Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Say... what?
Labels:
Link Me All Over
Red Vehement is now open. How delightful.
If anyone remembers erudite.dx, this is a revival and possibly a lesser version as well. I'm not convinced this format works well with blogspot, but we'll give it a go. For those of you who are confused and out of the sacred loop of long-time readers, for shame. You suck. But seriously, this third blog is a simple outlet for my more random and brief musings which will be strictly contained to one post per page with a maximum of 50 words. Unless I change it. We'll see. I think... if I remember correctly, I set the previous limit on characters including spaces. Ha. What great expectations I had back then. 50 words seems a little more sensible and appropriate, but I'm sure at some point I'll cut it down even more drastically (20 perhaps?) and you'll see the true efficiency and eloquence of a mere handful of words.
Enjoy.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Math Problems
The countdown to insanity is really unnecessary since I'm pretty much already there and always have been. But, in a little over 5 days, things will get really crazy. How exciting. I timed myself today and even with traffic at its worst - thank you, unmovable public school transport - it still only takes about 15 minutes to get to work. And that's without exceeding the posted speed limit! Amazing! I might only have to purchase fuel once a week. That is the best. I'm looking very forward to that.
In other news... I think I've spoken to my entire family this week at some point. I can't believe it and you definitely shouldn't. I talked to most of them. Ok, fine. I talked to more than one of them this week. I actually spoke to...
I'm not sure what to say about anything else. I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to focus all of my energy on work and sleep and to hell with everything else. I am never going to unpack the boxes in this apartment. I realize that now. I've actually known that all along but I at least maintained some hope of proving myself wrong. I really don't care about keeping up appearances anymore. I don't have anything to prove to myself. I don't care either way and I already have everything I need so whatever. I've made a good deal more effort at it than I ever expected so... that's something. Maybe I'll commit Saturday to that. I don't think I'm going anywhere. I just don't feel like being social unless someone is paying me to be. I lack that sort of motivation at the moment.
Also, I hate the color blue today. I really do.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Blue Pill
Labels:
Link Me All Over
I wish. I am still playing with my layout code. I am currently changing the majority of the color scheme from teal to orange. There will still be some teal when I am done since it's part of the graphical base of the template, but I will have my links and active data accented in orange. Yay.
And I figured out the whole disappearing side menu mess. It was due to a conflict from introducing the post break feature so I will be posting everything in its entirety just like I have been. It's a shame. It saves alot of time and space. And I can even increase the number of displayed posts from 7 to possibly 15. I also like the teasing aspect of it. Cutting you off at the exact moment that something starts really getting interesting and making you reload to view the rest. Muahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
I am a devious bastard.
Oh well. Perhaps you'll see that elsewhere. Hint, hint. But not today.
Anyway, just a little update to let you know where I'm at with my techie endeavor. I'll get back at it, then.
[edit] I also justified all possible text. The jagged right edges of paragraphs make me really, really anxious. Not as anxious as several duplicate sets of keys, but almost. [/edit]
[edit] I also justified all possible text. The jagged right edges of paragraphs make me really, really anxious. Not as anxious as several duplicate sets of keys, but almost. [/edit]
Context Clues and Shotguns.
I called home today. Very big deal. I was secretly trying to determine who received the letter about the land tax being past due and how pissed everyone was about it. My cousin answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Who is this?"
"WHO IS THIS?!?!?"
Sometimes I have impulse control problems and I can't help myself. I scared her so she gave the phone to someone else. My aunt. A woman so elusive when it comes to telephone conversations with her family members that she will instead opt to have someone else take the call and relay both parts of the conversation to each side of it. But, not for me. I am the exception. There's a reason why but I don't know it.
