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10. Synesthesia
Sep. 21st, 2024 04:32 pmYou communed with flowers
In an alternate dimension
Outside the bedroom door
Whose oppressive squares
Held me in place while
You passed through easily
Hours went by
Or maybe only days
While two cellmates
Spoke of the heavens
And with every exhale
The colors danced
The walls sighed
You returned to us
As easily as you left
We were awestruck again
And stirred slightly
You recounted your communion
The flowers imparted upon you
“Every day we are losing more stars”
In an alternate dimension
Outside the bedroom door
Whose oppressive squares
Held me in place while
You passed through easily
Hours went by
Or maybe only days
While two cellmates
Spoke of the heavens
And with every exhale
The colors danced
The walls sighed
You returned to us
As easily as you left
We were awestruck again
And stirred slightly
You recounted your communion
The flowers imparted upon you
“Every day we are losing more stars”
9. It Ain't Braggin' if It's True
Sep. 12th, 2024 05:12 pmI lied to you
on your dying day,
but I don't know
how lucid you were, anyway,
and I want to say
that, at the time,
it was more of a half-truth
than an outright lie
(and,
in a certain sense,
it wasn't a lie at all),
but it was mostly
the implicit meaning
behind it that you
might have gleaned
—had you the ability
to discern reality
from the waking hell
you were in—
that shames me so much,
and I wish that I could
fulfill all of the promise
that you thought I had,
but I've never really had
the wherewithal
to make anyone proud.
on your dying day,
but I don't know
how lucid you were, anyway,
and I want to say
that, at the time,
it was more of a half-truth
than an outright lie
(and,
in a certain sense,
it wasn't a lie at all),
but it was mostly
the implicit meaning
behind it that you
might have gleaned
—had you the ability
to discern reality
from the waking hell
you were in—
that shames me so much,
and I wish that I could
fulfill all of the promise
that you thought I had,
but I've never really had
the wherewithal
to make anyone proud.
8. Bycatch
Sep. 4th, 2024 03:11 pmif my mouth could
form words
like my fingers
if my heart could
hold strength
like my hands
we lingered in this spot
each of us considering but
no lips move
no breath forms
we will find them too late
amongst our
scattered thoughts
i will write them
you will push them down
i will hide my papers
we will never know of
the thoughts we share
but we will know the feeling
form words
like my fingers
if my heart could
hold strength
like my hands
we lingered in this spot
each of us considering but
no lips move
no breath forms
we will find them too late
amongst our
scattered thoughts
i will write them
you will push them down
i will hide my papers
we will never know of
the thoughts we share
but we will know the feeling
7. Hikikomori
Aug. 26th, 2024 12:36 pmI think often about
Our times by the river,
You singing Sarah and
Me harmonizing while
Waiting for you to pass the joint,
Our cheeks aching and
Our toes digging into the wet sand.
It wasn't love,
But something nearly,
That held us together
From the first time that I
Awkwardly told you your hair was pretty
To the last time we spoke,
Still dreaming our dreams and
Planning out our lives together.
How easy it is,
Once proximity is a memory,
To be swept away in the
Current, and to believe
There isn't any fighting it,
To let circumstances dictate.
I wish that I could
Return us to what we were and
Undo all that has happened,
Fight against, and
Find you.
Instead I think often about
Dreaming with you by the river, and
Spend my days avoiding mirrors.
Our times by the river,
You singing Sarah and
Me harmonizing while
Waiting for you to pass the joint,
Our cheeks aching and
Our toes digging into the wet sand.
It wasn't love,
But something nearly,
That held us together
From the first time that I
Awkwardly told you your hair was pretty
To the last time we spoke,
Still dreaming our dreams and
Planning out our lives together.
How easy it is,
Once proximity is a memory,
To be swept away in the
Current, and to believe
There isn't any fighting it,
To let circumstances dictate.
I wish that I could
Return us to what we were and
Undo all that has happened,
Fight against, and
Find you.
Instead I think often about
Dreaming with you by the river, and
Spend my days avoiding mirrors.
6. The Path is Made by Walking
Aug. 14th, 2024 06:23 pmShe fed it every day—
the monster in the garden—
with Matchbox cars
and figurines, or
whatever useless brick-a-brack
had invaded her home that week.
She had to be careful—
keep them in the circle
she had worn around the Thing,
her anxious steps
contorting the too-tall grass,
shattering its walls and
forcing it into submission before
killing every blade and
letting the red clay take over.
She gently buried—
day after day—
every piece of them
into the too-tall grass,
mislaid reverence of the monster
that she would never see
and would never not see.
the monster in the garden—
with Matchbox cars
and figurines, or
whatever useless brick-a-brack
had invaded her home that week.
She had to be careful—
keep them in the circle
she had worn around the Thing,
her anxious steps
contorting the too-tall grass,
shattering its walls and
forcing it into submission before
killing every blade and
letting the red clay take over.
She gently buried—
day after day—
every piece of them
into the too-tall grass,
mislaid reverence of the monster
that she would never see
and would never not see.
