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2001-09-27 I still don't want to write. But since even The Boyfriend says he's been checking for updates this week, I guess I ought to say something, what with all this extra time I've got. Though you might not like what I've got to say. My mother called yesterday to chat, saying that I sounded "down" the other day on the phone. I don't think I sounded any more "up" yesterday either. I'm really not so bad off; I'm just...numb. Last night the Boyfriend wanted to know what I was doing today so that I didn't end up feeling like I'd wasted the whole of my vacation time. I smiled thinly at him. Too late for that, I thought. I've spent my time playing video games and surfing the Web, both great, mindless, numbing behaviors. At least numb is better than hurt, isn't it? I don't think he likes that answer either. Feels like I'm full of answers that people don't like lately. On rereading this, apparently I live to make other people suffer with me, too. The nagging question of the past week: What do I want to do? I don't know. I don't feel like doing anything, but I feel like a waste of skin if I don't do anything. That's frustrating to those around me, innit? I can see the Boyfriend's face twitching already. Ooo-kay...let's ask a related question, and see if that stimulates a response: "What do I have to do?" A couple of chores; some annoying tasks I dislike; a few "Busman's Holiday" Website projects; the reorganization of my things, and the disposal of a lot of crap in my house; and several tasks that involve putting on clothes and dealing with humans. Yuck, yuck, yuck, Y-U-C-K. I also know soon the Boyfriend is going to make good on his threat to pin me down and make me answer the question, "Where I want to be in five years?" Lately I can barely decide to get dressed in the I'm almost-but-not-quite looking forward to going back to work. At least its routine. At least it's direction. But it won't be the same. Big changes have happened; very good friends have been laid off and will be gone by the time I return, the department is being restructured, and we're moving to a new building shortly afterwards. Yes, this is still on my mind, even after two and half weeks. I half-wish I had my Blackberry to spy on work email and get a handle on what was happening there. Shit. The day is half over already and I must leave the house. I left the house Tuesday and had lunch and coffee with an old friend of mine. We sat outside of the Cafe Soma and watched people drive badly. Making left turns from the right lane, running the light, cutting left turns through two lanes of oncoming traffic. I forget that a lot of people work in my neighborhood. For some reason I noted a number of pedestrians carrying small American flags; they were just now getting them? Were stores here sold out until now? Not being one to display the flag anyway, I wouldn't know. Someone was honking repeatedly and excessively in a car outside my window. It stopped, and I yelled out to the Roommate, "Hey, why don't you honk some more?" They did. It was funny. I guess you had to be there. If you need proof that we're entering the Endtimes, I have been thinking, of all things, about breaking down and getting...a cell phone. I fear that I'm doing it for bad reasons, which I would rather not discuss, thanks. Don't get me wrong, though; it frightens me to even consider it. I'll be certain to let you all know if I do, so you can make peace with your personal deities, whoever they may be. OK, I suppose the only way to defeat the numbness is to face it headlong. That probably involves changing out of my bathrobe and doing the dumb things I have to do. Going out into the big blue room and dealing with...people. Yuck.
2003-03-29 - Moving Notice |
