relationships - basically I was a walking hormone. The second long-term relationship that I left was mostly because I didn't feel an emotional connection with the guy anymore. He was often very clinical, detached... he didn't want to talk things out, even though I knew we were having problems... he didn't want to hear about the problems I felt I was having. I went out searching for men I could connect with on an emotional level - and found plenty... and when I knew I had found someone who suited me better, I talked with my guy one last time, and we broke up for good. It hurt us both - just because he was more emotionally detached didn't mean that he didn't care about me, and I still felt a lot of love for him. But we're both well aware that it was for the best. We had started out as friends, on a much more intellectual level, and that continues to be how we are today. His personality has shaped mine in terms of humor and knowledge (I wouldn't have become such a hard-core gamer without him), but I'm still very emotional. Despite our differences, he was still very glad to see me visiting this past summer, and let me crash on his couch for several days.
My friend's situation isn't going to be so easily remedied. He comforts himself with the agreed fact that there was nothing he could have done to save things - he was himself, and a loving, attentive boyfriend. I'm well aware of how sweet and kind and fun he can be... and how someone would be able to give him up is beyond me. But she did. Her loss. All the plans they may have had once are now thrown into tangles... not sure how it's going to work, except I think she's moved out, and he has to go live with his folks because he can't afford the apartment alone. He'll be commuting an hour or so between classes and home... luckily he got a new car recently, so he should be able to manage it without fear of breakdown.
Goddamn it, I wish I was there. I wish I was back east, so I could be there for the people that really need me. My uncle Burl died - I wasn't there. My uncle Earl is dying - I'm not there. My friend needs a hug - I'm not there. My other friends and my parents miss me - and I'm stuck out in California, in the suburbs, getting pissed off at yappy dogs and car alarms and regular alarms and my work hours being cut. Stuck in this room because there isn't anywhere else to go, no one to hang out with except Case and his family (and his family isn't really my sort of social company), gaming and watching recorded TV and DVDs, trying to get my ass out of debt...
What happened to me? Where did that hopeful, diligent, creative young woman go? All the projects I was working on in college have fallen by the wayside. I've painted a few times, and drawn a few times, but when was the last time I really sang? Or danced? Why can't I find a good job that uses my talents? Why can't I make friends out here, after a year?
The past month or so has really taxed my sanity, I guess. Sickness, death, money issues... sometimes I've almost felt suicidal, wanting to end all the stress... but it's never been so serious. There's still too much hope for my future, for my life with my fiance, and so I heave myself out of another rut and trudge on towards that distant brightness.
One last note - Case has expressed genuine interest at naming one of our daughters B'Elanna. I am the luckiest geek girl ever. :)
Monday, February 25, 2008
47
What is it about that number, or numbers in general? With me, it's 8 or 19, with Case and his dad it's 5 and 23 and other combos like that, and then there's 42, the answer to everything. And there's 47.
I'm 23 now. I've been that way for over a month. Case gave me a bouquet of a dozen red roses, as well as the first season of Heroes. I also have my engagement ring and wedding ring. I wear them every day, except when I'm in the lab - I take them off and put them in the little jewel case, then put it in my lab coat pocket, to keep it safe with me. The rings are unique, irreplaceable. They belonged to his paternal grandmother, who let us inherit them on the condition that we pass them on to our daughter, should we have one. Amanda, Leanora, the faces of the future.
I haven't written nearly enough since I left college. The Stephen King project has fallen by the wayside. No new poetry, no new stories, and hardly any new blogs. I don't think this place is very fertile in terms of creativity. I don't feel that inspired here. And hell, I know Case hasn't drawn much since... I don't know, since we met. He and I were going to collaborate on a Dr. Who/Monk crossover, but that fell by the wayside too. He dreamed it, and Griff and I discussed it, but it never went anywhere.