5a. Open Topic
Aug. 13th, 2024 05:02 pmlet's not call it “giving up”
maybe “moratorium” is better
i’ve never been one
to call myself a quitter
(but i’ve never been one
to call myself lots of things)
i spoke to you often
about the power of a word
about finding just the right fit
about agonizing over it
(not that you understood
but i understood that)
it seems so final
not just a drop of the ball
but an intentional release
a saying, “i was never
enough,”
(and a thinking about
the truth behind it)
let's neither call it “giving up”
nor embrace the finality of the words
let's give it another Name
maybe “moratorium” is better
i’ve never been one
to call myself a quitter
(but i’ve never been one
to call myself lots of things)
i spoke to you often
about the power of a word
about finding just the right fit
about agonizing over it
(not that you understood
but i understood that)
it seems so final
not just a drop of the ball
but an intentional release
a saying, “i was never
enough,”
(and a thinking about
the truth behind it)
let's neither call it “giving up”
nor embrace the finality of the words
let's give it another Name
5. Oubaitori
Aug. 8th, 2024 07:20 amEye to the telescope
And we were singing along
But I never wanted a rival
It just came about when
Our similarities enshrined themselves
Our differences exiled themselves
A certain yearning exists
When you provide your own edification
To enmesh yourself with yourself
You were so close
A carnival mirror
A copper pan
The hibiscus is in bloom today
By the time I see them again
The flowers will be shriveled
Clinging half-heartedly to their branches
But more will come again tomorrow
And we were singing along
But I never wanted a rival
It just came about when
Our similarities enshrined themselves
Our differences exiled themselves
A certain yearning exists
When you provide your own edification
To enmesh yourself with yourself
You were so close
A carnival mirror
A copper pan
The hibiscus is in bloom today
By the time I see them again
The flowers will be shriveled
Clinging half-heartedly to their branches
But more will come again tomorrow
4. Uncanny Valley
Jul. 31st, 2024 12:40 pmit's in the penumbra
that i find you
the place where no one looks
the periphery holds
our dreams
our fears
our silence
we can exist here
descending into the fantastic
and closing our senses
and our minds
and
and
and
it will pass
the silence
with our dreams
with our fears
while we wait
that i find you
the place where no one looks
the periphery holds
our dreams
our fears
our silence
we can exist here
descending into the fantastic
and closing our senses
and our minds
and
and
and
it will pass
the silence
with our dreams
with our fears
while we wait
3. Without You
Jul. 23rd, 2024 04:36 pmIt isn't like we didn't fit.
More like, we were
Ever-shifting puzzle pieces
From a cheaply made set,
Wavering between
Fitting too tightly
And falling apart at the smallest impetus.
I thought that we would be,
I don't know,
Something really special?
But then I thought that
About everyone before you
And everyone after you.
I guess I'd like to say that
You weren't really special,
But who's the one
That's less special,
The one who's being written about
Or the one who's just a
Phantasmagoric memory,
Who only rears his ugly head
When paralysis overtakes your
Peaceful sleep?
I think that you're selfish;
You think that I'm heartless.
I think that I'm better off;
You don't think of me at all.
More like, we were
Ever-shifting puzzle pieces
From a cheaply made set,
Wavering between
Fitting too tightly
And falling apart at the smallest impetus.
I thought that we would be,
I don't know,
Something really special?
But then I thought that
About everyone before you
And everyone after you.
I guess I'd like to say that
You weren't really special,
But who's the one
That's less special,
The one who's being written about
Or the one who's just a
Phantasmagoric memory,
Who only rears his ugly head
When paralysis overtakes your
Peaceful sleep?
I think that you're selfish;
You think that I'm heartless.
I think that I'm better off;
You don't think of me at all.
2. Sankofa
Jul. 14th, 2024 06:08 amYellow flowers on green wallpaper
A million eyes to see
My fingers caress the bedpost
My neck twisting
My heart beats unfairly
Orange flame on a white stick
The cherry glows and
I catch a glimpse of
A yellowed fingernail
I inhale and hold it
Until my lungs protest
It still smells of you here
Two smiles encased in glass
My fingers slink around
As my toes retract
Clinging futilely to carpet fibers
My brain goes gathering
As a million eyes watch
I empty my blackened lungs
And drag another match
Across the side of its box
A million eyes to see
My fingers caress the bedpost
My neck twisting
My heart beats unfairly
Orange flame on a white stick
The cherry glows and
I catch a glimpse of
A yellowed fingernail
I inhale and hold it
Until my lungs protest
It still smells of you here
Two smiles encased in glass
My fingers slink around
As my toes retract
Clinging futilely to carpet fibers
My brain goes gathering
As a million eyes watch
I empty my blackened lungs
And drag another match
Across the side of its box
He liked to
Play with words
In the bathtub
While she vibrated in his skull
And the filth of the day
Sloughed from his skin
And he steeped in it
And who was I
To say what could
Or couldn't be
When all I would do was watch
And there weren't
Enough substances
In the world to prevent
The creep of clarity
When we finally
Saw each other
We scraped our hands
Against the clock
Trying to gather our
Lost moments
And found only dust
Play with words
In the bathtub
While she vibrated in his skull
And the filth of the day
Sloughed from his skin
And he steeped in it
And who was I
To say what could
Or couldn't be
When all I would do was watch
And there weren't
Enough substances
In the world to prevent
The creep of clarity
When we finally
Saw each other
We scraped our hands
Against the clock
Trying to gather our
Lost moments
And found only dust
Just a little something I've been working on. Not even sure what it is yet.
* * *
I’ve never been the type to put my face under the water while I shower. It feels like I’m drowning.
Molly ate the last cupcake. I wasn’t upset about it; I told her that. The cupcakes were only okay, anyway. I’m not a fan of overly sweet things. But my mother made them for me, so it’s only fair that I should have gotten the last one. But it wasn’t a big deal. Just one of those things.
-
“She says you’re changing,” he says to me completely unsolicited, his voice dripping with that fake concern that he always likes to trot out as a defense against his gossiping. “She says you’re going to realize you’re too good for her.”
I center the thought. Maybe I am too good for her. Not yet, but maybe I will be. I let it pass out of my mind. “She’s capable of change, too,” I say. “And I love her. I’ll never leave her.”
“So you are changing.”
“I guess. I don’t think so. Incrementally, maybe.”
“Enough for her to notice.”
“Enough for you to notice?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
-
I rinse my hair. It’s Tuesday, so I don’t have to wash it if I don’t want to. My stylist says that it’s bad for my hair to wash it every day. But I’m never sure. I put a ton of products in it to keep it to a dull roar. Is water enough to wash that away?
It’s Tuesday. I scrub my body for longer than I need to, feeling the water scald my skin. It’s not hot enough to strip my skin from my bones. But it’s hot enough to dull the ache in my shoulder for a few seconds, and that’s a few seconds that I have learned to cherish every morning.
I take stock of the day ahead because I can’t ever stop thinking.
-
The water is brackish and violent today.
-
She says I’m changing. She says it to me this time. It makes her happy, she says, to see how much I’ve grown recently. It makes her sad, she says, to think that I’m going to be better than her one day. To think that I’ll outgrow her while she stagnates.
