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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Jul 30, 2005 18:06:29 GMT -5
Shhhhhhh! You weren't supposed to know!! (grins)
ENTRY ELEVEN
Whoops. Almost put an italic tag on the end.
Hi, it's me...again...surprised? Reporting in from the last few days I'll be able to call vacation for a long while, I imagine. My new job starts Tuesday. It's a book bindery type place...really big...I got these steel-toed shoes because I had to, and I don't mind, because they're l33t...but I'll be doing shift work...ugh. Oh, well. It pays all right for this area. And I'll be working up some money, anyway. That's what counts.
I'm still brain-dead from the bus ride back home. Bus was packed full until the Saskatoon depot, and I was sitting beside this guy Nigel who was sort of talkative, and at least kept me awake during the daylight hours so I could half drop off while we were travelling through the night. Nice northern lights...the brightest I've ever seen. That was at about one in the morning. They didn't last long, though. But yeah...the ride was from 1:30 in the afternoon to 9:30 the next morning. Intermittent coffee/smoke breaks. And almost the entire busload smoked! They all came back in with that smell clinging to them... Why is smoking such a wide-spread thing? I'm still certain I'll never understand the fascination or apparent coolness of sucking toxic fumes into one's lungs. Meh. At least I finished That Hideous Strength. C. S. Lewis r0x0rs.
Verily.
So anyway. Prior to the bus trip, Jandalf was taking up space, giving siblings shoulder-rides, and making fishes. The water's a lot softer at Tiana's place. Ooh, and we went to see RotS at the theatre in costume, as mentioned in her journal. Heh heh. The ticket guy took one look at us and told us we were a couple of months late for the premiere. And Adrienne had much fun drinking Yoda's brains.
I was tempted to become Blue here. But then that would clash, because I'm already masquerading as Shadow, and I can't very well be them both, because that just would not work. Nope. Not at all. I think I shall just leave Blue to YC.
The above paragraph won't make any sense to anyone but Tiana, the real Shadow, and myself...
My hair smells like conditioner. That would make sense, wouldn't it?
I think I need something to eat. I might still have those M&Ms kicking around, left over from the bus ride...ooh, but first our Word.
WoC: teliferous. Meaning bearing darts or missiles. Its origins come from the years 1656 -1658. NINJA WIZARDS ARE GENERALLY TELIFEROUS!!!
Jandalf out.
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Post by Tiana, eh? on Jul 30, 2005 18:10:57 GMT -5
(grins) So's Gaheris.
Nah, you can't become Blue here. And I can't become Marien. And stuff.
And don't worry, you didn't take up THAT much space. I mean, you're tall and slender. Now if you were short, you'd take up space... (grins) And I need people to kill once in a while.
(points up) LOOK, I DIDN'T KILL JANDALF WHEN SHE WAS AT MY HOUSE!! SEE! SEE!
Snrk.
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Post by Caffeinerush on Jul 30, 2005 19:45:47 GMT -5
She's the victim of identity theft! Tiana revive her!
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Aug 13, 2005 13:59:29 GMT -5
AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!! I'VE BEEN VICTIMISED!!! (cackles madly) ENTRY TWELVEAnyway. I thought, since I've already spent two weeks at the new job, it warranted a journal entry. Actually, I was pondering whether I should have entered something in after the first day. But then, the first day sucked, as first days often will. So I got stuck with feeding the hardcover machine all by my lone self for seven hours. So I got a mild asthma attack from the stress compounded by the dust. I got over it. At least I wasn't sore the next day. It was nice, however, that the August long weekend preceded my first week. Because that meant I only had to work Tuesday to Thursday, starting off. W00t! Since it was the evening shift I've been working for the past two weeks, Friday is off. As are my sleep patterns. Evening shift means you're there from 2 pm to midnight. First break is at 5, for twenty minutes. Supper. Second break is at 8 for ten minutes, and there's a third break for ten at 10:00. Phew. Thank Varda for breaks. And if the people there weren't so great to have around, I'd go ballistic. Oh, yes. My shoes are still cool. Compliments on them, even. My supervisor and most of my coworkers have this great sense of humour, and fairly good wit, so it keeps things interesting. There's another bonus about working at a book bindery. All the books that don't make it through inspection (dubbed "spoils") are piled up and later sent to the baler for recycling. A book is a spoil if there's so much as a folded/slightly torn endsheet, a bit of glue on the end of the spine, etc. And since the company can't send out these spoils for sale, they're worthless except for recycling. So when an even slightly interesting book comes around, I can snag a spoil, put it to sit in my locker until the book comes out for sale, get it signed out by Mr. Head Honcho, and it's mine. My own. My precioussss... Morning shift starts this Monday. That's 6 am to 2 pm. Monday to Friday. Ergh. I am most assuredly not a morning person. But at least I'll have most of the afternoon and evening to waste with my own junk then. I've done book inspection (checking for spoils), feeding, collating, glue stripping, more inspection, more feeding, yet more inspection, sitting around with nothing to do for hours and braiding two feet of thread in the meantime, even more inspection, loading the web binder, EVEN more inspection... Mm-hmm. But Monday's payday. $644 coming my way. Before deductions. WoC: omniregency, which means universal rulership and/or a state of complete authority. SOON...YES...SOON I WILL MAKE MILLIONS, AND I SHALL HAVE OMNIREGENCY!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! ...Before deductions. Jandalf out.
