this is what i get for having a nap in the afternoon - my mind running on overdrive while the rest of my head tries to gear down for the night. i'd sincerely love to explain what's going on in there, but by the time i start to recognise what's bubbled to the surface it's gone and something else's appeared. i wound up having a nap because, as has become common for me lately, i spent most of last night waking up/passing out over and over and over and when my phone rang at 7:36AM i took it as an opportunity to advise the office that they wouldn't be seeing me today. i was productive in the end, for certain values of productive. yes, i spent 2 hours in the waiting room at the quack's, but this gave me plenty of time to read my book, and now i'm off to get an MRI on my injured knee. that's ok, it's not as if i had plans for those 315 dollars. here's hoping that the MRI says that i WON'T have to spent 10-20 times that having my knee rebuilt... but we'll deal with that if/as it comes. by the time i got back to the flat i was wrecked and ended up passing out for 2-3 hours, which i actually slept all the way through. now i just need to work out how to achieve that result at night. 2-3 hours straight would be awesome right now.
as the lyrics of that Bob Dylan song go: "i can't get no relief". oh, i do so love a double-negative. the thing is that it's accurate. the only thing i've got at the moment that stills my mind are my night-rides when the cold air is flooding through the open visor of my helmet and i'm firing myself through corners like i've got something to prove. somehow it seems to be the only thing i find myself able to connect with, and this worries me a little. i have the feeling that i should be doing something, but nothing i try to do will hold my attention so i've wound up pottering around, fiddling around the edges. my little world seems to be holding its breath while we wait for the other shoe to drop. i figure that it'll either come to me sooner or later, at which point i should be able to figure out what to do with it, or it'll hit me in the back of the head and knock me in the right direction anyway.
at least the anti-inflammatories i've started taking today (the latest addition in the growing number of pharmaceuticals that doctors seem to think i need to take on a daily basis so that i can continue breathing through the next week) have taken the edge off my goddamn knee. that said, it seems that my quiet dreams of one day learning parkour and capoeira can now be filed under "Things That Will Now Never Happen". it's a disappointment i'm sure i'll learn to live with. meanwhile i'm going to play another round of the game i've come to call "i Wonder If i'll Sleep Through Tonight Or End Up Screaming In My Skull While i Stare At The Fucking Walls For The Eigth Time Tonight".
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
happiness is a warm exhaust...
and once again, i'm carless. no more driving around with the roof off, stereo blazing, getting sunburned. no more taxi service. then again, no more rego, no more bills, no more upgrades, no second mouth to fill with petrol. it's headed for the Tender Loving Care of The Boy who has assured me that he'll take all due care of it. it's possible that the car's departure could have come at a worse time, being as it's winter and my knee is still being cantankerous, but then that's how these things happen some times.
i got back on the bike last wednesday and spent the rest of the working week forcing my right leg to bend up onto the peg and operate my rear-brake, and apart from occasionally having to let my leg dangle while i rode until the stabbing pain subsided things were all good. by tuesday of this week i was starting to be able to grip with my knees so that my weight wasn't on my wrists anymore. then, of course, on tuesday night i twisted my knee again, the night before my car was put on a truck which will take it to the other side of the country.
while i stood in the car park of the depot waiting for the guy inspected the car, taking note of all scratches and dings, i had some major pangs of regret - the time, the effort, etc etc etc, the joy of driving the damn thing. when Shadow drove me away and back to work i felt a little lost and empty. fast-forward 30 hours and i was in the middle of one of the most major highs i've had in months. it didn't take long before i forgot how i managed to live for 3 years without the joys of car ownership. sure, i borrowed them here and there when i really needed 4 wheels but that was exceptionally rare. suddenly the lack of car meant that a trip to the supermarket meant... well, riding and before i knew it i was hammering down the night-time streets of belconnen in a pair of jeans, hoodie, helmet and gloves and it was magic. the cold, pre-winter air was brisk, not freezing, and for a brief moment i was That Guy You've All Seen Before, screaming through the night in not-enough protective gear. i forgot about my knee aching and hung off around the bend while passing that hotted up Commodore on the outside, before buzzing the P-plater who tried to play silly-buggers in front of me.
unfortunately, one way or another, the car had to go. it's something i can live without, and it's something which would do me no good rotting in someone's lockup or garage for however long i'm Abroad. i still haven't decided what i'm going to do with my bike. if someone taps me on the shoulder and offers me ~$4000 for the thing and can stand to wait until October for it then i guess i'll sell it. otherwise i've been quietly scouting secure locations where i can stash it. the car, on the other hand... well, i can always get another car when i get back (maybe one of those nice 3-litre Subaru Liberty's that came out a couple of years ago...), The Boy needs one now and i need the money he's sending me for it. suddenly we have a match made in heaven... or hell as our mother seems to think it's going to be. she seems to think it's going to be overpowered for the poor lad. it may be, but that's between him and the gods.
meanwhile, i get to hold my head up high again and pronounce loudly "what are you talking about? i don't even own a car! riding through winter isn't too cold you fucking pussy, grow a pair!"... or something like that. more likely i'll just laugh. slowly, but surely, i'm finding myself with less and less stuff, and less and less interest in its acquisition. i've tried to do some retail therapy, and wind up buying more stuff for other people than i do for myself. i can't seem to find anything that i want... isn't that strange? sure, i'm going to miss the car. still, arriving at work in the car was never as life-affirming as carefully unfolding myself off the bike and having a chuckle as i work the stiffness out of my leg while i limp into the office.
it's not the loss of the car that's hitting me, though. it's more that it's a big, obvious giveaway that i'm Going Away Soon. it makes it all seem intensely Real in a way that buying the tickets didn't. this makes it feel like i'm leaving in the next week, not 5 months from now. i'm doing what i can to not think about the Future right now, for the fear that it'll get in the way of my enjoying the Now. i still have plenty to pack into the coming months and worrying about October will just get in the way so i'm just going to put it down right there.
i got back on the bike last wednesday and spent the rest of the working week forcing my right leg to bend up onto the peg and operate my rear-brake, and apart from occasionally having to let my leg dangle while i rode until the stabbing pain subsided things were all good. by tuesday of this week i was starting to be able to grip with my knees so that my weight wasn't on my wrists anymore. then, of course, on tuesday night i twisted my knee again, the night before my car was put on a truck which will take it to the other side of the country.
while i stood in the car park of the depot waiting for the guy inspected the car, taking note of all scratches and dings, i had some major pangs of regret - the time, the effort, etc etc etc, the joy of driving the damn thing. when Shadow drove me away and back to work i felt a little lost and empty. fast-forward 30 hours and i was in the middle of one of the most major highs i've had in months. it didn't take long before i forgot how i managed to live for 3 years without the joys of car ownership. sure, i borrowed them here and there when i really needed 4 wheels but that was exceptionally rare. suddenly the lack of car meant that a trip to the supermarket meant... well, riding and before i knew it i was hammering down the night-time streets of belconnen in a pair of jeans, hoodie, helmet and gloves and it was magic. the cold, pre-winter air was brisk, not freezing, and for a brief moment i was That Guy You've All Seen Before, screaming through the night in not-enough protective gear. i forgot about my knee aching and hung off around the bend while passing that hotted up Commodore on the outside, before buzzing the P-plater who tried to play silly-buggers in front of me.