“I can’t imagine leaving you,” I say as the thoughts dance through my mind.
-
I tear through a packet of cookies and a pint of ice cream in a single evening. So much for changing. This is why I can’t keep these sorts of things in the house. She doesn’t see my guilt, and I pretend that I don’t see the hint of a smile creeping its way across her mouth when she sees me backslide.
Maybe I’m not changing; maybe I’m not better. I can’t even remember if I actively pushed for these changes or if they’re just... happening.
I had more confidence for a little while.
-
Two minutes. That’s how long you’re supposed to go. But I think I’m doing pretty well for myself considering that I never used to brush my teeth in the morning. Too busy was always my excuse. Running late, or something, like I really didn’t have two minutes to spare. Just lazy, though, if I decided to be honest with myself.
Which I frequently am, even if I ignore that honesty more often than not.
-
“Well, what do you think?”
“I don’t really know. I like it, I guess. Certainly seems easier than actually trying to broach the subject. Definitely seems like something I would have done before.”
“What does that mean? You want to try being direct?”
“I’d like to try being direct. I’ve been working on that more lately, since we got the new place. You know, new place, new life, another chance to start again, be a better person. Avoiding discussions sort of feels like the wrong way to go about things.”
“So be direct, then.”
“I said I’d like to try. But just because I’d like to doesn’t mean I don’t know how it will go. I don’t think she believes the same thing as me about a new place being a chance to start over.”
“No? She hasn’t changed at all?”
“Not a bit. Well, I guess that’s not true. She’s been coming to bed earlier than she used to. It’s probably good for her, but it also kind of stresses me out.”
“Why on earth—?”
“Because she’s changing my routine, too. I’m used to her coming to bed at a certain time, when I’m deep asleep and don’t wake up from her moving around. Now she’s hit that perfect time where I’m not quite asleep yet and her coming in wakes me up. And how ridiculous does it sound to ask her if she can adjust her sleep schedule to come in maybe thirty minutes later? I don’t want to discourage her from getting the sleep she needs, even if it messes up mine.”
“No? Then what are we even doing here?”
“It’s not enough. I feel a drift happening. It’s been happening ever since she first said something. I can’t let it keep going like this.”
-
I’ve never been buried alive, but I have come close to drowning several times. I imagine that the feeling is quite similar, knowing that you’re running out of air and feeling trapped with no way out. Take the crushing weight of the water pulling you down under and replace it with the crushing lightness of the breathable air leaving your space. Try to push through while the world closes in.
Pray for salvation and that you stay alive long enough to see it.
-
I remember a time when I didn’t have to grunt loudly every time I stood up from a chair. My birthday is coming up. It’s not a particularly special one; I’m not passing any milestones. Truth be told, sometimes I forget how many times I’ve been around the sun. The days, weeks, months, and years all start to blur together for me at this point. Forty-two doesn’t seem any different than forty-one, which didn’t seem any different from forty.
But forty-two sure feels different from twenty-two. It’s hard to remember a time before my back was always a little achy, a time when I could stay out until three o’clock in the morning and then go to work an eight-hour shift on three hours of sleep and be just fine. I would die now. Maybe literally.
I wish I could pinpoint the year that I changed, but I guess it doesn’t work that way. Each year feels no different from the last, and it’s only when we look back that we see just how different we are. In some ways, I still feel like the same person that I was when I was twenty-two. In many ways, I’m unrecognizable. It wasn’t intentional; life just happens that way.
* * *
I’ve never been the type to put my face under the water while I shower. It feels like I’m drowning.
Molly ate the last cupcake. I wasn’t upset about it; I told her that. The cupcakes were only okay, anyway. I’m not a fan of overly sweet things. But my mother made them for me, so it’s only fair that I should have gotten the last one. But it wasn’t a big deal. Just one of those things.
-
“She says you’re changing,” he says to me completely unsolicited, his voice dripping with that fake concern that he always likes to trot out as a defense against his gossiping. “She says you’re going to realize you’re too good for her.”
I center the thought. Maybe I am too good for her. Not yet, but maybe I will be. I let it pass out of my mind. “She’s capable of change, too,” I say. “And I love her. I’ll never leave her.”
“So you are changing.”
“I guess. I don’t think so. Incrementally, maybe.”
“Enough for her to notice.”
“Enough for you to notice?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
-
I rinse my hair. It’s Tuesday, so I don’t have to wash it if I don’t want to. My stylist says that it’s bad for my hair to wash it every day. But I’m never sure. I put a ton of products in it to keep it to a dull roar. Is water enough to wash that away?
It’s Tuesday. I scrub my body for longer than I need to, feeling the water scald my skin. It’s not hot enough to strip my skin from my bones. But it’s hot enough to dull the ache in my shoulder for a few seconds, and that’s a few seconds that I have learned to cherish every morning.
I take stock of the day ahead because I can’t ever stop thinking.
-
The water is brackish and violent today.
-
She says I’m changing. She says it to me this time. It makes her happy, she says, to see how much I’ve grown recently. It makes her sad, she says, to think that I’m going to be better than her one day. To think that I’ll outgrow her while she stagnates.
“I can’t imagine leaving you,” I say as the thoughts dance through my mind.
-
I tear through a packet of cookies and a pint of ice cream in a single evening. So much for changing. This is why I can’t keep these sorts of things in the house. She doesn’t see my guilt, and I pretend that I don’t see the hint of a smile creeping its way across her mouth when she sees me backslide.
Maybe I’m not changing; maybe I’m not better. I can’t even remember if I actively pushed for these changes or if they’re just... happening.
I had more confidence for a little while.
-
Two minutes. That’s how long you’re supposed to go. But I think I’m doing pretty well for myself considering that I never used to brush my teeth in the morning. Too busy was always my excuse. Running late, or something, like I really didn’t have two minutes to spare. Just lazy, though, if I decided to be honest with myself.
Which I frequently am, even if I ignore that honesty more often than not.
-
“Well, what do you think?”
“I don’t really know. I like it, I guess. Certainly seems easier than actually trying to broach the subject. Definitely seems like something I would have done before.”
