Please, why don't you tell us about yourself?
Certainly, I don't like crowds. I really don't like crowds. I first discovered this during my last year of middle school, but it was only a mild issue that I attributed ot shyness. I have come to find as time goes on that crowds bother me more and more. They make me feel helpless; a system of slightly controlled chaos where any outcome is both possibly and to a degree likely. The more people whose way I have to step in or out of the more nervous I become, until if you leave me in a crowded room alone for too long, I will generally suffer a bout of sweaty, shaky, nervousness.
I only mention this because I just took a friend to Trader Joe's in downtown. After ten minutes inside my hands were shaking. So I left, and the parking lot was even crazier with a shit ton of people driving around and honking. Some lady noticed that I was sitting in my car and started flashing her brights at me until I conceeded my space for fear of epilepsy. What was depressing was that while she was flashing at me, the car next to me left and she still kept signaling at me. So I backed up, moved one space over and she pulled into my old spot apparent satisfied.
I was terrified.
Certainly, I don't like crowds. I really don't like crowds. I first discovered this during my last year of middle school, but it was only a mild issue that I attributed ot shyness. I have come to find as time goes on that crowds bother me more and more. They make me feel helpless; a system of slightly controlled chaos where any outcome is both possibly and to a degree likely. The more people whose way I have to step in or out of the more nervous I become, until if you leave me in a crowded room alone for too long, I will generally suffer a bout of sweaty, shaky, nervousness.
I only mention this because I just took a friend to Trader Joe's in downtown. After ten minutes inside my hands were shaking. So I left, and the parking lot was even crazier with a shit ton of people driving around and honking. Some lady noticed that I was sitting in my car and started flashing her brights at me until I conceeded my space for fear of epilepsy. What was depressing was that while she was flashing at me, the car next to me left and she still kept signaling at me. So I backed up, moved one space over and she pulled into my old spot apparent satisfied.
I was terrified.
It's time to find new housing.
I have a number of options, but a friend I met last semester has implanted an amazing idea in my head: GARAGE. Oh jesus that'd be sweet.
I have a number of options, but a friend I met last semester has implanted an amazing idea in my head: GARAGE. Oh jesus that'd be sweet.
Have you ever come back to realize that the decisions you have made are wrong? That you are now no longer standing on a stable slope, and what lies ahead may be a scramble up a steep, slippery slope of which the bottom ends in certain death?
It's time to start climbing again.
It's time to get help. It's time to hold onto a rope and pull myself upward toward the ledge I've crept over many times. I've been living in extended metaphors the last few days, most of them completely and utterly depressing and disheartening; nonetheless, here is one more:
It's time to learn how to walk, one step at a time. It's not something that can be done easily or quickly; rather it is a task that will take a lot of time: training specific muscles, watching my step, balancing myself carefully, and most importantly, grasping for the rails when I sense another fall.
I'm scared again, scared of things I never thought I'd fear, and it's my own god damn fault.
It's time to start climbing again.
It's time to get help. It's time to hold onto a rope and pull myself upward toward the ledge I've crept over many times. I've been living in extended metaphors the last few days, most of them completely and utterly depressing and disheartening; nonetheless, here is one more:
It's time to learn how to walk, one step at a time. It's not something that can be done easily or quickly; rather it is a task that will take a lot of time: training specific muscles, watching my step, balancing myself carefully, and most importantly, grasping for the rails when I sense another fall.
I'm scared again, scared of things I never thought I'd fear, and it's my own god damn fault.
I just saw the SG episode of CSI.
Um... in the future let's avoid the ridiculous moments of sheer advertising written into the script and propeled by high-school commerical editing. It was pretty fucking stupid. But, IMHO CSI:NY sort of sucked pretty bad in the first place.
On a very different note, I find the fact that Amina has a prosthetic leg very cool.
Um... in the future let's avoid the ridiculous moments of sheer advertising written into the script and propeled by high-school commerical editing. It was pretty fucking stupid. But, IMHO CSI:NY sort of sucked pretty bad in the first place.
On a very different note, I find the fact that Amina has a prosthetic leg very cool.
I got home from Incubus a little while ago, and it has clearly shot out my miind.... I'm having difficulty relating some thought I had about an hour ago.
Shit.
Well hey, my car moved to a new home today. She has since removed herself from the safety of the garage and now sits out in the cold and rain. But I gave her both a sweater and a rain slick, so she should be warm and dry and ready to run when I see her next.
Shit.
A month of rather blissful break is about to end. Goodbye friends, I'll miss you all.
Shit.
Well hey, my car moved to a new home today. She has since removed herself from the safety of the garage and now sits out in the cold and rain. But I gave her both a sweater and a rain slick, so she should be warm and dry and ready to run when I see her next.
Shit.
A month of rather blissful break is about to end. Goodbye friends, I'll miss you all.
