I got to jump on the bus, this time, instead of watching everyone around me suffer various illnesses. Not.. that this brings me any comfort, mind you.
I went to the doctor today because every time I -move- I get a piercing pain in my lower left abdomen. It hurts. A fucking lot. After jabbing me with his fingers for a few minutes he decided I have an Ovarian Cyst.
He wrote me up a form to get an ultrasound and sent me on my merry way.
In some sick, perverse part of my mind, I'm actually hoping it's one of those Cysts that grows teeth and hair. Why? I'm fucking FASCINATED by those things. In the event it is (which would be unlikely) I wanna get it put in a jar when they take it out.
I'm gonna name it Larry.
Annie's Haiku of the Day:
I enter in text,
Because the Doctor hasn't.
Journal consumption.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Haiku time. (A post about nothing.)
In my other journal, I normally write a haiku with every post I make. I would like to continue this tradition.. as I once again break the order of things on the Bus:
Annie's Haiku of the Day:
Deep within my heart,
I've gone manic, today. So much, to the point where Anya actually asked me if I was okay. I found that moment amusing, simply because I feel no less than great.. which is a long shot from how I should be feeling, this morning. (IE: Hungover)
Sometimes I wonder if these weird, messed up mood swings I am prone to are signs of something more severe. But.. I've managed to live a generally peaceful and privileged life so far, and my outlook is generally good. I never find myself out of control, or unable to cheer myself up. Thusly, I'll relax and keep my knowledge of the flavor of mood swings to help me Role Play a Bipolar Malkavian better. It's smarter than considering myself strange or broken.
Christmas is once again coming. I know it's two months away, but that doesn't make me any less intimidated about it. Generally, I'm a very.. generous person. But with Jason's 1500$ classes coming up, and our overwhelming need to save for my impending schooling, we've realized we have to cut down our 'list' of people we buy things for. Clever consideration has caused me to decide to use my culinary wiles to offer people cheap but delicious Christmas gifts. Apple pies for all! The work involved, however, will be painful.
On a somewhat related topic; I've begun brewing my own wine! (This is why I was drunk last night, mind you.) A 'Regular' at work who is a wonderful woman from Alberta took me out yesterday to obtain the makings of my own Ice wine. I'm using all her equipment, and she is a generous lady (she'll be getting an apple pie.). She explained the horribly simple art of wine making to me, along with letting me sample no less than 5 types of her own wine. I'm -very- excited about this new hobby of mine. Despite what it may cost me to begin obtaining my own equipment, by the next time Fall rolls around, I'm going to have an extreme bounty of Apple, cherry, blueberry, huckleberry, salmon berry, and black berry wines.
Insane, I know.. but then again... today, I'm manic. :D
Annie's Haiku of the Day:
Deep within my heart,
There is a secret longing:
Necrophilia.
I've gone manic, today. So much, to the point where Anya actually asked me if I was okay. I found that moment amusing, simply because I feel no less than great.. which is a long shot from how I should be feeling, this morning. (IE: Hungover)
Sometimes I wonder if these weird, messed up mood swings I am prone to are signs of something more severe. But.. I've managed to live a generally peaceful and privileged life so far, and my outlook is generally good. I never find myself out of control, or unable to cheer myself up. Thusly, I'll relax and keep my knowledge of the flavor of mood swings to help me Role Play a Bipolar Malkavian better. It's smarter than considering myself strange or broken.
Christmas is once again coming. I know it's two months away, but that doesn't make me any less intimidated about it. Generally, I'm a very.. generous person. But with Jason's 1500$ classes coming up, and our overwhelming need to save for my impending schooling, we've realized we have to cut down our 'list' of people we buy things for. Clever consideration has caused me to decide to use my culinary wiles to offer people cheap but delicious Christmas gifts. Apple pies for all! The work involved, however, will be painful.