“What does that mean? You want to try being direct?”
“I’d like to try being direct. I’ve been working on that more lately, since we got the new place. You know, new place, new life, another chance to start again, be a better person. Avoiding discussions sort of feels like the wrong way to go about things.”
“So be direct, then.”
“I said I’d like to try. But just because I’d like to doesn’t mean I don’t know how it will go. I don’t think she believes the same thing as me about a new place being a chance to start over.”
“No? She hasn’t changed at all?”
“Not a bit. Well, I guess that’s not true. She’s been coming to bed earlier than she used to. It’s probably good for her, but it also kind of stresses me out.”
“Why on earth—?”
“Because she’s changing my routine, too. I’m used to her coming to bed at a certain time, when I’m deep asleep and don’t wake up from her moving around. Now she’s hit that perfect time where I’m not quite asleep yet and her coming in wakes me up. And how ridiculous does it sound to ask her if she can adjust her sleep schedule to come in maybe thirty minutes later? I don’t want to discourage her from getting the sleep she needs, even if it messes up mine.”
“No? Then what are we even doing here?”
“It’s not enough. I feel a drift happening. It’s been happening ever since she first said something. I can’t let it keep going like this.”
-
I’ve never been buried alive, but I have come close to drowning several times. I imagine that the feeling is quite similar, knowing that you’re running out of air and feeling trapped with no way out. Take the crushing weight of the water pulling you down under and replace it with the crushing lightness of the breathable air leaving your space. Try to push through while the world closes in.
Pray for salvation and that you stay alive long enough to see it.
-
I remember a time when I didn’t have to grunt loudly every time I stood up from a chair. My birthday is coming up. It’s not a particularly special one; I’m not passing any milestones. Truth be told, sometimes I forget how many times I’ve been around the sun. The days, weeks, months, and years all start to blur together for me at this point. Forty-two doesn’t seem any different than forty-one, which didn’t seem any different from forty.
But forty-two sure feels different from twenty-two. It’s hard to remember a time before my back was always a little achy, a time when I could stay out until three o’clock in the morning and then go to work an eight-hour shift on three hours of sleep and be just fine. I would die now. Maybe literally.
I wish I could pinpoint the year that I changed, but I guess it doesn’t work that way. Each year feels no different from the last, and it’s only when we look back that we see just how different we are. In some ways, I still feel like the same person that I was when I was twenty-two. In many ways, I’m unrecognizable. It wasn’t intentional; life just happens that way.
(no subject)
May. 27th, 2023 06:43 amI found one of my exes on TikTok yesterday, in a completely random coincidence. I just happened across a video and he showed up at the top of the comments list. I thought his profile picture looked familiar so I checked the profile and it was him. I have never really thought of him too fondly after we broke up, and he made a pretty big impact on my life, but it's been some time since I've thought of him.
He didn't look too great; I had a bit of a, 'well, I dodged a bullet,' feeling when I watched a video or two. I thought about reaching out and saying how weird it was that I came across him so randomly after not thinking of him in years. But I didn't want to open that box again, really. And I figured that, like many of my other relationships, I was just a blip in time for him, that he would remember me but not have thought about me in forever either.
Later that day, I relayed to Tyler my strange coincidence. I showed him the video and went to find the comment, but it had disappeared. I assumed that the video had just gotten more comments and didn't think anything of it.
This morning, I opened TikTok and it was still on the video with the missing comment. Out of curiosity, I checked again to see if I could find his comment. Imagine my surprise when I realized that all of the other comments were the same as I remembered. Surely he didn't delete that comment with a bunch of likes on it when his profile was something about trying to get a thousand followers.
Imagine my surprise when, after some quick searching on the app and Google, that he must have blocked me on TikTok. I have profile views turned on, I guess, so he must have received a notification that I went to his profile and then blocked me.
I rolled my eyes a bit. Maybe I should have said something so it didn't seem like I was internet stalking him? Anyway, in a certain sense it made me feel good, like it was nice to know that I had an impact on him as much as he did on me. Strange that he'd go straight to blocking me without saying anything, but I guess that's the double-edged sword of living online and being able to curate exactly who does and doesn't exist in your world.
And there's another horrible sci-fi story idea to fester in my head.
He didn't look too great; I had a bit of a, 'well, I dodged a bullet,' feeling when I watched a video or two. I thought about reaching out and saying how weird it was that I came across him so randomly after not thinking of him in years. But I didn't want to open that box again, really. And I figured that, like many of my other relationships, I was just a blip in time for him, that he would remember me but not have thought about me in forever either.
Later that day, I relayed to Tyler my strange coincidence. I showed him the video and went to find the comment, but it had disappeared. I assumed that the video had just gotten more comments and didn't think anything of it.
This morning, I opened TikTok and it was still on the video with the missing comment. Out of curiosity, I checked again to see if I could find his comment. Imagine my surprise when I realized that all of the other comments were the same as I remembered. Surely he didn't delete that comment with a bunch of likes on it when his profile was something about trying to get a thousand followers.
Imagine my surprise when, after some quick searching on the app and Google, that he must have blocked me on TikTok. I have profile views turned on, I guess, so he must have received a notification that I went to his profile and then blocked me.
I rolled my eyes a bit. Maybe I should have said something so it didn't seem like I was internet stalking him? Anyway, in a certain sense it made me feel good, like it was nice to know that I had an impact on him as much as he did on me. Strange that he'd go straight to blocking me without saying anything, but I guess that's the double-edged sword of living online and being able to curate exactly who does and doesn't exist in your world.
And there's another horrible sci-fi story idea to fester in my head.
(no subject)
May. 26th, 2023 04:10 pmI passed out at work yesterday. Vasovagal syncope brought on by the pain from a kidney stone that has been rattling around in there for the past several days I'm pretty sure.
It's not a particularly dangerous thing, but I'm susceptible to it based on certain triggers (the sight of blood - even in a photo - can do it, or extreme sharp pain). I can stave it off with certain things, none of which I managed to do yesterday morning. I remember feeling it coming on and then waking back up in my chair with everyone crammed into my cubicle fretting over me.
