(warning: particularly old content) I don't ask for it to make sense 
A few uneventful days of vacation: can't complain. I spent all of today reading, variably on the dock and on the boat; I've gone through four or five books since we left Seattle and now have only one left. Oh, the woes of vacation.
I'm feeling a lot more stable today for some reason. I felt for the last several days as if my inner brain was generating some tragic, epic opera for no one's benefit but my own sorrow, so I feel somewhat relieved to have a day's peace.
I had anxiety dreams all this morning, anxiety dreams about school of all things. The only explanation I can come up with is that my brain associates this time of year with going back to school, but as to why S was one of my teachers and Philip was named Brian P. Lackerman, according to his door, I have no idea.
No fish were caught today, nor any waterskiing learnt. What was done was an abundance of reading (the latter half of one book and the forefront third of another), six pathetic laps from dock to nearest dock (but the boys can scarce do one!), and some preliminary learning of boat driving. And that, right there, shows the writing tendencies that once drove Jan to despair: I am a master generator of monstrous noun stacks and clusters.
Nouns flow out of my mind and mouth and fingers, each one coated in a sticky substance, each attracting the following one as each is attracted to the one it follows.
I had occasion today to wonder if perhaps my sense of taste is broken. Perhaps there is a reason that I don't enjoy most fish, or delicate Japanese food, I thought. Perhaps my tastebuds, weaned on the spice of salsa and curry and the richness of sour cream and plain yogurt, simply can no longer appreciate flavors that are lighter, if indeed they ever did. I name such flavors bland, tasteless, but is that fair or simply my attempt to belittle that which I do not understand?
Turmoil in my mind only partially beaten out by the sun that succeeded in burning my face and scalp, oh so lightly, today. Affection, contempt, confusion, all blending into each other and back, un-understandable except through the lens of painful and impossible daydreams.
I have read too much, the last day or two. I always get disconnected from what center I may have when I do so.
The author I finished reading this afternoon wrote a joke about trying to kempt and hevel an unkempt and disheveled girl, and I laughed out loud. Unkempt, disheveled, unwieldy... these are some of my favorite words, even if the others on the list float in and out of my memory like fog tendrils.
I caught a fish today! Twice bitten and once caught... I had no earthly idea what to do with it once I'd caught it, however. Heavens, I wasn't actually supposed to catch one. I was just supposed to flick the line out into the lake and lazily reel it back in! After the first bite, I told the fish in the lake so, severely. "Don't you dare be stupid enough to bite at my lure, fishies," I said, "Do we have a deal?" But the faithless fish reneged on our understanding... Thankfully Craig's dad was there to help me unhook the poor beast and set it back in the water.
Patrick, Craig, and I spent most of the day either in the water or upon it in a boat (including a dash to retrieve an inflated alligator that the stiff breeze had swept away from me—who was I to deny the wind?), or at least nearby, reading. I will be separated from the Internet and other wide communications for the longest time that I have been for... years? How many years? When I go to my grandparents' in Colorado, I am remote but still able to dial up, after all. Perhaps Jim's and my travel around the West, two years ago? Three? (Three.) But I suspect that then, I caved at the grandparent stop. Here, there is nowhere to cave.
And oh, oh, oh, how painful, that momentary thought of Jim. I spoke to him briefly the other day; I saw him online and couldn't help but tell him about my job. But what was I doing, hoping that he'd be happy? I'm so conflicted—I feel some days in the last few months as if I'm going to strangle in memories of him. Time burnishes memories, giving luster to the good moments and filling in those small, if fatally common, imperfections. It's so easy to look back and think, "Oh god, what have I done," despite simultaneously knowing that those problems, slight though they may have been individually, were indeed there and in such unaddressed numbers and states that I felt as drowned in them then as I do in memories of good times now.
I still miss him so much I could cry... and am.
Am I dreaming now?
Electropop rushed into me and flowed back out my arms, outstretched to the sunset and the mountains as I soared down the big hill at over sixty miles an hour: Look, ma, no hands! Sobs and laughs both ripped their ways out of my tight throat; a few tears escaped to fly back along my temples, ignoring physics that dicated that the wind remained outside my car.