unfortunately, one way or another, the car had to go. it's something i can live without, and it's something which would do me no good rotting in someone's lockup or garage for however long i'm Abroad. i still haven't decided what i'm going to do with my bike. if someone taps me on the shoulder and offers me ~$4000 for the thing and can stand to wait until October for it then i guess i'll sell it. otherwise i've been quietly scouting secure locations where i can stash it. the car, on the other hand... well, i can always get another car when i get back (maybe one of those nice 3-litre Subaru Liberty's that came out a couple of years ago...), The Boy needs one now and i need the money he's sending me for it. suddenly we have a match made in heaven... or hell as our mother seems to think it's going to be. she seems to think it's going to be overpowered for the poor lad. it may be, but that's between him and the gods.
meanwhile, i get to hold my head up high again and pronounce loudly "what are you talking about? i don't even own a car! riding through winter isn't too cold you fucking pussy, grow a pair!"... or something like that. more likely i'll just laugh. slowly, but surely, i'm finding myself with less and less stuff, and less and less interest in its acquisition. i've tried to do some retail therapy, and wind up buying more stuff for other people than i do for myself. i can't seem to find anything that i want... isn't that strange? sure, i'm going to miss the car. still, arriving at work in the car was never as life-affirming as carefully unfolding myself off the bike and having a chuckle as i work the stiffness out of my leg while i limp into the office.
it's not the loss of the car that's hitting me, though. it's more that it's a big, obvious giveaway that i'm Going Away Soon. it makes it all seem intensely Real in a way that buying the tickets didn't. this makes it feel like i'm leaving in the next week, not 5 months from now. i'm doing what i can to not think about the Future right now, for the fear that it'll get in the way of my enjoying the Now. i still have plenty to pack into the coming months and worrying about October will just get in the way so i'm just going to put it down right there.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
... the interraction of opposing forces...
i've been staring at the screen for the last half an hour and after general frustration kicked in went and deleted the drivel i'd eked out on the page. i don't seem to have the words today. i think i've been more pissed off with myself than anything else. i always get most frustrated when there are things i can't do anything about, or things i can't control.
last night i reacted to my inability to articulate my meaning by throwing my phone across the room and spending the following 20 minutes beating at the inside of my skull in utter frustration, after which i had yet another of what has become my typical sleep patterns:
fall asleep.
wake up in the wee hours convinced i'm somewhere else.
spent the following quarter hour or so tossing and turning, reacquainting myself with reality.
finall wake up properly.
fall asleep again and enjoy peaceful, rest until my alarm goes off.
today i woke up in a lobotomised daze. becoming insanely hungry by 10AM didn't help. i'm hungy a lot lately. my weight's back down below 100kg again and every time that happens i wind up having to graze otherwise i stop being able to concentrate unless i eat every 3 bloody hours. now THAT is pissing me off. delaying eating once i start feeling hungry leaves me braindead and i'll sit there on the couch staring at the wall until i manage to get up the willpower to move and find food.
that doesn't explain last night... although i didn't have much for tea last night so it might. i'm losing grip on myself and my self-control has been chipped away over the last few weeks so i'm having more and more difficulty reigning myself in at the moment. i think i know what i have to do about that, but of course i won't be discussing it here. let's just say i'm lucky enough that for once the course of action i'd consider the "easy" is also the one most likely to result in my preferred outcome.
meanwhile, there's work this week so i'm going to see if i can get the halucinations and waking dreams out of the way early so that i can get a decent amount of real sleep.
oh, and it's entirely likely that you'll never know explicitly what the hell i'm talking about here. if i wanted to talk about it i would have already.
last night i reacted to my inability to articulate my meaning by throwing my phone across the room and spending the following 20 minutes beating at the inside of my skull in utter frustration, after which i had yet another of what has become my typical sleep patterns:
fall asleep.
wake up in the wee hours convinced i'm somewhere else.
spent the following quarter hour or so tossing and turning, reacquainting myself with reality.
finall wake up properly.
fall asleep again and enjoy peaceful, rest until my alarm goes off.
today i woke up in a lobotomised daze. becoming insanely hungry by 10AM didn't help. i'm hungy a lot lately. my weight's back down below 100kg again and every time that happens i wind up having to graze otherwise i stop being able to concentrate unless i eat every 3 bloody hours. now THAT is pissing me off. delaying eating once i start feeling hungry leaves me braindead and i'll sit there on the couch staring at the wall until i manage to get up the willpower to move and find food.
that doesn't explain last night... although i didn't have much for tea last night so it might. i'm losing grip on myself and my self-control has been chipped away over the last few weeks so i'm having more and more difficulty reigning myself in at the moment. i think i know what i have to do about that, but of course i won't be discussing it here. let's just say i'm lucky enough that for once the course of action i'd consider the "easy" is also the one most likely to result in my preferred outcome.
meanwhile, there's work this week so i'm going to see if i can get the halucinations and waking dreams out of the way early so that i can get a decent amount of real sleep.
oh, and it's entirely likely that you'll never know explicitly what the hell i'm talking about here. if i wanted to talk about it i would have already.
Monday, April 21, 2008
how long can i keep this up?
a month ago i was riding the needle on the gauge from tired through to weary. 5 weeks later and it's starting to nudge the red-line of "exhausted". for no sensible reason i can discern i'm pushing myself too hard again and it's getting to the point where i'm starting to lose my cool. no in the "getting hot under the collar and losing my temper" sort of way but in the "it's difficult to be cool, calm and collected when you're swaying on your feet with the blood draining out of your face trying desperately to not pass out until you get home... which won't be for another hour or so" variety.
on the surface of things i can say that
"there's a lot i want to get done" and
"i've made promises that i intend to honour" and
"there never are enough hours in the day"
but if you scratch that surface you'll find
"i've over-extended and over-committed myself" and
"i can't seem to put anything down" and
"i've injured myself, healing is taking a lot of energy and i've not allowed myself the time or physical resources to recover and while i'm completely cognisant of this i'm going to keep burning energy i don't have."
when i noticed that one it no longer surprised me that while i've been eating far more than i usually would over the last week and done very little real exercise i've managed to LOSE weight. ok, the result is good, but really, this means that the chemical energy i need to... you know, heal myself, is coming from what little fat reserves i have left rather than the food i've been cramming down my through which has, instead, been used to keep me moving.
yesterday was a little different. after weather a few nights which have involved a lack of sleep in the last week or so i decided that i'd go out and wear myself out. Rapunzel and i went out for a nice day together - a visit to the Art Gallery, then some shopping in Civic. 4 hours, most of them on my feet. i had to exhaust myself - tire myself out so that i could be sure that i'd sleep. unfortunately this also meant 4 hours of near-constant agony as my knee, leg and lower back protested the abuse. i was about ready for bed by 9PM and when i did finally fall asleep i slept for 7 hours straight. motherfucker did it hurt though.
today i've alternated between "fine" and "falling over". the exercise helped to loosen up my knee, and i'm spending more time walking unaided than with the cane, but i've found that i have a decent energy boost for an hour or so after i eat, then i'm spent again. part of this is the lack of low-GI food in my daytime diet at present, but a lot of it has to do with how quickly i'm burning through the fuel.
meanwhile i'm still running around like a mad chook. i have a 3-day weekend ahead of me which won't include my favourite distraction, so i might actually spend some time bumming around doing very little. the week i spent between jobs came and went too fast. a long weekend won't be enough, but hopefully it'll stave off the eventual collapse. hmm... i'm going to have to tell Work that i'm not going to participate in this weekend's Overtime. it was tempting to say yes, but i have the feeling that it'll just be tooo much.
what i really need to do is say "no" when someone asks whether i want to do something. i managed to bail on going to the pub with the boys. i didn't want to - a couple of beers with M and T would have been great, but half an hour or so out and i knew that one beer and i'd be passing out at the table. i'll have to make it up to them. i seem to have some sort of complex where if i CAN do something... build a computer, chisel the the tiles off a floor, set up a home network... i'll instantly agree and go off and do it... as if the ability to do some thing compells me to do said thing. if i say that i can do something then OBVIOUSLY i have to continually prove it to myself on request.
