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Reach For The Sky
I'm being brief, but I wanted to get this out. Tonight was Cirque night. And I was beat, and exhausted, and I just didn't want to go. Sister makes comments. Worse mood. No food. Worse mood.
And then, my deep rooted fear of losing control kicks in, because their barking directions at me as we look for food. Turn left here, turn right here, turn left, go straight. I am AFRAID of not knowing where I am. I need a marker to base things off. I had none. So, now I feel completely lost, in Chicago, and this stresses me out. Stressing me. Angry. Oh....there went the MS. So now I'm dealing with slight MS symptoms on top of everything else.
Cirque finally starts, where I'm sitting alone, because they forgot to order my ticket with theirs. Not such a big deal. I had better seats. Second row, aisle seat. But, I was so angry, that I wasn't enjoying myself. I wasn't enjoying watching the preshow clown antics.
I could feel the tears right behind the eyes. Waiting to come out. I wanted to have fun. I wanted to laugh. I never felt more alone and more of an outsider than at that moment.
So, show starts. And Icarus falls from the sky. I gasp. Tears in my eyes. I don't know why the imagery brought the tears out. And they were gone in a flash, deep breath, gone.
But, I was on the brink there. Brink of complete sadness, and it frightened me. Made me more stressed. But the show made it better. I laughed. I applauded. I wanted to watch forever, because there was such happiness and fluid movement in front of me.
And the girl who sat me was hot. Like, cute version of Thora Birch, hot. Her name was Amanda. We both had our Nixon's on. Too bad I spotted a wedding ring.
Not that I would have talked to her. Can never talk to them. Too much fear. But that's another day.
Therapy
It's always nice to have people who share in the misery that is neurotic and manic behavior like I have here at work. And I know as far as problems go I'm fairly okay compared to others. But going through life obsessing, obsessing, obsessing over things that only happened in MY head sucks. Having the conversation I did this morning with one of my coworkers, who suffers the same problems, but on a much larger scale was healthy, and enlightening. It felt good to hear someone say that I was handling it all okay by communicating and embracing my problems instead of letting them grow inside me until I'm a sociopath destroying all in my wake.
Music for the day? I made a comp CD of dance music. It all started because I really dug this song by Junior Senior. And what frightened me was that I had enough music to fill 80 minutes. The comp is lovingly titled "Dance Mother Fucker!"
Anger...rising
The stress of not being able to understand something angers me. I am not a multimedia person. Never have been. I'm a very static, two dimensional designer. And trying to grasp all that is Macromedia Director fries my brain, which fries my temper.
I don't need this program! I'm not going into that field! EVER!
Fun With Words
I wrote this for A. in response to the complete lack of us getting our evaluations:
Dear W.,
Hi. It's A. here. You know, one of the last few people who feels there is still some point in fighting the good fight, and not just opening up Yahoo Games and spending my day playing as much solitaire as possible (High score of 500! Go me!). I wanted to tell you that I represent a growing concern in the library, or at least those who work under you. This concerns our money, and your unwillingness to give it to us. We are not the famous rock stars who must think we are, although the majority of us have worked up a love of liquor and tar heroin thanks to the stress of our job. But no, most of us need the extra 100 dollars per week to help take care of bills (and tar heroin AIN'T cheap!).
So, I've attached my self evaluation again, along with the self evaluations of everyone who is still waiting for their evaluation. Please, as the speaker of the house, as the Jimmy Hoffa of the library world, get this done for me. Otherwise, I'll have to have my husband beat up your husband.
Thanks.
A.
Ouch
I have ever the slight grease burn on my finger. It happened while I was preparing food for this evening. I cook pretty much every Wednesday for the evening staff at work (or at least the ones I want to cook for). The only downside to this is that two of the people I cooked for now work days, so it's basically just A. and me doing the majority of the eating. And that's fine. Because, as she's stated, A. doesn't eat nearly healthy enough, so I feel like I'm doing my good deed for the week.