My jeans legs rolled up, I sat on the edge of a bathtub. One kitten crouched at my side, poking curiously at the inch of cool water invading her resting place, two more purred out of sight but not earshot. With my computer perched on my knees, I was more at peace, my feet soothed by the cold, than I've been in days. I read.
I will be gone, seeking revenge upon the lake that stole my sight, for the next week.
A grey cat and a spotted calico are circling each other in the darkened street and my mind jumbles words, uselessly.
John may now publicly tell me so.
In the last few days I was offered a full time position at Microsoft, and today I accepted it. I'm going to be a real girl! A real exhausted girl who was at work way too late again today, but hey, that's what the next week of vacation is to counteract.
I'd like to be able to say more about today (number three for the last year for seeing very long lost friends), but I just can't. A fatigue attack forced me to flee gaming tonight before my vision utterly faded, and a back clawing from Micah just capped things off after I got home. He needs to learn that me kneeling and bending down does not mean he should leap onto my back and walk around, but until then, I'm scratched and exhausted. It's for bed times.
The random pet note for the day: I need a remote control for the bathroom door. My kittens are masters of getting locked in there; on any given day, I accidentally close at least one inside. I can't leave the door open, as one of them proved again the other day that despite the small size of their brains, they are capable of putting two and two together and determining what is supposed to be done in the bathroom while at the same time unable to take advantage of the facilities properly. They can't be trusted, yet they're geniuses at slipping in when I'm not looking. What, I ask you, is so dreadfully fascinating about the bathroom for them? Aggie and Micah love nothing more than to curl up in the bathtub; Jasper prefers to curl up on the rugs or hide behind the door. Whatever the attraction is, they're drawn to the bathroom like little moronic magnets. Inevitably, one of them is in there when I close the door and head into the bedroom, get into bed, and completely drained of desire to get up and let the sweet mewling idiot out. The solution is simple; I've got a clean line of sight on the bathroom door: remote control.
(happy look) A day spent driving around in the sun, accomplishing minor errands, and spending over a hundred dollars on a metrick fuckton of used books: perfect. I spent yesterday fatigued and unable to enjoy the day off, so having today go well was appreciated.
I spent some random time this evening reading what blogs turn up when one googles for "Jen thoughts" (I show up on the second page at the moment). I have decided that, by and large, the Jens of the world are not fit for the blogging gig—as a collective, we should really just stop (although this particular Jen should keep up with the whole designing thing; her site is lovely). We have little to say and very few interesting ways of saying it, and apparently I am one of the very few that doesn't have children. That last part isn't related, it just creeps me out a bit.
Well, apparently "getting anaesthesia for dental work" is another thing to add the list of things the neurologist won't want me to do. I went in today to have a cavity filled (my first one ever, woe), and had another fainting + seizure spell similar to the one I had last year. Injection for numbing was followed closely by nausea and dizziness; I told my densist and his assistant that I felt like I was going to faint, Dr. Naden said "let's lean you back," and next thing I knew I was coming to with the assistant mildly freaking out and Dr. Naden holding onto my arm. Apparently I stared the assistant in the eyes the whole time I was convulsing (shudder).
I'm just fine: I felt worse for having scared Dr. Naden's assistant more than anything else. A little yogurt to eat (I'm relatively certain that the fact that I hadn't really eaten in about 24 hours played a hand), a drink of water, and we were able to actually get the cavity filled with absolutely no problems... I almost fell asleep, in fact. I got Dad to come meet me to make sure I was okay to drive, and we had delicious lunch in West Seattle. I went back to work in the afternoon and was able to get lots of stuff done, so obviously I'm doing okay.
But I apparently can't even get weensy little shots without my body utterly betraying me (my dentist and my dad think that I've got a mistuned physical response to personal physical trauma). I can't stand how utterly pathetic my body is.
The I Told You So's were allowed to commence today. It was, on all the points that really matter, an excellent day. Not least because OMFG, I bought a car. Sure, it's used, but it's still the first car I've ever actually owned myself (I feel like a real grown up girl today).
And I have uber nerd shirt on the way to me. That just caps everything off.
