Was at work for 14 hours today. But at least in the last six of those hours, I FINALLY was able to GET SOME GODDAMN STUFF DONE. This entire week... these last two weeks in fact, have just been absolutely useless; a combination of bad personal days and bad meeting days and bad Bermuda Triangle Twilight Zone crappy ass for no good damn reason days, with the result that it's just felt like I've been utterly failing to get a single thing finished.
I'm in a complete slump and funk, and essentially have been since the accident at the beginning of the month.
(And if you read this... in this public place as well, I'm so very very sincerely sorry.)
Unhooray for days where I'm so stressed out that I can't decide if I want to punch someone in the face Number 6 style or just fall to pieces crying. I think I've not been so generally discombobulated ever before, but more than anything, I'm incredibly stressed out that I got that stressed out for, in the end, nothing. Not even close to all my fault, but still.
After work I went over to Anita for money talking again, which normally would have just upset me further. But then, a miracle occurred: at some point during a couple hours of two financial advisors talking to me about financial planning, I realized that I was calm. My theory is that I was able to tap into the same part of me that when stressed out goes and organizes something; they were helping me impose understandable order upon the perceived chaos of my money, and gosh darn it if that just didn't help me feel a little better about everything in general. How neat.
Well, as the month is almost over, I suppose I could go ahead and swap out the months. Gotta love some good old fashioned /tht/ laziness. And now, after a couple hours of middle of the night build investigation (including watching stuff being done to my machine remotely, which never ceases to creep me out), I think I should really go to sleep. I've been in bed for the last three hours, sleeping creatures all around me, after all. And Micah is starting to get super up in my grill with the PURR SLEEP MOMMY SLEEP PURRRRRR thing. So commanded thus I shall do.
The last several days, including today, I'm so incredibly exhausted by the time I'm near being done for the evening that I can't do much more than fall into bed and crash out. I'm going to do that again tonight... but I'll at least offer up a Jeff quote from watching Battlestar a couple days ago, because it made me laugh so:
Oh no! Poor Helo! Everyone else is on a spaceship, and fucking! But you're running around on a planet and your girlfriend is a Cylon!
(laughing) Poor Helo, indeed.
The only part of today that didn't have a vague tinge of stupidity was Mike coming over to watch Firefly with Jeff and me. Everything else was just kind of vaguely lame for all sorts of reasons, which seemed to vary nearly by the minute. Not nearly so crap as yesterday, and I got to laugh at Firefly at the end, but still. Kind of unawesome day.
Work is manic depressive again. One day (like, say, yesterday) will be totally off the fucking hook awesome, where I come home bouncing and glowing, and the next (like, say, today) will end up so wretched that I come home near tears.
Most distressing is how days like today, where the stress and badness is coming from one person, seriously make me wonder if I've got the right job at the right company. I come home totally demoralized, convinced that there's been a horrible mistake made, and I should just get fired, because obviously I'm a total fuckup. And when I try to talk to said person about how days like this make me feel, he insists that it's a personal problem that I just need to get the fuck over. Unspoken but trailing after is the "or else..." Or else what? Or else I should get fucking fired?
There's no reasoning with him; from his perspective, I'm over-reacting in a massive way to nothing. I've tried to point out that even if I'm over-reacting (which I'm trying very hard to not do), he could try to meet me in the middle and cut me some slack, treat me just a bit more gently, because obviously I'm reacting to something... at which point I just get a huge lecture again about how I'm over-reacting, which makes me feel worse... rinse, gargle, repeat.
And I just end up coming home in tears, thinking I'm an awful person who shouldn't have my job.
I threw a mock tantrum tonight when Battlestar Galactica was turned off and I had to go to bed. I'm tired of going to bed at a "reasonable" time so that I can catch the bus all ridiculously early, and I'm tired of not being able to drive, and I wanted to watch more Battlestar Galactica! (whine) And pick up some power convertors.
But I have been overruled and sent to bed without any more Battlestar, and although the Internet calls for me, I'm going to be really really sad in about 5 hours if I don't go to bed.