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Post by Dûncariel is Dead. on Aug 14, 2005 19:45:56 GMT -5
I want your job. Makes mine sound... well.... like working in a Copy Shoppe (notice the two ps... pbbbtth)
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Sept 15, 2005 16:03:06 GMT -5
Heh...well...I don't know...I'm burning almost $200 a month on gas. That is in Canadian dollars, and not US, but still... (starts crying) I need to get a job in town here. THE GAS STATIONS DEMAND MY FIRSTBORN IN PAYMENT, BUT I HAVE NO FIRSTBORN TO GIVE!
Anyway.
LUCKY ENTRY THIRTEEN
The members here seem to be going on about essays lately, and Jandalf couldn't think of an interesting journal post, so she's going to try and find an essay she wrote last year that might still be saved here somewhere...
*TEN MINUTES LATER*
Ooh. My critical analysis essay. Except Mrs. T didn't mind that time around whether it looked outline-ish or not. Hah! I laugh! I got a pretty decent mark, but I still mock it!
(is exhausted all over again by merely looking at it) The pain. That was one of the few uglier moments of that literature course. But I still love the poem:
Okay, now I feel better. (grins)
Papercuts directly on the knuckle are nasty.
Did you guys know that Google is the hacking tool to use at the moment? Wild. At least most of it's hacking, and not cracking. Grr.
WoC: galeanthropy, which is the belief that one is a cat.
Meow.
Jandalf out.
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Sept 21, 2005 17:13:21 GMT -5
ENTRY FOURTEEN
Like so many other dreams, I couldn’t possibly remember where it started, or how. Maybe the events in dreams occur all at once and it’s up to our minds to pick things out in chronological order. And I don’t mind saying, that’s extremely difficult.
The earliest point I remember is coming out of our car in the middle of a city, which seemed to be more road and parking lot than it did of anything else. The roads swooped off into the distance in weird gravity-defying curves, and the parking lots looked anything but level, even though they were smooth.
I came out of the car along with two others, who might have been Mom and CR, but who could also have been two of my friends; I’m not sure which. I got the sense that I was on a parole of some sort, though I knew I had committed no crime for this. But that was somewhat irrelevant, as the place I was on parole from was not the average kind of prison, more like a mental hospital.
I was being rather eccentric, anyway, and suddenly I was back in this mental prison. I was lying on a small hard cot that was just barely soft enough to be considered a bed, with a little pillow and a thick white blanket, both of which had the same characteristic as the bed. There was less than a foot’s room on either side of the cot, the surface of which was at least three feet off the ground. Curtains hung on either side of the bed, a very offensively inoffensive colour, obviously meant to be calming. I can’t remember what colour they were, though; either a light yellow or blue. A solid wall was at the head of the cot, and at my feet was a very mysterious curtain. It seemed to be hanging above my midsection so that the bottom rested in folds on my stomach, but at the same time it was hanging a foot or so beyond my feet. It shimmered like there was some sort of force field interwoven in it, and a blowdryer of all things was fastened just above the top, where it fanned hot air into a strange down-hanging tube periodically. I was given the impression that the hot air being forced down this tube was to help my heart to keep beating, to force away the residue or whatever, so that I might keep living. This was a total mystery, as the tube didn’t in any way connect with my body.