Maybe I do. I gave her something once. It wasn't something I wanted to part with but at the time she needed it more than I did. It was the night she decided to divorce Soup and I tipped her scales in the right direction. It cost me a little more than I intended but it was worth it. She was terrified of the family judging her for it. She feared total banishment - which, isn't that unlikely considering my uncle. Anyway, I assured her there were worse things to fear. I didn't want to but there wasn't much else for me to work with. It worked. I knew it would. Now, we have this bond. This unspoken understanding. I didn't expect her to remember any of it the next day but she most certainly did. I will never tell her that I share that same secret bond with select other members of the family. It'll be a secret that our secret isn't really one at all. More of an inside joke, really. I laugh about it all the time. Anyway...
"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey. So you are still alive."
I almost hung up the phone. I have two very specific rules regarding telephone conversations.
But, I was on a mission and could not react in my typical fashion. I let it slide and even produced a semi-realistic chuckle.
"Yeah. It seems that way, doesn't it."
"So... How's it going down there?"
"Great. It's going very well."
"Is your store open yet?"
"Soon. Our grand opening will be the thirtieth."
I chatted with my aunt for a few minutes. It was very informative. I learned things I hadn't expected and those things were actually about my job. My old store, anyway. I later confirmed those things with someone on the inside. The intell was accurate. I was even more amazed. Things do eventually change, apparently. Good for them. Things have been changing for me since last year. I look back and can't believe the progress I've made. Then I look ahead and can't believe how very, very far I have yet to go. It's a little intimidating. My grandmother, who had been at the doctor's for our entire conversation, pulled into the driveway and my aunt went out to meet her. I listened to them talking to each other.
"Perfect timing! Guess who this is!"
(Unfortunately, I couldn't make out my grandmother's responses.)
"Yes."
(No idea.)
"Yes! It is! Really!"
(I can guess, but won't.)
"I know. That's what I said."
"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Gut en Haben! You are alive!"
I consider it, but refrain. I am still on a mission. If she were pissed off at me, she wouldn't have said anything at all, walked around my aunt, gone inside, slammed the door, and locked herself in one of the bathrooms for a few hours. That seemed like all the verification I needed, but... I like to be thorough.
"Yes, people keep telling me that."
"You're on my list, you know."
Oh shit. I'm on her list. That's crazy talk for 'I'm very upset with you and I may or may not explain after much prying why although either way it's much too late for you to do anything about it and all attempts to remedy the situation or apologize will be met with bitter, silent resentment and passive-aggressive mind games which will usually involve notes taped to things or myself because I am nothing if not theatrical and completely over the top'. Oh shit. It is possible, with very careful and seemingly random quips, to locate the source of these disturbances but it's very tricky and I'm a little rusty.
"Am I at the top or the bottom of this list?"
"The bottom and I have my cards on the table."
Hmmmmm. That's crazy talk for ..... I'm not even sure. I know that being on the bottom indicates I am her least favorite person at the moment, but as to the why... There isn't alot of context clues to work with but I take an educated guess at it. I know I haven't done anything upsetting involving furniture lately, so the keyword of that statement must be cards.
"Cards? You have your cards on the table."
She takes a deep breathe when I say the word 'cards'. I knew it and yet still... not helpful. I'm pretty sure she's not referring to Solitaire. However, why the pluralization? I'm missing something.
"Wait a minute. Are you talking about your postcard? Is your postcard on the table? Are you showing it to people?"
"I didn't get my postcard."
"You didn't get your postcard? That's impossible. You responded. I sent it out at the same time as Hedda's and the one for the post office and my mother. The last one I sent was Robin's-"
"Yes. You sent Robinsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss."
Holy shit, I just solved the puzzle. Give me an S. Cards are on the table. SSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
"You want another postcard."
"Well. It'd be nice. I got the other one a month ago! Something else must have happened since then."
"Not really. I'm really boring now. Nothing interesting ever happens to me anymore."
"You're lying. It's not nice to lie to your grandmother."
"No, it isn't."
"Oh. I wanted to ask you. How'd quitting smoking go?"