Off mood tonight... too much reading earlier, no doubt. But V for Vendetta was the first good movie I've seen this year (I may have liked Underworld: Evolution, but I'm not certain I'd go so far as to say I actually thought it was good), and watching it seems to have shaken off the worst of the funk. I was hooked the moment that the v-word-filled introduction began spilling from behind V's mask.
Drank a hell of a lot yesterday, starting at about 3 o'clock. The pipe band at Big Time around 9 pm was definitely the highlight of the evening, but mostly it was just fun to be out and about with S and his so-called "Columbian Contingent." It was reassuring, after some of our conflicts at work the last week, to hang out with S and have things be all good. At least for the time being, hah.
A lot of things about today continued the trend of wretched. But at this very moment, two language versions of an operating systems are being generated on my build machine at work... and that is the most goddamn awesome thing I can imagine at the moment. My build will likely break, but it won't be due to my files; S did most of the work on getting this stuff up and running, but damnit, I did help. And (BOUNCE) it's building!!!
Today had a few good moments but was, on the whole, awful. I'm going to fucking bed.
Slept in and then spent the day bumming around, eating pie (Happy Pi Day!), buying books, and in general having a totally sweet day off. There's all sorts of things I'd like to talk about in more detail, but I... uh... gotta go. Heh.
Although I knew it would be awful, I allowed myself to be dragged to Ultraviolet this afternoon. And yes, it was awful. Not even the sort of bad that is redeemable in a humorous sort of way. No, it was, hands down, the worst movie I've seen all year... and really, for multiple years. The only part of it that didn't make me want to kill myself was the opening comic-book sequence, which was really quite neat. The rest of it? Excreable. And this is coming from a girl who LOVES sci-fi movies, LOVES vampire movies...
Underworld and Underworld: Evolution were, in comparison to Ultraviolet, veritable pinnacles of cinema.
I'm glad that I didn't pay to watch it, and I feel bad that someone else paid (even matinee price) for me to watch it. Man.
For those still concerned: I am currently feeling fine. A little easily tired, but otherwise fine. And speaking of tired, I'm beat (at work from 8 to 9 will do that to you) and really should have gone to sleep a while ago. So... SLEEP!
And the site is back in business! To remember for the future... keep comments stored locally as well as on the server, and remember what tweaks have been made to .htaccess.
I worked only a half day on Wednesday and that was far too much after a full day of being bled; I was exhausted. I stayed home from work today to finish resting up and went about half nuts with wanting to be at work but needing more time away. I'm frustrated and stressed out, but I think I'm good to go in tomorrow for a full day of getting shit done as needs to get done.
Everything on zoggins got nuked the other night. Whoops! Working on bringing it all back up, but certain pieces (like my crazy php systems) are still offline. Patience!
I spent most of today lying down with a heplock (think IV, except not hooked up to anything except when necessary) in my arm. I drifted in and out of sleep for the first few hours, read the last few; all in all, things would have been about as fine as could be had the other woman in the clinic not ruthlessly watched Court TV for essentially the entire time. She channel surfed a few times, only to return, inevitably, to whatever judge show was on at the time. I was about to search for something to stab myself if I had to hear one more couple squabbling over loans (I did learn, in the last few minutes, that Judge Joe Brown has an online submission form for litigation, which is almost funny enough to offset five hours of Court TV... almost).
And why did I spend so long at the hospital today? So that I could have a five hour glucose test: I showed up fasting, had the heplock put in and some initial blood drawn, downed a sickly Sprite-sweet concoction, and settled in for hourly blood draws (and white trash small claims disputes!) for the next five hours. Joy. The neurologist was worried that the seizures I've had in the last couple years are related to improper processing of blood sugar... things were looking normal on that front when I left, though, so I suppose we'll be looking for other explanations. Dad's got an epileptic disorder, supposedly stemming from what he jokingly refers to as the hole in his head, but his neurologist (I suppose I should get used to thinking of him as my neurologist, ack) is now suspecting that we've got a genetic disposition towards seizing—Dad being set off by an accident when young, me being set off by a system of conditions that currently seem to reduce to "stressed, maybe a bit sick, and no breakfast."
As Dad said yesterday afternoon, it's a hell of a thing to be separated from disaster solely by breakfast.