We live in a four-dimensional world, with length, width, height, and time; I think this world, or even the very worlds of dreams, might be five-dimensional, or a number even greater. Or maybe I just think that that might explain the weird stuff of dreams. Anyway…
I knew I had been detained in this cot before, and I knew before me, someone else had, and had met a rather ignominious fate before I took up my forced residency here. The bed reeked of terror and the mystery of death; it wouldn’t have given the most exhausted or oblivious person a restful night of sleep.
Then my dream jumped forward again; I was walking around town, and somehow everyone who saw me knew I had been in that dreaded mental prison, and wanted nothing to do with me for fear something terrible might happen to them at my hands. But I knew I was fine; I still behaved a little erratically, but I was mentally stable for all that.
Suddenly I was standing in a restaurant that was painted a grayish navy blue, and several people were sitting at a table before me. Though I didn’t recognize them, they knew me, and I got the impression that they were members of my very extended family, like my mom’s aunt’s second cousin or something equally obscurely ridiculous.
They noticed me, and the older lady sitting at the corner farthest from me asked me in a painfully slow voice if I would like to join them and eat.
I replied quickly with “big words”, telling her I was most assuredly not stupid and that yes, I was hungry.
Though she had asked me to join them, I could tell she and the rest of them were a bit uneasy at my presence.
The dream got kind of unintelligible at this point; my focus was jumping everywhere. I remember a closet at the restaurant, and looking inside it with a strange man pointing in, telling me something.
Suddenly my perspective jumped to third-person, and I saw a man lying in the same cot as I had in that mental prison. He was bordering on emaciated, although he looked more wiry than just skeletal. His dark eyes flashed, and his near-black brow-length mop of hair was in a wild disarray. I could sense the intelligence in him, that people were detaining him here because they were jealous of his genius, more than afraid of his instability, which seemed to be minimal anyway. His whole posturing, even though he was lying down, spoke of his feelings of complete injustice and his rage at being kept here when he could be living, could be doing something productive.
For all his intelligence, I saw he carried a certain amount of blindness as well, as if his genius was present but could not penetrate the curtained cell he was in.
It was opened, and he was taken out as an object of humiliation to the same restaurant I had been in, which was adjacent to the mental prison.
The overlord of the mental prison was there, eating at his own table while attendants busily fussed around him. He seemed to be very complacent about his entire life, and indifferent to the lives around him.
The other man was dragged in and set to watch the overlord eat while the latter smirked at him through caked food all over his face. His messy eating habits seemed to say, “Look at how much food I have, and how little you have in comparison. Therefore I am better than you.” (In hindsight, he was an awful lot like Denethor’s evil twin…)
The man kept raging, mostly at the life the overlord was making him live.
My perspective was now both third-person and first-person; I saw everything from the man’s point of view and everyone else’s (other than the overlord) simultaneously.
The man was seized by a sudden burst of energy, and he made a running leap for the overlord. I could tell he was moving very quickly; his hair moved out straight behind his head, and his eyes began watering at the wind that was pushed into them.
Then I saw where his indescribably long leap was taking him. He was not aiming for the overlord; his feet were planted onto the head of a lurking assassin that was coming down from the ceiling, knives drawn, ready to kill the overlord. The assassin was taken by surprise, and I am fairly sure his head was crushed against the wall by the overwhelming force of the man’s jump.
The overlord was anything but grateful for his rescue, though, and stood up in a fury. I’m not sure what happened to the man after that, whether he was untouched or one of the assassin’s knives killed him, but I saw him no more.
I think there was more to this dream than I have put down here, but I can’t recall any more events beyond an indefinable haze of colour and emotion.
WoC: barathrum, which is an abyss, or an insatiable person.
Jether's stomach determines him to be a barathrum.
Jandalf out.
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Sept 24, 2005 16:13:47 GMT -5
ENTRY THE FIFTEENTHWe picked grapes. ...And a leaf. Heh heh. But those are our grapes from the backyard, yesss... Mom, CR and I went out to the harvest around noon today, and they turned out surprisingly well this year. Some of them were fairly big, and many were nice and sweet...mmmmmmm. I love them grapes. But I want tamales, too. Perhaps the media section would be the place to post this, but this is my journal, anyways. Seeing it now in a smaller version, I can spot some things I'll be correcting before I head over to a friend's to scan it in... Hmm. Upon yet another critical examination... More stuff to fix. Hah. Hey guys, just curious...how are gas prices in the States at the moment (especially the southern ones)? They've risen to $1.70 per litre in Winnipeg, I've heard, and it's apparently only a matter of time before it creeps into the smaller communities. Ergh. JANDALF NOT HAPPY!! MUST...SMASH!!! WoC: verbile, which refers to one whose mental processes are stimulated by words. (grins) Guess who! Jandalf out.
