Nomin's Blurty

Time:

9:49 pm.

I find myself waiting too long to write these days. All the words that I have stored up over the years are a poor fit for the life I live now. Perhaps I've outgrown them and need to move my head along at the pace of my life. Perhaps my brain has just grown slothful and my overweight mind can no long slip into the svelt shaped jargon of my former life of education. Or perhaps there is a less melodramatic middle ground. Perhaps I've just grown a bit bored with the way I write and use other excuses to shy away.

From time to time I realize this and strive against it. I'll make some claim that I'll write more or bear literary arms against important issues and thus do my duty as an "educated" citzen and stir up the public forum. It's all lies. I know myself all to well to know that any such spoken tedency is nothing more than that ...spoken. To effect change then I must change the habits of my actions. We'll see. I do not want to let language slip so far away, it's already went far enough.

Friday:

Spending a few hours slipping into and our of paired conversations on computer components and the tendencies of men and women was nice. Plesant company that I wouldn't mind more of. I'm always nervous with new people though and sometimes I need a little push in the right direction.

Breaking the pair we each went our own way to see other friends and drink liquids not ment for soft flesh.It was good seeing the girls and the friends who are familiar from repetition. Some of them I could see myself knowing in their own right, but I never seem to think of that when they are out of sight.

Saturday:

Early brunch of crepes with P&A. There is something wonderfully soothing about lounging for a few moments on a sun warmed balcony while a squirrel performs his neurotic little dance on the tree an arms length away. Amazing how those little guys can stretch out, really.

All good things come to an end and I ended up going to work for several hours that afternoon. Is it strange that the empty building is all to familiar in it's silence? I take it as a sign that I've spent too many early mornings, late nights and extended weekends padding between offices.

An evening of Advent Children and Crash shared with friends is enjoyable. Crash is as amazing as ever where as AC is a remarkable work of artistic achievement - but has the overwhelming feeling of fan service.

Sunday:

The day was devoured by WoW and the unexpected company of other friends comming to ransake my M:tg cards for a comming tournament. I envy them going, but not so much that I'm willing to spend the extra money and my *entire* weekend on the game at the moment.

Surprisngly, I make it through the day without letting my thoughts focus on the growing pile of work that *must* be waiting for me when I return to the office. I long for a vacation, but ... there are other factors at work at the moment that frighten me away from any slow down in efficiency or public presence.

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Time:

7:24 pm.

Slowly we pry away the bits and pieces of accumulated life. It's strange how many things slip between the cracks as we settle. The sediment of sentiment is an accumulation of half-rubbish, half-momento. Discareded movie tickets, plastic wristbands that ment something years ago, birthday cards in chinese. I horde momentos and yet I never use them.

The old apartment is a gutted wreck of a home now. Everything that is of importance or use to me has been moved and it's the feeling of walking through abandonment manifest to venture back there now. A few more trips for cleaning and all will be done.

--

Dinner last night with the my Eldest Sister and S. It was good to see them and the meal was wonderful after we had spent all too many hours rushing to beat the rain, which turned out to be more of a fliration with water than anything else. One of the first times I've settled down for a drink and conversation with my sister, surprisingly relaxed. She'll be Thirty on monday and it is bothering her a little, silly woman.
--

http://www.venganza.org/ I want to believe.

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Time:

6:17 pm.

Another night of poor sleep and my exhausted body is leveraged out of it's temporary nest at ass'o'clock in the morning. I walk with heavy steps that must give the neighbors dreams of elephants into the kitchen to find that the only coffee I have left is yesterdays brew. I remind myself that necessity befor propriety and microwave the day old drip. The bitter will help drive away the sleep from my aching eyes all the quicker.

Mid cup my roommate saunters in and begins the slow crescendo of giggling laughter that has become the most patently gay aspect of him. He manages to spit out that my hair is "awesome" before we both let the morning routine carry us into our own little worlds. Drinking my coffee I seal myself into my bedroom, shed my much beloved (and much bedraggled) bathrobe, and step into the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror reveals a ..Don Kingish spire of hair. It's almost as if a small cranical rocket had launched from my skull and left behind a expanding vapor trail of wavey brown hair. "Wonderful" I mutter as I step into the shower, tossing the empty coffee cup into the sink.