interestingly, even when i'm dead on my feet i have some sort of compulsion which forces me to keep trying to stand straight and pretend i'm not. it's a little disturbing that after a month and a half i've found that around Rapunzel i'm managing to force myself to stop, shut up and let myself fall over a little. in the three years (on and off) with my previous employer i never really managed that. perhaps that has something to do with Capability - i don't think the previous could have held me up. seriously this girl continues to freak me the fuck out.
of course, come tomorrow i'll be back out there forcing myself to believe that i am in fact unstoppable and in the process grind myself further into the dirt to prove it to myself. either i'll start sleeping properly again and slow down enough to recover, or in another month or so i'll find myself keeled over face first on the floor with a 5'11" form standing over me saying
"You know how you thought you could keep that pace up? Well it turns out: not so much..."
on the surface of things i can say that
"there's a lot i want to get done" and
"i've made promises that i intend to honour" and
"there never are enough hours in the day"
but if you scratch that surface you'll find
"i've over-extended and over-committed myself" and
"i can't seem to put anything down" and
"i've injured myself, healing is taking a lot of energy and i've not allowed myself the time or physical resources to recover and while i'm completely cognisant of this i'm going to keep burning energy i don't have."
when i noticed that one it no longer surprised me that while i've been eating far more than i usually would over the last week and done very little real exercise i've managed to LOSE weight. ok, the result is good, but really, this means that the chemical energy i need to... you know, heal myself, is coming from what little fat reserves i have left rather than the food i've been cramming down my through which has, instead, been used to keep me moving.
yesterday was a little different. after weather a few nights which have involved a lack of sleep in the last week or so i decided that i'd go out and wear myself out. Rapunzel and i went out for a nice day together - a visit to the Art Gallery, then some shopping in Civic. 4 hours, most of them on my feet. i had to exhaust myself - tire myself out so that i could be sure that i'd sleep. unfortunately this also meant 4 hours of near-constant agony as my knee, leg and lower back protested the abuse. i was about ready for bed by 9PM and when i did finally fall asleep i slept for 7 hours straight. motherfucker did it hurt though.
today i've alternated between "fine" and "falling over". the exercise helped to loosen up my knee, and i'm spending more time walking unaided than with the cane, but i've found that i have a decent energy boost for an hour or so after i eat, then i'm spent again. part of this is the lack of low-GI food in my daytime diet at present, but a lot of it has to do with how quickly i'm burning through the fuel.
meanwhile i'm still running around like a mad chook. i have a 3-day weekend ahead of me which won't include my favourite distraction, so i might actually spend some time bumming around doing very little. the week i spent between jobs came and went too fast. a long weekend won't be enough, but hopefully it'll stave off the eventual collapse. hmm... i'm going to have to tell Work that i'm not going to participate in this weekend's Overtime. it was tempting to say yes, but i have the feeling that it'll just be tooo much.
what i really need to do is say "no" when someone asks whether i want to do something. i managed to bail on going to the pub with the boys. i didn't want to - a couple of beers with M and T would have been great, but half an hour or so out and i knew that one beer and i'd be passing out at the table. i'll have to make it up to them. i seem to have some sort of complex where if i CAN do something... build a computer, chisel the the tiles off a floor, set up a home network... i'll instantly agree and go off and do it... as if the ability to do some thing compells me to do said thing. if i say that i can do something then OBVIOUSLY i have to continually prove it to myself on request.
interestingly, even when i'm dead on my feet i have some sort of compulsion which forces me to keep trying to stand straight and pretend i'm not. it's a little disturbing that after a month and a half i've found that around Rapunzel i'm managing to force myself to stop, shut up and let myself fall over a little. in the three years (on and off) with my previous employer i never really managed that. perhaps that has something to do with Capability - i don't think the previous could have held me up. seriously this girl continues to freak me the fuck out.
of course, come tomorrow i'll be back out there forcing myself to believe that i am in fact unstoppable and in the process grind myself further into the dirt to prove it to myself. either i'll start sleeping properly again and slow down enough to recover, or in another month or so i'll find myself keeled over face first on the floor with a 5'11" form standing over me saying
"You know how you thought you could keep that pace up? Well it turns out: not so much..."
Saturday, April 19, 2008
demolitioned man...
it's been a week since my knee decided it didn't want to play any more. on week of near-constant pain and i'm demolished. completely fucking wrecked. last night it all got a bit much and at 5AM i sent an email into work politely advising that due to extreme lack of sleep (why the fuck else do you think i was up at 5 in the fucking morning?) i wouldn't be attending. nice work - a sickie in my first two weeks after starting a new job does NOT look good. still, i'm playing by the philosophy of "well, you've SEEN me hobbling around on my goddamn walking stick all week so you can't really think that i'm faking it or something. i'll have to take that day unpaid? whatever. watch me care."
today's been one of the worst. it's not so much the knee which is hurting anymore. the swelling's way down and i'm starting to get flexibility back. around 40degrees at this time. granted, it's usually closer to 160degrees but WTF? it's a start. it's more the muscles around the knee which have been compensating and are now heartily sick of it. add that the a night where i spent far more time awake than asleep and... i'm in pieces.
i'd actually managed to forget what it was like to live in constant pain. when i was at uni i went for years. YEARS. my back was a shambles and there were times where i couldn't walk more than 50 metres without having to stop and sit down for a minute or so. eventually a nice chinese man fixed it in about 2 hours with needles and electrodes and hot cups (no, seriously - 7 years of back pain gone in 2 visits to the accupuncturist. nice little guy who operates out of Nedlands, Perth. if you're in perth and you need help see this man.) after that sort of thing i would have thought that i could handle a week, but no. i've turned into a fucking pussy. "ooh, my knee hurts! i'm limping around the place!" and so on. my Pain Management just hasn't coped the way it used to. i can't really explain how my Pain Management works. i didn't even know i was doing it until i realised that when i get tired or hungry whatever it is that's broken hurts more than it did earlier. it seems to drain my energy reserves and in return it handles the severity of the sensation.
today, after a night of no sleep it had nothing to draw upon, which is part of the reason i've been so screwed today. on the plus side, i've also been sedentary as hell this week and i've lost half a belt-size. the problem is that i have reasonably little to lose and those reserves are going to be gone awfully soon.
i'm recovering though. i have a lot more strength in my right knee than i did even 2-3 days ago. i can walk unaided, although i'm only doing this around the house at present. i can drive without being in constant agony and i was able to hobble around the shopping centre for about an hour earlier today before i lost the ability to speak English and my communication devolved into tonal grunts. another week and i reckon i'll be back to something vaguely resembling normalcy, although it'll be a month or so before i'll sign off on anything involving extended walking. life and its challenges, i suppose. at least i can now be reasonably certain that it'll all be well and truly good by October...
today's been one of the worst. it's not so much the knee which is hurting anymore. the swelling's way down and i'm starting to get flexibility back. around 40degrees at this time. granted, it's usually closer to 160degrees but WTF? it's a start. it's more the muscles around the knee which have been compensating and are now heartily sick of it. add that the a night where i spent far more time awake than asleep and... i'm in pieces.
