(warning: particularly old content) I don't ask for it to make sense
Well. This certainly was a waste of a day. Sleep? Not enough. Classes? Awful. Work? Non-productive. Afternoon? Wasted in a four-hour nap. I suppose dinner (squash) was pretty tasty, but I rather wish I'd been in the mood for more food so that I could have justified sharing even more with Greg. I couldn't believe it when he told me he was planning on just eating rice. I mean, come on. The parallels to Brandon and his "bed" are astounding. Oh yeah... Greg. So Brandon's little brother is living with us for a time. Who knows how long, and I don't really care. Susan got on my nerves for some reason (sorry, Brandon), but Greg's... well, good people, my people. (heh) Of course, the fact that he's a boy may be a lot of that. I'll admit it. Anyway, he stays out of my way for the most part, and I stay out of his except when I'm really lonely and just want to talk to another human being—it works out.
I think it's weird that when I start trying to take in more air (running, hurrying up stairs, etc.) I push my tongue to the top of my mouth and guide air on either side of it. The nose is, of course, a lost hope for me nearly year-round due to various allergies. But why push my tongue up? My current theory is that if air isn't having to be pushed over the bulge of my tongue, but gets a straight shot around the sides. It's still kind of strange when I notice I'm doing it.
There is pretty much nothing as depressing as failing to honor an obligation because you were lazy. Particularly when that failure results in a hefty loss of some kind for the person you owed. I'd been putting off giving Jim his trenchcoat and shirts back for over a month now, because I was lazy. They sat in a paper bag in the living room for weeks (along with a pair of my jeans and my favorite dragon shirt from Hawaii, sigh), because I was lazy. And apparently, Greg last week accidentally thought that that particular paper bag contained the clothes that Brandon was donating away, and now they're gone, because I was lazy. ARGH.
Staving off bed tonight, I wandered through old posts. I appreciate many of them, wonder at many of them, but found that 9/19/99 affected me the most. Hmm.
I don't know why I'm in a writing mood tonight—perhaps it was just that my day felt like such crap I feel a need to make it worthwhile in some manner. I remember telling Bryan Chow a couple years back that I tried, here, to contribute something to my day that perhaps would never have come to light if I hadn't sat down at my computer. Lord knows I rarely fulfill that self-imposed requirement.
I could ramble a little longer (or a lot, for that matter), but I really should either study or go to bed. Or figure out if I'm going to dress up and go to Damien's party tomorrow. Bother. So instead, I shall end with the single weirdest spam I've EVER recieved (originaly formatting retained). I don't even know if it's rightly spam... but it definitely deserves the title "FUCKING WEIRD":
The clorine smell will go away after a while say 2 or 3 thousand gallons , my back can't handle the walking so I'm going to pass on the nine holes good luck, My friend is comming up to go rideing horses today I'm sure that will be enough exercise for my back,
You might want to cut out the onion rings to start with ,can't leave the beer alone.
May I add that the subject line was "Re: Golf Carts"?
I hate intentionally sleeping extra in the mornings because I'm exhausted... well, not really. What I hate is when that extra time gets co-opted by a nightmare or anxiety dream. Argh.
And so the morning ritual of kneeling in front of the space heater while I brush my hair begins. Stupid winter.
What to say... not much. Life has been an unending stream of work-not-work-sleep-school-work for the past several days. I'm not really complaining, but it was a nice deviation from the norm to randomly go down to Winlock yesterday on a moment's notice. Spontaneity can be so... fulfilling sometimes.
I never realized until today why I like Ralph Fiennes so much—he looks a lot like a young Harrison Ford.
So... very... tired... Lack of nap on Wednesday afternoon... kicking... my ass...
Oooooh, tummy distended from overabundance of yummy Indian food. I'm not sure whether to be extremely pleased with how I feel, or vaguely ill. Heh.
Sniffle. My techs are considered "remedial support" by the district. Bastards.
Winamp thinks I've got about 156 hours and 30 minutes of music sitting on Chiyo. Boggle. That's right around a week.
There were several things I thought of today in the car that I was going to write about. We all know what happens to things that I think of in this manner.
Hehe... I think I got hit on a little bit by Alton Brown at BookFest. Swoon.
The gay guy who cut my hair today must have put some extra man-attracting mojo in. Chris Flores said it looked great and took my picture, David Cox said I looked fantastic, Chris Grierson (who I only see every five months or so, and I'll be damned if he doesn't get hotter every single time) called me a sweet young thing, and Mike Hammer called me a cute little smurf (wearing all blue helps that one). Too bad that it will never look like this again, seeing as I will never ever put whatever it was that the guy put in my hair again (not for any other reason than laziness, mind you).
Man, I want a Val Kilmer for my very own.
How I can be so fucking tired after having inadvertently gotten a three hour nap this afternoon, I don't know. Wednesdays seem to be the days when my body just craps out in the afternoons and stays in its crapped-out state until Thursday morning.