And while I cook, it keeps me focused on not burning shit, which just takes my mind off of everything else I'm constantly thinking about. I enjoy being taken away from the worries of my world, even for thirty minutes at a time.
Today is tempeh cooked in soy sauce in olive oil with a hint of coriander. Side dish is some Trader Joe's pasta dish. I believe A. said she was bringing some stirfry as well.
I really should get ready for work.
More Horror
I bring all this up, because I just saw two of the freakiest damn trailers for Eli Roth's new Cabin Fever. There's so much more creep fun in the trailers the director himself is releasing then the ones that Lion's Gate has put out.
Check 'em out.
Face Trailer
Shaving Trailer
The Horror
I love horror movies. I'm more a fan of the blood soaked gore that came about in the seventies. Not so much a fan of sequel slasher flicks, although, I can't wait for Freddy vs Jason. I get all happy when the trailer comes on.
But that's not to say I don't enjoy the early stuff either. I can't wait to finally see the original version of The Haunting. Or even Haxan. But, there's something about blood soaked mayhem that came about in the seventies.
Major Tom To Ground Control
So, the idea of the blog brings up several ideas I've been thinking about today. Like, are people, aside from the one I know is reading this occasionally, actually reading this? And how do they perceive me? Whiny? I mean, I tend to complain a decent amount on here. Crazy? It's my happy neurotic place. Or have I found my voice, and have the readers banded together to be the new order based upon my speakings? Little organizations sitting around waiting for the next words to come down the ramp.
"HE SPEAKS!" I can hear them chant.
And they look at me as a leader who admits his faults. And soon there's a major write-in campaign to get me elected President. Ballots across the country read "Some Sort Of God" since my name is never truly known. And I win, and the search begins to find the real me. Wouldn't they be surprised.
A left wing liberal pagan for President! Who knew!
Weary
I feel weary meeting people. The worry about impressing them, and keeping them entertained stresses me out. I don't want to have to worry if this person who I just met may be a future friend. A future lover. I don't want to have to worry if I'm being entertaining enough. I don't want to have to worry about if I'm being enough of myself that they don't think I'm actually someone else.
So I remain quiet. I keep a distance. It makes it lonely but easy. It makes it lonely but stress free. I can't decide which path is better in this case. The road that makes me motion sick, or the well paved and quiet road.
Listening to the Mighty Wind soundtrack. This may have something to do with my introspective nature.
Blog Down!
I can't connect to the blog! I can only blindly post and realize now the chances of people reading this are none! How can I continue to believe I'm starting a blind allegiance of faithful readers if they can't read!
Movie Madness
None of the movies in my Netflix Queue interest me, yet I'll be getting some sent out to me shortly. Currently, Mr. Deeds, GlennGarry Glen Ross, and Haxan (a silent horror movie) headed my way. But it's not like I'm dying to see any of them. And there's nothing in my queue that's screaming for me to push it to the top of the list. I should see what new movies came out this week.
This is what I worry about when I'm done with work.
Man Bored. Idle Hands Choke Self.
When I get bored, my mind starts working overtime. I sit in my office, worrying that something is wrong since I don't have any work. I'm always so constantly busy, that if I don't carry a constant hum with me I don't feel I'm accomplishing anything. So when I finally do relax, I feel I'm goofing off.
And this only adds to the fact that I sit here at work, and just don't feel like I should bother. With everything that happened last week, and the general air that is the word unappreciate floating around the library, I have no reason to work my hardest.
Which only leads me to how stagnate I feel right now. I don't feel like I'm growing. I just feel like I'm sitting. I don't have a place to do what I enjoy doing. I haven't painted in three years. I write maybe 5 pages a week. I just feel a lull. And since I'm neurotic, I convince myself that I'm sending off negative bored vibes which alienate me from other people. I still feel weird about last week. It bugs me I got that way. Oh well.