i'd actually managed to forget what it was like to live in constant pain. when i was at uni i went for years. YEARS. my back was a shambles and there were times where i couldn't walk more than 50 metres without having to stop and sit down for a minute or so. eventually a nice chinese man fixed it in about 2 hours with needles and electrodes and hot cups (no, seriously - 7 years of back pain gone in 2 visits to the accupuncturist. nice little guy who operates out of Nedlands, Perth. if you're in perth and you need help see this man.) after that sort of thing i would have thought that i could handle a week, but no. i've turned into a fucking pussy. "ooh, my knee hurts! i'm limping around the place!" and so on. my Pain Management just hasn't coped the way it used to. i can't really explain how my Pain Management works. i didn't even know i was doing it until i realised that when i get tired or hungry whatever it is that's broken hurts more than it did earlier. it seems to drain my energy reserves and in return it handles the severity of the sensation.
today, after a night of no sleep it had nothing to draw upon, which is part of the reason i've been so screwed today. on the plus side, i've also been sedentary as hell this week and i've lost half a belt-size. the problem is that i have reasonably little to lose and those reserves are going to be gone awfully soon.
i'm recovering though. i have a lot more strength in my right knee than i did even 2-3 days ago. i can walk unaided, although i'm only doing this around the house at present. i can drive without being in constant agony and i was able to hobble around the shopping centre for about an hour earlier today before i lost the ability to speak English and my communication devolved into tonal grunts. another week and i reckon i'll be back to something vaguely resembling normalcy, although it'll be a month or so before i'll sign off on anything involving extended walking. life and its challenges, i suppose. at least i can now be reasonably certain that it'll all be well and truly good by October...
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
snippets #1 (those allergic to incoherence should turn back now...)
i'm trying to get more of these idle thoughts down - those ideas which come to you in the middle of night when sleep beckons and the concerns of the day fade into inconsequence and the quiet voices in the back of your head can briefly be heard. or maybe that's just me.
my head's been fairly quiet of late, i've been noticing. it's the quiet that you notice when you've become accustomed to the constant chatter of the office, or the hum of the airconditioning, or the vibration of the ship's engines to the point where you stop noticing it's there... until it's gone... and somehow you find that it's more disconcerting than when you got used to it in the first place. the noise has died down and i'm finding myself deafened by the harshness of the signal without the softening effects of interference. the distractions are there, like when i notice the scent wafting from my shirt which suddenly makes me desperately wish i was somewhere else (in this case, a place which is less geography and more proximity), or when i fall asleep while planning what i'll be doing tomorrow, or that kind of thing. sometimes, on the other hand, the silence is so deafening that i start to think that if i beat my head against the wall enough it'll come back.
it's at about this point that i realise that the way i'd always thought about insanity was somewhat arse-about. i'm seriously considering the idea that instead of madness being the LACK of sanity, it's the other way around and that it's taking the madness away that leaves you terrifyingly sane. i'm not sure i'm entirely happy with this. this means that something's raped my mind and ripped that comforting random psychosis from my living brain. sure, it's generally easier for me to sleep at night at the moment, but AT WHAT COST?????
hmm. i'm going to have to ponder this more... another night.
my head's been fairly quiet of late, i've been noticing. it's the quiet that you notice when you've become accustomed to the constant chatter of the office, or the hum of the airconditioning, or the vibration of the ship's engines to the point where you stop noticing it's there... until it's gone... and somehow you find that it's more disconcerting than when you got used to it in the first place. the noise has died down and i'm finding myself deafened by the harshness of the signal without the softening effects of interference. the distractions are there, like when i notice the scent wafting from my shirt which suddenly makes me desperately wish i was somewhere else (in this case, a place which is less geography and more proximity), or when i fall asleep while planning what i'll be doing tomorrow, or that kind of thing. sometimes, on the other hand, the silence is so deafening that i start to think that if i beat my head against the wall enough it'll come back.
it's at about this point that i realise that the way i'd always thought about insanity was somewhat arse-about. i'm seriously considering the idea that instead of madness being the LACK of sanity, it's the other way around and that it's taking the madness away that leaves you terrifyingly sane. i'm not sure i'm entirely happy with this. this means that something's raped my mind and ripped that comforting random psychosis from my living brain. sure, it's generally easier for me to sleep at night at the moment, but AT WHAT COST?????
hmm. i'm going to have to ponder this more... another night.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
on the bench due to injury...
i used to have a reputation (of sorts) for being accident-prone. this was mostly when i was a kid and i got overly exuberant and my reach overstretched my grasp. no, strike that. my reach has ALWAY overstretched my grasp. it's just that when i was a kid it tended to lead to bloodletting. usually mine. it's led me to a fairly blase attitude towards injuring myself. a lot of the time i just don't care. "it's only pain," has become my common response, "it doesn't really hurt that much." every once in a while i'll get called on it - "You just went dead-white. Go sit down!" was what I got yesterday, at which point my walking stick and i were sent packing back to the couch.
yeah, it's true. in my late twenties i've become the proud owner of a walking stick. it's been a long time coming, and i should have gotten one the last time i did myself an injury which prevented me from walking unaided. i had alternatives available to me at time (previous involvement in martial arts means I have an impressive collection of long sticks i can lean on when necessary) and i healed up before it got too bad.
it's my own damn fault, although in my defence: i DID land on what was, 2 seconds previously, my GOOD leg. unfortunately my right knee decided it was sick of being the Good Knee and grabbed the title of Bad Knee quite conclusively. the point i'm refusing to, in any rush, get to is that since lunch time on friday my world has been a symphony of pain and agony, with occasional sets played by Karnivool and Bloc Party. i landed on it poorly, and it bent to the right rather than back. this sucked, and instead of hitting the floor and staying there i rolled, came back up onto feet which would no longer support me and landed back on my face. oh well...
still, due to the wonders of the 21st century i have a neoprene knee brace which keeps everything where it should be, and a stick which assists me with... well, walking, but also with retrieving small objects from up to 2 metres away. it's hurt like buggery, and attempts to drive have been... comical. yesterday i had to reach down and move my right leg left and right so that i could shift from accelerator to brake. it made driving cumbersome, but also entertaining... just not in the good way. it's a lot better today... or at least this afternoon. i've been able to move around and shift position without receiving jolts of stabbing pain, and because i've not had to hobble quite so much my back and other leg muscles aren't suffering so much. i have a far better range of movement and this gives me hope for the morrow... or at least, improves my chances of getting to work.
i must admit that i've not been the best patient while out of play. i copped a bit of flak from one of my housemates over the last couple of days for having the audacity to get up and make the tea, or to get myself some water. i have this philosophy that if i can get up and to to the toilet on my own then i can get my own water. it's one of the few areas where i allow hypocricy into my life - if someone else's sick/injured i'll kick them (metaphorically usually) if they don't lie there and get looked after. i, on the other hand, can't sit still and want to keep getting up to help or make the tea or whatever. i'm ok with this. i'm fiercely independent unless i have absolutely no other choice. if i'm so completely fucked that i can't move then i'll accept that i need to be nursed. if i can actually stand then i will do so. this is who i am - i'll accept it if i need it. if i don't need it then i'll get by, and thanks anyway. yes, my arm's quivering and my grip's so tight my knuckles have gone as white as my face and i look like i'm about to collapse but until i do i'm going doing SOMETHING so that i don't feel so fucking useless. i refuse to wallow in my own fucking misery when i could be doing something to take my mind off it for another 5 minutes. if i'm going to put up with excruciating pain either way i might as well be busy rather than sitting around like a lump.
either way, i'm just going to have to be careful for the next little while, and if people piss me off at least i can hit them with my walking stick. it's important to remember that pain is fleeting, just like joy. it might hurt like hell, but it won't kill you in and of itself. i've lived with worse than this, and for longer, and soon enough it'll all be a bad memory. fuck it - it's only pain. deal with it and move on. give me a couple of days or a week or so and i'll be limping, but otherwise right as rain and if that's the case then it can't possibly be all that bad now, can it?