"It went great. I'll never smoke again. I can't believe I did it for all those years."
"Well, that's a relief."
"I know. One less thing for you to worry about."
I know. Horrible, right? I stopped feeling bad about lying to that woman a long, long time ago. I've actually gotten pretty good at it. I can even do it in person while looking right into her eyes. I even impress myself. Sometimes, lying is just easier. It's also quieter. I like that. I try to minimize the drama factor whenever I'm around other members of my family. Lying is useful for that sort of success.
"Well. Have you talked to your mother lately?"
"No. Why? Should I?"
"Well. I haven't heard from her. I drove by the house the other day and the grass is mowed. Is somebody living there now?"
"I have no idea. Maybe. I know they were talking about it but I don't know if they ever found anyone."
"Well, I know that one guy next door wanted his mother to live there."
"Yes, that is true and it's probably what happened. I don't have anything to do with that anymore. Also, I don't really care."
"Oh. You don't care about anything."
"I care about things that concern me directly."
"That house concerns you directly."
"No, it doesn't. Besides, I'm the only one with a key to that house now."
Also, Nurse Egg has a key. But that's not information I'm going to share with crazy people over the telephone. Some people might consider withholding information on par with lying, but I'm not one of those people. But if I were, I already explained my comfortable acceptance of that dull gray zone of moral ambiguity through lying.
"So... they couldn't rent it out unless I sent them the keys or they had the locks changed."
Which also hasn't happened because I know someone still visits the house from time to time and has done so recently to escape her crazy family the same way I escaped mine when I moved in. So, that's not what happened. I'm certain of it but do not feel any need to share the reasons why. I don't, however, know who is mowing the grass or why. I have theories but none of them seem very realistic. Then again, knowing my family, anything is possible.
"Well. You should call your mother and find out something."
"Maybe I will."
"And?"
"And send you another postcard."
"I'm so glad you called."
"Me, too."
"You should check in once in awhile, you know? Let us know you're still alive."
"Yes, I know."
"I don't want to have to hear it on the news when one of those crazies down there takes your head off with a shotgun over some silly misunderstanding."
Whoa. Even I am sometimes completely floored by the psychotic and highly specific shit that comes out of that woman's mouth. That was completely unnecessary and unprovoked.
"Well, if that were to happen... I'm not sure I'm going to be able to make any calls. I won't have a head and you can't get text messages."
"Your aunt can!"
"Right. What was I thinking? I'm gonna go. I got that postcard to write and life insurance to upgrade. I'm a busy guy."
After a conversation like that, I'm not sure I'm ever going home again. I'm safer here with the shotgun wielding crazies.
"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Who is this?"
"WHO IS THIS?!?!?"
Sometimes I have impulse control problems and I can't help myself. I scared her so she gave the phone to someone else. My aunt. A woman so elusive when it comes to telephone conversations with her family members that she will instead opt to have someone else take the call and relay both parts of the conversation to each side of it. But, not for me. I am the exception. There's a reason why but I don't know it.
Maybe I do. I gave her something once. It wasn't something I wanted to part with but at the time she needed it more than I did. It was the night she decided to divorce Soup and I tipped her scales in the right direction. It cost me a little more than I intended but it was worth it. She was terrified of the family judging her for it. She feared total banishment - which, isn't that unlikely considering my uncle. Anyway, I assured her there were worse things to fear. I didn't want to but there wasn't much else for me to work with. It worked. I knew it would. Now, we have this bond. This unspoken understanding. I didn't expect her to remember any of it the next day but she most certainly did. I will never tell her that I share that same secret bond with select other members of the family. It'll be a secret that our secret isn't really one at all. More of an inside joke, really. I laugh about it all the time. Anyway...
"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey. So you are still alive."
I almost hung up the phone. I have two very specific rules regarding telephone conversations.