The shower does precious little to wake me. I'm still yawning as I step out the door dressed in yesterday's jeans and full intention to get almost nothing done today. My arms have the feeling of empty strength that I normally associate with a fever and it worries me. I plot out what i have to get done on the drive to work, few minutes late, and start the day.

I struggle through half a day with the crowning achievement being the finalization of branching out into a saturday workday for the labs that manage. It will be good for the students I suppose, but I hope that people actually use it to justify the cost.

And with that I justified comming home only 2/3rds through the day. I realize that breakfast was a cup of coffee, which was feeling awfully lonely in my stomach about then, and set about the comforting routine of pancake making. Pancakes and coffee are comfort foods for me and it was nice to settle back into the aged beanbag and munch away while playing long neglected video games. Perhaps I should do that more often.

But often I say such thigns as "I should do this" and never really have that intention. I've been meaning to get a major start on the process of moving for two weeks and I have yet to move more than my desk/computer supplies. I'll force that out tonight though - I need to be out of here by the weekend to have a few days to attack it with brush and pan.

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Time:

10:18 pm.

my ghetto wi-fi access from my old apartment on my old roommates computer has seemingly lost the long-delayed post I wrote tonight.
In summary

work is busy, but somehow I like the torture of it.
It seems I've 36 hours of overtime from Last Year that were not taken and thus will actually be paid (unheard of). They wanted me to take a vacation on it ...Now. Right, as if before the most monumental network change over for the school , on top of the regular school start up, was the best time to just ..disappear.

I don't feel at home at either apartment yet, things are spread between the two. Transition.
I've no place for my washer and dryer - unsure if i should sell them (they are nice, whirlpool matching set barely a year old) or just store them ... I suspect I may be at this current apartment for a while though.

Sister comming into town this weekend to help me move and celebreate her birthday. Wonderful
Rhiannon should be in town next weekend - I've been told I must have coffee with her and I'm actually looking forward to the opportunity.

Between the gym and the amazing amount of times I find myself climbing the 4 floors of stairs at work I feel as if I've actually been getting a workout. Now if I can just manage everything else that needs to be done to get healthy

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Subject:	a fissionable self
Time:	9:51 am.

Exhaustion brings about a peculiar sense of self-awareness when it is transmuted with a caffeine alchemy. I read with pressurized eyes and type with fingers vibrating to their own, personal, cosmic chord. I feel press ganged muscles stir against nature to finish the work of the day. My stomach has returned to it's terrorist ways and concocted weapons of mass dyspepsia, just wonderful.

"just a few more days" I think to myself, but it's never really just a few more days, but this is the path I have set my dusty feet upon. There will forever be the crash and surge of life that tempers the body and soul into something more fitting of the name than what was before. I should not mind and it is something that I strive for. Snippets of M.Aurelius ground into habit, it's not such a bad thing.

Consequence has been on my mind though. The tag of rambled words with a new mind has stirred up old thoughts on the subject. I review my past and am comforted that I have held true. Perhaps some view it wrong to censure people in the act of every day life ...but life *is* Every Day. Social physics one might think, an equal and opposite reaction.

Sometimes I remember that the reason I write like I do is because it is an outlet of the brain. It is tapping into the expression of self without the reflected expectancies and social policies that have been ingrained into our regular speech and habit. It is a centering of self and memorial all in one.

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Subject:	delays
Time:	10:26 pm.

I won't be able to move on the 19th or at least not my furniture it seems. My elder sister and S. are trapped at work that weekend and that leaves me sans one truck to manage the larger moves. This isn't the *worst* that could happen, as they've offered to help on the following saturday, but it certain upsets the way I had scheduled out to manage the ever growing workload at work.

It may mean that I'll have to put my foot down and have a confrontation with my department. I don't really fear that my ~~demands~~ suggestions will not be accepted, but there is always the possability that the ..ignorance of what is *necessary* to get the lab up and running will over ride common sense.
--

Weight myself at the gym - disappointed. I've been fairly good at going regularly, but it seems that my crackdown on food isn't working as well. I need to make a regimen that is scheduled out and not concoted in my brain on a moments notice. I need to find something I can keep in my office for lunch so that I'm not tempted to skip (and thus justify over eatting at dinner) that doesn't require refrigeration but isn't as boring as sawdust.