Last interview went swimmingly today; I came out of it feeling ecstatic about the possibility of working under Uwe. The job being offered to me is still dependent on who else interviews, but I'm feeling confident that if I don't get it, it won't be because they didn't want me or my skills were lacking. And that's a good feeling.
It's a good thing that I love my job, despite my rampant bitching and moaning, because I was at it from 8:30 to 7:45 today. It's also a good thing I adore working with S, as the last three hours or so of that time were spent in his office working on HSC business. I feel a wee bit absolutely terrible for him, considering HSC isn't even his actual job anymore. But on the other hand, I suspect that he loves it just as much as I do, so maybe being willing to stay at work hours past when he was originally going to leave was his own darn fault. Heh. Workaholics R Us.
(falling back) Well, I certainly had more interview experience by the end of today than I did when I woke up. And I am now ridiculously wiped out, as I oso wisely opted to bracket my Microsoft interview loop today with a couple hours of working on either end. I'm actually most displeased with myself for not staying at work an extra half hour; I got email at 7:30pm indicating that there was a relatively serious but deadheaded bug in some scripts I wrote for a build (specifically, in a list of files to include). Sigh. Not really the way to make me feel awesome about me.
Other than that, however, I'm feeling pretty good. I have one last interview tomorrow, for a grand total of six, and I have the sense that the main reason that I would not get hired would be due to lack of experience, which is completely fair. I won't find out for quite a while, of course...
Even so, the prospect that I could, even just possibly, be working full time at Microsft in a month or two, makes my heart leap. None of my people seem to understand what draws me to MS or to localization, much less the combination, or believe me when I explain it (with the possible exception of S). I won't try right now... but maybe, if I do get the job... maybe then.
All I ask is that I not be an utter spaz tomorrow. Towards that end, I beg for any and all anti-spaz mojo that could possibly come my way.
More after I get past the super freaky part into the general worry part.
Holy jesus, I'm gonna buy a car. Assuming that it doesn't come back from an inspection with any bad marks, I'm going to be driving a '99 Volvo V70 by the end of the week. All in all, it was an excellent experience: the guy wasn't smarmy and the car is both in excellent condition (and even colors that I relatively like: black with beige leather interior) and cheap. Well... cheap for a really good condition Volvo. I drove a VW Passat and an Audi Quattro as well, just to make sure that I really wanted the Volvo wagon, and it just won, hands down (I acknowledge that some of the reasons I like it are probably reasons other people wouldn't... but I'm buying it for me, not them). I'm quite glad that I liked how well it drove, as I'd been favoring it based on looks for quite some time; I just love the classy-and-classic-but-not-old look of the late 90s V70s, but lord knows that the looks of a car don't necessarily mean it's at all good for much other than staring at.
I'm pretty freaked out at the idea of buying something so expensive. I've never had to take out a loan before, for example. If it weren't for my father's advice and shepherding, I probably wouldn't even do it. How silly is that? So for once, thank heaven for my dad. Because if I have to drive Mom's Baja even another week, I'm going to go insane.
What an unexpectedly awesome night.
I was originally intending to go home from work early yesterday. But when I missed the window to make good time home, well, why not stay late, get some things done? So I was there, working, when S headed out to bid Paulo goodbye from the team at the bar. I hadn't planned on going, as I didn't know Paulo all that well, but I was convinced to go and have a couple beers. A good fifteen people showed up and drank and hung out, including some others of my favorite people at work, and times were good. About 10:30, there were rumblings of going home, and I figured that S would give me a ride back to work and my car. Emmanuelle had different plans, however, and tempted Claudio, S, Antonio, and I out to the Mojito Cafe. We drank mojitos and danced salsa until they kicked us out, and I was hoarse and laughing and in an absolutely excellent mood as S drove me back to my car at 2:30 am.
I've been desperately needing a good Friday... the blister on my foot and the mild hangover are totally worth it.
(wail) I hate PMS. Stupid, stupid, stupid being a girl! If I'd just been born a gay man... I'd find something different to complain about.
By far the worst thing about having lost my glasses and being on backup eyes, far worse than the few hundred dollars replacing them is going to cost me, far worse than the embarrassment this weekend of having been an idiot, is the absolutely blinding splitting headache my old prescription is giving me. I'm not much of a person for getting headaches, but I've had a doozy since about midmorning yesterday, and I'm certain it's due to eyestrain. Goddamnit I hate being blind.