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Sept 30, 2005 21:02:03 GMT -5
ENTRY SIXTEEN
Evening shift means I have even less life than usual. Which isn't much. So I'll be posting a lot less frequently while I'm on evenings.
In the meantime, I'm praying I'll be able to land that graphic design opening here in town...or at least something local...
Yarr!! I don't feel like saying anything more! Hah!
WoC: latrocinate, which is to engage in highway robbery. (points to gas station) 'Nuff said. Yes, I'm still peeved...heh.
Jandalf out.
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Oct 5, 2005 15:14:26 GMT -5
ENTRY SEVENTEENAbysmal. That's a lovely word for it today. Last week I was walking around outside in a tank top, and then all of a sudden last night... Old Man Winter decides to hobble in and make an early debut. Okay, so perhaps it's not farfetchedly (is that a word? Hmm...oh well) early for Canada, and perhaps it doesn't LOOK that abysmal, but it's so slushy on the highways that the radio stations are calling in warnings. Lots of ditch-divers, and I've heard a few semis have slipped right off the roads as well. So that's why I'm not at work right now, because it's a half-hour drive on those highways to get there. Besides which, my shift ends at midnight, which would mean we'd be driving back home on frozen slush. In the dark. I know very well how that can end: not well. So between power flickers and looking up details on NaNoWriMo, I've been wandering around the house, talking to the birds as well as myself, eating, strumming randomly on the guitar, and reminiscing about Sunday. Verbatim, here's a word a friend of mine at church gave me: He had written it down on this little piece of paper about two weeks previously, and only gave it to me last Sunday. Which was the exact day I needed to read it, no doubt, as I broke down in tears before even getting through the first two sentences. (grins) And though he got the word from God specifically for me then, I thought it was a very good one to share, and to perhaps encourage others with as well. Oh, yes, and I officially have a new nickname. A couple of the guys my age at work decided I was the Autumn-Day Strangler. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? WoC: turophile, which is a cheese lover. When it comes to jalapeño havarti or writing crappy fiction, you bet. (cackles madly) Sincerely, Jandalf the Autumn-Day Strangler
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Post by Skye Muad'Dib on Oct 5, 2005 15:18:31 GMT -5
It's so hot here, we were like, "It's going to be 95 degrees!" And we were happy about it.
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Post by Tiana, eh? on Oct 19, 2005 2:38:59 GMT -5
>< You never posted the Union Station picture on YC. Oh, well, it's forgivable, I suppose... I suppose I need to get a better picture of Ariane for that scene. Heck, we need to finish that scene...
If you were interested, gas prices here in Vegreville-ish area are about $.95.3 - $.93.7 - $.99.7 $1.01 a liter. That's the prices I've seen locallyish. I think. (grumbles) But 1.75 is RIDICULOUS...
Ooh. And you have more snow than us... snrk. No snow on the ground here... it melted.
That posted dream... (odd expression) It was creepy in a way. For a moment your character within reminded me of Elachi. ^_^ (tired) (TOO tired)
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Oct 27, 2005 1:31:44 GMT -5
Whoops. Union Station. Along with a couple of other things I remembered that I forgot. Heh...though that sketch isn't finished yet, but perhaps I'll clean it up and just get everything scanned in with one trip to the coffee house. ENTRY EIGHTEENI never used to think managers and supervisors were dumb. I still don't think they're all stupid. But I'm beginning to change my mind about some of them... You know the Dilbert comic strip? The comic strip I adore with all my heart? Oh, I feel that. Heh heh heh... Heeheeheeheehee... (dies painfully) These comics are twice as good now that I can begin to appreciate them. And...YAYNESS!! Gas is down to 95.9! Party time! So Monday was interesting (as Tiana can tell you), because the girl I carpool with had to take care of some urgent business. Instead of coming in to work at 2 pm, we got there at 8. And instead of staying until 12 am, we stayed until 2. Then Tuesday was a twelve-hour shift to make up for the hours. We were going to pull another twelve-hour today, but she got sick and headed home early, so I caught a ride with someone else and came home at the regular time. There are still two hours to make up for...perhaps I can convince the managers to use my banked hours for that. ...Snort. They wanted me to make up time instead of using six of my banked hours. Consider this: they pay me for making up time, and they don't pay me for banked hours. They're actually losing money this way. Does this make sense to anyone? At all? Wow. This is such a sad thing. I talk about work for almost my entire journal entry. Sigh...must not slip...must not continually talk about stickering covers and collating calendars and checking books and feeding machines... ...Then my journal entry would be really short, wouldn't it? WoC: gnathonise, which means to flatter. I can tell you something I won't be doing. Heh heh heh. Jandalf out.
