Saturday, August 25, 2007

Have you had your daily dose of irritation?

If not, simply follow this link!
It's guaranteed to leave you pulling your hair out!
The object is just to get to the next screen. Number one? Brain-dead easy. Number two? requires a few neurotransmitters to die. Number 3? with a twist of creativity, you're on your way. Number 4? Get lucky or just nit-pick. Number 5? Here's where the sickness begins.
They're so addictive, but God they get hard! It's very easy to cheat, and it ruins the game, so don't.
Just, keep trying.

Friday, August 17, 2007

More gut-wrenching fun!

1. Joseph was in a car accident today.
2. I discovered 6 more grey hairs.
These events may seem unrelated, but they are not.

He's fine. His car is honestly not that bad, bumper may need replacing, but, hopefully it won't be too bad.

My sister graciously loaned me her car so I could go see him (sometimes you just gotta hold someone, huh?) and I mostly spent the day running around like a chicken with my head cut off.

I really hate cars.

"Everything's gonna be alright, yes, rock-a-bye, Rock-a-bye."

Monday, August 13, 2007

Day two of the Second Chronical of the Epic Tales of Chelle the (not only) Supermarket Security Chick

I've had 6 hours of constantly interrupted sleep this morning, and I'm feeling pretty damn good.
I think I'm really going to like this job. The first time I wrote "Security Supervisor" instead of "Security Officer" gave me a chill I had not experienced since finding half of something in my lettuce. In a good way, of course.

The day itself was marked by coffee with my good friend Toban, espousing how confusing relationships are. we finished off with Ice cream. It doesn't make relationships less confusing, but it certainly feels great.

This site is less gratifying then the other site, in that there is less feedback (in the form of meat-filled baskets abandoned instead of stolen, although if they were stolen, how would I know? Another perk.), but it is more relaxing. My tinny radio filters through the pipe-filled front room.

Unfortunatly, a lot of it is waiting. When I wait, I think. When I think, I worry. When I worry, I make plans. When I make these plans, bad things occur.
I've brought my chinese book in the hopes of distracting my monkey brain long enough for it not to stress.
Wish me luck, all.

Second Chronical of the Epic tales of Chelle the (not only) Supermarket Security chick!

So I've napped twenty minutes in the desperate hope of convincing my body or brain that it is now morning, that I'm not tired at all, that this is a normal day. I think the blackness around my head confuses it, but otherwise, it's duped.
I've fooled my body.
I'm not sure this makes me happy or not.

Animethon has passed this weekend. The chaos, excitement, and hope of it makes me desperatly want to be a part, and I think I annoy more then a few people in my attempt to assist. I vow to volunteer (or even staff) next year.

I've biked to work, 2 in the morning, on the empty, soothing, road. Somehow, the glee of conquering the angry asphalt that eat tires and spits out fumes wakes me. It might be the cold. By the time I hit work, I'm feeling cocky.
The officer I'm replacing will work again at the end of my shift, so he grabs his well-loved star wars pillow and heads for the quiet nurse's office. He's a good man. I like him.

It's just me and the radio, the empty foyay making my typing loud enough to sound responsible, maybe even legitimate? I'd taken my contacts out for an hour or two previously to this, but now they scratch, and there's a muscle between my shoulder blades that won't unclench.

Despite all this, I'm quite euphoric. Might be the coffee, might be the memory of the weekend my boyfriend and I spent, which could have easily proven disasterous, but seems to have worked out, in the weird way our things seem to resolve, leaving me feeling hopeful, and sated.

I still recall the cotton hakima pants and top that my friend lent me, to emulate Kikyo from "Inuyasha", an anime I enjoy. Channeling Kikyo, I felt bolder. Perhaps it was the lengthy black wig, covering my face (anonymity is a friend to many), or the knowledge that the outfit was worn by so many before in history, connecting the motions I make to the long-ago tales, the yellow,worn, pages of antiquity, which always seem so insubstantial; Whatever the cause, I am acutely aware of the steps I take forward in my life. This awareness makes it difficult to not run, since charging headlong is not the best idea for now, when caution, patience, and sense are my closest friends.
Anyway, I can learn.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Life turns

I've started a new job as night supervisor with G4 Security. I'm really excited about it, but well, I'm sort of weary.
Is this all there is to life?
I've been denied the military.
My eyesight may rule me out from police service.
How can I make a difference?

I find the idea of continuing this strange path for years and years incredibly tiring. Where can I find some meaning in this world?
there may only ever be the meaning I put into it, but this depresses me. Does nothing really matter? Or does it only matter enough? Is that enough? Will anything ever be enough?

Dark space open in front of me. For the first time, my path is not clear. How often do I have to kick open doors to try and find a new path? Doors that close so firm in my face.