I've started writing again because I saw that Cyrus had written in his blog. I don't check it anymore, but I was looking him up. Not necessarily because I wanted to communicate with him, but to make sure that he still existed. There's a deep-seated fear in me, ever since I last saw him, that I may have done damage beyond any repair... that I'm somehow going to find out from my parents that he committed suicide. Naturally, I would blame myself for being one of the factors. That may be a strange hubris on my part... but I still have the guilt. I usually don't think about it - it doesn't come up in my life that often. But five years ago, I screwed up his life. I tried to write it off in Ladystark's saga - Gretchen Stark, once Gretchen Aquitaine, turned undead, leaving behind her husband, Cyrion Stark. I tried to remember his bitterness in reality, and put it into Cyrion... not very well. I should work on that part, make it richer.
Love and Death change the lives of everyone they touch - in my case, I substituted one for the other, trying to reach a point where I could come to terms. And I almost did. In that written world, I did... but not always here.
My life has changed so much in five years. I would have not seen myself being here. Yet here I am, and will be for another year. I'll have to start taking care of the important things - insurance for my car, health appointments, wireless cards. All those things, and work on my quiet social phobia that keeps me in this room instead of out in the rest of the house, with the family. You can understand why I don't, made it clear in the last entry. But this ring seals them as my extended family, so maybe it's time I start accepting as such, as I did when my cousins got married.
And now, for random 47 facts:
On my birthday in 1947, there was a shipwreck off the coast of Greece that killed 392 people.
On this date (the 25th, when I started writing), the state of Prussia was abolished, and the worst train crash in Japan happened, killing 184 people (and that adds up to 13, if you didn't notice).
In 47 AD, the convert Paul began his evangelical work.
In 2047, in the Star Trek universe, parts of LA will fall into the sea from a horrible earthquake.
There are usually 47 strings on a harp.
47 is the atomic number of silver.
And, of course, the agent from Hitman is #47.
47 goodnights,
Grety
I'm 23 now. I've been that way for over a month. Case gave me a bouquet of a dozen red roses, as well as the first season of Heroes. I also have my engagement ring and wedding ring. I wear them every day, except when I'm in the lab - I take them off and put them in the little jewel case, then put it in my lab coat pocket, to keep it safe with me. The rings are unique, irreplaceable. They belonged to his paternal grandmother, who let us inherit them on the condition that we pass them on to our daughter, should we have one. Amanda, Leanora, the faces of the future.
I haven't written nearly enough since I left college. The Stephen King project has fallen by the wayside. No new poetry, no new stories, and hardly any new blogs. I don't think this place is very fertile in terms of creativity. I don't feel that inspired here. And hell, I know Case hasn't drawn much since... I don't know, since we met. He and I were going to collaborate on a Dr. Who/Monk crossover, but that fell by the wayside too. He dreamed it, and Griff and I discussed it, but it never went anywhere.
I've started writing again because I saw that Cyrus had written in his blog. I don't check it anymore, but I was looking him up. Not necessarily because I wanted to communicate with him, but to make sure that he still existed. There's a deep-seated fear in me, ever since I last saw him, that I may have done damage beyond any repair... that I'm somehow going to find out from my parents that he committed suicide. Naturally, I would blame myself for being one of the factors. That may be a strange hubris on my part... but I still have the guilt. I usually don't think about it - it doesn't come up in my life that often. But five years ago, I screwed up his life. I tried to write it off in Ladystark's saga - Gretchen Stark, once Gretchen Aquitaine, turned undead, leaving behind her husband, Cyrion Stark. I tried to remember his bitterness in reality, and put it into Cyrion... not very well. I should work on that part, make it richer.
Love and Death change the lives of everyone they touch - in my case, I substituted one for the other, trying to reach a point where I could come to terms. And I almost did. In that written world, I did... but not always here.
My life has changed so much in five years. I would have not seen myself being here. Yet here I am, and will be for another year. I'll have to start taking care of the important things - insurance for my car, health appointments, wireless cards. All those things, and work on my quiet social phobia that keeps me in this room instead of out in the rest of the house, with the family. You can understand why I don't, made it clear in the last entry. But this ring seals them as my extended family, so maybe it's time I start accepting as such, as I did when my cousins got married.
And now, for random 47 facts:
On my birthday in 1947, there was a shipwreck off the coast of Greece that killed 392 people.