--

A "friend" of mine gets married this saturday and I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it. This was the girl who fell for me back in 2000 when we were co-starring in The Mousetrap , Giles and Molly for you theatery people. She then went to China at the same time as I. Even though I never accepted her, fundamental differences in the outlook on life/religion/etc, it was an ego boost to know that someone found me attractive in such a way. Now though..the years have passed and though we live in the same town the contact is non-existant - yet I still wonder what's going on. She doesn't send an invite and then asks if I got one, for one example. Should I go? Would it be entirely rude *not* to go? I personally think so, but curious.

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Subject:	4 hours
Time:	11:24 pm.

I'm forced to start the day on four hours of sleep by my own traiterous body. Some rebellious portion of my brain starts the gears at 6:15 in the morning and no amount of tossing and turning brings true sleep back to my beleagured self. I stumble out of bed and immediately all the muscles file their complaint in traditional unnion fashion ( I which I believe is a good stomping via teamsters boots ).

My lower back complains the most. As much as I tried not to lift like a moron yesterday I know that I did at times ...and now I have this wonderful consequence to remind me Not To. I shower and dress feeling all to much like an aged man limping through life.

I settled down with weak coffee and call for the automative shop that has taken care of my car before. I call a tow truck and am soon on my way to have my money sucked away in the great vortex of vehicle maintence.

After dropping off the car ... I realize that I have no way to work. I call *everyone* who could possible give me a life, no answer or off the network for some reason. So, I start walking. One and a half hours later, 3.58 miles, and the most sun I've had in a good amount of time finds me at work. I suppose this was a good way of skipping the gym tonight, but not entirely plesant when walking by busy streets/highways.

The day passes quickly and all too soon I'm being informed that:

1: the reason my car would not start; I have a dead starter
2: why I kept having to add break fluid; my master cylinder is shot
3: why I kept having to add oil; my engine oil pan was hosting several leaks.

Somewhere close to 600$ worth of repairs. Wonderful, just .. Wonderful. I'll manage and I suppose it's less hassle and money than buying anything new - but still wasn't exactly what I was hoping to have to face.

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Time:

12:42 am.

After the terror of waking up late only to find that my car would not start I got lucky and was able to bum a ride from my sister, as she was passing through town, to work.

This is when the *real* fun begins.

Today is the one day a year that my mainly indoor, mainly desk, job becomes one of massive physical labor. Re-distribution. I plans prove themselves something other than fancy and I'm gifted with a truck for the afternoon. Excellent. Most of my workers show up and I'm armed with twice as many hands as I had last year.

3 hours, 41 computers, 41 monitors and about 50 flights of stairs later the whole mess is stored for later sorting and placing. We miss the rain by a breath and breathe a sigh of relief at that. Nothing worse than a pickup full of soggy computers.

I get a lift back to my apartment to attempt a repair on my car. Fail utterly and continue to bum untill I reach campus. I've bound myself in for some student film work - once again.

If you've never done any work with a student film than I would suggest doing it once. There is something very exhilerating about the raw beginnings of a film. Once only though - seems i'm a glutton for punishment. What I thought was going to be one or maybe two hours of filming for "a small scene in a morgue" turned into 5 hours of filming...

I was playing the medical examiner for the morgue, sporting some strange accent, an overtight white shirt, sweaterish lab coat and glasses that would have made a pedophile for the 70s ashamed. Introduce some undead and gratutious amounts of home made blood....being shot repeatedly into my face and hair. I ended up dying by being chocked to death, from behind, but a rather cute corpse.

By the time we are done it's a little past 11. Everyone departs. The Cute Corpse, the Director and I are the last to leave. My lame attempt at fliration resolves itself into "nice to meet you - defintely the cutest corpse I've worked with in a while". Oh yes, Dork = Me.

I lay my tired flesh down upon the sprinkler soaked concrete and smoke a cigarillo. I've not had dinner at this point and was content to just soak up the mirrored coolness of the air and earth. I was exhausted, bruised, and still annoyingly sticky - but..the day turned out better than expected.