Then the boss came over. Then one of the police guards from the lobby, who called the paramedics, who came and checked me out.
It was scary for everyone else but mostly just annoying to me. My biggest concern now is being known as "that guy that passed out at his desk that one time." One of my former co-workers says I should just embrace it and work to make myself known as "that guy that passes out all the time for no reason." It could be my thing.
I went home after that, of course, but I was back to work today. I thought I felt better but once I sat down and saw the e-mail from HR asking me to fill out an incident form, I started feeling weird again. Stupidly enough, one of the triggers can be just reliving the original event. So I started filling out the form and started feeling dizzy. I went to my boss and asked her if I could work remotely for the rest of the day, which I ended up doing. Now I'm here just trying to kill a few minutes before I can officially log off.
I've had lots of thoughts swirling around in my head lately and I wish I could get them out of my head and onto paper in some sort of coherent fashion, but that seems like a big hill to climb right at the moment.
I had the idea to get a typewriter. Not anything fancy, but I sort of like the idea of not being able to edit in real-time like I do when I'm typing on a computer. It's so easy to let myself drift out of the zone getting nitpicky about one particular sentence. I thought maybe it would be a nice exercise to just use a typewriter to write, forcing myself to wait until I'm done getting things out to actually go back and look at pieces with fresh eyes and edit.
They're prohibitively expensive, it seems, and who knows how much new ribbons and stuff would cost. I saw a digital typewriter with an e-ink screen that seemed kind of interesting, but also likely defeats the entire purpose behind the typewriter (or at least the purpose I would have for it).
Hopefully I can use this long weekend to recharge.
It's not a particularly dangerous thing, but I'm susceptible to it based on certain triggers (the sight of blood - even in a photo - can do it, or extreme sharp pain). I can stave it off with certain things, none of which I managed to do yesterday morning. I remember feeling it coming on and then waking back up in my chair with everyone crammed into my cubicle fretting over me.
Then the boss came over. Then one of the police guards from the lobby, who called the paramedics, who came and checked me out.
It was scary for everyone else but mostly just annoying to me. My biggest concern now is being known as "that guy that passed out at his desk that one time." One of my former co-workers says I should just embrace it and work to make myself known as "that guy that passes out all the time for no reason." It could be my thing.
I went home after that, of course, but I was back to work today. I thought I felt better but once I sat down and saw the e-mail from HR asking me to fill out an incident form, I started feeling weird again. Stupidly enough, one of the triggers can be just reliving the original event. So I started filling out the form and started feeling dizzy. I went to my boss and asked her if I could work remotely for the rest of the day, which I ended up doing. Now I'm here just trying to kill a few minutes before I can officially log off.
I've had lots of thoughts swirling around in my head lately and I wish I could get them out of my head and onto paper in some sort of coherent fashion, but that seems like a big hill to climb right at the moment.
I had the idea to get a typewriter. Not anything fancy, but I sort of like the idea of not being able to edit in real-time like I do when I'm typing on a computer. It's so easy to let myself drift out of the zone getting nitpicky about one particular sentence. I thought maybe it would be a nice exercise to just use a typewriter to write, forcing myself to wait until I'm done getting things out to actually go back and look at pieces with fresh eyes and edit.
They're prohibitively expensive, it seems, and who knows how much new ribbons and stuff would cost. I saw a digital typewriter with an e-ink screen that seemed kind of interesting, but also likely defeats the entire purpose behind the typewriter (or at least the purpose I would have for it).
Hopefully I can use this long weekend to recharge.
(no subject)
Apr. 29th, 2023 06:48 amI really hate myself sometimes. Not in a vitriolic sort of way, but in a, "that guy? Ugh, he's the worst," sort of way.
I hate being good at things, but not perfect at them. I don't know where that comes from; I don't recall ever really feeling any external pressure in my life from anyone. Maybe I did have some. I won awards in school for my writing and my art. I did extremely well in my graphic design program. I've always performed well in LJ Idol (at least, after I came back to it and actually started trying). Maybe I just have an externally inflated ego and so I pressure myself to never do anything that I don't know I won't do well.
That feeling, of course, makes it harder to get back into creating, even when it's something I know I do well, because of the fear that I've lost it, and if the thing I create when I'm rusty isn't spectacular, was it even worth doing?
Tyler expressed a fear the other night that he won't have a legacy, having spent most of his life playing video games. He worried that he's going to live and die and no one will even know he was here.
I said I feel like that's probably most people.
But does that mean we shouldn't still strive? Isn't that basically a defining feature of being human? Don't we all just want to know that we'll be remembered? That our life meant something to more than just our immediate peers? I think that all most of us can hope for is to make a small impact in the lives of the people directly around us, but to be remembered on a societal scale... To be a Shakespeare or a Mozart or a Picasso...
Maybe that shouldn't be "the goal," though. Maybe there's a better point.
Tyler's been a bit strange lately. He keeps having his weird moments, and I wish there was some way to retrain his brain to think of these moments as not sinister. You know those moments that seem like glitches in the Matrix, little weird coincidences that would make you say, "isn't that funny?" Like when you're watching a television show and the characters mention something that you had just talked about earlier that day.
"Isn't that funny?" you might say. "I was just talking to Sandra about wanting to try roasting a chicken this morning, and when I got home and turned on the TV, there was a cooking show where they were roasting a chicken!" Then whoever you were talking to would say, "That's wild," and you'd move on with your day.
Tyler sees those as God talking to him, in the same way you might see something like that as a sign from the universe or something. An omen. I don't actually have a problem with that; I don't know that I fully believe in a higher power, but I do read into some things as "signs" that I'm on a good path or a bad path (hitting every red light while I'm driving sometimes gets me to rethink whatever train of thought I'm on, for example). I think the problem arises when there's no distinction made between the "that's wild" types and the "sign from the universe" types.
Realistically, they're all just coincidences, but I get that it's nice to have an explanation for coincidences, because they can be kind of freaky otherwise. And if a bunch of coincidences happen with no discernable meaning, it can be difficult to write it off.