1. If the first comment upon identifying me as the caller or upon my answering if you happen to be the caller is something to the effect of 'I can't believe you answered.' or 'Oh my god! You're still alive!' or 'Did you answer the phone by accident?' ... my immediate impulse is to remedy the problem promptly and without warning by hanging up and not calling back and not answering when you call back.
2. If at any time I become aware of the fact that you are using the toilet in any capacity, I will end the call and throw my phone at the wall.
But, I was on a mission and could not react in my typical fashion. I let it slide and even produced a semi-realistic chuckle.
"Yeah. It seems that way, doesn't it."
"So... How's it going down there?"
"Great. It's going very well."
"Is your store open yet?"
"Soon. Our grand opening will be the thirtieth."
I chatted with my aunt for a few minutes. It was very informative. I learned things I hadn't expected and those things were actually about my job. My old store, anyway. I later confirmed those things with someone on the inside. The intell was accurate. I was even more amazed. Things do eventually change, apparently. Good for them. Things have been changing for me since last year. I look back and can't believe the progress I've made. Then I look ahead and can't believe how very, very far I have yet to go. It's a little intimidating. My grandmother, who had been at the doctor's for our entire conversation, pulled into the driveway and my aunt went out to meet her. I listened to them talking to each other.
"Perfect timing! Guess who this is!"
(Unfortunately, I couldn't make out my grandmother's responses.)
"Yes."
(No idea.)
"Yes! It is! Really!"
(I can guess, but won't.)
"I know. That's what I said."
"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Gut en Haben! You are alive!"
I consider it, but refrain. I am still on a mission. If she were pissed off at me, she wouldn't have said anything at all, walked around my aunt, gone inside, slammed the door, and locked herself in one of the bathrooms for a few hours. That seemed like all the verification I needed, but... I like to be thorough.
"Yes, people keep telling me that."
"You're on my list, you know."
Oh shit. I'm on her list. That's crazy talk for 'I'm very upset with you and I may or may not explain after much prying why although either way it's much too late for you to do anything about it and all attempts to remedy the situation or apologize will be met with bitter, silent resentment and passive-aggressive mind games which will usually involve notes taped to things or myself because I am nothing if not theatrical and completely over the top'. Oh shit. It is possible, with very careful and seemingly random quips, to locate the source of these disturbances but it's very tricky and I'm a little rusty.
"Am I at the top or the bottom of this list?"
"The bottom and I have my cards on the table."
Hmmmmm. That's crazy talk for ..... I'm not even sure. I know that being on the bottom indicates I am her least favorite person at the moment, but as to the why... There isn't alot of context clues to work with but I take an educated guess at it. I know I haven't done anything upsetting involving furniture lately, so the keyword of that statement must be cards.
"Cards? You have your cards on the table."
She takes a deep breathe when I say the word 'cards'. I knew it and yet still... not helpful. I'm pretty sure she's not referring to Solitaire. However, why the pluralization? I'm missing something.
"Wait a minute. Are you talking about your postcard? Is your postcard on the table? Are you showing it to people?"
"I didn't get my postcard."
"You didn't get your postcard? That's impossible. You responded. I sent it out at the same time as Hedda's and the one for the post office and my mother. The last one I sent was Robin's-"
"Yes. You sent Robinsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss."
Holy shit, I just solved the puzzle. Give me an S. Cards are on the table. SSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
"You want another postcard."
"Well. It'd be nice. I got the other one a month ago! Something else must have happened since then."
"Not really. I'm really boring now. Nothing interesting ever happens to me anymore."
"You're lying. It's not nice to lie to your grandmother."
"No, it isn't."
"Oh. I wanted to ask you. How'd quitting smoking go?"
"It went great. I'll never smoke again. I can't believe I did it for all those years."
"Well, that's a relief."
"I know. One less thing for you to worry about."
