If you could change one thing about yourself or your surroundings to make your life just a little more manageable what would that one thing be?
Boxes. I’d get rid of all my damn boxes.
What sort of boxes?
All sorts. Big card board ones and cell phone boxes. Any kind of box.
What are in the boxes?
I don’t know. They’re probably empty.
Oh I see…
That’s what gets me; I’m crowding my apartment with empty useless boxes. I’ll never use them but I keep them because I think they’re important.
Wait a second. What do you mean ‘oh I see?’ You’re not going to start talking about how my empty boxes symbolize my empty lonely body or something are you? Cause I don’t like that shit.
What would you like to talk about?
Can I ask you a question?
Of course.
Lately, I’ve been reading about certain disorders.
What sort of disorders?
Ones like schizophrenia and obsessive compulsive disorder – that sort of thing. Anyway, a lot of the articles talk about a person doing weird things that seem to be normal but then those not so normal things build up over time to be something crazy. Like this one guy I read about was a little weird as a kid but then one day, he was in his late twenties, he just came home and started going all wacko and repeating things and pacing around the living room.
Do you think you have a disorder?
Na.
Anyway, so yesterday I was about to go to bed and I walked into my living room and a sock had fallen from the drying rack I have set up near my couch. I looked at it, acknowledged that I should hang it back up but then instead of just bending over I glared at it, turned away and went in to my bed room where I was heading to before I noticed the sock.
Wait, do you think I have a disorder?
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Birds do it
I have a post card named “A Love Letter.” There are hearts forming hypothetical words in the format of a letter. Every time I find myself staring at it I’m trying to edit the letter in my head to make it grammatically correct.
You know, writing things “artsy like” are just lame attempts to make your life sound mystical.
To translate the first paragraph into something more real: I sit and stare at my wall a lot.
I have a life I swear. I just don’t want to try to compress my article to fit the 200 word limit right now. How can a person smoosh a person’s life into 200 words? Well, obviously I will if I want to get paid.
The Tank Girl CD is the best CD ever. OK that’s a lie. Although number 5 does rock my socks off! That’s right – my socks. The beginning is my favorite. I play along with my rockin’ air guitar like never before. In reality I guess I kind of look like I’m strumming my rockin’ banjo. Never the less it’s called Shove by L7.
You know, writing things “artsy like” are just lame attempts to make your life sound mystical.
To translate the first paragraph into something more real: I sit and stare at my wall a lot.
I have a life I swear. I just don’t want to try to compress my article to fit the 200 word limit right now. How can a person smoosh a person’s life into 200 words? Well, obviously I will if I want to get paid.
The Tank Girl CD is the best CD ever. OK that’s a lie. Although number 5 does rock my socks off! That’s right – my socks. The beginning is my favorite. I play along with my rockin’ air guitar like never before. In reality I guess I kind of look like I’m strumming my rockin’ banjo. Never the less it’s called Shove by L7.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Sunshine!
I feel like I need to say something absurdly upbeat to counter act my not-so-happy last entry.
I got nothing.
I can tell you random facts though.
I’m considering becoming a vegetarian solely because I hate the smell of meat. I smell like bacon as I type this lovely entry and it’s driving me crazy. It’s not so bad now but when I leave my little house and go out into the real world where the majority of it doesn’t smell like bacon I’ll stick out (OK I’ll feel like I’m sticking out) like a sore thumb. bla
I like flowers, cute fluffy animals, my new fish Spencer and my cell phone ring. There I did it.
I got nothing.
I can tell you random facts though.
I’m considering becoming a vegetarian solely because I hate the smell of meat. I smell like bacon as I type this lovely entry and it’s driving me crazy. It’s not so bad now but when I leave my little house and go out into the real world where the majority of it doesn’t smell like bacon I’ll stick out (OK I’ll feel like I’m sticking out) like a sore thumb. bla
I like flowers, cute fluffy animals, my new fish Spencer and my cell phone ring. There I did it.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Can we try again?
Two things I was forced to realise today:
I’m boring
And naive as hell
Something else I learned:
If what you have to say won’t improve the silence than don’t say it.
But when you have something that will improve it, for God’s sake, speak loudly.
I feel like that Australian girl in Grease: I’m all giggly and eager to please. But I need a black-leather-and-red-lipstick-with-attitude makeover, STAT. Unfortunately I don’t have Grease Girl’s looks. DAMN I HATE HOW THE WORLD IS OUT TO GET ME. It is you know. I’m not just making this up.
My one mostly agreed upon attribute is that I’m cute. FUCK CUTE. What does "cute" even mean. “Pretty” and “smart” all are things one can measure, test and point out. But “cute” is…is…well I’m not sure what “cute” is and that’s the entire point.