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Post by Tiana, eh? on Oct 27, 2005 21:07:52 GMT -5
Lowest I've seen here was 88.8. So happy... and locally it's at 95, I think. Mmm... nice. (grins) Now all I need to do it see it get back down to 63.9!! Sheesh...
We should consider finishing the Union Station scene. And figuring out where we're going from there, because it's completely editing canon, since the GS was deleted...
You know what. The banked hours issue makes sense to me BECAUSE... they still get the work out of you (and you're probably one of their better workers. [/ test of gnathonizing] ) even if they have to pay you.
Snrk.
Thanks for the car, Master... now I just have to drive it up the wall...
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Nov 1, 2005 2:18:00 GMT -5
Heh...much fiddling with canon to be done... (grins) And I'm glad you liked the car.
ENTRY NINETEEN
I just noticed I italicised my last journal's title. (cackles)
GUESS WHAT, FOLKS? IT'S NOVEMBER!!
THAT MEANS NOVELLING!!
Novelling leads to plotting. Plotting leads to sleep deprivation. Sleep deprivation...leads to insanity.
(crazed grin)
jandalfnovels.blogspot.com
WoC: solennial, which means occurring annually.
Huzzah for National Novel Writing Month!
Jandalf out. And about.
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Nov 4, 2005 4:52:38 GMT -5
ENTRY TWENTY
Job interview for graphic design position on Thursday at 3:00. Please-oh-please-oh-please...
That is all.
(falls asleep)
WoC: apanthropinization, which is withdrawal from human concerns and/or the human world.
Oh, how I wish.
Jandalf out. (thud)
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Nov 6, 2005 1:05:49 GMT -5
ENTRY TWENTY-ONE
Can't.
People are biting.
Shift work is like a stab to the metabolism.
I'm going to take some sleeping pills.
Strange, how when one wants some sympathy the most, one can't stand the thought of taking any pity.
The idea of building a small plane and flying up to live somewhere remote in Nunavut all on my own sounds rather ideal. Perhaps without internet, where I get ideas like signing up for forums and writing novels. Not good for the health.
Do sleeping pills do anything to the brain? Do they make one feel fluff-happy? Depressed? Or just hazed? I guess I'll find out.
I'm allergic to lavender-scented relaxant-whatever-stuff. I just found that out at my aunt's birthday party/coffee thing tonight. Gravol helped, though. Good thing I took my puffer with me. Was it really the lavender? Or was it something else mixed in with it?
I hope I get the graphic design position. I have no idea what I'm going to be like at the end of the year if I have to keep up the shift work. It's been just over three months and already I'm almost constantly getting colds, always tired, hardly hungry. Apparently I look pale, which is scary, because I didn't know I could get much paler than I already was. I never thought I'd appreciate routine and consistent scheduling as much as I do now, however I lack it. At least my heart isn't doing that funny skipping thing anymore.
I finished the RotS novelisation, even though I shouldn't have, on account of everything else I've got to do at home. It was amazing. One of the best books I've ever read. Inspiration, at least. I think I really do like it better than the movie.
I'll have to read the Terry Pratchett one in December, though. Must fill my daily word quota. Feels like I'm falling behind. Musn't drink coffee. Bad. More sleep loss. Perhaps I'll get six hours tonight. That would be nice. Then perhaps my brain will mend a little. I'm too clumsy for my own good while I'm awake, shaking, spilling things all over the place. My absentmindedness has reached an entirely new level; I'm surprised I even remembered we have church tomorrow. Almost didn't remember homegroup will be on Tuesday. Don't know if I'll go. Don't know if I'll be able to afford the loss of a few hours' sleep. Then again, I wouldn't be asleep for those few hours, anyway.
It's not as if there's this perfect hell around me or anything. It's more like a circulating hell of perfection.