I know. Horrible, right? I stopped feeling bad about lying to that woman a long, long time ago. I've actually gotten pretty good at it. I can even do it in person while looking right into her eyes. I even impress myself. Sometimes, lying is just easier. It's also quieter. I like that. I try to minimize the drama factor whenever I'm around other members of my family. Lying is useful for that sort of success.
"Well. Have you talked to your mother lately?"
"No. Why? Should I?"
"Well. I haven't heard from her. I drove by the house the other day and the grass is mowed. Is somebody living there now?"
"I have no idea. Maybe. I know they were talking about it but I don't know if they ever found anyone."
"Well, I know that one guy next door wanted his mother to live there."
"Yes, that is true and it's probably what happened. I don't have anything to do with that anymore. Also, I don't really care."
"Oh. You don't care about anything."
"I care about things that concern me directly."
"That house concerns you directly."
"No, it doesn't. Besides, I'm the only one with a key to that house now."
Also, Nurse Egg has a key. But that's not information I'm going to share with crazy people over the telephone. Some people might consider withholding information on par with lying, but I'm not one of those people. But if I were, I already explained my comfortable acceptance of that dull gray zone of moral ambiguity through lying.
"So... they couldn't rent it out unless I sent them the keys or they had the locks changed."
Which also hasn't happened because I know someone still visits the house from time to time and has done so recently to escape her crazy family the same way I escaped mine when I moved in. So, that's not what happened. I'm certain of it but do not feel any need to share the reasons why. I don't, however, know who is mowing the grass or why. I have theories but none of them seem very realistic. Then again, knowing my family, anything is possible.
"Well. You should call your mother and find out something."
"Maybe I will."
"And?"
"And send you another postcard."
"I'm so glad you called."
"Me, too."
"You should check in once in awhile, you know? Let us know you're still alive."
"Yes, I know."
"I don't want to have to hear it on the news when one of those crazies down there takes your head off with a shotgun over some silly misunderstanding."
Whoa. Even I am sometimes completely floored by the psychotic and highly specific shit that comes out of that woman's mouth. That was completely unnecessary and unprovoked.
"Well, if that were to happen... I'm not sure I'm going to be able to make any calls. I won't have a head and you can't get text messages."
"Your aunt can!"
"Right. What was I thinking? I'm gonna go. I got that postcard to write and life insurance to upgrade. I'm a busy guy."
After a conversation like that, I'm not sure I'm ever going home again. I'm safer here with the shotgun wielding crazies.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
I'm finding it harder to be a gentleman every day.
...and now for an actual update.
Work is going well. I have not been bored. I have made a difference, in my own way, at each location I visited. Made my mark, so to speak. Or erased the marks of others, when appropriate. It's been really good for me.
If I hadn't left Ohio, I'd still be there. Ten years later and still hating it. That's assuming I wouldn't have had a total mental breakdown at some point brought on by the combined effects of my proximity to key members of my family, zero opportunity for career advancement, a schedule with a disturbingly unbalanced ratio of work to sleep, and continued financial woe. Perhaps I should give you a more concrete example of how life in WV compares to life in OH.
People I worked with for three weeks in WV were more disappointed to see me go than people I worked with for three years in OH. If my sudden departure had the impact on the employees in OH that it did on the employees in WV, it might not have been so easy to leave. I still would have left, obviously, but I would have thought twice about it. Seriously reconsidered it, too. Weighed the pros against the cons. All of it.
I am increasingly surprised by the number of people who leave their vehicles running with unlocked doors and completely rolled down windows while they run into the market or gas station or post office or where ever. If I ever found myself unemployed and homeless in WV, I would have no trouble at all with pursuing a better life through grand theft auto. It's amazing. I don't even leave my Jeep unlocked while I'm in it. It's absurd. How can this be? I have no idea and I refuse to ask.
