Thursday, September 28, 2000

I awoke towards the end of my Anthropology class feeling refreshed and simultaneously nervous that all eyes were on me and that's why nobody was talking, and the prof had been saying my name for the last minute and a half and was about to throw me out of class. (I hadn't looked up yet.) So I did that thing where one pretends that one was concentrating REALLY hard and looking REALLY closely at something one had written. Though such actions were unnecessary precautions, I was proud of myself for not spazzing and calling attention to myself. On the walk home, I heard the universe echoing life philosophies of the various organisms I encountered over their heads and directly into mine. Squirrels: Is this a nut? Is this a nut? Is this a nut? Hey!!! Weehoo!!! A nut!!! I found a - Is that a nut? (I liked the squirrels.) Some girl: I'm like... skinny? And like I smoke cigarettes? Some other girl: Man, what a stupid smoking skinny girl. Me: I know, but check out those squirrels. Some woman: AAAAHHHH I'M GONNA GET HIT BY THAT CAR AAHHHH, okay, phew.

I was thinking about it in the shower last night, and I decided that if I was totally loaded (financially speaking), I'd hire people to do little menial stupid life things for me that I seem to have trouble doing myself. There'd be someone who would lay in a parking spot out front for me and I'd arm whoever it was with a big knife or something to defend the space with if someone tried to park on top of him/her. Then I'd have someone do my damn laundry, because apparently, even though I've never ruined a piece of clothing via laundry in my life, I'm doing it wrong. I'd pay somebody in my Anthro class to check my name off on the attendance list that circulates every class and counts for some monstrous percentage of my grade. I'd pay someone an hourly wage to research where I can buy each cd I want for the least amount of money and procure them for me, which seems counterintuitive, but really isn't. I'd pay someone to figure out where I'm going to be running through and have some sort of quickly edible meal handed off to me, so days like this one where the first time I eat is at 5 become rare. I'd have someone shop for gifts for me. Not like, gifts for *me*, but ones to give to other people who I supposedly love but can't seem to express appreciation for. Someone would mend my damn jeans each time they ripped a little more. I'm not bloody throwing them away. Someone would write down all the stuff I have to be places for, and at what time, and never mess up. I would hire someone invisible to follow me around and prevent me from whacking various body parts on objects in my environment. Another invisible person would taperecord conversations that we end and then say, "damn, what we wouldn't give to have that on tape..."
The reason none of this would be counterintuitive is that I'd be doing a damn fine thing for the economy. None of this "saving money for when the economy goes to hell and you and all the other damn little grasshoppers starve while we ants eat roast and mashed potatoes and play Balderdash in our silk pajamas" bullshite.

Gutteral noise of the day? Aarg.

Tuesday, September 26, 2000

No, no, don't worry - my new monitor *does* meet the Swedish MPRII Standard.
Before all this started, I said I wanted mental company out of a relationship. I can't remember The One's precise words, but they were pretty much along the same lines. Well, dames and dawgs, we found it. It's wonderful - the perfect dork relationship. We each think incredibly highly of the other's intelligence, looks, goodness, and there's respect out the wazoo. The relationship had the rockiest start ever recorded in human history; the fact that we didn't kill or maim each other still shocks us occasionally. But now... Now we're convinced that we'll both be hit by busses because that's the type of thing that usually happens to people who are this lucky.
I hope neither of us gets hit by a bus, or anything that deadly, for that matter.

Monday, September 25, 2000

Weehoo everyone. Major bonding this weekend, major major major. Guts have been spilled. Guts guts everywhere. We stood there looking at the guts. Then we looked at each other. Then it got bad and then it got good, and we decided to go to separate corners so it couldn't get anything else for at least a night. Simple enough? Simple.

Thursday, September 21, 2000

aaauuuugh. The hell of beauracracy is alive and well here at Ohio State. They cancelled a class that I happened to be signed up for. I wouldn't have a problem with that, but they decided to tell us this TWO DAYS BEFORE IT WAS DUE TO START. Bastards.

Tuesday, September 19, 2000

I'm so sick of my music that I could barf.

This is unfortunate because I just inherited this nice 3-cd changer stereo that has replaced my old boom box that has a remote control and an alarm timer. It has an "on" and not an "off", but "standby". So I'm living like royalty, with this little mechanical servant, here to submit to my every musical whim. We create such a strange world for ourselves, don't we?

