Managed to be good about going to sleep for two nights, and now here I am fucked over again. At this point, I'm seriously thinking that the only solution may be to take two weeks off and do nothing but sleep. And I mean nothing. I'm apparently running on such a retarded sleep deficit that there's no way I can recover over a normal period (say, a weekend). Either that, or perhaps I should do as dear Tom advised me to do, many many years ago, and commit to learning how to function at a high level with only four hours of sleep a night.
I find it rather sad that the most attention I've gotten for my shirts of geekery the last few months has been from baristas. Young, female baristas. Now, were a geek of the male persuasion, that'd be pretty damn sweet. As is, well, maybe I should convert or something. Girls can be awful pretty...
I suppose I did get some amusement when I went to Brandon's show on Sunday, but 2/3 of that were prior geek acquaintances, and all are involved. I'm relatively certain that my charm hasn't faded; I figure, rather, that it's a simple declaration of the fact that my entire environment has withered.
Micah and I went for a walk around the block tonight to try to tire ourselves out a little bit for bed (I'm sure that was his intent as well as mine). The big baby made me carry him the last half block home. Brat.
I'm hopeful that it's just the lack of sleep making me so tired. And making food not taste good. And making me irritable as all hell. Because if it's not, I fear my neurochemistry is up to no damn good.
Life's gone a bit daft when you're so frustrated with not being able to sleep that you roll out of bed, pull on sneakers, and go run around the block at 2:15 am. And then you seem to have forgotten that you've not run in a while, and that you're asthmatic, so although you run around most of your long block, you have to drop to a walk more than you think is acceptable. And then you sit on your stoop, drinking water and willing yourself not to faint, feeling faint moisture settle on your skin and watching the streetlight across the way waver through your rosebushes, and you wonder, how did I get here?
This is not my beautiful wife, damnit.
Fucking birds. If I'm going to be this insomniac, I think I need to get some earplugs.
Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm. Seth, Jeff, and I gorged ourselves on pounds of meat, peppers, and onions tonight, washed down with a quart of Asahi each. Yakiniku, how I LOVE you as soon as summer rolls around. That plus going to see Day Watch (the boy playing Kostya, Anton's vampire neighbor, is so achingly hot I can't stand it), and several hours of Ninja Warrior = a damn fine Saturday. Which is good, because I really really needed one. This week has been absolutely mad, which, combined with the disappointing return of full-blown insomnia, meant that I was feeling more than a little bit ragged around the edges.
I'm feeling very bleh, in an excess of post-vacation letdown and ongoing annoyance about the whole getting plowed into by another car thing. I offer nothing save a couple bullet points with no further explanation, because, well, because I'm tired and grumbly, so there.
- Have decided that most likely scenario involves a guy who got married young and poorly, and will figure out in 2-5 years from now that man, geek girls rock
- Alternate scenario: guy who was in industry and went back for a graduate degree, will be just getting out into the world in 2-5 years
- If all else fails, have created pact with Jeff to get married if we're both still single at 40, to avoid complete and utter lameness
Go go gadget unoptimism and crankiosity.
So, normally I avoid YouTube like the plague. But I'll be damned if Fred Astaire Brings Sexyback wasn't the most entertaining thing I've watched in weeks. So there, consider yourself linkified.
And the last day of my week-long vacation passed as uneventfully, if far more PMS-y, than the first. Grumble, I say, but how cranky can one REALLY be when one's cat is purring into one's chin? Not that much, I posit.
I was nastily rear-ended today, by a girl who was simultaneously talking on her cell phone and smoking right up until she plowed into the back of my car (I know this because I was watching in the rear view, mentally screaming "STOP. STOP. STOP. STOP! STOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!" in vain). Neither of us was particular hurt, but for some reason the whole thing shook the fuck out of me. I was in complete shock, white as a sheet and lightheaded, and didn't argue too much when a nurse who jumped out a couple cars up got medics to come when she called 911. I couldn't stand for a good fifteen-twenty minutes, sigh. Got Mama and my dad to come get me, because I didn't trust myself to drive, and although I felt better after lunch and a couple beers, driving the Subaru over from the parents' place tonight I burst into tears over the whole thing. I just don't understand why I got so damn rattled, but I haven't been in an accident worse than a tiny tap in forever, and haven't been driving during an accident in over a decade... and now that I think about it, I lost my fucking shit then too. Apparently car accidents go slotted in with scary *BOO* movies as things that Jen just can't handle.
I'm gonna be sore tomorrow. No serious damage, but I can tell that I'm gonna feel like I spent all day in my yard pulling weeds.
Sigh. And I fucking hate driving the Subaru, but I need a car for tomorrow. After that, if my car will be in the shop much longer, rental all the way.