I still haven't decided whether I'm going home tomorrow or not. I would like to get it over with if I could. That sounded horrible and appropriate. I don't know. I can honestly say - with exception of Nurse Egg - that I hadn't thought about those people for weeks. Except when Nurse Egg would say something that would remind me of the time... blah blah blah. Fill in the blank. It would be easier going back into that mess if I could pour candle wax into my ears and not have to deal with- I can't even say. I can guess. I can guess with disturbing-almost-psychic accuracy, but I still won't say. But, I'm not sure I could handle my thoughts being overwhelmed by the aroma of sugar cookies for two days and I don't own unscented candles. What would be the point of that? Aesthetics without functionality? Insanity.
Speaking of which, I purchased drapes for Apartment H about a week ago. I put one set of them up in the living room where I inevitably pass out while trying desperately to catch up on all my recorded programming. It's impossible. I'm not motivated enough to make that happen. Back to my point, they are amazing at blocking out the light and I can't help but sleep during the day. Even when I work in the mornings, I come home and pass out immediately. I usually end up waking up on my own sometime after midnight. Today is the exception. Today I've been blessed with insomnia. Probably brought on by stress. What stress? Refer to previous post for that answer. Which is fine because I'll end up doing more around my apartment in an effort to wear myself down and trick my brain into shutting down by way of total exhaustion. Good times.
I have less than two weeks until my grand opening. Very exciting. I am going to be busier than... I'll refrain from using a metaphor I overheard today. It's delightful, I assure you. To counteract that, I have the next three days off. It's funny. I'm just as busy on my days away from work as I am while at work. I can't do everything I want to do in that small time frame. If I ever do manage to get some sleep, I will make my decision when I wake up. That decision will be based solely on what time it happens to be. If it's past noon, I'm not going home. If it isn't past noon, I might go home if I feel strong enough to deal it. It? Them. Ok then. Even if I do go home, I'm going to set my agenda in advance. I'm going to craft a time line and print three copies of it. I'm going to follow it precisely. I will take a sleeping bag and sleep in my empty house. I don't need to stay in Kingsgrave House any longer than necessary to weave an amusing post for Robin. I will visit my former co-workers but I will only stay an hour and I will only stop in on my way out of town. That way I have very aggressive motivators to get me out of there. Going home. Leaving town. Making decent travel time.
It sounds like I'm making the trip home, doesn't it? I probably am. God help me.
I can almost see the future and it is wonderful. It will be wonderful, someday. When I get all my debts resolved and I've managed to get my life in order - on the day that I finally grow up, basically - I'm going to jump out of a plane in Orange, Virginia. Ever since hearing about Bridge Day, I've been researching what it would take to get me on the bridge and base jumping like a madman. Well, it will take about $4k. That's a conservative estimate. That will provide all the lessons, equipment, and plane rides to get me all the skydiving pre-requisites to obtain my professional license and allow me to participate in Bridge Day 2011. Registration is in October, so this year is a wash and next year won't allow enough time to complete all 50 or so jumps realistically - not to mention my continued financial situation which would make blowing nearly a year of rent on skydiving unreasonable. Regardless, it hardly matters. I'm not doing that. Well, I'm probably not doing that. But, when I do get everything settled and there are more zeroes than negatives in my ledger, I will be jumping out of a plane. Once. That's my pact with myself. I will reward my own success with an intense, death-defying challenge on gravity itself. I think that's poetic. Sort of. Not to mention it will give me enough of a taste that I'll know one way or the other whether it's for me or not. Then, I can go completely insane and invest a year of rent into repeatedly recreating the plight of Icarus. Now that is poetic.
Other than that, I'm taking it a day at a time and living life. It is what it is. It is what I've allowed it to be and what I've worked so hard to make it.
I'm satisfied. I shouldn't have to explain how impossible that simple statement has been for me to truthfully admit, but I finally have and I'm not going to stop savoring it until the taste burns a hole in my tongue and the last crumbs turn to ashy stone in my starved innards.
That was colorful. Enjoy!