Another thing I learned today. I’m way to content being in my own little world. I can happily be silent around people forever. Sometimes and in some ways that can be a good thing. But really, I don’t have it in me to say random crap that hopefully will win me points with the person or people. But damn it I wish I did.
Example:
Silence
Other person says something clever/funny
Me: ha ha. That’s funny.
Me displays she is a “‘yes’ man” and perhaps too agreeable
Me: (thinks) damn it say something clever and or entertaining.
ME HAS COMPLETE BLANK OUT
Me than gives up and retreats back into the world of Her Head
Oh God so painful and pathetic. I need to be able to spout out random knowledge and/or past entertaining/enlightening/funny personal events.
I think the problem is I’m a very crazy combination of laid back and stressed out. Caffeine pills might be the answer.
I just… I wish I could form coherent sentences and make sense…just once in awhile.
That reminds me. I think I am like those people addicted to porn. So addicted they can’t have sex with real people anymore.
I can’t speak to real people anymore. I think in my head. I write down then back space and then send. I do this more than I actually speak face-to-face.
I can’t talk in real life. I’d rather have a deep discussion over the Internet or maybe over the phone than trying to awkwardly make eye contact and say the right thing with out the aid of the “backspace” key.
A few weeks ago I was leaving a message on an important person’s answering machine and at the end of my horrible rambling message (no backspace key) I almost said my name at the end the message as if I was ending an email. Luckily I stopped mid name but really…what the hell? I now speak like I write emails.
But here I am still writing my feelings out with the help of a stupid machine. The Internet and Blogs make a person feel like they’re connecting with other people. They are sharing information to potentially thousands of people.
But in the end YOU’RE ALONE.
You’re sitting in a small dark room. You are ignoring the world around you. You are listening to the soothing hum of a machine that’s got your tongue.
Introverts are brainwashed into thinking they’re becoming extraverts with the help of a machine that claims to be connecting you to the world. But really users are forcing themselves deeper into a silent riddled nightmare.
I’m boring
And naive as hell
Something else I learned:
If what you have to say won’t improve the silence than don’t say it.
But when you have something that will improve it, for God’s sake, speak loudly.
I feel like that Australian girl in Grease: I’m all giggly and eager to please. But I need a black-leather-and-red-lipstick-with-attitude makeover, STAT. Unfortunately I don’t have Grease Girl’s looks. DAMN I HATE HOW THE WORLD IS OUT TO GET ME. It is you know. I’m not just making this up.
My one mostly agreed upon attribute is that I’m cute. FUCK CUTE. What does "cute" even mean. “Pretty” and “smart” all are things one can measure, test and point out. But “cute” is…is…well I’m not sure what “cute” is and that’s the entire point.
Another thing I learned today. I’m way to content being in my own little world. I can happily be silent around people forever. Sometimes and in some ways that can be a good thing. But really, I don’t have it in me to say random crap that hopefully will win me points with the person or people. But damn it I wish I did.
Example:
Silence
Other person says something clever/funny
Me: ha ha. That’s funny.
Me displays she is a “‘yes’ man” and perhaps too agreeable
Me: (thinks) damn it say something clever and or entertaining.
ME HAS COMPLETE BLANK OUT
Me than gives up and retreats back into the world of Her Head
Oh God so painful and pathetic. I need to be able to spout out random knowledge and/or past entertaining/enlightening/funny personal events.
I think the problem is I’m a very crazy combination of laid back and stressed out. Caffeine pills might be the answer.
I just… I wish I could form coherent sentences and make sense…just once in awhile.
That reminds me. I think I am like those people addicted to porn. So addicted they can’t have sex with real people anymore.
I can’t speak to real people anymore. I think in my head. I write down then back space and then send. I do this more than I actually speak face-to-face.
I can’t talk in real life. I’d rather have a deep discussion over the Internet or maybe over the phone than trying to awkwardly make eye contact and say the right thing with out the aid of the “backspace” key.
A few weeks ago I was leaving a message on an important person’s answering machine and at the end of my horrible rambling message (no backspace key) I almost said my name at the end the message as if I was ending an email. Luckily I stopped mid name but really…what the hell? I now speak like I write emails.
But here I am still writing my feelings out with the help of a stupid machine. The Internet and Blogs make a person feel like they’re connecting with other people. They are sharing information to potentially thousands of people.
But in the end YOU’RE ALONE.
You’re sitting in a small dark room. You are ignoring the world around you. You are listening to the soothing hum of a machine that’s got your tongue.
Introverts are brainwashed into thinking they’re becoming extraverts with the help of a machine that claims to be connecting you to the world. But really users are forcing themselves deeper into a silent riddled nightmare.
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