Sometimes I get the urge to walk up to people and tell them details of my life. This rather perverse desire includes people I do and don't know and things that are both obvious and deeply secret. If you are adept at logical puzzles, this means that at any given moment, I may or may not approach an individual whom I may or may not know and tell them something that may or may not be very revealing.
- I had so much sex today that I'm having trouble walking. -
See? I told you I do it sometimes. If only I had walked up to you first.
- I had so much sex today that I'm having trouble walking. -
See? I told you I do it sometimes. If only I had walked up to you first.
With the hopes and dreams of an entire generation of lost souls riding shotgun on our shoulders, I should only wish to welcome you into the New Year in the most appropriate way possible: Fucking.
While at the time of this writing the clock has not even passed the stroke of eleven, that is, at least, in Pacific Standard Time, I have personally planned, or at the very least imagined vividly what (who) I will be doing when the clock does in fact strike midnight tonight. I can only hope that you all will have the fortune to be engaging in a similar activity on the New Year. Whether it be with a long-time mate, long-time ex-mate, your wife, or even that girl you met about four minutes whose name you'll never remember for the life of you, I would prefer that you enter 2007 with a screaming, or at least mildly pleasant, orgasm - if only to insure that you got off to the right start.
For those of you who wish to lodge a complaint with the pun department: FUCK OFF.
All the fucking about aside, there is another reason that a new year stands as significant. No, not that you have to buy a new calendar (which I need to do); No, not that you need to remember the fact that it is 07 and not 06 when you date a paper of check; but that this is the time of (new) year in which you get to make absurd claims about what you will change in the upcoming days.
Let's be a little bit honest, if not whole-heartedly cynical: You've been at this for what, 19... 20... 25 years now? Just what the fuck are you suddenly going to about-face and change in your life? Bad habit? New habit? New bad habit? What? Why in the hell have we deluded ourselves for so many years thinking that we can change.
Likely, the answer is in your left hand if you're right handed and your right hand if you're left handed (Alcohol for the fucking retard in the back who missed that).
And despite my clearly clarvoiyant, omnipotent, heartless view of this sick tradition, I'm still dumb enough to make resolutions of my own this year. And it follows, my 2007 New Year's Resolutions, followed with the number of months, weeks or days it will take for me to live up to my name as a FAILURE.
1 (Physical): Begin each morning with 10 minutes of stretching. (2 weeks, 3 days)
2 (Physical): Exercise at least twice a week, preferably more (4 months, 2 weeks)
3 (Mental): Stop lying to people who love me (4 seconds).
I have tried all of these more than once, and never once have I kept with them. But hey what the hell, the long past margarita and more recent beer can still reasonably be blamed for the arrogance of lunacy.
Happy New Years to everyone. I can only imagine that everyone on this god damn website also resolved to post a New Year's blog, so I appologize for that one.
SPC
While at the time of this writing the clock has not even passed the stroke of eleven, that is, at least, in Pacific Standard Time, I have personally planned, or at the very least imagined vividly what (who) I will be doing when the clock does in fact strike midnight tonight. I can only hope that you all will have the fortune to be engaging in a similar activity on the New Year. Whether it be with a long-time mate, long-time ex-mate, your wife, or even that girl you met about four minutes whose name you'll never remember for the life of you, I would prefer that you enter 2007 with a screaming, or at least mildly pleasant, orgasm - if only to insure that you got off to the right start.
For those of you who wish to lodge a complaint with the pun department: FUCK OFF.
All the fucking about aside, there is another reason that a new year stands as significant. No, not that you have to buy a new calendar (which I need to do); No, not that you need to remember the fact that it is 07 and not 06 when you date a paper of check; but that this is the time of (new) year in which you get to make absurd claims about what you will change in the upcoming days.
Let's be a little bit honest, if not whole-heartedly cynical: You've been at this for what, 19... 20... 25 years now? Just what the fuck are you suddenly going to about-face and change in your life? Bad habit? New habit? New bad habit? What? Why in the hell have we deluded ourselves for so many years thinking that we can change.
Likely, the answer is in your left hand if you're right handed and your right hand if you're left handed (Alcohol for the fucking retard in the back who missed that).
And despite my clearly clarvoiyant, omnipotent, heartless view of this sick tradition, I'm still dumb enough to make resolutions of my own this year. And it follows, my 2007 New Year's Resolutions, followed with the number of months, weeks or days it will take for me to live up to my name as a FAILURE.
1 (Physical): Begin each morning with 10 minutes of stretching. (2 weeks, 3 days)
2 (Physical): Exercise at least twice a week, preferably more (4 months, 2 weeks)
3 (Mental): Stop lying to people who love me (4 seconds).
I have tried all of these more than once, and never once have I kept with them. But hey what the hell, the long past margarita and more recent beer can still reasonably be blamed for the arrogance of lunacy.
Happy New Years to everyone. I can only imagine that everyone on this god damn website also resolved to post a New Year's blog, so I appologize for that one.