Work is going well. I have not been bored. I have made a difference, in my own way, at each location I visited. Made my mark, so to speak. Or erased the marks of others, when appropriate. It's been really good for me.
If I hadn't left Ohio, I'd still be there. Ten years later and still hating it. That's assuming I wouldn't have had a total mental breakdown at some point brought on by the combined effects of my proximity to key members of my family, zero opportunity for career advancement, a schedule with a disturbingly unbalanced ratio of work to sleep, and continued financial woe. Perhaps I should give you a more concrete example of how life in WV compares to life in OH.
People I worked with for three weeks in WV were more disappointed to see me go than people I worked with for three years in OH. If my sudden departure had the impact on the employees in OH that it did on the employees in WV, it might not have been so easy to leave. I still would have left, obviously, but I would have thought twice about it. Seriously reconsidered it, too. Weighed the pros against the cons. All of it.
I am increasingly surprised by the number of people who leave their vehicles running with unlocked doors and completely rolled down windows while they run into the market or gas station or post office or where ever. If I ever found myself unemployed and homeless in WV, I would have no trouble at all with pursuing a better life through grand theft auto. It's amazing. I don't even leave my Jeep unlocked while I'm in it. It's absurd. How can this be? I have no idea and I refuse to ask.
I still haven't decided whether I'm going home tomorrow or not. I would like to get it over with if I could. That sounded horrible and appropriate. I don't know. I can honestly say - with exception of Nurse Egg - that I hadn't thought about those people for weeks. Except when Nurse Egg would say something that would remind me of the time... blah blah blah. Fill in the blank. It would be easier going back into that mess if I could pour candle wax into my ears and not have to deal with- I can't even say. I can guess. I can guess with disturbing-almost-psychic accuracy, but I still won't say. But, I'm not sure I could handle my thoughts being overwhelmed by the aroma of sugar cookies for two days and I don't own unscented candles. What would be the point of that? Aesthetics without functionality? Insanity.
Speaking of which, I purchased drapes for Apartment H about a week ago. I put one set of them up in the living room where I inevitably pass out while trying desperately to catch up on all my recorded programming. It's impossible. I'm not motivated enough to make that happen. Back to my point, they are amazing at blocking out the light and I can't help but sleep during the day. Even when I work in the mornings, I come home and pass out immediately. I usually end up waking up on my own sometime after midnight. Today is the exception. Today I've been blessed with insomnia. Probably brought on by stress. What stress? Refer to previous post for that answer. Which is fine because I'll end up doing more around my apartment in an effort to wear myself down and trick my brain into shutting down by way of total exhaustion. Good times.
I have less than two weeks until my grand opening. Very exciting. I am going to be busier than... I'll refrain from using a metaphor I overheard today. It's delightful, I assure you. To counteract that, I have the next three days off. It's funny. I'm just as busy on my days away from work as I am while at work. I can't do everything I want to do in that small time frame. If I ever do manage to get some sleep, I will make my decision when I wake up. That decision will be based solely on what time it happens to be. If it's past noon, I'm not going home. If it isn't past noon, I might go home if I feel strong enough to deal it. It? Them. Ok then. Even if I do go home, I'm going to set my agenda in advance. I'm going to craft a time line and print three copies of it. I'm going to follow it precisely. I will take a sleeping bag and sleep in my empty house. I don't need to stay in Kingsgrave House any longer than necessary to weave an amusing post for Robin. I will visit my former co-workers but I will only stay an hour and I will only stop in on my way out of town. That way I have very aggressive motivators to get me out of there. Going home. Leaving town. Making decent travel time.
It sounds like I'm making the trip home, doesn't it? I probably am. God help me.
Gut en Haben. Indeed.