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Subject:	Change
Time:	7:32 pm.

The words come slow from begruding lips. I drop the heavy syllables into the still dark and wait for the emotional ripples to wash over me. I know I'm doing the right thing, but I cannot help but feel the slightest bit saddistic and thus guilty.

The other accepts them with a disposition that hints to me of expectance. Perhaps this has been too long comming and I the last to realize that it was happening. I assure that this is merely a parting of ways and not an emotional pink slip voiding all future.

Slowly the words pick up speed and we dance away from the subject. The words runs like a tongue around the hole in the conversation - probing, knowing, but not fully exploring knowing that to do so might just push things over the edge.

I'm heartened by the rapid fire possabilities that spring into place. He is more adapatible then he lets on and I laugh at myself for being so ...selfishly cowardly in my desire to protect myself from conflict by projecting weakness onto him. Silly.

but it is done. The winds of change are blowing and I cannot breathe deep enough.

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Time:

1:58 pm.

Today is the last day that I can give notice that I will not continue with my apartment building and it's sort of freaking me out. For some reason the thought of telling the office that I'm not going to be living here any longer fills me with the same sort of anxiety that swells up whenever I think about telling my roommate that I think it would be better to find places on our own.

Which is another reason today will be anxious. I've yet to find a two bedroom that is a real prospect for the both of us yet. All of the ones that are within the price range are rather small and would perahps be too cramped for two bachelors to live in peace in. With that in mind ..how much is the price of peace of mind? Running the numbers living with my roommate in another apartment *could* save me somewhere on the order of 200$ of what I'm spending now ...but it would be cramped. If I were to live almost *anywhere* by myself I could save at least 100$ and not have to worry about anyone elses spending habits, temperature preferences, etc.

Yet, I know that he had to borrow money from his father to be able to give me the pittance (200$ of the $775 monthly bills here) that we consider rent. I've been told repeatedly (and I know this myself) that I shouldn't hold myself accountable for him. That if I desire to live by myself in a place of my own making then ... I should. He will have to learn to live without a helping hand at some point. I know he could take out extra student loans to help cover what he could not pay with his paycheck ..but somehow it still feels dickish? Bah, I'm too soft.

Now to decide ..if 1,200$ a year is worth the peace of mind of solitude.

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Subject:	history
Time:	10:21 pm.

It's strange, history. I keep thinking about not what I already know, but the gaps. I wonder if I will ever *really* know what happened in the long dark years before I was born or in the years were personal focus blinded my eyes to the lives of those around me. I wonder if this is how *everyone* lives their life or if it is just the way my brain has been wired. Can I change it ? Should I change it ? Questions that cannot really be answerd from the outside.

My family gathered today to go through the ruins of a life. My grandmother is selling the old farm house. This is the tiny house that my grandfather and her lived in for years, 20+ I believe, before he was struck down from within. My uncles and my handful of my siblings walk through the collapsing shell of the house - poking at old records and hard used furniture. They are looking for usability in the form of keepsakes. It was unexpected by most, but I feared it. I didn't go - I couldn't.

It's strange. The house that stood for so many years collapses to near ruin in one slow turn around the sun. I can imagine the grass chest high and familiar with the primal fear of snakes that filled many of my childhood visits. Dusty curtains and indoor clothes lines strung around the old potbelly stove. Serviceable. Is that all this house was? All that history is - a record of what has been used. With no one left to serve will this history disappear?

I wonder about what is lost and what was found in this tour. How many forgotten treasures were found sifting through the past and were the memories shared? I'll write my grandmother I think and hope she can share some of her history with me. Someone should remember before it's too late.

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Subject:	silicon death
Time:	9:29 pm.

Slowly my world distorts. It is subtle at first, this corruption, with hues falling out of cue with their universal mandate. Angles veer from true and curves slip into their best escherian impersonation. The gravity of illusion grows with momentum only matched only by the completness with which it can and will dominate the world.