Heh. At least the Volvo completely pwnd the car that slammed me. Volvo: scratched up bumper and tailgate, not even particularly crimped. Beater sedan that hit me: stove-in front, asploded bits everywhere, cracked radiator, wouldn't start afterwards and had to be pushed to the side of the street by two policemen and three medics to wait for a tow truck. Volvo ftw. I will never mock it for its "safety" again.
Let's not nitpick. From late February through early May, I suffered a depressive episode. One of many in my life, but the first one that I successfully willed myself out of, a good month or two before it would normally have passed. For all stress, crankiness, or other poor moods that may have visited since the first week of May, they have been transient, and my general mood has been normalized rather than being a baseline crap. Nothing highlights my personal triumph more than the contentment I felt this afternoon as Micah slept with his chin on my knuckles, faintly burbling at a dream, or the satisfaction I felt a few minutes ago, as I crouched in my kitchen with a beer, watching the tomatoes intended for my dinner roast in the oven and listening to the music floating in from the living room.
Oh, and my vacation was good too. Heh.
The day before leaving for a trip is always such a bother. So many things to try to remember to do in enough time so that they can, you know, GET DONE. Grrr.
Obviously, it's about damn time I took a vacation longer than a four day weekend. All week off, Sunday through Thursday in Ohreegonz with mah peeps... Good stuff.
I haven't worked this hard in months, and I realize that I'm unused to it. The worst part, though, is that my 14-16 hour work days have been starting at 9 am instead of 10:30 as they once did. I'm dying, all because scheduling is apparently terribly difficult to do in ways that don't suck.
And now I'm all full of things to make sure I don't forget before I go on vacation, or during... Bleh.
What an incredibly long, stressful, and ultimately unfulfilling day. There was a high point from 7:30pm to 11:30pm, when Mikey and I sat in my office and he started teaching me how to do shit, but, well, it was kinda spoiled by the fact that we, somewhere along the way, made shit stop working, and before we could make it work again, the IIS server bailed. On a machine I don't admin, so I couldn't reset it and verify that my last change worked properly to give me the fantastic result I wanted. Frustrating.
I was gonna set into my litany of freaking out about all the bad parts of my day, but I have to get up in too few hours, so let's just pretend that I did, pretend that I feel better, and move on.
Highlights (not really high points) of the day were Aggie bringing a wee baby bird into the house and me getting a full day's work in this afternoon. I guess it's a good thing I had a proper Saturday.
RE: the bird: After she set it down, not bleeding or obviously wounded but obviously in shock, I got it picked up in a towel, and set it back outside, safely tucked up in the hanging basket in the backyard. A couple hours later, it seemed much calmed, and had perched itself upright; by the time I returned home from work, it was gone. Hopefully flying free. Bird. Heh.
Today was fantastically productive, even if I didn't clean my shower, vacuum my place, or go get my car retested, all of which were tentatively on the billet. I did, however, get some shopping, laundry, bed-making, yardwork, Carnivale watching, and delicious dinner all completed, and I (inexpertly) painted my own toenails for the first time since I was, oh, about 11. It was entertaining to do, if somewhat sloppy.
I did stop by my parents' house today, to have mom listen to the Lynrd Skynrd mashup, but I was glad to note that I wouldn't have minded at all if I'd bypassed that visit and interacted with only my cats and the Fred Meyer cashier. Almost a year after moving into my own place, and almost four months after the Jeff-relationship regear (meaning he's not over here all the time), I feel like I'm finally getting the hang of the being alone thing. Excellent.
I got very angry at my company today, and was led to declare righteously that, having never touched RSS parsing in PHP, I could go home tonight and have it working in 15 minutes.
Thoughts: Years of boring, moments of epiphany. Sometimes.
A Yosemite upgrade has toasted my local dev environment for the last week or two, and it's hard to get myself to spend the time to fix it these days. [...]
Sometimes the Library of Congress classifications of a book crack me up. [...]
Heh, just realized I'd not actually synced the last few days up. [...]
I despise automated toilets from the very depths of my soul. [...]
Aight, the official time of keeping-mum has past! [...]
Okay, that took me an hour.
To be specific, it took me 10 minutes to get it working, and 50 minutes to nitpick over how I wanted it to actually look and make sure the code was extensible so that if I ever actually wanted to syndicate something other than my own feed as an example, I could do so with a minimum of effort. HAH! Sometimes I rue my work situation, I really do.
Anyway, I don't have much else to say last night other than a continued bemoaning over the status of technology where I work. I considered, earlier, trying to capture my vivid dreams from last night (one incredibly terrifying nightmare, and one about adopting a new kitten... now I want a kitten), but, well, I'm just not gonna.