I hate days when I talk myself into being depressed, all the while recognizing that I'm doing so. Today was wasted on hours of self-pity and melancholy, when it could have been spent enjoying October sunshine and the last day of freedom before interview season begins. I brooded today about how I'm not really good at any one thing... I'm not a good gamer, I'm not a good computer geek, I'm not a good Web dev, I'm not a good Japanese student, I'm not a good, well, anything. I'm half-good at many things, which I suppose attests to my well-roundedness, but for those several hours today, I found myself bemoaning the fact that I can't pigeon-hole myself. In better emotionally-toned days, that would be a good thing; today, I just found myself wishing I could call myself something, identify with something, be something.
You know, people have been known to call me defensive. To call me too controlling of all approaches. Nawwww.
It's much easier to update when I'm in Seattle and have, you know, POWER. Jim and I drove up from Winlock last night to find my section of Wedgwood totally knocked out electricity-wise. As much fun as candles are, I had to work on my internship application (which I have yet to bitch about here, but don't worry, I'll have some spare time tonight, oh yes), which would be facilitated by things like lights, so I ended up at still-Internet-less Jim's apartment. My weekend was good—went down to the Winlock to eat the food and see the family and play the pinochle. Jim's mother gave me a necklace that had belonged to Grandma, which just about made me cry. It's a beautiful white shell necklace set with a pair of tiger-eye stones bracketed by seed pearls... I spent some idle time in the car on the way home thinking about a wedding dress that it would go with and if it would make Jim's mom happy for me to wear it. Such thinking was fueled by Aunt Joy, at Grandpa's birthday dinner on Sunday, jokingly asking me and Jim when we were going to get married. I suppose we're hitting that point (near to three years) where the question starts to come up. It's kind of uncomfortable, given Jim's disposition, but flattering nonetheless. Particularly when she was hugging me goodbye and proclaimed that if Jim didn't marry me, she'd adopt me. Heh.
I'm alive. It's just been a weird pair of days in terms of Internet connectivity. Best thing about taking showers in the winter—that delicious feeling when you get into hot water from cold air. Worst thing about taking showers in the winter—that horrid feeling when you get undressed in cold air, and when you get out of the hot shower into the cold air. Ugh.
Brandon and I went to Blast! tonight in place of my parents. It was nothing like anything I've ever seen before at the 5th Ave; it was much closer to a concert-type experience than a theater-type one. I loved it... the fact that there were about 35 young men involved, many handsome and running around playing bugles and trumpets and drums, didn't hurt. What hurt was busting my ass on internship stuff after being at work two extra hours, not getting to studying until after the performance, and it being after midnight and me being very unprepared for the 8 am quiz tomorrow that I'll be getting up around 6 am to get showered and bused for. Heh. According to my TC teacher, the fact that the preceeding sentence is all one sentence with clauses implies to a reader that only one piece of information contained within is truly important. Little does she know... none of it is important!
I didn't think I remembered writing anything yesterday. I guess I just got distracted "assisting" Brandon set up OpenBSD (note: "assisting" = "watching and making occasional smart-ass remarks, every once in a great while having meaningful input"). I didn't oversleep this morning, but that's about all to say for the day. Tuesdays kind of disappear into work, and there's nothing really fun to be said about work. I, um, shuffle paperwork and design PHP tools (that no one but me will probably ever use, despite their protestations otherwise) to access a database. Go me. And Thursday, I get to load Win2K and Office 2K on 15 machines. Doesn't my life sound exciting? Oh yes. And then I took a nap today. An unintentional one, to be sure, but it underscores my point nicely in its prosiacness. I should start paying more attention to how I write things... my Tech Comm. class is getting me quite interested in the way language can be manipulated as a tool. That last sentence was totally unrelated to anything else, incidentally.
Please god, don't let me oversleep tomorrow.
Mmmmmm bologna slop.
A fucking textbook Alexander day.
Went to Tool tonight... had good seats, Tool is always good... but I'm not sure I'd rate it as among my top concerts. There just wasn't enough, well, energy. I mean, come on. If you're staging a concert, perhaps you shouldn't stand nearly motionless in the dark while blinding the audience with flashing lights and playing clips from your music videos on big screens. I could have a very similar experience by turning on MTV really loudly, minus the pot smoke and annoying drunk guys. But don't get me wrong, I did have a good time... I think I'm mostly cranky about it taking over 30 minutes to get out of the parking lot.
Well. Brian turned up in my Japanese class. It's not particularly distressing... just rather... well, odd. Particularly considering I've always hated speaking Japanese in front of him. Yay. Notes scribbled in classes the last couple days : Katou-sensei waits to cross his t's until he's done writing a word. I think that's funny. My TC professor needs to learn that if you ask your students for input rather than lecturing at them non-stop, they'll feel much more engaged and interested in the class ("I have valid input! This class is partially made up of my contribution!"). I'm disgustingly tired considering it's only 8:30 pm.