Fuck. My video card is dying. Or else there is some bad bit of code in the new drivers ...or the WoW patch..or a combination of both. I fear. If the hardware is breaking - it leaves me with a tough decision. I spend an awful lot of time online and at my computer ...and cannot really conceive of just letting it all *go* for any extended period of time. Yet I cannot really afford new hardware and wouldn't want to buy such things untill I was able to upgrade the entire system to the next generation of tech (btx, ddr2, pciX).

*sigh* Anyone indepdently wealthy want to gift a new video card? Didn't think so.

I guess this will be one of those learning moments in which I get to put my bug hunting skills into practice.

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Time:

10:12 am.

My vacation is over and the return to work has been a surprisngly good one. We've had a new secretary start and it has relieved some of the workload in the office and given me something new to focus on during the doldrums of the summer. Surprisingly how much a little need can make you feel worthwhile.

I'm not really thinking about work though. I keep drifting back to the last few days of vacation, the weekend and the holiday. My friend M. did arrive, albeit a few hours late, for the weekend. It's a strange thing. Whenever I know that I will be seeing someone from my past I feel as if I should look Good , healthy and attractive, and when I do not feel as such it can make the situation even more nerve wracking.

I feel like I spent the two days she said deceiphering mixed messages. She arrives and confirms that she is still dating the military institute her school was near. That he has graduated as well and is looking to move to Columbia were she will be starting med school. I'm a little relieved at this as it, for the moment, defused any romantic timebomb which might have been.

But the geography of everything didn't add up. Personal distances were too short and eye contact too long. It left a little bit of nervous hope churning in my gut.

We wander for a while and end up gathering Pas. before heading out of town to catch Batman: Begins . Comfortable ride full of conversation and discussion of Koren culture. We arrive and end up facing down IHOP for dinner as *everywhere* else is packed with the full tilt town embracing a long holiday weekend.

We meet my sister and all seem to enjoy the movie. Our knees close and our world defined by the sonic thud of bass in our chest, the looming Imax screen and the intimately close "chomp/crush" of popcorn. I can almost smell the butter when I think about it.

Midnight and the drive home. We stop for water and caffeine and I force two bawls down in quick concession to my need to drive with eyes that are not performing a strip tease with eyelids for the road.

Home....

We spend hours listening to American Analog Set , rokysopp's Melody A.M. and talking. It is old familiar talk of life and were the world will take us. We dress for sleep (strange for me) and continue with words that are lifelines for our tired brains. Half-hearted talk of where to sleep. I offer to sleep on the couch to no response.

That makes me uncertain, hopeful in a way but also fearful because I *know* she has a boyfriend. She has said that the yare kinda serious and I'd be a dick to do anything. I leave to turn off some other lights and return to find her curling up on the bed. She pulls down the covers closet to me and then wiggles to the other side of the bed to slide herself into her own blankety-cacoon.

I turn off the lights and climb in. A few more whispered words and a chilly hug before sleep. I roll away with my back to her. I don't sleep well. The ceiling fan is noisy (I'd had trouble replacing the light cover and it squeaked as it wiggled). Unconsciously we wiggle closer or at least it seems that way. I try to sleep and end up dozing. I roll this way and that and end up sprawled over too much of the bed , or at least it seems that way. I'm so not used to sharing my bed.

I realized that my arm is flung across her back. Or rather I realize that she is moving and that in moving I notice that my arm is across her bag. She gets up saying she cannot sleep and commandeers one of the couches.

I lay in the dark listening to the ceiling fan.. I do end up turning it off. Was it really the fan? Did I wake her and drive her from the bed? I don't know... I ask in the morning if I had chased her out and she says no. There is small facts to support this (when she went into the living room she turned off *everything* that could make noise. The little water fountain, the ceiling fan, etc).

I only get another hour or two of sleep before I wake up...before eight. I groan but cannot go back to sleep. I get up and wander a bit before she wakes up. I make breakfast and we go to the gym.

The rest of the day is rough. I feel nearly sick with coffee hangover and lack of sleep. We confront life again over bowls of soup and breadsticks talking about what it means to spend ourselves in pursuits. How we convince ourselves that we are doing what we want and not what is expected, etc. It is good conversation and I wish we had had it the night before.