yeah, it's true. in my late twenties i've become the proud owner of a walking stick. it's been a long time coming, and i should have gotten one the last time i did myself an injury which prevented me from walking unaided. i had alternatives available to me at time (previous involvement in martial arts means I have an impressive collection of long sticks i can lean on when necessary) and i healed up before it got too bad.
it's my own damn fault, although in my defence: i DID land on what was, 2 seconds previously, my GOOD leg. unfortunately my right knee decided it was sick of being the Good Knee and grabbed the title of Bad Knee quite conclusively. the point i'm refusing to, in any rush, get to is that since lunch time on friday my world has been a symphony of pain and agony, with occasional sets played by Karnivool and Bloc Party. i landed on it poorly, and it bent to the right rather than back. this sucked, and instead of hitting the floor and staying there i rolled, came back up onto feet which would no longer support me and landed back on my face. oh well...
still, due to the wonders of the 21st century i have a neoprene knee brace which keeps everything where it should be, and a stick which assists me with... well, walking, but also with retrieving small objects from up to 2 metres away. it's hurt like buggery, and attempts to drive have been... comical. yesterday i had to reach down and move my right leg left and right so that i could shift from accelerator to brake. it made driving cumbersome, but also entertaining... just not in the good way. it's a lot better today... or at least this afternoon. i've been able to move around and shift position without receiving jolts of stabbing pain, and because i've not had to hobble quite so much my back and other leg muscles aren't suffering so much. i have a far better range of movement and this gives me hope for the morrow... or at least, improves my chances of getting to work.
i must admit that i've not been the best patient while out of play. i copped a bit of flak from one of my housemates over the last couple of days for having the audacity to get up and make the tea, or to get myself some water. i have this philosophy that if i can get up and to to the toilet on my own then i can get my own water. it's one of the few areas where i allow hypocricy into my life - if someone else's sick/injured i'll kick them (metaphorically usually) if they don't lie there and get looked after. i, on the other hand, can't sit still and want to keep getting up to help or make the tea or whatever. i'm ok with this. i'm fiercely independent unless i have absolutely no other choice. if i'm so completely fucked that i can't move then i'll accept that i need to be nursed. if i can actually stand then i will do so. this is who i am - i'll accept it if i need it. if i don't need it then i'll get by, and thanks anyway. yes, my arm's quivering and my grip's so tight my knuckles have gone as white as my face and i look like i'm about to collapse but until i do i'm going doing SOMETHING so that i don't feel so fucking useless. i refuse to wallow in my own fucking misery when i could be doing something to take my mind off it for another 5 minutes. if i'm going to put up with excruciating pain either way i might as well be busy rather than sitting around like a lump.
either way, i'm just going to have to be careful for the next little while, and if people piss me off at least i can hit them with my walking stick. it's important to remember that pain is fleeting, just like joy. it might hurt like hell, but it won't kill you in and of itself. i've lived with worse than this, and for longer, and soon enough it'll all be a bad memory. fuck it - it's only pain. deal with it and move on. give me a couple of days or a week or so and i'll be limping, but otherwise right as rain and if that's the case then it can't possibly be all that bad now, can it?
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
too fast just isn't fast enough...
every once in a while, when i'm left with a quiet moment in my own mind, where i find that i have a doubt. most recently it's been from my riding. i ride a motorcycle. it's big and fast and a few years old now which dates it back around the time when design philosophy dictated that fast bikes HAD to be big - before manufacturers worked out how to make fast small. it's not the prettiest bike, but it's mine and i love it like i've loved most of my girlfriends over the years (which means, more or less, that i service it as regularly as clockwork, but generally mistreat it otherwise).
the problem here is that after a few years of riding i'm getting pretty good at it, and by good i mean fast. this is what i do: i develop an interest in an activity, be it motorcycle riding, or martial arts, or 2142 Battlefield, and after a little while i find myself pushing myself to get better and better at it. i'm not particularly competitive. not with other people, anyway. what i do is i push myself to be better at it than i was yesterday and on a bike my metric is speed. how fast can i go around that corner? how low can i make it lean? how much of my tyres am i actually using? in management circles this is referred to "continuous improvement" and "benchmarking".
now i'm starting to wonder if i'm taking this just a little bit too far. my new job has a 23 kilometre commute. i'm making it in around 23 minutes which means that i'm averaging 60kph, including a 4km section which slows to 40kph or less. i'm finding that i don't have to slow down for... oh, corners, other road users, traffic jams... that sort of thing, and somehow i don't feel like i'm going fast anymore. when 120kph through suburbia DOESN'T FEEL FAST ANYMORE there has to be something wrong. it's little things - i don't need as much of a gap between the cars for me to make a pass. passing between two cars on a dual-carriageway just... you know, doesn't have the feeling of danger to it that once it did.
i actually scared myself when i was out for a blat a couple of weeks ago. not because i did something which made me fear for my safety, but because what i'd been doing HADN'T. motorcycles are inherently dangerous creatures. you're more vulnerable to start with, which raises the stakes, but when your rear tyre sliding out when going around a corner doesn't raise your heart-rate anymore, or when you barely think twice about lane-splitting at license-revoking speeds... let's just say that i'm starting to wonder how much further i'm going to wind up taking this.
it actually makes me glad that i have an older bike - for a not insurmountable quantity of money i could have myself one of the last year or so's models which tend to be 20 kilo's lighter and 30BHP more powerful... but then i'd wind up learning how to use all that extra power and find myself going faster and harder than before and into the territory where death isn't just a possibility, it's inevitable.
maybe it's a good thing that the likelihood of my going near motorcycles while abroad is fairly low. it'll give me a break to reassess my life and how long i actually want it to be because, and i'm being completely sober and serious here: if i fuck up out there with the way i'm riding at the moment then i am going to fucking die. jokes about 9 lives and my seeming invulnerability to date, i'm getting to my own ragged edge and the abyss is currently staring straight back at me.
i'm going to need to slow down. i just have no idea how this is to be accomplished because once i'm out of the driveway i'm not thinking about taking it easy. i'm not thinking at all. anything less than 100% concentration and i get bored and stop paying any. with that level of focus i'm not thinking about threats because i've already reacted to them, and now i've gone and convinced myself that faster is safer there's no bloody hope.
i never worry when i'm out there. it's only after i've stopped and reflected on it. this is, i'm afraid, not a behavior-changing thought process...
the problem here is that after a few years of riding i'm getting pretty good at it, and by good i mean fast. this is what i do: i develop an interest in an activity, be it motorcycle riding, or martial arts, or 2142 Battlefield, and after a little while i find myself pushing myself to get better and better at it. i'm not particularly competitive. not with other people, anyway. what i do is i push myself to be better at it than i was yesterday and on a bike my metric is speed. how fast can i go around that corner? how low can i make it lean? how much of my tyres am i actually using? in management circles this is referred to "continuous improvement" and "benchmarking".
now i'm starting to wonder if i'm taking this just a little bit too far. my new job has a 23 kilometre commute. i'm making it in around 23 minutes which means that i'm averaging 60kph, including a 4km section which slows to 40kph or less. i'm finding that i don't have to slow down for... oh, corners, other road users, traffic jams... that sort of thing, and somehow i don't feel like i'm going fast anymore. when 120kph through suburbia DOESN'T FEEL FAST ANYMORE there has to be something wrong. it's little things - i don't need as much of a gap between the cars for me to make a pass. passing between two cars on a dual-carriageway just... you know, doesn't have the feeling of danger to it that once it did.