SPC
My brother has Vicodin in this house.
I either want to:
1) Find it and take the whole bottle.
2) Put a knife (almost spelled that wrong, whoops) between my ribs.
3) Cry until tomorrow
To be perfectly frank, and slightly redundant for some of those that might be reading this, today has been a giant pile of shit. I got screamed at, screamed at other people, got left behind, rushed around in a hurry for no god damn reason, and with any luck pissed off every person that I saw today. With some degree of lust and vengeance, I have silently wished that I might have the chance to rape or kill some unsuspecting foe, if only to asauge my own my tattered ego by destructing another.
More likely than subject myself to a prison sentence I will continue to imagine how to hurt everyone I love, most especially myself.
Coming soon: Hate Letters for Christmas - a series of tales by SatansPetCat.
I either want to:
1) Find it and take the whole bottle.
2) Put a knife (almost spelled that wrong, whoops) between my ribs.
3) Cry until tomorrow
To be perfectly frank, and slightly redundant for some of those that might be reading this, today has been a giant pile of shit. I got screamed at, screamed at other people, got left behind, rushed around in a hurry for no god damn reason, and with any luck pissed off every person that I saw today. With some degree of lust and vengeance, I have silently wished that I might have the chance to rape or kill some unsuspecting foe, if only to asauge my own my tattered ego by destructing another.
More likely than subject myself to a prison sentence I will continue to imagine how to hurt everyone I love, most especially myself.
Coming soon: Hate Letters for Christmas - a series of tales by SatansPetCat.
This post is being written to you from a fresh copy of Windows Vista Enterprise. A REAL copy. Not a Beta or an RC1 or a bootleg, but a real, activated, updatable copy and it's fucking awesome.
Simplicity is in. Want to change something about your computer? Click the "Computer" button. Easy.
Most important, a level of Unix-ian security is finally present, including a gorgeous system that allows you to simultaneous be and not be the administrator of a system, thus necesitating your knowledge before something happens to your system. Furthermore, when anything accesses something that is beyond superficial the system STOPS. Fucking halts, darkens everything on the screen and bring up a window that essentially says: Something is trying to fuck with me, is it you? Therefore you have the option to reassure your computer, Yes, it's me, you'll be fine; or probably being surprised as it is at this point, click, No, what the fuck? Please don't.
Whether or not the benefits of these sytems will be seen by the end user, who is generally so blind as to hit other cars in the road and cite "not seeing them" as a valid excuse, remains to be seen. Will the average person understand running a program as an Administrator? While the function is only two clicks away (a vast improvement from CMD > Run As: user -a path; I doubt a person will see that an installation proceedure has generated a folder access error upon attempting to apply a patch and instinctively think, "Oh? Run as Administrator might fix that."
It comes down to a willingness to learn. The software is an impressive improvement. In my eyes OSX can shut the hell up now, because we're working on equal grounds now. I no longer feel as if the distinction of better or worse needs to be made, it's a matter of personal preference. If you like being spoon-fed by your system and are completely unwilling or unable or unwanting to use more advanced computing sorts of things, stick with OSX and be perfectly happy in knowing that you're in great hands. If the Mac aesthetic doesn't do it for you, or you still need more control over your system, or god forbid play games, it's time to upgrade...
Well as soon as you normal folk can get your hands on a copy.
Simplicity is in. Want to change something about your computer? Click the "Computer" button. Easy.
Most important, a level of Unix-ian security is finally present, including a gorgeous system that allows you to simultaneous be and not be the administrator of a system, thus necesitating your knowledge before something happens to your system. Furthermore, when anything accesses something that is beyond superficial the system STOPS. Fucking halts, darkens everything on the screen and bring up a window that essentially says: Something is trying to fuck with me, is it you? Therefore you have the option to reassure your computer, Yes, it's me, you'll be fine; or probably being surprised as it is at this point, click, No, what the fuck? Please don't.
Whether or not the benefits of these sytems will be seen by the end user, who is generally so blind as to hit other cars in the road and cite "not seeing them" as a valid excuse, remains to be seen. Will the average person understand running a program as an Administrator? While the function is only two clicks away (a vast improvement from CMD > Run As: user -a path; I doubt a person will see that an installation proceedure has generated a folder access error upon attempting to apply a patch and instinctively think, "Oh? Run as Administrator might fix that."
It comes down to a willingness to learn. The software is an impressive improvement. In my eyes OSX can shut the hell up now, because we're working on equal grounds now. I no longer feel as if the distinction of better or worse needs to be made, it's a matter of personal preference. If you like being spoon-fed by your system and are completely unwilling or unable or unwanting to use more advanced computing sorts of things, stick with OSX and be perfectly happy in knowing that you're in great hands. If the Mac aesthetic doesn't do it for you, or you still need more control over your system, or god forbid play games, it's time to upgrade...
Well as soon as you normal folk can get your hands on a copy.