I've been looking for places to stay, and told M. to keep an eye out around where she lives. D. mentioned he might be moving back up here, and he'll need a roommate. I could live with D. unlike L. who slowly drove me insane in the week she was back up here. I enjoy my quiet time. And I don't think I'd have that with L. I'd be the guy being arrested for manslaughter who was quoted with "It's quiet now. Quiet where I need it to be!"
Who Needs Sense?
Still seething from the sister comments earlier, and it only made me angrier when my mother defended her.
"Well she didn't make a comment about your actual art." she says. And that's suppose to make me feel better. As if I'm suppose to go, "Oh, well as long as she only makes fun of certain portions of my art, that's fine."
Blah blah blah, artists are misunderstood, I get it. But it still makes me mad that people are like that. So closeminded and ego driven that unless they get it. Unless it somehow involves them. It just doesn't matter.
My school had this posted when I logged in today. It makes me feel slightly better:
"Chances are, the more puzzled looks your idea creates, the better your idea is."
I just need to go cool off. Read a book. Kill a virgin.
Grrr...
If there's one thing above all other things that piss me off, it's my families complete lack of respect for my art. They've never had any. My mother is the closest to caring about what I do. But when my sister makes comments like "There's wood out there that you consider art" and you can just sense the quotes in her voice. But, I don't go around and make fun of the things she works on. It's bitter and rude and disrespectful.
It's Youuuuuu....
When you're in just the right mood, Sigur Ros is the best music ever. Right now is one of those moods.
7:03 PM
Boredom at work has led to me getting random snippets of Copa Cobana stuck in my head. "Her name was Lola" "Her name was Lola." And then there's nothing. I have musical queues for it stuck in my head as well. So I've been wandering around the library whistling the same two bars over and over again in an attempt to get it out of my head. Instead, I fear it's only cemented it there further.
Mmmmmm...
You know what the best thing in the world is? Those new super Reese's Peanut Butter cups. So much peanut butter goodness.
Sweet Pogo Jumping Christ
Am I bored. That's not to say I don't have work I should be done, but I just don't have the drive to do it. After the nastiness that was last week, I see so little a point in getting the work done. Not to mention, hello, still no raise. Boy, having money sure would be nice.
And part of me feels real bad that I don't do the work I'm suppose to be getting done, but for 2 years now I've been the reliable one who gets stressed and loses his hair over how the department is run, but there was no recognition. A. threatened to quit on a daily basis over how this place is run. The only thing keeping us sane is our ability to complain to each other. The only thing keeping us here is the fact that anywhere else we'd go is a major pay cut. Grrr.
I'm listening to Freezepop now. I'm writing an article about them for the teen newsletter here at work. I just finished it up. Starts with a nice rant against MTV and Clear Channel and how the kids need to seek out the music, and don't let companies tell you who to like.
"Plastic stars. In my private galaxy. Synthpop stars. Come and play your show for me."
Ladies! Ladies! Ladies!
I've been writing on and off to a girl in Chicago the past week or so. It came about from the general push to get me hooked up. First B. with the cute as a button, but dumb as a rock waitress. Then E. with a different waitress. And finally there was good ol', naive ol' N at work who wanted to know my "perfect type."
And that's the problem with that question. I don't have a perfect type. I could find something to like, to even fall in love with, with pretty much any girl. My past has proven that. My ability to get crushes on people on solidifies it. I have my ideals. My Alyson Hannigan dreams. My Janeane Garafolo wishes. But I don't have an ideal type. I know it when I see it.
And this girl, so far, seems nice. Gets sucked into Real World marathons. Watches The Restaurant. Works at the CPL. Wants her library degree. Types in all lower case. I haven't seen the downside yet. M. and E. believe the downside is her love of BritPop, but we can change her...make her stronger.