On a somewhat related topic; I've begun brewing my own wine! (This is why I was drunk last night, mind you.) A 'Regular' at work who is a wonderful woman from Alberta took me out yesterday to obtain the makings of my own Ice wine. I'm using all her equipment, and she is a generous lady (she'll be getting an apple pie.). She explained the horribly simple art of wine making to me, along with letting me sample no less than 5 types of her own wine. I'm -very- excited about this new hobby of mine. Despite what it may cost me to begin obtaining my own equipment, by the next time Fall rolls around, I'm going to have an extreme bounty of Apple, cherry, blueberry, huckleberry, salmon berry, and black berry wines.
Insane, I know.. but then again... today, I'm manic. :D
Friday, November 7, 2008
Growing up.
I got a glimpse of 'life and death' at a very young age through the eyes of my mother and father. I was alive when their grandparents started to die, and perhaps.. a little too young to truly understand the concept of death as a bad thing. Children are funny like that, really. Someone dies, and they smile, happy that their loved one is in 'heaven' before they go back to eating crayons.
When my grandparents began to get sick, one by one.. I noticed a change. I was older. An adult for all intensive purposes. I had pubic hair. I had a job. I could reason somewhat well. When they began to die, it felt a little different to me. Like something really was being taken away, because I never realized that people are mortal, and eventually all you'll really have of them is memories and photographs.. which fade over time.
When my uncle got sick from Testicular Cancer, and a close cousin afflicted with Pancriatic Cancer.. I began to see the pattern. I looked around at the next generation of my family members, and my blood began to chill when I realized.. that the pain and horrible suffering that my parents went through when they watched their grandparents, and then their mothers and fathers pass... it was mine to endure this time around. Only, they were watching their brothers and sisters die, now.
A 'Fact of life' they call it. But as with all other facts of life, things like this are never easy to swallow or accept. But, we do, somehow. Some people are prepared for it, early. Others, not so lucky.
When we live our lives.. terrified of what we might lose, we never really live. I think our time on earth is limited so that we're forced to make the best out of it while we can. Like a game, not everyone scores high points, or reaches a high level.. but I think a lot of us forget, sometimes, to just enjoy the game.
I cannot relate to Justin's pain, at this time. I don't think I ever could. Possibly, because we swallow what life gives us in a different way. I'm grateful he still has time to spend with his mother, however. Some people really aren't lucky enough to see what's ahead.
He really should go watch some Deadwood.
When my grandparents began to get sick, one by one.. I noticed a change. I was older. An adult for all intensive purposes. I had pubic hair. I had a job. I could reason somewhat well. When they began to die, it felt a little different to me. Like something really was being taken away, because I never realized that people are mortal, and eventually all you'll really have of them is memories and photographs.. which fade over time.
When my uncle got sick from Testicular Cancer, and a close cousin afflicted with Pancriatic Cancer.. I began to see the pattern. I looked around at the next generation of my family members, and my blood began to chill when I realized.. that the pain and horrible suffering that my parents went through when they watched their grandparents, and then their mothers and fathers pass... it was mine to endure this time around. Only, they were watching their brothers and sisters die, now.
A 'Fact of life' they call it. But as with all other facts of life, things like this are never easy to swallow or accept. But, we do, somehow. Some people are prepared for it, early. Others, not so lucky.
When we live our lives.. terrified of what we might lose, we never really live. I think our time on earth is limited so that we're forced to make the best out of it while we can. Like a game, not everyone scores high points, or reaches a high level.. but I think a lot of us forget, sometimes, to just enjoy the game.
I cannot relate to Justin's pain, at this time. I don't think I ever could. Possibly, because we swallow what life gives us in a different way. I'm grateful he still has time to spend with his mother, however. Some people really aren't lucky enough to see what's ahead.
He really should go watch some Deadwood.
Balance.
So, I posted something unhappy in my other blog. I figure this is the place for happier things to come out. The title certainly brings that to mind. What the fuck was going through my head when I called it 'Effed Up Stories On The Bus'? Oh well. I won't bother to change it.