I hope no one reads this. Typing feels more fluid to get things out sometimes. And this journal was already established. It feels secure, even if it really isn't. I just finally needed to get some of this out. Before it did something nasty. I don't know. I've only ever exploded once. And I don't want to do it again.
WoC: morsicant, which is producing the sensation of repeated biting or pricking. Something I'd like to get away from.
Jandalf out.
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Nov 6, 2005 11:18:06 GMT -5
Ugh. Disregard previous post. This is what happens when I drug myself silly: things start surfacing that shouldn't ever be allowed to.
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Nov 12, 2005 8:59:43 GMT -5
ENTRY TWENTY-TWO
I should be writing.
I got up at 6:30, and what did I do until now? Burned time. And finished slapping together a siggie. And that's it. Sigh...terrible, terrible me. One of the worst procrastinators I know. I should be writing, and I don't mean in this journal. I'm a few thousand words behind for me novel. Oh, well, at least there's a write-in today. I suspect I'll be able to make some good headway there. I'm rather blown away by the fact that there were other people doing NaNoWriMo at all in this community...
Well, the job interview went well, methinks. I'll see what the results shall be if/when they call. And hopefully they will. It'll probably be soon...I got the impression they wanted to hire ASAP...
WoC: ponask, which is to cook game by spitting and roasting it.
Shrek ponasks rats!
Jandalf out.
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Post by Jandalf on Toast on Nov 13, 2005 15:03:32 GMT -5
ENTRY TWENTY-TWO
I should still be writing. But the other computer is dead. The one I do graphics on. The one I upload the writing from my pocket PC on. The one that's faster than this crappy old Windows 98 machine. Dead. It isn't certain at the moment whether all the files have been wiped or not. Thank Varda I posted my NaNoWriMo chapters on my blog regularly, because with this sudden death of the PC I'm only short 3000 words or so. If I can't retrieve them, I'll make a filler and rewrite the section after the month is over.
But all the picture files. All my archived images, all the old siggies that were either made by me or others, all the digital pics, even the anime project I had nearly finished for Joan's friend...gone? Dunno yet...
Anyway. It's obvious I'm continually losing time to spend online, and at this rate I might be fading away from some of my regular sites, ME:I possibly included, within the year. I don't really want to think about that, but there it is. It's rather depressing. Nothing good lasts forever, but I'm already starting to slide off, just like that happy-go-lucky image I used to favour so much.
Maybe I could start a thread for the members here who have finished secondary school. T3h old on3z. Heck, I'm not even living independently yet, and adult life has already bitten a chunk out of me. And now my old inner procrastinating self is coming out again as my motivation level starts to slide dramatically. It feels like I'm stuck in the first part of Ecclesiastes. And I can't even remember if I spelled that right or not. I don't really care if I didn't. It looks sort of right, so there you have it.
Responsibility? I'm still stuck on it, I suppose, and I'm doing what I can. But maybe the coming change this time will be too much for that. Who knows.
I think I know why I've been feeling this way. All throughout school, I had something of a solitary nature, and I still do. I never realised how much I really liked those bits of socialisation that I did fit in, though, and now that seeing my high-school friends regularly has been finished, I'm left completely to myself, like a reversal back to the junior high days. On account of my shift work, I can't even manage to attend one of my church's homegroups regularly, and thus practically the only settings I'm getting a reliable intimate connection in is at home and online. Work isn't enough. My co-workers are great, sure, but there isn't that infallible connection. I thought I had felt it online here, too, but it seems as if it's beginning to fade away likewise. Not to say I don't feel comfortable here or anything, but it's like I'm slowly turning into a stranger. Even at home now, because what with all this, I'm starting to automatically withdraw again.
Phew. Journals are valuable things. Sometimes without ranting like that on paper or on the computer, I have no idea what my issue actually is. Sort of like my fingers are my own personal counsellors or something. Snrk.
That all in mind... I'm not necessarily looking forward to the possibility of getting that graphic design job for the change in work, nor for the change in pay, nor for the change in location. It's getting that established routine back again; regular hours means I can commit. I can commit to homegroup and other group activities again, and perhaps regain some of that tightly-knit intimacy I've been missing so much.
I really, really hope it's what God wants to happen. Because it's definitely what I want to happen, and I hope this desire of mine was planted by him for the purpose of getting back to it all.
WoC: kexy, which is dry/brittle/withered.
Kexy humour?
Peanut kexy?
Kexy Yoda.
Jandalf out.
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