i actually scared myself when i was out for a blat a couple of weeks ago. not because i did something which made me fear for my safety, but because what i'd been doing HADN'T. motorcycles are inherently dangerous creatures. you're more vulnerable to start with, which raises the stakes, but when your rear tyre sliding out when going around a corner doesn't raise your heart-rate anymore, or when you barely think twice about lane-splitting at license-revoking speeds... let's just say that i'm starting to wonder how much further i'm going to wind up taking this.
it actually makes me glad that i have an older bike - for a not insurmountable quantity of money i could have myself one of the last year or so's models which tend to be 20 kilo's lighter and 30BHP more powerful... but then i'd wind up learning how to use all that extra power and find myself going faster and harder than before and into the territory where death isn't just a possibility, it's inevitable.
maybe it's a good thing that the likelihood of my going near motorcycles while abroad is fairly low. it'll give me a break to reassess my life and how long i actually want it to be because, and i'm being completely sober and serious here: if i fuck up out there with the way i'm riding at the moment then i am going to fucking die. jokes about 9 lives and my seeming invulnerability to date, i'm getting to my own ragged edge and the abyss is currently staring straight back at me.
i'm going to need to slow down. i just have no idea how this is to be accomplished because once i'm out of the driveway i'm not thinking about taking it easy. i'm not thinking at all. anything less than 100% concentration and i get bored and stop paying any. with that level of focus i'm not thinking about threats because i've already reacted to them, and now i've gone and convinced myself that faster is safer there's no bloody hope.
i never worry when i'm out there. it's only after i've stopped and reflected on it. this is, i'm afraid, not a behavior-changing thought process...
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
this is the life...
my holiday seems to be going pretty well. 8 hours of sleep a night is, in my book, a luxury enjoyed by the extremely fortunate. right now i'm feeling like the luckiest motherfucker in this excuse for a city.
i ran around yesterday getting things done until i wore myself out, then proceeded to play Mass Effect on the Xbox. for 5 and a half hours of game-time. today... you know, i offered to cook for the (new) household in part because they're always cooking for me and i should return the favour... especially since i'm bumming around doing squat at the moment but also, i think, to give me a reason to leave the flat.
i'm cooking again on friday, but that's a whole other matter.
i'm getting a new rear-tyre on my bike tomorrow (the old one's started de-laminating down the middle and looks... distressing). on thursday i have absolutely no plans. today, until i head off to the shops in a few hours, i'm playing Xbox. i have my coffee, i have games, i'm going to relax godsdammit.
i ran around yesterday getting things done until i wore myself out, then proceeded to play Mass Effect on the Xbox. for 5 and a half hours of game-time. today... you know, i offered to cook for the (new) household in part because they're always cooking for me and i should return the favour... especially since i'm bumming around doing squat at the moment but also, i think, to give me a reason to leave the flat.
i'm cooking again on friday, but that's a whole other matter.
i'm getting a new rear-tyre on my bike tomorrow (the old one's started de-laminating down the middle and looks... distressing). on thursday i have absolutely no plans. today, until i head off to the shops in a few hours, i'm playing Xbox. i have my coffee, i have games, i'm going to relax godsdammit.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
untended clockwork...
after running around like the man on a mission i was, i found myself in the position where i didn't have anything left that needed to be done yesterday, and wound up slumped on the couch, much like a mechanical man with a dead battery, searching my head for what the next task had to be. i couldn't find anything, so i had a beer which didn't help. the second and third didn't help any either.
most of my stuff has now been moved out of RPM now and is spread out between the little unit i'm in now, and another little unit in the next block. there's still a fair bit at the house, but it wasn't crucial that i get it out so i prioritised what needed to be shifted now and got it done while i chase other options. i've just about run out of storage space in the places available to me, so the rest is going to take a mixture of patience and strategy.
i have the next week to tidy up around the edges, anyway, since i'm officially on holiday between jobs. i finished up at the old job half-way through friday and now have a week to... um... i don't know, actually. i have plans for wednesday, but that's all i have set in stone at present. bearing in mind that for the last 4 months i've pretty much always known where i was going to be for the entire week ahead this is disconcerting, if remarkably relieving. i haven't had a holiday where i've just bummed around and done Sweet Fuck All in forever so i really am going to try it this time. i'm going to have to try to relax.
relaxation didn't want to come today. after slumping for a while i started pottering around, playing with the network here which was causing a few issues. i was almost glad when it took me an hour or two to fix because it meant that i didn't notice the passage of time until my metabolism politely informed me that if i didn't eat SOON it would eject my spleen out through my side. i've not been eating much, or regularly, of late and my body seems to be getting rapidly and heartily sick of it. i'm hoping that banana chips help since it's currently all i have at hand.
my ability to relax seems to have taken a vacation generally of late. i was forcibly relaxed the other day, left sitting on a couch in a pose which i'm certain must have looked like a puppet with its strings cut, arms by my sides, head resting on the back of the couch, mouth gaping open, body refusing to respond to commands. this state took 20 minutes the achieve, and lasted 3, maybe 4 minutes afterwards. it was the closest i've been to actually passive in far too long.
now i just need to polish off all the loose ends i've left hanging while i got the main body of work out of the way. i was a little stupid about it - i took on a couple of tasks i maybe shouldn't have bearing in mind that i had my own shit on, but i'm glad i did them anyway. they made people happy... or at very least reduced their burden some. they seemed... perplexed at my willingness to assist, and determination that i'd continue until the job was done. i wanted to Help, and feel he validation of having provided Assistance. when people tell you that the work is its own reward they're usually a wanker trying to con you into doing something remarkably unpleasant. i just wanted to feel good about having done something which made some people i likes lives easier. well, one person in particular, but there were two of them involved so i'll count them both.
the concept seemed alien to them. i'd ask "so, when are we going back to finish this off?" at which point she'd give me a confused look and say "you know you don't HAVE to do this?" and i'd reply "i know that. meanwhile..."
oh well. it's done now, and that was satisfying. i'm achy and sore, but i achieved something and that makes it worthwhile.
right now i'm tired and need sleep which i know won't come for another hour or so so i'm trying to distract myself. i might see about installing a new game on my laptop and playing that until my body's ready to pass out again. certainly, gaming will make the coming week pass by more quickly, i'm sure. i know the way these things go - it'll be gone before i know it regardless of what i do. i won't mind as long as i get something constructive done in the meantime...
most of my stuff has now been moved out of RPM now and is spread out between the little unit i'm in now, and another little unit in the next block. there's still a fair bit at the house, but it wasn't crucial that i get it out so i prioritised what needed to be shifted now and got it done while i chase other options. i've just about run out of storage space in the places available to me, so the rest is going to take a mixture of patience and strategy.
i have the next week to tidy up around the edges, anyway, since i'm officially on holiday between jobs. i finished up at the old job half-way through friday and now have a week to... um... i don't know, actually. i have plans for wednesday, but that's all i have set in stone at present. bearing in mind that for the last 4 months i've pretty much always known where i was going to be for the entire week ahead this is disconcerting, if remarkably relieving. i haven't had a holiday where i've just bummed around and done Sweet Fuck All in forever so i really am going to try it this time. i'm going to have to try to relax.
relaxation didn't want to come today. after slumping for a while i started pottering around, playing with the network here which was causing a few issues. i was almost glad when it took me an hour or two to fix because it meant that i didn't notice the passage of time until my metabolism politely informed me that if i didn't eat SOON it would eject my spleen out through my side. i've not been eating much, or regularly, of late and my body seems to be getting rapidly and heartily sick of it. i'm hoping that banana chips help since it's currently all i have at hand.