But, at what point in an e-mail conversation, do you try "hookin' it up." I did once with a girl who I thought I hit it off with, and once I asked if we could meet, I never heard from her again. Lost to the ages.
Just wondering.
Comics
I just added a little link over yonder to my favorite of the serial killer comic strips. They're not all funny, but when they are, boy howdy, is it good laughing.
Heart Man
XM Radio's Special X is playing cartoon songs, and one of Phil Hartman's bits from the Simpsons came on. It made me realize how much I missed him as an entertainer, and how the world really was a little less funny minus him.
It's All So True
I thought I'd add to my friend M's paranoia. I just loaded up her "blog" (of which I still feel silly saying) to see her changes, and she's going on about feeling she needs to censor herself once she knows people may read her thoughts.
Right there with ya. I'm going on the assumption that anyone I talk negatively about doesn't have a computer. And the people who are reading this know I love 'em, and I hope they don't get pissed off. Unless you want to move to Chicago and have my babies without knowing who I actually am. That's just creepy shit.
HTML Make Angry!
It took me far too long, but I finally got this goofy blog thing to look the way I want it to. Stupid HTML.
Monday Morning
Because I feel like I don't accomplish anything if I don't at least write one whole chapter of my book before I go to bed by Sunday, I sat down and wrote a couple chapters last night about Midnight. And I use chapter very loosely. I use chapters the same way Dan Brown uses chapters. So, I believe the one chapter is maybe two pages long.
I've been criticized for being too depressing in my book. A. keeps telling me there better be an uplift or she's just going to hate the whole thing. Others love it, realizing there will be a happy ending before the end. Word is still out from a few people (who are probably reading this).
But, it is my life. Well, parts of it. Well, 90% of it, with a fictional plot tacked on for kicks. And, it isn't all happy. I'm not one of those Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous types. I haven't gotten it all yet. I'm working on it though.
XM Radio is playing an incredibly sexy version of Yummy Yummy Yummy.
Ch-Ch-Changes
Working out the final bit of my depression, I've been dealing with the idea of friendships that change over time. That things get more serious, and you don't get to goof off as much as you once did with people. After my boughts of craziness these past few weeks (and previous ones as well) I still have the concern that the close friends I consider close friends are different now, because of how they see me.
And, I'm sure it's really not the case. I'm sure that in some cases they have such a large amount on their own mind, that I can't even fathom how they feel.
But I got to see an old friend this weekend. Probably haven't seen D. in 6 months. And again the feelings of changing friendships came up.
I don't what would my life would be like if I didn't constantly worry I was screwing things up.
Weekend Movies
I figured this was as good a place as any to keep track of the movies I watch at a given time. Maybe a brief note about them. Oh, we'll rate it out of six stars. Why not.
Final Destination Two: *****
So much bloody fun.
Spun: **
As I said earlier. It was an experiment in nothingness.
Logan's Run: ***
Fun 70's sci-fi. A. told me I had no choice but to see it. So I did.
Cable's been out since about 5:30 here. Monsoon hit. Thunder clapped. No cable. Hence all the movie watching. I'm also catching up on old television. I've watched a couple Xena episodes. I forgot how much fun television use to be.
Blech!
Am I alone, or was Spun a visual experiment in nothingness? Blech.
No Mo Cell Pho'
So, I'm canceling my cell phone this afternoon. I'm unplugging from the Matrix. My goal to disappear into the sunset is one step closer.
And seriously, the last time I actually needed my cell phone was when the terrorists took out the WTC and A. was trying to reach her husband and vice versa. That was two years ago now. And I made A. promise that we just wouldn't let terrorists attack the next time we headed to a conference together. She seemed to go for it.
Just picked up a Mazzy Star album. I was never a big mope music person when it came out in '93, but I've been hearing Fade Into You quite a bit on XM Radio, and it just hit a chord with me, so I headed out to pick it up. Haven't listened to it yet. Except Fade Into You. That's such a pretty song.
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