I played some WoW yesterday to try to get my head back on and respecced into the Protection tree to see what I could do. The results are quite impressive. With 70s falling out of the sky to try and gank me with their bows made of witches and swords crafted from the fallen cockrings of elder gods, I had to put the new spec to the test. What did I find? I can take something seven levels higher than me to 30% before I go down. It's like trying to beat up a rock. Not only is it hard but you look like a retard doing it.
Anyway, I'm sitting at work and wondering when my coworkers are going to come in. Notably, this is around the time the whole building shows up because 9-5 really means 9:30 - 2 and then the bullshitting around starts. I plan on going home tonight and, with any luck, not getting back up again until tomorrow. I've got classwork to do and I kinda want to watch an episode of Deadwood or something. See if it's worth all of Annie's panty twisting. Anya and I have been watching Carnivale pretty closely but haven't had time to catch any new episodes. It's all very impressive, though. Obviously, HBO can't really make a shitty show. They just don't know how.
I played some WoW yesterday to try to get my head back on and respecced into the Protection tree to see what I could do. The results are quite impressive. With 70s falling out of the sky to try and gank me with their bows made of witches and swords crafted from the fallen cockrings of elder gods, I had to put the new spec to the test. What did I find? I can take something seven levels higher than me to 30% before I go down. It's like trying to beat up a rock. Not only is it hard but you look like a retard doing it.
Anyway, I'm sitting at work and wondering when my coworkers are going to come in. Notably, this is around the time the whole building shows up because 9-5 really means 9:30 - 2 and then the bullshitting around starts. I plan on going home tonight and, with any luck, not getting back up again until tomorrow. I've got classwork to do and I kinda want to watch an episode of Deadwood or something. See if it's worth all of Annie's panty twisting. Anya and I have been watching Carnivale pretty closely but haven't had time to catch any new episodes. It's all very impressive, though. Obviously, HBO can't really make a shitty show. They just don't know how.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Reply
All the best people do replies in blogs. I'm one of the best people, I figure.
Anyway, I vibe with the explanation below. However, it's a little easier for me to ease off of the idea that I need to feel for my friends. I like to think that people are able to put themselves back together and don't need intervention unless someone asks for it. but that kinda fucks up when someone actually goes and gets in touch like mentioned below.
I wish I could offer some sort of advice but I really can't. Those kinds of situations really throw me for a loop because I figure that people would have stepped out of those kinds of lifestyles long before they blew up like that. But I'm wrong -all- the time on that count. So my heart goes out to these people.
---
Off the topic: I'm watching the election coverage.
Obama is gonna win.
Anyway, I vibe with the explanation below. However, it's a little easier for me to ease off of the idea that I need to feel for my friends. I like to think that people are able to put themselves back together and don't need intervention unless someone asks for it. but that kinda fucks up when someone actually goes and gets in touch like mentioned below.
I wish I could offer some sort of advice but I really can't. Those kinds of situations really throw me for a loop because I figure that people would have stepped out of those kinds of lifestyles long before they blew up like that. But I'm wrong -all- the time on that count. So my heart goes out to these people.
---
Off the topic: I'm watching the election coverage.
Obama is gonna win.
Breaking the rule the first time around.
I have to write, because it's how I straighten my thoughts.
Bad Resonance:
I surround myself with people. People I care for. People I love. I guard them like a mother Goose does her eggs; attempting in vain to protect them from the great big bad world. One by one they crack. Little marks. Big marks. Dents, or complete destruction.. and I sit there and watch. Like a sponge I suck up all of this horrible angst and melancholy that leaks out because in the end, I hope to somehow filter it all into something that is bright and cheerful.