She leaves early. Her mother is home alone and going to their lake cottage and she feels bad leaving her there lonely. I cannot help but think that she is leaving for inability to spend another night near me. That is selfishly self-depreciative though, but I feel that it is at least partially true.

-- I spend the next two days recovering. Sort of sick and in my bathrobe. My stomach couldn't handle food and I seriously consider giving up coffee. It's not emo-sick, I know that feeling all to well. --

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Subject:	summer reunion
Time:	1:11 am.

I've taken vacation this week to avoid any more unplesantness while they reinevate the builiding. I hadn't realize that the 4th is approachign so quickly, strange that that I pay less attention to clocks and calendars than when I lived by multitude of deadlines and start/stops that is student life.

A friend is thinking of comming to stay the holiday weekend with me. It's been a little over a year since I've last seen her, but she's graduated college and returned home to find that small town life living at her parent's doesn't agree with her anymore now than it did back then. A month or two before she travels off to another school for medical school, but at least this time she will only be three hours away instead of 18.

I cannot helpt but let fantasy run through my head. It always does when I set out to meet a girl like this, especiallly one I liked back in those days when I had more stomach than spine. I never *really* expect anything to happen - but these little flirts with fantasy keep a portion of my heart alive I think. They remind me that I *do* still have certain desires, cravings, for intimacy.

Intimacy comes in time and ... I have to wonder if those past connections will remember each other when we see. It is a common trick with this friend, the passing of time. We'd find happy cocidence in the comfort of each others familiar company when returning home for holidays, but none has ever been as long as this. I'll try not to think too much on it. My mind overworks itself and the mental equivalent of steam venting is paranoia.

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Subject:	a meditation on change
Time:	2:49 pm.

My friend Phillip left last night for hollywood, by greyhound, in the middle of the night. I left him at the station with a handshake. I don't know if he'll make it once he gets there or if he even believes that he can make it. He is trying though and even if I think that his planning is poor I have to appreciate the drive it takes to push oneself into such a decision.

But the decisions made while driving always seem to be the best ones. The long quiets between the almost forgotten farm towns lets the mind wander away from the conscious thoughts so battend by worry and anxiety that it's a wonder any real thinking can be accomplished. It's a sort of hypnotism I believe. A way to numb the overmind enough to allow the raw thoughts swirling beneath to be pushed up on that great tide of desire roiling within us all.

yet, all of us cannot or will not keep hold of these thoughts, decisions, ideas or various other creations of the conscious sub-conscious. Like daydreams they are evanescent and thus they can, and will, dissipate when we break this state.

But strange states are nothing unusuall when you think about it. We drink, smoke, fuck or run our way from one altered paradigm to another.

Another friend has went out into the world. Another friend I do not know if I will see again. That is life and I'll accept it as that. I wonder if they do this as well. If the ywrack their brains wondering if it's normal to just be accepting of such things or if they will feel sad that they do not feel as sad as they suspect they should be.

--

Somehow there is an extra 20,000$ in my budget at work. I have a week or two to spend it before the fiscal changeover process begins and they will "re-appropriate" unspent funds to different budget lines. Who knew spending money would be so hard.

--

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Time:

2:30 am.

There is a pendlum of social desire within my breast. It sways with something more and less than the turn of the season alternatingly drawing me into the sweaty throng of humanity or secretingly me away in a cacoon of cold thoughts and warm coffee.

I'm on that brink again. I've been writing less here and I thought it was perhaps from the seeming surge in real life activties ...but I know that isn't exactly true. I've been sleep walking through my friendships and other interactions. My eyes are turned in and my thoughts are tuned up.

And so I tune out life. I'll let the year go through it's growing pains embodied in spring and use the time to figure out why I'm having my own spurt of overwrought emotions and tight muscles.

A change in myself? An attempt to rework the way things have been or how they will become? What control do I really have over it all? Is this something that I can manage in hermitage?

Questions that beg meanginless answers. I say them to myself with the voice of a radio philosopher knowing the answers already or at least the answers that I can accept.

It doesn't matter. I can pretend to question what is going on in my head, my body and the world around me ...but it's just rhyme. The entire habit of secluding myself from the world for the chance to think is indictive of something I would think..

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