my ability to relax seems to have taken a vacation generally of late. i was forcibly relaxed the other day, left sitting on a couch in a pose which i'm certain must have looked like a puppet with its strings cut, arms by my sides, head resting on the back of the couch, mouth gaping open, body refusing to respond to commands. this state took 20 minutes the achieve, and lasted 3, maybe 4 minutes afterwards. it was the closest i've been to actually passive in far too long.
now i just need to polish off all the loose ends i've left hanging while i got the main body of work out of the way. i was a little stupid about it - i took on a couple of tasks i maybe shouldn't have bearing in mind that i had my own shit on, but i'm glad i did them anyway. they made people happy... or at very least reduced their burden some. they seemed... perplexed at my willingness to assist, and determination that i'd continue until the job was done. i wanted to Help, and feel he validation of having provided Assistance. when people tell you that the work is its own reward they're usually a wanker trying to con you into doing something remarkably unpleasant. i just wanted to feel good about having done something which made some people i likes lives easier. well, one person in particular, but there were two of them involved so i'll count them both.
the concept seemed alien to them. i'd ask "so, when are we going back to finish this off?" at which point she'd give me a confused look and say "you know you don't HAVE to do this?" and i'd reply "i know that. meanwhile..."
oh well. it's done now, and that was satisfying. i'm achy and sore, but i achieved something and that makes it worthwhile.
right now i'm tired and need sleep which i know won't come for another hour or so so i'm trying to distract myself. i might see about installing a new game on my laptop and playing that until my body's ready to pass out again. certainly, gaming will make the coming week pass by more quickly, i'm sure. i know the way these things go - it'll be gone before i know it regardless of what i do. i won't mind as long as i get something constructive done in the meantime...
Friday, March 21, 2008
i am about to swear a lot. you have been warned...
i am so fucked. seriously fucking fucked. i've found myself in what you might call "something of a pickle" if you were a polite sort, or if you're more... well, like me: "a steaming pile of shit up to my fucking eyeballs". the nature of my problem may be amusing to some, confusing to others, or if you're The Becca, So Very Raven. my problem is as follows:
i've been in a good mood. things have been going... well. i have, in fact, been something approaching "happy".
no, seriously, this is an issue. happy is bad. happy is counterproductive. i have too many things to get done to waste my time being the happy little centre of my own universe.
the problem, dear friends, is that when i get happy i get complacent and when i get complacent i don't have the drive to make the difficult decisions or to effect changes that need to be made and right now there are a lot of changes i need to make. what i actually need in situations like this is a stockpile, or steady influx, of raw and barely contained rage.
let me try to explain. you'll have seen those movies with the guy who's going out after the mob, or taking on the drug cartel, or working valiantly to bring down a corrupt government official. picture that guy in your head. odds are he's going to be a gestalt of Bruce Willis from Die Hard, Denzel Washington from Man On Fire, Aragon and (if you're a gamer) Max Payne. is that a happy man? fuck no! he's pissed off! his family's been killed or threatened, or he wants to save a little girl from kidnappers or he's had a really bad day, doesn't get to have sex with the elf and really needs a shave and a bath. now, you're not going to wake up on a bright sunny morning, kiss the wife, have a nice cup of milky tea on the back balcony with your pipe and slippers and think to yourself
"hmm. you know, today i think i might put on my dirty old mack and go out and fight terrorists barefoot in the mud with a spade and a toothpick and likely get shot."
no! you're going to finish the coffee, go for a nice drive in the country and make sweet sweet lurve to the missus and her friend-from-uni-who's-open-to-experimentation in your airy Studio Apartment with View of the Fucking Harbor and Easy Access to Local Facilities. you're fucking happy with your nice, neat little shit so why the fuck would you care enough to change anything?
happy people do not sell off their belongings, quit their job and buy a one-way flight to the other side of the goddamn world so they can go adventuring! they buy a fucking package holiday, save up some cash or get a loan and go off with a hawiian shirt and their camera around their neck while wearing sensible shoes and a floppy fucking hat! if they bother to go at all.
i'm resigned to the fact that i have a different viewpoint on all this. i've been told enough times that i'm wired up wrong that i take it as a compliment these days. take my taste in music - In Flames (screamy swedish melodic-death-metal) puts me in a great mood. Death Cab For Cutie (easy-listening fairy-boy semi-emo alt-pop) makes me marginally irritated. anything by Andrew Lloyd Motherfucking Webber (purveyor of the musical equivalent of sawdust-bread to the masses) makes me want to confiscate people's thumbs using power-tools and a butane torch. my brain works differently to yours. be grateful for this.
the thing is that when i need to Get Things Done i need to have the stockpile of rage that i've captured and distilled into a crystaline ball of utter malevolence which i can then draw upon at appropriate moments to give me the strength to stand tall and smash through any obstacles in my path. a happy man does not go out and change his life, and that is what i need to be doing right now. i need to move out of the house i've lived in for nearly 4 years. it hasn't been a good house - it's been a fucking great house. i have some staggeringly awesome memories attached to this place and it has been Home like nowhere else has been in most of the last decade. i do not want to leave this house, but i have to leave this house. similarly, i have some really nice stuff i've collected this stuff over the years, a piece here and a piece there and put myself together a comfortable environment where it's all pretty much how i want it.
it has to go.
i need to do things which i will not want to do if i am happy. i need to be angered to the point of insanity and frustrated to a level of madness so that i can do these things and not look back, or think too hard before i do them - draw upon my wellspring of hate and drown everything before me in screaming rage and bile. i cannot afford to be complacent lest i lose momentum and not achieve the escape-velocity to actually go through with the plans i have put in place.
the other big killer is that when i'm happy i get stupid. i'm pretty sure i've discussed this idea before, in a previous life. when i'm angry i'm situationally aware. i'm alert and i'm on the fucking ball. get me in a good mood and i slip and when i slip up i screw up. i've done it before - let things slip and suddenly the whole house of cards collapses around me. i need the stress somewhere in my life to keep the balancing act alive. now i've gone and managed to get everything rolling beautifully and there's a smile on my face. how in hell am i going to maintain clarity when i'm in a warm fuzzy place?
it makes me so fucking mad i could put my face through concrete...
.
.
.
actually, that'll about do it. much better.
i've been in a good mood. things have been going... well. i have, in fact, been something approaching "happy".
no, seriously, this is an issue. happy is bad. happy is counterproductive. i have too many things to get done to waste my time being the happy little centre of my own universe.
the problem, dear friends, is that when i get happy i get complacent and when i get complacent i don't have the drive to make the difficult decisions or to effect changes that need to be made and right now there are a lot of changes i need to make. what i actually need in situations like this is a stockpile, or steady influx, of raw and barely contained rage.
let me try to explain. you'll have seen those movies with the guy who's going out after the mob, or taking on the drug cartel, or working valiantly to bring down a corrupt government official. picture that guy in your head. odds are he's going to be a gestalt of Bruce Willis from Die Hard, Denzel Washington from Man On Fire, Aragon and (if you're a gamer) Max Payne. is that a happy man? fuck no! he's pissed off! his family's been killed or threatened, or he wants to save a little girl from kidnappers or he's had a really bad day, doesn't get to have sex with the elf and really needs a shave and a bath. now, you're not going to wake up on a bright sunny morning, kiss the wife, have a nice cup of milky tea on the back balcony with your pipe and slippers and think to yourself
"hmm. you know, today i think i might put on my dirty old mack and go out and fight terrorists barefoot in the mud with a spade and a toothpick and likely get shot."