On this date (the 25th, when I started writing), the state of Prussia was abolished, and the worst train crash in Japan happened, killing 184 people (and that adds up to 13, if you didn't notice).
In 47 AD, the convert Paul began his evangelical work.
In 2047, in the Star Trek universe, parts of LA will fall into the sea from a horrible earthquake.
There are usually 47 strings on a harp.
47 is the atomic number of silver.
And, of course, the agent from Hitman is #47.
47 goodnights,
Grety
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Quarantine
That title has a lot of ambiguity. Have I been quarantined? Do I need to be quarantined? Possibly both.
Today was a good day, though... I had a lot of dreams last night, and told them to Case when I could. This morning, I opened the lab, an event which tends to be pretty enjoyable because it means I can leave when the sun is still out. One of my coworkers tried to replace a bulb in the blocker, and dropped one of the plastic insulators into the machine. It took three women, an Allen wrench (you know, the little ones that fit inside the screws), a coat hanger, sticky block pads, and a screwdriver before I retrieved it. I got grease on my hands, and got triumphant, since after I fished the insulator out, I installed the bulb and it worked. And I got to go home at one, since business was so slow.
I even cooked today - sure, it was only couscous, but damn, it tasted good, and it felt good to be working in the kitchen again. If only I could have that sort of attitude and motivation more than one day in three months... It's the first time I cooked something with pans and heat and such since I was living alone.
Talking of loneliness brings us back to the subject of quarantine. I could say that I have been almost successfully quarantined from the social life I had back east. I wrote an e-mail to a bunch of friends, asking them to write or call, and only one responded to it - he's the one I talk to through AIM on a regular basis. I really don't talk to many other folks, except my family and my coworkers.
And Case's family? They may be the ones that I need to be quarantined from. Case and I both need to get out of this place, hopefully sooner rather than later. Because of the influence of this family, I've found my temper to be shorter, my frustration much more easily rising to the surface, and part of my faith has been sincerely challenged. I'm not talking so much about religious faith, since I'm agnostic, but rather the faith in the love that I hoped would be inherent between family members. It's all I've ever known, from my own personal experience. People I've encountered - friends, lovers, etc. - have had their own dysfunctions like divorce... but even then, the divide in the family still leaves two separate halves that maintain a strong bond.
But recently the friend I talk to regularly cut off all contact with his dad. I knew those two had been having trouble for a long time, and my friend still has a strong bond with his mother and his step-siblings. And hey, he's still a great guy, a kind person, always ready with a hug and reassurance.
Case's family is worse than I ever realized. Sometimes they work together just fine - but more often they're at each other's throats. Case and his dad really are the sanest two. His sister tends to be bipolar, often motherly but just as often lashing out at people who haven't been troubling; his middle brother has gotten in trouble with the law as well as with the rest of the family, and also tends to break most mechanical things he gets his hands on; and his youngest brother is nineteen, doesn't drive, and has serious possession/materialistic issues. And then there's his mother - she loves me, and always says so, but the rest of the family tends to be disgusted by her, and I can understand why. She is utterly dependent on the other members of the family to help get important things done, and makes excuses when she's called upon it. She's had various addictions all her life - the most recent two are smoking and late-night reality shows.
It's chaos. The lack of respect and love that I've seen has shocked me. And it brought me to the final conclusion, one that made me feel so much older than twenty-two - the dysfunctional family IS the norm, and families like mine, Miles', Nick's mom's, etc. are the exceptions. The people that live here seem to be united more by chance than by DNA... a bunch of short-tempered strangers that happen to live in the same building.
*sigh* This is the one of the few times I've really felt that part of my innocence has truly been lost. With the other issues like death and sex, it feels like the innocence is actually replaced by experience, but this is different. Like I said above, this is more like a challenge of my faith, of something that is part of my core being. And with that piece of my life lost, there's really nothing to fill it with.
I only know that Case and I keep each other sane. We can close the door (or at least keep it only a tad ajar, for ventilation and feline sakes) and not pay attention to the stupid shit that's happening outside. We can escape into World of Warcraft, or the humor of Codemonkeys or Psych, or the mysterious wonders of Star Trek or Dr. Who. When we have children, we're going to raise them in the ideal of family - love, support, order, humor, all the good things that work together to form solid bonds between parents and children.