Yesterday, I watched an episode of King of the Hill in the morning that was really funny and I made a mental note to replay it for Tyler that evening. It happened to be a Thanksgiving episode, although that wasn't exactly clear until around the middle of the episode.
When I came home, PlutoTV was running on the TV, and an episode of Julia and Jacques at Home was playing. They were making a Thanksgiving dinner. Then we watched the King of the Hill episode.
With dinner, we watched an episode of Schitt's Creek in which they were going turkey hunting, and Tyler revealed to me that he had seen a wild turkey that morning outside his office.
I went out for a cigarette and when I came back he told me the turkey stuff was freaking him out and so he went to the front door and opened it and just sighed and said, "God..." when an eagle flew down from the sky into the yard with a screech and disappeared again.
I see how it's difficult to say that's just a weird series of coincidences, but I guess if something like that happened to me, I probably wouldn't look for more meaning in it unless I specifically had some sort of question.
He's also been weird in other ways. He's oddly possessive of the home office. Since I got out of my probation period at work, I've been allowed to work from home on Mondays and Wednesdays. When Tyler's dad moved in, we cleaned out the second bedroom for him and basically filled the office with junk. He hadn't used it for quite some time before then.
When I got permission to work from home, I cleaned out the space, got new furniture in there, and set everything up with my provided equipment. I mentioned changing the paint color (which he had picked when he was actually using the office on a regular basis) and he got very upset, saying that was his office, too. When I pointed out that he had not entered that room in over a year, he made the excuse about it being too full. Tyler's dad was still living with us when I started working in there, so there's no reason he couldn't have done that if he wanted to use the room. And now the office is set up with all of my work stuff, so he really couldn't use it for work if he wanted to.
Anyway, the other day I mentioned something about "my office" and Tyler got very possessive again and said it was his first so it should be "our office."
I don't understand why he's being like that. I get it a little, I guess, but I don't understand the inability to just let go and say, "Yeah that's not really my office anymore." And honestly, I'm fine with calling it "the" office, but not "our" office. I generally try to be careful with my words, because they really do have power.
For instance, if it's my office, I have the freedom to do whatever I like with the room. If it's our office, I must confer and we must come to an agreement or compromise on any decor changes I make. If it's the office, I feel a little more leeway to make minor changes but then we would want to agree on like, paint colors or artwork.
Personally I'd like it to be my office, since Tyler never goes in there and I spend sixteen hours a week in there, but I'm fine with "the."
Is this really the sort of thing my brain spends its energy on? Semantics?
He also picked up my phone last night and said he wanted to go through it. I don't know that he'd find anything he didn't want to see on it unless he started poking around and getting into my journals and stuff. But still, in an age where your phone is effectively an extension of yourself, isn't that a little rude? To just grab someone's phone and say, "I'm gonna look through your phone"?
I told him as such and he seemed flabbergasted. He said he would welcome me going through his phone and getting an intimate look at his life. I said I would feel creepy doing that and that doing that sort of thing is creepy and he told me I was mean.
I have personal baggage surrounding romantic partners going through my stuff. I won't say I never did anything wrong or that I never had anything I wanted to hide, but I have always valued having some things be private, or at least private to certain parties. I think we all curate ourselves to a certain degree for the various people in our lives. Maybe I go overboard with it; I don't know. But I don't like being out of control, at least of my own self if nothing else.
I started watching The Pretender on Prime Video. It was one of my mom's favorite shows when I was a kid, and I remembered enjoying it when I'd catch an episode with her here and there. It's actually held up fairly well, even if Jarod has a bizarre set of morals. Watching it makes me feel closer to my mom a little bit.
We've drifted apart some since I left my last job when we were working together. I miss getting to see her a few times a week and catch up and stuff. I feel bad for leaving her on what I felt was a sinking ship, but she's like a year or two away from retirement age, so I know she'll be okay.
It's just like, we don't talk as much as we used to, even during our Sunday lunches. I feel about the same closeness with her as I do with my dad, which is to say, not a whole lot. I thought I had a good family growing up, but I guess we have kind of a weird dynamic. We're a small pack of lone wolves, so we all love each other something fierce but we're all comfortable being on our own. It's always worked for us, but I guess it is kind of strange.
My mom and sister and I generally communicate by sharing TikToks with each other. I guess that's better than Tyler and his sister, who haven't talked to each other at all in like a year. His family has a dynamic I can just never figure out. They'll go for some time everyone being happy and seeing each other all the time, and then someone's switch will flip and everyone will be mad at everyone else for a while, then it sort of cycles. It's a rollercoaster to be on and it makes it hard to be supportive of my husband because I never know if I'm supposed to be trash talking someone right now or not.
The train of thought is approaching the station. I have a hair appointment in an hour or so to get my perm redone. It's expensive but I like the way my hair covers my balding a bit when it's curly and longish. I keep being tempted to go back to just a buzzcut, which I can do for free myself at home, but I don't know.
Okay, I'm done.
I hate being good at things, but not perfect at them. I don't know where that comes from; I don't recall ever really feeling any external pressure in my life from anyone. Maybe I did have some. I won awards in school for my writing and my art. I did extremely well in my graphic design program. I've always performed well in LJ Idol (at least, after I came back to it and actually started trying). Maybe I just have an externally inflated ego and so I pressure myself to never do anything that I don't know I won't do well.
That feeling, of course, makes it harder to get back into creating, even when it's something I know I do well, because of the fear that I've lost it, and if the thing I create when I'm rusty isn't spectacular, was it even worth doing?
Tyler expressed a fear the other night that he won't have a legacy, having spent most of his life playing video games. He worried that he's going to live and die and no one will even know he was here.
I said I feel like that's probably most people.
But does that mean we shouldn't still strive? Isn't that basically a defining feature of being human? Don't we all just want to know that we'll be remembered? That our life meant something to more than just our immediate peers? I think that all most of us can hope for is to make a small impact in the lives of the people directly around us, but to be remembered on a societal scale... To be a Shakespeare or a Mozart or a Picasso...
Maybe that shouldn't be "the goal," though. Maybe there's a better point.