I keep trying to get myself to talk about The Other Things, and I just fail. Sometimes I get as far as having time and a reasonable amount of energy and a computer nearby, all at the same time, and can't even do it then. There's such a comforting safety net lately in using /tht/ for the idle venting of my irritations with the world that doing anything more profound seems... profoundly... difficult.
But tonight, I will blame the purring kitten on my chest whose ENORMOUS HEAD is blocking my view.
Well, I feel rather silly. I'm not at work nor on the way there this morning; instead, I'm propped up in bed in a quite peculiar fashion designed carefully to not irritate my sunburn and trying like mad to stay as un-sick as possible. I'm rather failing on that latter point, but I figure I can try.
Sunburn fever is an obnoxious thing. I get alternate chills and hot flashes, feel lightheaded and nauseous, and generally like crap, all from being a moron with the burning orb in the sky.
I hate how defective my body is compared to most people I know. It's nothing debilitating (well, witness me not going to work today because I can't sit down properly, but that's a special case), it's just irritating. Allergies, asthma, too-fair skin... so many small things that snowball together into one big cranky mass. Bah humbug.
I can see... just not quite as well as normal, as I am back in Seattle and wearing the backup eyes while my last-few-months-new ones continue to collect silt in a lake across the state. Ah well. I'm just happy to be able to see after a day and a half of mistiness.
Other than losing my glasses, and other than having my car scraped by morons, and other than the fantastic sunburn I garnered today... I had a good time. I've been reminded how much I love to play in the water, spent more time in a small boat than I have in years, been tugged at ridiculous speeds on an innertube behind said boat, and generally confirmed that the lake is mildly awesome. Or perhaps more than mildly.
I just have to remember to call the optometrist tomorrow to see how much the new eyes are going to set me back.
I cannot see. Well, that is something of an exaggeration, as I can see... just very very fuzzily, and better on the right than on the left. Since mid-afternoon I have navigated through a foggy world populated by two faceless brothers, two featureless parents, and a blank friend of a brother, as my vision is currently resting at the bottom of a lake somewhere in Eastern Washington. It's a hard thing, having done something foolish, but much worse when that foolish thing leads to both great inconvenience on your part and much fussing on the part of others. I spent the early afternoon swimming in said lake, you see, with my glasses on. But at some point, there was one too many entrances into the water, and my luck ran out. Or, rather, fell off my face and sank down into the green. We tried diving for them a little bit, but the water is at least fifteen feet deep off of the dock and full of weeds at the bottom. No, I am blind, and likely to be until I am returned to Seattle and my backup eyes, thereby marking the umpteenth weekend in a row where a good day has been rather rudely ruined. At least this time, it was my own damn fault, but that doesn't really help.
Even had I not lost my glasses to the maw of the lake, the foolish boys who scraped my car as they tried to drive backwards down the row would have spoiled my run of goodness... but at least I would have gotten a few more hours. And perhaps gotten to learn how to waterski or wakeboard (not doing it without my sight, no sir).
It's a funny thing, to be without my eyes. In the seventeen years I've had my glasses, I've never needed them and not had them for more than a few minutes. My visual clarity fades out at about six inches from my face, so much of the afternoon and evening has been managed through memory and guesswork. I keep on finishing some task and thinking "okay, that was really annoying, I'm going to put my glasses back on now," only to remember that they're not at all within reach.
But I can't make a fuss about it; when you have been foolish and forced to lie in your prettily made bed, there is really nothing to be done about it other than to try to act with as much dignity as is left to you.
I rode the bus to work blissfully again today. I read and napped and arrived at work unstressed. Sure, I was there a little early, but every time that I do the bus commute I become more and more convinced that it's the way to go. I just need to get my body to believe that at 6:15 am, which appears to be the difficult part. No matter what level of psyching myself up I've tried the night before, I find myself all too often succumbing in the morning hours to all too powerful dreams.
I've been remembering my dreams more the last nine months or so than I can recall ever before. It lost any allure it had months ago, as most of the time I dream not profundity but anxiety. But speaking of dreams, I really do need to go try to get my dream on for tonight; it's late and I was up early and have to be on time tomorrow.