Bad Relationships:
Megan's been having a hard time with Justin. She broke it off with him because he can't get his shit straight enough with his daughter to move over to the Island to be with her. His attempts are constantly thwarted by his Ex and her childish acts against him. Poor Alissa has become a weapon of choice against her own Father.
I woke up this morning from a vicious nightmare that I'd caught my husband cheating on me, and I left him. It shook me to the point where I called him at work so he could make me feel better.
Not hours later, a girlfriend of mine contacted me out of desperation to get away from her ex boyfriend. Stating that he was making her crazy and she didn't know how long she would last. She needed money to move to another State completely with her Son.
Just now, the closest thing I have to a 'good friend' in person just phoned me to tell me how her Boyfriend (Now ex) threw her out of a moving car last night. She's bruised, broken, and mentally shattered. I'm so thankful that she has family to take her in, and a place to go. Not that I wouldn't offer my own hospitality, but I fear I wouldn't be what she needs, right now.
Compared to the others around me, my problems are nothing. Like a shadow cast by a tree, really. Something in my gut makes me wonder if my dream was only a reaction to the resonance that's been leaking off of those I care for.
Maybe it's just my place in this world to be something stable for others to lean on. More and more, I'm finding that it's what other people need.
Bad Resonance:
I surround myself with people. People I care for. People I love. I guard them like a mother Goose does her eggs; attempting in vain to protect them from the great big bad world. One by one they crack. Little marks. Big marks. Dents, or complete destruction.. and I sit there and watch. Like a sponge I suck up all of this horrible angst and melancholy that leaks out because in the end, I hope to somehow filter it all into something that is bright and cheerful.
Bad Relationships:
Megan's been having a hard time with Justin. She broke it off with him because he can't get his shit straight enough with his daughter to move over to the Island to be with her. His attempts are constantly thwarted by his Ex and her childish acts against him. Poor Alissa has become a weapon of choice against her own Father.
I woke up this morning from a vicious nightmare that I'd caught my husband cheating on me, and I left him. It shook me to the point where I called him at work so he could make me feel better.
Not hours later, a girlfriend of mine contacted me out of desperation to get away from her ex boyfriend. Stating that he was making her crazy and she didn't know how long she would last. She needed money to move to another State completely with her Son.
Just now, the closest thing I have to a 'good friend' in person just phoned me to tell me how her Boyfriend (Now ex) threw her out of a moving car last night. She's bruised, broken, and mentally shattered. I'm so thankful that she has family to take her in, and a place to go. Not that I wouldn't offer my own hospitality, but I fear I wouldn't be what she needs, right now.
Compared to the others around me, my problems are nothing. Like a shadow cast by a tree, really. Something in my gut makes me wonder if my dream was only a reaction to the resonance that's been leaking off of those I care for.
Maybe it's just my place in this world to be something stable for others to lean on. More and more, I'm finding that it's what other people need.
Placed outside your comfort zone.. I'll continue with the bus theme.
I've taken the bus for as long as I can remember. 27, and still I don't have a driver's license. Perhaps I'm lazy. Perhaps I like having money guzzled up by entertainment instead of a car. Perhaps I'm falling off topic.
I ride the bus to work every day. Usually it's an uneventful experience. I jam my iPod's earbuds into my ears and listen to loud music as I amuse myself with my thoughts. Normal routine has me considering plans of action for the day, or simply day-dreaming.
The day I'm choosing to talk about is one that was too recent for me to feel comfortable with. November 1st. On my way to work, I was running so late I left my iPod behind.
When I sat on the bus.. absent of the usual tactics I have to ignore the others around me, I felt... off. When I heard a voice behind me.. mumbling softly in the manner that a man would, to a lover.. I didn't pay much heed. Until, of course, I made out his words:
".. I really like your jacket."
That caught me off guard... that someone felt inclined to lean in and whisper such things so softly to me. Tenderly, almost. I froze. I pretended I didn't hear him.. as he had spoken so softly that I thought I could get away with feighned ignorance.