no! you're going to finish the coffee, go for a nice drive in the country and make sweet sweet lurve to the missus and her friend-from-uni-who's-open-to-experimentation in your airy Studio Apartment with View of the Fucking Harbor and Easy Access to Local Facilities. you're fucking happy with your nice, neat little shit so why the fuck would you care enough to change anything?
happy people do not sell off their belongings, quit their job and buy a one-way flight to the other side of the goddamn world so they can go adventuring! they buy a fucking package holiday, save up some cash or get a loan and go off with a hawiian shirt and their camera around their neck while wearing sensible shoes and a floppy fucking hat! if they bother to go at all.
i'm resigned to the fact that i have a different viewpoint on all this. i've been told enough times that i'm wired up wrong that i take it as a compliment these days. take my taste in music - In Flames (screamy swedish melodic-death-metal) puts me in a great mood. Death Cab For Cutie (easy-listening fairy-boy semi-emo alt-pop) makes me marginally irritated. anything by Andrew Lloyd Motherfucking Webber (purveyor of the musical equivalent of sawdust-bread to the masses) makes me want to confiscate people's thumbs using power-tools and a butane torch. my brain works differently to yours. be grateful for this.
the thing is that when i need to Get Things Done i need to have the stockpile of rage that i've captured and distilled into a crystaline ball of utter malevolence which i can then draw upon at appropriate moments to give me the strength to stand tall and smash through any obstacles in my path. a happy man does not go out and change his life, and that is what i need to be doing right now. i need to move out of the house i've lived in for nearly 4 years. it hasn't been a good house - it's been a fucking great house. i have some staggeringly awesome memories attached to this place and it has been Home like nowhere else has been in most of the last decade. i do not want to leave this house, but i have to leave this house. similarly, i have some really nice stuff i've collected this stuff over the years, a piece here and a piece there and put myself together a comfortable environment where it's all pretty much how i want it.
it has to go.
i need to do things which i will not want to do if i am happy. i need to be angered to the point of insanity and frustrated to a level of madness so that i can do these things and not look back, or think too hard before i do them - draw upon my wellspring of hate and drown everything before me in screaming rage and bile. i cannot afford to be complacent lest i lose momentum and not achieve the escape-velocity to actually go through with the plans i have put in place.
the other big killer is that when i'm happy i get stupid. i'm pretty sure i've discussed this idea before, in a previous life. when i'm angry i'm situationally aware. i'm alert and i'm on the fucking ball. get me in a good mood and i slip and when i slip up i screw up. i've done it before - let things slip and suddenly the whole house of cards collapses around me. i need the stress somewhere in my life to keep the balancing act alive. now i've gone and managed to get everything rolling beautifully and there's a smile on my face. how in hell am i going to maintain clarity when i'm in a warm fuzzy place?
it makes me so fucking mad i could put my face through concrete...
.
.
.
actually, that'll about do it. much better.
Friday, March 14, 2008
g33k bliss...
ah, this is the life. sitting on the balcony of the flat i'll be (un)officially moving into in a week, laptop burning my crotch, glass of scotch to my left, phat pipe streaming internets to me via the wireless. ah, the geeky joy. i've just asserted my techie dominance by setting up my router and linking all the computers and game consoles through it.
geekiness. i has it.
that's all i really wanted to say at this point. it's a friday, which is ordinarily the sweetest of all days. today it's just moderately sweet, but that's ok too. i have promised myself a nice quiet weekend, so i only have 3 or 4 things to do. for me that's impressive.
next weekend will be far far more busy, which is why i'm doing naff all over the next 24 or 36 hours. if i'm really REALLY lucky i'll get to sleep, too. won't be much of THAT next weekend...
geekiness. i has it.
that's all i really wanted to say at this point. it's a friday, which is ordinarily the sweetest of all days. today it's just moderately sweet, but that's ok too. i have promised myself a nice quiet weekend, so i only have 3 or 4 things to do. for me that's impressive.
next weekend will be far far more busy, which is why i'm doing naff all over the next 24 or 36 hours. if i'm really REALLY lucky i'll get to sleep, too. won't be much of THAT next weekend...
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
it's waning raven...
i've never been particularly good at doing the things that are good for me. at the moment it's all about sleep, rest and regeneration. i think it's fair to say that i've been busy. i've been pretty much permanently on the go since late november. there was a brief period in January where i spent any time i had spare lying in bed reading books, but apart from that it's been go go go. while i was overseas the last time i kinda forgot how to sleep, which knocked me around for 3 or 4 weeks until i remembered how again. this means that i got some rest, but didn't slow down the pace of activity any. this last week's been so damn busy that when i try explain it to people i go into oratory hyperspeed, and even then people have to shut up for 12-14 minutes before i get to the end of it all. by the time i'm done with my monologue they're usually sitting there with their mouths open while they process just how much i've been fitting into my days.
not that i'm trying to brag here. i've been busy, and a lot of what i've been up to has been really interesting, even for people who aren't me. the thing is that at some point i know i'm going to crash out and get really sick because my body will decide that enough is enough and pull the pin. it does that on occasion. i'm already feeling the shutdown in my head - the thoughts come slower and less crisp. like they've crawled through treacle and then a sandpit before they get to me. i know that i want to take a break and chill out but then... there are things i "have" to do. i make commitments which get called on. i miscalculate when things need to be done and wind up shoving them into my schedule. and then there are the opportunities which crop up which are too good to miss out on. the next thing i know, i've organised my week through to sunday by tuesday afternoon.
this is taking a fair amount out of me. i've been "tired" for a while, but i'm rapidly moving into the zone of "weary". i'm hoping that i can survive the next 2 and a half weeks. i have a week off. the first week in April. the back of my mind is already looking for ways to fill it with activities it considers productive, which means that i'm fighting a read-guard action so that i can fill it with as little as humanly possible. play a couple of games that have been piling up. read a few books. drink some beer. that sort of thing.
in a week and a half i move, thus negating a chunk of the joy of the coming Easter Long Weekend. a week after that i finish up at the job i've been in since July. at 5PM on March 28 i'm officially free as a bird for 9 days. if pieces keep falling into place the way they have been up until now then maybe, maybe i'll get some rest. maybe, maybe i'll last that long. there's always a price to be paid. i'm just hoping it defers until then.
not that i'm trying to brag here. i've been busy, and a lot of what i've been up to has been really interesting, even for people who aren't me. the thing is that at some point i know i'm going to crash out and get really sick because my body will decide that enough is enough and pull the pin. it does that on occasion. i'm already feeling the shutdown in my head - the thoughts come slower and less crisp. like they've crawled through treacle and then a sandpit before they get to me. i know that i want to take a break and chill out but then... there are things i "have" to do. i make commitments which get called on. i miscalculate when things need to be done and wind up shoving them into my schedule. and then there are the opportunities which crop up which are too good to miss out on. the next thing i know, i've organised my week through to sunday by tuesday afternoon.
this is taking a fair amount out of me. i've been "tired" for a while, but i'm rapidly moving into the zone of "weary". i'm hoping that i can survive the next 2 and a half weeks. i have a week off. the first week in April. the back of my mind is already looking for ways to fill it with activities it considers productive, which means that i'm fighting a read-guard action so that i can fill it with as little as humanly possible. play a couple of games that have been piling up. read a few books. drink some beer. that sort of thing.
in a week and a half i move, thus negating a chunk of the joy of the coming Easter Long Weekend. a week after that i finish up at the job i've been in since July. at 5PM on March 28 i'm officially free as a bird for 9 days. if pieces keep falling into place the way they have been up until now then maybe, maybe i'll get some rest. maybe, maybe i'll last that long. there's always a price to be paid. i'm just hoping it defers until then.
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