Hrm... The world of extension should not ever be referred to as my stomping ground.

Since the last time I blogged, I have moved (amidst a crowd of drunk assholes) (in the presence of my grandmother, for Christ's sake) (well, it *was* Saturday night around 11:30...) into my new apartment. In the last two out of three days, there have been two fires within a block of my apartment, and three keggers on the top floor of this building. One of the fires actually took place in the apartment parking lot. My parents are thrilled, needless to say. Also needless to say, I've been sleeping elsewhere.
Training for the job I've had for about 5 months now ended today. Fall quarter, how fun. Classes start tomorrow, and I was notified yesterday that one of them has been cancelled. Oh, hey, I said, that's okay. I didn't want that many credit hours anyway, graduation's not important at all. (I was being sarcastic.) So I've rushed around like a maniac in attempts to find another class to fill the 5 credit hour gap. There's a second-level creative writing class that I would *love* to take, and I e-mailed the professor yesterday about it. When I hadn't heard back by this afternoon, I registered online for it, the website showing that it had 3 open seats. Then this evening I got an e-mail from the prof saying that it was indeed full, sorry. Hrm... The guy signed it "Thrive," then his name. I'm picturing this guy with wild eyes and glasses and Einstein hair, saying "THRIVE!!!" and pointing a bony finger at me. Umm... yeah. Okay, will do. So I've changed my work schedule 2 times already, and unless I find a class meeting the exact same time as this apparently full writing class, I'll have to change it again. My boss is going to love me.
I'm now going to go plan out as much as I can the rest of my undergraduate career. Also need to go grocery shopping.

Saturday, September 16, 2000

Dad and I bonded today over the trials of trying to buy a two-drawer filing cabinet in the "not cheapo but not highway robbery, either" price range that also wasn't a piece of crap. Hanging with him is rad because we always make all these huge plans for the long-term future and get all excited generally about ideas.
This move is different than the others because it's official this time. After I leave, my room will become my brother's. When I "come home," it will merely be visiting. That knowledge pains me very very greatly. I love my house. It's not especially interesting, as houses go, but we've lived here for 14 years next month. I'm really excited to be getting my own place, too, but there's still this huge part of me that is scheduled to die tomorrow.
I was worried about how this is going to affect everyone involved, but I sat my dog down tonight and explained to her that even though I won't be here (ever again for real, anyhow), I still love her and miss her and care about her wellbeing. She looked at me in the way that only dogs can, and broke me heart...

Not even to mention my family. I can't even think about it. Tomorrow is going to hurt very badly.

Thursday, September 14, 2000

I needed a little break from blogging to reground in the world of extension, which I did. I've been painting furniture - a dresser and bookshelves that we've had forever. Instead of yellowing white, they're now a very light purple color. This is part of my quest for some sentimental bond with my material possessions. Anything without such sentimental bond will hopefully be shed from my daily life. I move on Saturday. Suffice it to say that I wish it would just be Sunday already, so I wouldn't have to experience the trauma that the next 2 days will surely hold. Moving is hell.
Today was my last day at the pharmacy. Somehow it lacked the sadness of my past last days at work...

Sunday, September 10, 2000

Hey... I've e-mailed a few people whose blogs I really like, but haven't gotten responses recently. Of course they're probably busy with all sorts of things, (as I should be but am procrastinating on) but maybe I should actually try to make my website interesting to look at... Hmm... Initially I wasn't planning on learning any more than I needed to get this thing published and legible. But my family keeps asking me what I want for Christmas (and I keep telling them that it's September, for crying out loud) and I think that I'm going to ask for an html manual. So this is my vow to you: if you are actually reading this: especially on a regular basis, which, I won't deny, would be great: because I know how I feel towards the blogs on my favorites/read at least every couple day list, and it'd be rad if someone had me on their favorites list: uhh... so anyway, I vow that sometime after Christmas, I'll actually put effort into the site design and not just the content.

Anyone recommend any html manuals you've used and found helpful?

Hmm... Someone wrote an essay on weblogs for fun... and I read it... for fun... And she actually thinks that weblogs are a force (however small) against the enormous essentially consumer culture in which all the power to communicate is in the hands of the biggest corporations. The essay is well-written and worth a read if you want a little background on where blogs came from and what they might mean, both in the greater cultural sense and to the individual weblogger.