Then, he said it again. Leaning closer. The hairs prickled on the back of my neck as every warning light triggered in my mind due to countless watched television shows on Forensic Sciences and my unhealthy obsession of Serial Killers had me considering that I was, perhaps, a target.
So I went for the door. Turning, I caught a glimpse of the skinny, bald-headed fellow in his grey hoodie. I thought I was home free when the bus let me off and I started walking that extra block to work. Smug, that I had saved myself from creepy weirdo land.
Then I looked behind me.. and he was there. Following.
Needless to say, I booked it to work as fast as I possibly could. Every time I looked over my shoulder, that man was walking briskly after me. Until, that is, I stepped into the pub.
Perhaps coincidence. Perhaps I was merely being paranoid.. but I couldn't shake the distinct feeling that I was being followed.
What is it about a black biker jacket that compels some people?
I ride the bus to work every day. Usually it's an uneventful experience. I jam my iPod's earbuds into my ears and listen to loud music as I amuse myself with my thoughts. Normal routine has me considering plans of action for the day, or simply day-dreaming.
The day I'm choosing to talk about is one that was too recent for me to feel comfortable with. November 1st. On my way to work, I was running so late I left my iPod behind.
When I sat on the bus.. absent of the usual tactics I have to ignore the others around me, I felt... off. When I heard a voice behind me.. mumbling softly in the manner that a man would, to a lover.. I didn't pay much heed. Until, of course, I made out his words:
".. I really like your jacket."
That caught me off guard... that someone felt inclined to lean in and whisper such things so softly to me. Tenderly, almost. I froze. I pretended I didn't hear him.. as he had spoken so softly that I thought I could get away with feighned ignorance.
Then, he said it again. Leaning closer. The hairs prickled on the back of my neck as every warning light triggered in my mind due to countless watched television shows on Forensic Sciences and my unhealthy obsession of Serial Killers had me considering that I was, perhaps, a target.
So I went for the door. Turning, I caught a glimpse of the skinny, bald-headed fellow in his grey hoodie. I thought I was home free when the bus let me off and I started walking that extra block to work. Smug, that I had saved myself from creepy weirdo land.
Then I looked behind me.. and he was there. Following.
Needless to say, I booked it to work as fast as I possibly could. Every time I looked over my shoulder, that man was walking briskly after me. Until, that is, I stepped into the pub.
Perhaps coincidence. Perhaps I was merely being paranoid.. but I couldn't shake the distinct feeling that I was being followed.
What is it about a black biker jacket that compels some people?
Signing in
So, here's one.
When I was in high school, I had to take the bus all the time. Obviously, as I didn't get my license until I turned 18 and the state could no longer deny me my right to a gas guzzling murder machine.
Anyway, a little boy got on the bus with his mother. He had the biggest doe-brown eyes I've ever seen and was holding a pigeon feather in one hand. The boy looked at it like it was the most beautiful thing ever and somehow, he understood something I didn't.
When he sat down, his mother gave him the window seat. He stared out at the world with wonder and delight. Pointing at things that were passing by and asking his mother questions about what they were and why they were the way they were. Then he fell silent, looking out at the sky and he pressed his nose against the glass. As though to get a closer look at something.
Then he licked the glass.
When I was in high school, I had to take the bus all the time. Obviously, as I didn't get my license until I turned 18 and the state could no longer deny me my right to a gas guzzling murder machine.
Anyway, a little boy got on the bus with his mother. He had the biggest doe-brown eyes I've ever seen and was holding a pigeon feather in one hand. The boy looked at it like it was the most beautiful thing ever and somehow, he understood something I didn't.
When he sat down, his mother gave him the window seat. He stared out at the world with wonder and delight. Pointing at things that were passing by and asking his mother questions about what they were and why they were the way they were. Then he fell silent, looking out at the sky and he pressed his nose against the glass. As though to get a closer look at something.
Then he licked the glass.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)