And when we do those things, we will certainly not be here, in Palmdale. We'll have our own place, our own life, and it will be challenging... but it will be good.
Looking forward,
Grety
Today was a good day, though... I had a lot of dreams last night, and told them to Case when I could. This morning, I opened the lab, an event which tends to be pretty enjoyable because it means I can leave when the sun is still out. One of my coworkers tried to replace a bulb in the blocker, and dropped one of the plastic insulators into the machine. It took three women, an Allen wrench (you know, the little ones that fit inside the screws), a coat hanger, sticky block pads, and a screwdriver before I retrieved it. I got grease on my hands, and got triumphant, since after I fished the insulator out, I installed the bulb and it worked. And I got to go home at one, since business was so slow.
I even cooked today - sure, it was only couscous, but damn, it tasted good, and it felt good to be working in the kitchen again. If only I could have that sort of attitude and motivation more than one day in three months... It's the first time I cooked something with pans and heat and such since I was living alone.
Talking of loneliness brings us back to the subject of quarantine. I could say that I have been almost successfully quarantined from the social life I had back east. I wrote an e-mail to a bunch of friends, asking them to write or call, and only one responded to it - he's the one I talk to through AIM on a regular basis. I really don't talk to many other folks, except my family and my coworkers.
And Case's family? They may be the ones that I need to be quarantined from. Case and I both need to get out of this place, hopefully sooner rather than later. Because of the influence of this family, I've found my temper to be shorter, my frustration much more easily rising to the surface, and part of my faith has been sincerely challenged. I'm not talking so much about religious faith, since I'm agnostic, but rather the faith in the love that I hoped would be inherent between family members. It's all I've ever known, from my own personal experience. People I've encountered - friends, lovers, etc. - have had their own dysfunctions like divorce... but even then, the divide in the family still leaves two separate halves that maintain a strong bond.
But recently the friend I talk to regularly cut off all contact with his dad. I knew those two had been having trouble for a long time, and my friend still has a strong bond with his mother and his step-siblings. And hey, he's still a great guy, a kind person, always ready with a hug and reassurance.
Case's family is worse than I ever realized. Sometimes they work together just fine - but more often they're at each other's throats. Case and his dad really are the sanest two. His sister tends to be bipolar, often motherly but just as often lashing out at people who haven't been troubling; his middle brother has gotten in trouble with the law as well as with the rest of the family, and also tends to break most mechanical things he gets his hands on; and his youngest brother is nineteen, doesn't drive, and has serious possession/materialistic issues. And then there's his mother - she loves me, and always says so, but the rest of the family tends to be disgusted by her, and I can understand why. She is utterly dependent on the other members of the family to help get important things done, and makes excuses when she's called upon it. She's had various addictions all her life - the most recent two are smoking and late-night reality shows.
It's chaos. The lack of respect and love that I've seen has shocked me. And it brought me to the final conclusion, one that made me feel so much older than twenty-two - the dysfunctional family IS the norm, and families like mine, Miles', Nick's mom's, etc. are the exceptions. The people that live here seem to be united more by chance than by DNA... a bunch of short-tempered strangers that happen to live in the same building.
*sigh* This is the one of the few times I've really felt that part of my innocence has truly been lost. With the other issues like death and sex, it feels like the innocence is actually replaced by experience, but this is different. Like I said above, this is more like a challenge of my faith, of something that is part of my core being. And with that piece of my life lost, there's really nothing to fill it with.
I only know that Case and I keep each other sane. We can close the door (or at least keep it only a tad ajar, for ventilation and feline sakes) and not pay attention to the stupid shit that's happening outside. We can escape into World of Warcraft, or the humor of Codemonkeys or Psych, or the mysterious wonders of Star Trek or Dr. Who. When we have children, we're going to raise them in the ideal of family - love, support, order, humor, all the good things that work together to form solid bonds between parents and children.
And when we do those things, we will certainly not be here, in Palmdale. We'll have our own place, our own life, and it will be challenging... but it will be good.
Looking forward,
Grety
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