Tyler's been a bit strange lately. He keeps having his weird moments, and I wish there was some way to retrain his brain to think of these moments as not sinister. You know those moments that seem like glitches in the Matrix, little weird coincidences that would make you say, "isn't that funny?" Like when you're watching a television show and the characters mention something that you had just talked about earlier that day.
"Isn't that funny?" you might say. "I was just talking to Sandra about wanting to try roasting a chicken this morning, and when I got home and turned on the TV, there was a cooking show where they were roasting a chicken!" Then whoever you were talking to would say, "That's wild," and you'd move on with your day.
Tyler sees those as God talking to him, in the same way you might see something like that as a sign from the universe or something. An omen. I don't actually have a problem with that; I don't know that I fully believe in a higher power, but I do read into some things as "signs" that I'm on a good path or a bad path (hitting every red light while I'm driving sometimes gets me to rethink whatever train of thought I'm on, for example). I think the problem arises when there's no distinction made between the "that's wild" types and the "sign from the universe" types.
Realistically, they're all just coincidences, but I get that it's nice to have an explanation for coincidences, because they can be kind of freaky otherwise. And if a bunch of coincidences happen with no discernable meaning, it can be difficult to write it off.
Yesterday, I watched an episode of King of the Hill in the morning that was really funny and I made a mental note to replay it for Tyler that evening. It happened to be a Thanksgiving episode, although that wasn't exactly clear until around the middle of the episode.
When I came home, PlutoTV was running on the TV, and an episode of Julia and Jacques at Home was playing. They were making a Thanksgiving dinner. Then we watched the King of the Hill episode.
With dinner, we watched an episode of Schitt's Creek in which they were going turkey hunting, and Tyler revealed to me that he had seen a wild turkey that morning outside his office.
I went out for a cigarette and when I came back he told me the turkey stuff was freaking him out and so he went to the front door and opened it and just sighed and said, "God..." when an eagle flew down from the sky into the yard with a screech and disappeared again.
I see how it's difficult to say that's just a weird series of coincidences, but I guess if something like that happened to me, I probably wouldn't look for more meaning in it unless I specifically had some sort of question.
He's also been weird in other ways. He's oddly possessive of the home office. Since I got out of my probation period at work, I've been allowed to work from home on Mondays and Wednesdays. When Tyler's dad moved in, we cleaned out the second bedroom for him and basically filled the office with junk. He hadn't used it for quite some time before then.
When I got permission to work from home, I cleaned out the space, got new furniture in there, and set everything up with my provided equipment. I mentioned changing the paint color (which he had picked when he was actually using the office on a regular basis) and he got very upset, saying that was his office, too. When I pointed out that he had not entered that room in over a year, he made the excuse about it being too full. Tyler's dad was still living with us when I started working in there, so there's no reason he couldn't have done that if he wanted to use the room. And now the office is set up with all of my work stuff, so he really couldn't use it for work if he wanted to.
Anyway, the other day I mentioned something about "my office" and Tyler got very possessive again and said it was his first so it should be "our office."
I don't understand why he's being like that. I get it a little, I guess, but I don't understand the inability to just let go and say, "Yeah that's not really my office anymore." And honestly, I'm fine with calling it "the" office, but not "our" office. I generally try to be careful with my words, because they really do have power.
For instance, if it's my office, I have the freedom to do whatever I like with the room. If it's our office, I must confer and we must come to an agreement or compromise on any decor changes I make. If it's the office, I feel a little more leeway to make minor changes but then we would want to agree on like, paint colors or artwork.
Personally I'd like it to be my office, since Tyler never goes in there and I spend sixteen hours a week in there, but I'm fine with "the."
Is this really the sort of thing my brain spends its energy on? Semantics?
He also picked up my phone last night and said he wanted to go through it. I don't know that he'd find anything he didn't want to see on it unless he started poking around and getting into my journals and stuff. But still, in an age where your phone is effectively an extension of yourself, isn't that a little rude? To just grab someone's phone and say, "I'm gonna look through your phone"?
I told him as such and he seemed flabbergasted. He said he would welcome me going through his phone and getting an intimate look at his life. I said I would feel creepy doing that and that doing that sort of thing is creepy and he told me I was mean.
I have personal baggage surrounding romantic partners going through my stuff. I won't say I never did anything wrong or that I never had anything I wanted to hide, but I have always valued having some things be private, or at least private to certain parties. I think we all curate ourselves to a certain degree for the various people in our lives. Maybe I go overboard with it; I don't know. But I don't like being out of control, at least of my own self if nothing else.
I started watching The Pretender on Prime Video. It was one of my mom's favorite shows when I was a kid, and I remembered enjoying it when I'd catch an episode with her here and there. It's actually held up fairly well, even if Jarod has a bizarre set of morals. Watching it makes me feel closer to my mom a little bit.
We've drifted apart some since I left my last job when we were working together. I miss getting to see her a few times a week and catch up and stuff. I feel bad for leaving her on what I felt was a sinking ship, but she's like a year or two away from retirement age, so I know she'll be okay.
It's just like, we don't talk as much as we used to, even during our Sunday lunches. I feel about the same closeness with her as I do with my dad, which is to say, not a whole lot. I thought I had a good family growing up, but I guess we have kind of a weird dynamic. We're a small pack of lone wolves, so we all love each other something fierce but we're all comfortable being on our own. It's always worked for us, but I guess it is kind of strange.
My mom and sister and I generally communicate by sharing TikToks with each other. I guess that's better than Tyler and his sister, who haven't talked to each other at all in like a year. His family has a dynamic I can just never figure out. They'll go for some time everyone being happy and seeing each other all the time, and then someone's switch will flip and everyone will be mad at everyone else for a while, then it sort of cycles. It's a rollercoaster to be on and it makes it hard to be supportive of my husband because I never know if I'm supposed to be trash talking someone right now or not.
The train of thought is approaching the station. I have a hair appointment in an hour or so to get my perm redone. It's expensive but I like the way my hair covers my balding a bit when it's curly and longish. I keep being tempted to go back to just a buzzcut, which I can do for free myself at home, but I don't know.
Okay, I'm done.