Saturday, September 09, 2000

Fall Festival Day proved to be an overstaffed bust. But it was a fun bust. Apparently my little brother's like, popular and stuff. The girls working the fountain (one of whom is his on-again off-again girlfriend) all teased him and talked to him voluntarily and actually flirted with him. Could this person really be related to me? He was all funny and charming and gracious. Whoa. And for the first time all summer, I wasn't living for the end of my shift.
For lack of anything else to mention, I cleaned out my car for what appears to have been the first time *ever*. She's all as sparkling as she can be, smelling like vaccuum and with a pure black interior.
I finally cracked and bought this cheesy-stupid greeting card from work today. It is a 3-pager, and on the first page there's a rabbit with his "arms" out to the sides. He says, "I love you this much!" The second one his arms are stretching a little, and he says, "no, *this* much!" Then on the third page, his arms are huge, and he says, "The point is, I love you a lot, okay? Now would you please call a doctor?" Pretty run of the mill lame stupid, eh? But then, at the bottom of the third page, it says, "ohhhhhh... the pain..." And that just makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. Seriously, my eyes are welling up with tears right now just thinking about it. Hahahahaha...
I guess everybody needs a happy place.
We were lovin' with one pair of e-mail addresses and hatin' with other. The lovin' ones won. We're back, baby, and we're better than ever.
Hey, poets who I know are reading this blog... go here for a place to post your words.

Friday, September 08, 2000

Work was hard today. Not task-wise, but don't-strangle-anyone-wise. *Sigh*. Five more days that I have to work there. Eight counting days off. This coming Sunday, I will have worked there for 4 years.

I think I have green paint in my hair. Just a little, though.

Oh, how I do so love bluishorange.

Wednesday, September 06, 2000

There's a certain way the house smells on the first day that it gets really cool out... And I've been burning black cherry scented candles all night as I (sort of) packed. Olefactory bliss.
Dad told me today that because of weather like this, September is his favorite month. That was approximately 4 hours after I'd thought, about myself, in the style of some weird 18th century biography, "though she was a July baby, she relished the coming of the fall in September." (Not that I've ever read an 18th century biography...) Mmmm... fall.

Tuesday, September 05, 2000

Hum. I seem to have wrought havoc on a certain message board. (See, if you really care, post 14, then the subsequent ones.) I guess it's not really interesting to anyone who doesn't know this little clique, but I dunno, maybe it's funny. My name doesn't even begin with a K... Heh...
allRIGHT, so he didn't e-mail me. Surprise.

September 5th. The day after Labor Day. Any two-day weekend (we're open Saturdays, so they don't count as weekend days) has an especially bad Tuesday following it, but for some reason, the Day After Labor Day has the most record-breaking potential. It was amazing. It wasn't work, it was some sort of hurricane into which I was tossed and then out of which I was flung all in a haze of medicines, labels, customers, phones ringing, swearwords (mostly mine), insurance problems, unit dosage cards, and faxes from the nursing homes. Mood upon entering: tired. Mood upon leaving: dazed. And tired.

My room remains not packed. I hate packing. I hate moving. Lots of the energy I spend packing, if I'm packing over a long period of time, consists in gathering up my dirty clothing and sending it away to the washer. But it always comes back, and then it's clean, which means I can't just toss it on my floor. *grumble*.

I haven't been able to get my e-mail all day.
So perhaps The One has written to me and somehow fixed everything and I just don't know it yet.

I miss him...

Monday, September 04, 2000

What a happy grey day. I love crappy weather.

I spent the morning frolicking outside purposefully. (Me being outside doesn't happen often, so when it does it automatically qualifies as "frolicking".) First, I battled the lilac roots that are doing a hostile takeover of the rest of the garden we've recently reclaimed from the back corner of our yard. A la Old Man and the Sea, I hacked this really thick piece of root out with a shovel. It took me forever, and probably would've been amusing to watch (provided the onlooker had been very bored before). Then I went running with my dog, who is the most gentle creature on earth. She's also a big lazyass, so I ended up dragging her most of the way - that's how terribly out of shape she is.

