(no subject)
Well kiddies, it's once again time for me to rant and rave and piss and moan and...
Scratch that sentence. Let's do this stream-of-consciousness type stylie, okay? In fact, let's have some real fun with this. No correcting punctuation, no fixing typos words will be made up and goddamnit, I'm gonna like it.
Bt not really.
Shit, I can't do this. The editor in me is screaming out in agony. I'll leave that last paragraph for posterity, but the following stuff will be proofread. At least, it'll be proofread for glaring errors. Or at least the kind that'll catch my eye. Anyway, let's begin.
...
I think maybe I'm afraid to begin. I guess I'll just be vague and stick with stream of consciousness approach, at least to a degree. Ooh, I just remembered that my little emotion thingy shows penguins! I wonder if they have one for defeated. It'd probably look just like sad or dejected, if they do, but still.
They don't. I'll go with rejected. That's definitely an aspect of how I feel, and the little crying penguin (he's a blue penguin. Blue Fairy? They have multiple non-scientific names. They're tiny little things native to the southern hemisphere, Australia and South America. Baby Blue? I can't remember) pretty accurately captures the emotion that threatened to overwhelm me all day today. Maybe I'll give in later on tonight, after everyone else has gone to sleep.
I took 2,400mgs of ibuprofen yesterday! Twice the recommended over-the-counter dose. Not at all at once, mind you, but yeah. My back was killing me, I believe because I spent Friday night/Saturday morning at George's, and slept all crooked and scrunched up on his couch. I injured myself the summer before senior year of high school doing cleans; wound up with either a bulging disc, or a herniated one, I forget, in my lower back. The difference is that a herniated one is more serious; the wall of the disc ruptures and pokes into the nerves in the back, instead of just bulging a little and poking them. I remembered being given high strength ibuprofen that summer, something on the order of 600mgs a capsule, so I figured that taking three 200mg capsules instead of the recommended one wouldn't hurt me. And it didn't! No side-effects as far as I can tell. And my back feels much better today, as well. Yay for non-steroidal anti-inflammatories!
So the purpose of me relating all that was to build to this; because of the agonizing back pain (and I will call it agonizing, because at the worst part of it, I couldn't roll over in bed without shooting pain,) I didn't get very much sleep Friday night. So little, in fact, that I left George's at seven in the morning so I could drive to a Walgreen's and buy the Advil for Saturday. I slept a little after getting the Advil and getting home, but still, very sleep deprived. So much so, I wound up falling asleep at nine-thirty, but I set my alarm for midnight, so I could try and call someone very special to me at a time I thought she'd be free.
Christ, I almost just choked on an ice cube. Ok, on with the story.
It didn't pan out. I tried calling from midnight (a little bit before, actually, since I woke up before my alarm) until 2:30 in the morning, and all I got was a busy signal.
Christ, I almost did it again! What the hell is wrong with me?
My sleep schedule further messed up by the two hour nap I'd just taken, I wound up playing video games until four or five in the morning. Four, I think. And then Stephanie called me at 6:15ish, for reasons I was far too sleepy to understand. We talked for about forty-five minutes, of which I think she was mostly relating stories about Ari and Aaron, and then I went back to bed.
So today was my birthday, for those who didn't know. For the day itself, I mostly just spent a quiet day with my family, which is fine. I was anticipating a bigger party-type-dealie this upcoming weekend. Don't know if it'll still happen, but eh, I'll cross that bridge when I burn it.
Anyway, my thoughts on the day. It was wonderful having people post on my wall, and Eddie called me, and yeah. Good times all around. But something was missing, something very important. I felt like the day was a puzzle. The image was almost complete, but the centerpiece was missing, and without it, it was meaningless. This was my day without Jenna; the good times were tempered by the unescapable feeling of loss, of something missing, of being unfulfilled.
Fuck.
Consider the following: I went out to dinner at Pasta Pomodoro with my parents. I ordered ravioli di zucca, because she introduced me to it. Outside, there was a hand puppet monkey lying on the ground. I got up, simply telling my folks, "One second. I have to take care of something." Went outside, picked it up, brought it back inside to my parents' incredulous looks. But I was happy. I thought it'd be fun. I thought of using it to make people smile, to make them laugh. Y'know, writing aside, that's probably the primary way I define myself: I like to make people laugh. And it's a damn hand puppet monkey! It's comedy gold just by existing!
I thought of using it to make her laugh. I remembered her telling Shar she'd never talk to me again. I was sitting in the car with my parents when I put these two things together, and looking into the plastic eyes of the puppet, it was all I could do not to cry. I felt my chest heave and my eyes began to sting, but I held myself together.
How delightfully melodramatic, no? Still, as stupid and angsty and whatever else you'd like to call it as it sounds, it's true. The emotion's genuine, even if it's absurd.