Because let there be no confusion, yesterday could have indeed been total disaster. While driving to the doctor, I started feeling a bit weird. I fought it for several minutes, telling myself that I could, at least, get to my parents' house before I lost it, but heading south on Lake City Way, I suddenly realized I was in serious deep shit. Scanning desperately for a place to park, I dialed my dad to tell him I was in trouble and that he should come get me... I spotted a place, which happened to be across the road from me, and that's about all I remember until I came to. The car was running and in gear, and I could tell that the wall in front of me was very very close. The wonder of basic automatic systems: I managed to turn left across traffic and avoid hitting a brick wall by about an inch, all in a space of time that I do not remember. Anyway, I turned the car off and sat down outside to re-call my father, who was, justifiably, freaking a bit out, as I'd simply and suddenly stopped talking to him in the middle of a sentence.
There wasn't anyone else with me in the car, so there's no witnessed proof that I had a seizure this time... but there's definitely multiple signs that there was some bad firing in my brain, and thus, I am not allowed to drive again until I get cleared by neurologist degree. The glucose test today was one step in that direction, but I suspect I'm going to be somewhat on notice for at least a couple weeks.
I'm sure I'm fine; I'm much more willing to believe that I have some sort of weak system that faints and seizes when I don't eat enough, am a bit sick, and have some sort of trauma (as has been the case in two of the three known episodes; in the third case, I wasn't sick, but I hadn't eaten before a dental procedure) than to worry that I've got some sort of horrible underlying issue. I suppose if I have to toss out my standard pessimism and be optimistic about one thing in life, this is a sanity-saving arena in which to do it.
So go-go-gadget hope.
I know I said I was sick, but that really doesn't cover the half of it. Full blown strep + the fact that I passed out and probably had another seizure while driving down to the doctor's about said strep. I'm exhausted, a bit frightened, and have to go in for a full day's battery of tests tomorrow. And I feel like total sick shit.
The last few days have been something of a surreal dream. None of this can truly be happening, my brain insists. To be obliquely blunt, I have, in the past, been the girl that a boy flirts with against his better interests, perhaps that he cheats on his girlfriend with, but I have never been the girl that he leaves his girlfriend for. It's frankly breaking my head.
I was responsible this week. It rather sucked, but I'm hoping it's better in the long run... better to tell someone up front that there's another opportunity I'd like to explore suddenly and unexpectedly on my radar than to have it nagging all throughout my brain, dividing my concentration and causing unfairity (that's totally a word) of ridiculous proportions. It still sucked (sigh).
Today, I'm sick, which, in case we've lost track, is not awesome. Very little energy to do anything have I, but one thing I did get done was sorting through photographs. As in, real, physical photographs. My aunt inexplicably gave me some empty photo albums for Christmas, so I figured it was about time to collect all the few tangible images I have and place them into central storage. Along with everything else, I took a deep breath and unwrapped the picture of me and Jim that I so tearfully hid away last summer. I couldn't bear to look at it then; I unwrapped it, sobbed, and promptly rewrapped it to be placed away. Tonight, I smiled to remember Jim's smile, and gently placed the picture in with the rest of my history.
Less hair ripping, more fingernail biting.
I was annihilated on the bus home today by She Wants Revenge. I pressed my forehead to the window, chewing my thumb, and listened to it, a knot in my throat, while the 405 traffic slid by unwatched.
(ripping hair out) AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!
Damn damn damn. It's like... how confusing and jumbled can life BE?
(kick kick KICK something)
Well, the universe is OBVIOUSLY displeased with me. In the last few minutes I barked my shin hard (trying not to step on cat by coffee table), pinched three fingers and lost three fingernails (trying in vain to catch Takako when cats yanked on power cable... squished them between PowerBook and floor), and got a shard of glass embedded in my toe (trying to move my bed back into position after it was moved yesterday to help people caulking windows; how that little knife of glass got onto my bedroom floor, I have no idea).
"Damnit... I lost one of my earrings." Immediate: "No, it's right here, on the coffee table." How odd, that such a simple exchange could have penetrated my heart so deeply. Irritating, silly, superstitious me.