(no subject)
Apr. 24th, 2023 02:41 pmMy father-in-law finally moved out on Saturday, after having lived with us for a year-and-a-half and having been on my last nerve for approximately 17 months of that.
I'm elated, but my husband and dogs are both a little sad about it. I'll admit that there's a huge difference in the house now that he's not in it 24/7, but, for me, that difference is wonderful. I finally have peace and quiet for a few hours in the mornings. I can walk around the house naked after a shower or in my underwear first thing in the morning and not have to worry about running into someone that shouldn't be seeing me in that state. I can go outside for a cigarette and not be forced into a conversation I don't want to have with a person I only kind of like. It's like heaven for me.
So it's hard for me to empathize with my husband feeling a little blue about it. I think that it's more the big shift in life circumstances than anything that has him feeling weird. I've surprised myself with how easily I fell back into life before my father-in-law was here. It's like my whole being was just waiting for it.
I planted a hibiscus bush next to the front porch on Saturday. I'm hoping that it takes in our sandy soil (supposedly they like it) and that it grows big and strong. I didn't exactly plan it this way, but I had literally just wrapped up digging the hole for it as my father-in-law's truck was pulling out of the driveway. So now I'll look at it and think about that day.
I'm elated, but my husband and dogs are both a little sad about it. I'll admit that there's a huge difference in the house now that he's not in it 24/7, but, for me, that difference is wonderful. I finally have peace and quiet for a few hours in the mornings. I can walk around the house naked after a shower or in my underwear first thing in the morning and not have to worry about running into someone that shouldn't be seeing me in that state. I can go outside for a cigarette and not be forced into a conversation I don't want to have with a person I only kind of like. It's like heaven for me.
So it's hard for me to empathize with my husband feeling a little blue about it. I think that it's more the big shift in life circumstances than anything that has him feeling weird. I've surprised myself with how easily I fell back into life before my father-in-law was here. It's like my whole being was just waiting for it.
I planted a hibiscus bush next to the front porch on Saturday. I'm hoping that it takes in our sandy soil (supposedly they like it) and that it grows big and strong. I didn't exactly plan it this way, but I had literally just wrapped up digging the hole for it as my father-in-law's truck was pulling out of the driveway. So now I'll look at it and think about that day.
(no subject)
Apr. 16th, 2023 02:32 pmI suppose a personal update wouldn't be completely out of the question.
I've been in my new position for about five months now, and it's been... it's difficult to describe. There are many times that I miss my old job. I had a lot of freedom there to spend my "free time," which I had most days for at least an hour or so, doing whatever I pleased. I had more time to work on writing because I would just pull double duty at work. I don't have that freedom now. But I do actually appreciate being kept busy at work. My job is mind-numbing at best, and I don't love the work, but I don't suffer from a lack of it and neither is it particularly stressful.
I also have quite a bit more time in both the mornings and the afternoons, as the commute is much shorter, so there are lots of good things about it that I think make up for the things I miss with my old job. It's still hard to go from being at the top of the (admittedly small) food chain to being "the new guy" and low-ranking employee, despite how nice it is sometimes to realize I don't really have to make the decisions.
I've lost a bit of weight while doing nothing, so I wonder if it's time to start actively working toward it. My back hurts more lately, despite dropping the weight, and I feel very soft, so I'd probably benefit from some strength training or something.
I remember, probably fifteen years or more ago, waking up early in the morning every morning and going for a jog before showering and getting ready for work. Who was that person? He was 23, I suppose. But that doesn't mean I can't figure out how to enjoy getting fit again.
I've been in my new position for about five months now, and it's been... it's difficult to describe. There are many times that I miss my old job. I had a lot of freedom there to spend my "free time," which I had most days for at least an hour or so, doing whatever I pleased. I had more time to work on writing because I would just pull double duty at work. I don't have that freedom now. But I do actually appreciate being kept busy at work. My job is mind-numbing at best, and I don't love the work, but I don't suffer from a lack of it and neither is it particularly stressful.
I also have quite a bit more time in both the mornings and the afternoons, as the commute is much shorter, so there are lots of good things about it that I think make up for the things I miss with my old job. It's still hard to go from being at the top of the (admittedly small) food chain to being "the new guy" and low-ranking employee, despite how nice it is sometimes to realize I don't really have to make the decisions.
I've lost a bit of weight while doing nothing, so I wonder if it's time to start actively working toward it. My back hurts more lately, despite dropping the weight, and I feel very soft, so I'd probably benefit from some strength training or something.
I remember, probably fifteen years or more ago, waking up early in the morning every morning and going for a jog before showering and getting ready for work. Who was that person? He was 23, I suppose. But that doesn't mean I can't figure out how to enjoy getting fit again.
(no subject)
Apr. 13th, 2023 09:02 pmThe thought of writing is stressing me out.
Why would I want something so bad and then get so stressed out when I open my writing folder? Like if I write something, fiction, non-fiction, whatever, it might literally kill me. Bizarre.
I went hiking for the first time in a while last week. Good Friday. I went alone, to my husband's chagrin, but I'd rather not relive that. It was a weird feeling; same thing. I wanted it so bad. And then I got out there and I was ready to collapse on the path and just say, "Well, I guess this is it," only I know I can't do that. So instead I just zoned out for the last mile and forced myself to plod along.
Hardly a similar experience to what it used to be. It used to be some kind of magic. I guess it still could be and that I'm just not in the right mindset.
I guess that could be said about writing, too. Sure would be nice if I could force a mindset change.
Why would I want something so bad and then get so stressed out when I open my writing folder? Like if I write something, fiction, non-fiction, whatever, it might literally kill me. Bizarre.
I went hiking for the first time in a while last week. Good Friday. I went alone, to my husband's chagrin, but I'd rather not relive that. It was a weird feeling; same thing. I wanted it so bad. And then I got out there and I was ready to collapse on the path and just say, "Well, I guess this is it," only I know I can't do that. So instead I just zoned out for the last mile and forced myself to plod along.
Hardly a similar experience to what it used to be. It used to be some kind of magic. I guess it still could be and that I'm just not in the right mindset.
I guess that could be said about writing, too. Sure would be nice if I could force a mindset change.