I can almost see the future and it is wonderful. It will be wonderful, someday. When I get all my debts resolved and I've managed to get my life in order - on the day that I finally grow up, basically - I'm going to jump out of a plane in Orange, Virginia. Ever since hearing about Bridge Day, I've been researching what it would take to get me on the bridge and base jumping like a madman. Well, it will take about $4k. That's a conservative estimate. That will provide all the lessons, equipment, and plane rides to get me all the skydiving pre-requisites to obtain my professional license and allow me to participate in Bridge Day 2011. Registration is in October, so this year is a wash and next year won't allow enough time to complete all 50 or so jumps realistically - not to mention my continued financial situation which would make blowing nearly a year of rent on skydiving unreasonable. Regardless, it hardly matters. I'm not doing that. Well, I'm probably not doing that. But, when I do get everything settled and there are more zeroes than negatives in my ledger, I will be jumping out of a plane. Once. That's my pact with myself. I will reward my own success with an intense, death-defying challenge on gravity itself. I think that's poetic. Sort of. Not to mention it will give me enough of a taste that I'll know one way or the other whether it's for me or not. Then, I can go completely insane and invest a year of rent into repeatedly recreating the plight of Icarus. Now that is poetic.
Other than that, I'm taking it a day at a time and living life. It is what it is. It is what I've allowed it to be and what I've worked so hard to make it.
I'm satisfied. I shouldn't have to explain how impossible that simple statement has been for me to truthfully admit, but I finally have and I'm not going to stop savoring it until the taste burns a hole in my tongue and the last crumbs turn to ashy stone in my starved innards.
That was colorful. Enjoy!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
I don't need a 12 step program. I need restraints and a sedative.
I went a little crazy Wednesday. Maybe I went a lot crazy Wednesday. Insane, possibly.
I'm much, much better now. Sleeping helped. Ranting and raving helped.
By the time I finished writing my crazy Wednesday post, I didn't need it anymore. I post it anyway because it was good therapy and it helped. It also filled all the empty space with a text-based rage which is useful for evaluation and resolution. Plus, it kept me from wringing my hands or punching something. That post has now been replaced by this one featuring movie stills of crazy people re-enacting my ordeal in living color.
I also used the telephone on Wednesday and into Thursday. That helped immensely. It was wonderful talking to people on the phone that weren't affiliated with any credit bureaus or debt collection agencies. I forgot that was possible. It was lovely. I smoked while I talked and between calls. I like to smoke.
Now, I'm just sitting here and relaxing. Recovery is a gradual process and I'm gradually recovering from batshit crazy. I giggle a little bit every time I say that. Batshit crazy. That's crazy. Crazy like me.
Friday, September 11, 2009
You just stepped in it.
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1000 Words
Yeah, it's been a great day. A really great day.
I'm playing this wonderful game with Sprint right now. It's the same game I've been playing with them for about a year now. Here's how it works:
Let's say I get my bill on the THIRD day of every month. The payment for the bill is due on the TWENTIETH day of every month. That gives me a little over TWO weeks to pay it or SEVENTEEN days if you prefer. I make immediate payment because I do not want my phone service to be disrupted. It takes Sprint TWO to THREE business days to post the payment to my Sprint account, although funds are IMMEDIATELY removed from my bank account. So, payment is posted no later than the TENTH (that is the longest possible time it could take Sprint to post my payment and that is only when a three day holiday occurs directly after the THIRD).
To summarize:
Bill received: 9/03
Bill paid in full: 9/10
Bill due: 9/20
So I not only pay on time but I pay in advance, more than a week before my due date. What does Sprint do to reward me for this? On the TWENTIETH (my due date), regardless of whether I've paid or not, they deactivate my account. Awesome right? Yeah, I know. I am very, very aware. Actually, the only way I've found to keep them from deactivating my account is to NOT pay them.
This would all be a little easier if I could just contact them and ask them to reactivate my account. But that's a hard trick to play when your only phone doesn't work. Because you paid the bill for it. On time. Gasp! The shock and horror.
Why?
My contract is over in December and I can not wait. Can NOT wait!
I love you, Verizon. See you soon.
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