Scratch that sentence. Let's do this stream-of-consciousness type stylie, okay? In fact, let's have some real fun with this. No correcting punctuation, no fixing typos words will be made up and goddamnit, I'm gonna like it.
Bt not really.
Shit, I can't do this. The editor in me is screaming out in agony. I'll leave that last paragraph for posterity, but the following stuff will be proofread. At least, it'll be proofread for glaring errors. Or at least the kind that'll catch my eye. Anyway, let's begin.
...
I think maybe I'm afraid to begin. I guess I'll just be vague and stick with stream of consciousness approach, at least to a degree. Ooh, I just remembered that my little emotion thingy shows penguins! I wonder if they have one for defeated. It'd probably look just like sad or dejected, if they do, but still.
They don't. I'll go with rejected. That's definitely an aspect of how I feel, and the little crying penguin (he's a blue penguin. Blue Fairy? They have multiple non-scientific names. They're tiny little things native to the southern hemisphere, Australia and South America. Baby Blue? I can't remember) pretty accurately captures the emotion that threatened to overwhelm me all day today. Maybe I'll give in later on tonight, after everyone else has gone to sleep.
I took 2,400mgs of ibuprofen yesterday! Twice the recommended over-the-counter dose. Not at all at once, mind you, but yeah. My back was killing me, I believe because I spent Friday night/Saturday morning at George's, and slept all crooked and scrunched up on his couch. I injured myself the summer before senior year of high school doing cleans; wound up with either a bulging disc, or a herniated one, I forget, in my lower back. The difference is that a herniated one is more serious; the wall of the disc ruptures and pokes into the nerves in the back, instead of just bulging a little and poking them. I remembered being given high strength ibuprofen that summer, something on the order of 600mgs a capsule, so I figured that taking three 200mg capsules instead of the recommended one wouldn't hurt me. And it didn't! No side-effects as far as I can tell. And my back feels much better today, as well. Yay for non-steroidal anti-inflammatories!
So the purpose of me relating all that was to build to this; because of the agonizing back pain (and I will call it agonizing, because at the worst part of it, I couldn't roll over in bed without shooting pain,) I didn't get very much sleep Friday night. So little, in fact, that I left George's at seven in the morning so I could drive to a Walgreen's and buy the Advil for Saturday. I slept a little after getting the Advil and getting home, but still, very sleep deprived. So much so, I wound up falling asleep at nine-thirty, but I set my alarm for midnight, so I could try and call someone very special to me at a time I thought she'd be free.
Christ, I almost just choked on an ice cube. Ok, on with the story.
It didn't pan out. I tried calling from midnight (a little bit before, actually, since I woke up before my alarm) until 2:30 in the morning, and all I got was a busy signal.
Christ, I almost did it again! What the hell is wrong with me?
My sleep schedule further messed up by the two hour nap I'd just taken, I wound up playing video games until four or five in the morning. Four, I think. And then Stephanie called me at 6:15ish, for reasons I was far too sleepy to understand. We talked for about forty-five minutes, of which I think she was mostly relating stories about Ari and Aaron, and then I went back to bed.
So today was my birthday, for those who didn't know. For the day itself, I mostly just spent a quiet day with my family, which is fine. I was anticipating a bigger party-type-dealie this upcoming weekend. Don't know if it'll still happen, but eh, I'll cross that bridge when I burn it.
Anyway, my thoughts on the day. It was wonderful having people post on my wall, and Eddie called me, and yeah. Good times all around. But something was missing, something very important. I felt like the day was a puzzle. The image was almost complete, but the centerpiece was missing, and without it, it was meaningless. This was my day without Jenna; the good times were tempered by the unescapable feeling of loss, of something missing, of being unfulfilled.
Fuck.
Consider the following: I went out to dinner at Pasta Pomodoro with my parents. I ordered ravioli di zucca, because she introduced me to it. Outside, there was a hand puppet monkey lying on the ground. I got up, simply telling my folks, "One second. I have to take care of something." Went outside, picked it up, brought it back inside to my parents' incredulous looks. But I was happy. I thought it'd be fun. I thought of using it to make people smile, to make them laugh. Y'know, writing aside, that's probably the primary way I define myself: I like to make people laugh. And it's a damn hand puppet monkey! It's comedy gold just by existing!
I thought of using it to make her laugh. I remembered her telling Shar she'd never talk to me again. I was sitting in the car with my parents when I put these two things together, and looking into the plastic eyes of the puppet, it was all I could do not to cry. I felt my chest heave and my eyes began to sting, but I held myself together.
How delightfully melodramatic, no? Still, as stupid and angsty and whatever else you'd like to call it as it sounds, it's true. The emotion's genuine, even if it's absurd.