After showering, I whacked about 2 or 3 inches off my hair. I like cutting my hair, and only do it on whims. I don't think I've ever planned it. It hits me in the shower, then I'm possessed by the idea until I'm staring into a trash can filled with dark, wet locks.

strings only tonight:

I really like Barenaked Ladies, and have for a while. My family has recently taken a liking to them, and they have a tendency to play music until hearing whatever it is one more time would put me over the edge. Well, the edge is coming into sight... Nooooo... I hate it when that happens.

I seem to be coming out of my depressed state. Tonight I drove around a lot, just by meself. Ate two nice, cheap biscuits from Perkins Family Restaurant, home of the friendly waitress who I think feels sorry for me 'cause I'm there by meself a lot, then went to Meijer, earthlings' 24 hour superstore, where I made up a special dance that I only do when I've encountered two - count 'em - two cassette cases that are cheap-ass enough for me to afford. Do you know how hard it is to find cheap-ass cassette carrying cases these days? Anyhow, I felt some of my inherent spunk returning as I spun around weilding my two nice cases. I might have been entertaining some guy watching over the store on the security cameras. Woohoo, my existence is given possible meaning.

My internet connection is being affected negatively by the neat-o thunderstorm going on here. It keeps disconnecting (brilliant to use a phone during a storm, I know, but shut up anyway) and when I try to dial back in, it sounds like a cat being stabbed mercilessly and repeatedly.

I have another 24 hours of preventing meself from hopping in the car and driving 3.5 hours and showing up on The One's doorstep. I can do it.

Sunday, September 03, 2000

Hey, I never noticed this before, but "dork" is a really fun word to say. Dork dork dork...
red tape, red tape... wrapped around me ankles and hands...
I've been sleeping an unholy amount. I sleep because being awake annoys the living piss out of me. Is that bad? And last night, after working 8 hours, then an extra 40 minutes b/c the morons at the nursing home faxed the meds they needed approximately 10 minutes before the delivery run was scheduled, and has been scheduled for at least the last 12 years I think I had an anxiety attack in the shower. I don't know exactly what hyperventilation feels like, but I think that might have been it. Whee!

Friday, September 01, 2000

The One has decided that it's going to be hostile and subtly rude. My things are being held hostage until The One's are received. Somehow those are more important than mine, I guess. We have each other's car keys and some random stuff. Frankly, I'm in no hurry to get it back. The One can have my car, for all I care. See how far it gets. As for the stuff I have, putting keys in the mail doesn't seem all that bright to me... I'd rather have them handed back.

Ooooh... pain... God I hate emotion. Talk about useless. Emotional pain is the most superfluous thing in a human life (*including* the appendix.)

Today at work I was pretty much on edge. This isn't even meant in the figurative way of speaking, either. I now know exactly why that expression exists. I get so damn frustrated with people that it takes so much energy to just prevent myself from screaming at customers, coworkers, and bosses. I'm very very angry. It's the same goddamn thing over and over, all day long. The same problems, the same people every day - you'd be amazed. What the hell is the point of that? I did it yesterday - I'm going to do it tomorrow - I have to do it now. Most of the time I feel like I'd rather just lay down and die. I'd rather do that than ring this or that person up, or put this away, or clean this, or count that. I have 40 hours next week, and it's not going to be fun. I'm keep making little mistakes, just because I really don't give a damn about anything I'm doing. There's so much effort, all to just keep things going the way they were yesterday - we're just working to maintain equilibrium. Why not just lay down and die?

Yup, Mission Accomplished. Metaphorical mouse dazed, metaphorical horse dead out back.
It was no contest for the cat. I just want my pants back. (And no, I'm not heartless or indifferent to the little guy - it's just a moot point, because my apartment only allows them if you give them all the money you make per month, instead of just most of it.) (And it's one of my favorite pairs of pants.)

August went out with a bang - that of the phone slamming down on the hook. The One's phone just did this wimpy little beep thing. Ha! So there! ... It was never going to get better, I tell meself. It wouldn't have.
I kind of feel like we're both standing here with guns loaded, cocked, and aimed at the other's temple, but we're also completely ignoring one another. Part of me is sad, but the part in control is merely fascinated. Being detached doesn't help at all in relationships, but after your detachedness has inevitably lead to the destruction of one, it sure helps in the recovery process. The One has told me often that me and mine aren't "human"... but we never talked about who got to define it. And I resent that just because my emotions don't bubble over (ever) they're rendered seemingly nonexistent.