Assuming, of course, that I can get any sleep tonight, as the Racket Trio were alone all day (work + gaming day) and I have little energy to tire them out before trying to crash out. I suspect I'll be throwing them out of my room early, but don't have the heart for whatever reason to just shut them out from the beginning.
I'm such a sucker.
I feel like I should have one of those "Current Music:" LJ thingies at the moment. Mine would say "kitty growling." It's been an all growling, all hissing extravaganza tonight at Chez Menagerie in scenic Bothell. What is it, one might ask, that is audibly driving so much anger out of the kittens this evening? The answer would be that apparently the one thing that my normally close-knit kittens can't abide from each other is to have to share the good toys. For a long time, the favored toy was the small green tinsel ball. They'd steal it from each other, plotting for minutes to come up behind the current possessor unawares and swipe it from underneath unsuspecting paws or noses. They'd guard it jealously, picking it up and bolting to secret parts of the condo to play undisturbed. The infamous Green Ball has long since disappeared, probably laid to rest under a piece of furniture, and the gap left by its absence took some time to be filled. Now, however, now there are two successors to the Green Ball. One is the wand with two pink tinsel balls suspended from it (that one, Aggie and Micah fight over to the point of claws-extended nose-swipes); the other is the feather-tailed fur mouse. Jasper, normally the sweetest of the three, has had it in his sole possession for 10 minutes and if volume is any indication, has no intention of letting Micah anywhere near it.
Obviously, it is my duty to take it from him. Can't let him go thinking he's Boss Cat or anything.
Sometimes, I wonder just exactly what is up with my parental instincts.
I'm sick and tired of being so exhausted at night. I've been laying the burden on the shoulders of work, but it doesn't really deserve more than fifty percent max of what's up. What is up, however, is for another night, and more emotional energy, to see written down. Suffice to say at the moment that I've spent more time than I want to lately being either upset or depressed or guilty, and no sir, I don't like it.
It's not helping that I'm having severe sneezing fits lately. Really, it just adds insult to injury.
It's been a few days, I know. I keep having either wretched days that wipe me out so badly that I'm too tired in the evening to compose anything, or decent days that blow up in my face after I get home so that I'm too tired in the evening to compose anything. It's kind of nice to have a freaking break tonight in that neither of those conditions were miraculously met. So now it's a bit past 11, I've got a Micah purring and watching my cursor from the left, an Aggie purring herself to sleep at my right, and Jasper purring on the back of my knees, and I can finally catch up on that writing-shit-down thing that I came up with for myself six years ago.
So what has gone down lately? My contract got renewed, for one, which is definitely sweet. I was due to be done working at the end of August, but I've been extended through the end of November. As I adore 99% of my team and can avoid the rest, the getting to keep working with them part is most excellent. In other work news, I got given some baby build engineer work as well as some Trados action, not to mention some SharePoint work floating my way, thus proving that no matter what job I work at, I end up wearing as many different hats as Jenly possible. And that's a pretty big number, lemme tell you what. The variation keeps me alternately entertained and extremely stressed, both of which contribute to the part about coming home tired all the time lately.
On Saturday, S let me come along to the company picnic. Hung out with him and his Colombian friends all day, eating, drinking beer, and sitting in the sun: I had a complete blast and developed a ridiculous sunburn. I only noticed one friend of Jim's... and resolutely avoided trying to notice any others. I had enough of a sniffle just seeing Bill.
I spent all tonight hanging out with my dear Jeffie. We've not seen each other particularly much since moving in together; no less than before, certainly, but very little more (which is to say that I see him once or twice a week, same nerd place, same nerd channel, for some gaming it up, without fail, no matter what else happens). I'd been a little bit sad about that, but unable to do anything about it until tonight. Tonight, we made decks and dinner and reaffirmed how amusing we find each other. It's a good thing to do with a friend, and something that we'd let lapse perhaps a bit long.
I'd say something more deep, but kittens have been invading my keyboard steadily for some time, and thus it gets a bit harder to type. I'd like to make some more headway on the list of things that I've not written about yet... but perhaps for tonight, having written something at all is enough.