Saturday, June 30, 2012

At Last, Salvation...

I have a working computer!

It's my old backup, so it's slow as dogshit running uphill in Winter (I swear you can count to thirty between when you click the right mouse button, and when the actual right-click menu finally shows up on screen), but at least it works, and at least I have internet again.

I'm posting this from home, and that alone is enough to make me want to do the Dance of Joy.

Friday, June 29, 2012

Kickball - Week 10...

Half our team didn't even show up again this week, including our pitcher.  It was hot, humid, and buggy out there last night, and, unsurprisingly, we got our asses handed to us, again.

POSITION:

          -once again, traded innings with the old guy out in left field - he originally had me out there the
           whole game, and had two of the girls trading innings, until someone pointed out that according
           to league rules, that would be mean we wouldn't have enough girls in the field every inning - so
           the girls got to play the whole game, and I only got to play half the game

          -one ball got kicked along the ground into left field, and I ended up having to run for it - trying to
           get it back to the infield to stop the runner heading for Home, I only managed to throw it an
           embarrassing ten feet (that ball is so big, and so light, that it's basically impossible to throw it
           with any distance or accuracy, unless you have gigantic, basketball-player hands - which I do
           not) - the runner ended up scoring easily

          -in the last inning, a ball was kicked right to me - perfect arc, straight to my chest - I didn't
           even have to take a single step in any direction - all I had to do was not drop it - and I
           FINALLY managed to do something right! - I caught the fucking ball!  In an actual
           game! - that was the third out to end their half of the inning, and my very first (and so far, only)
           out of the season

          -I felt pretty good about that, for about ten seconds - then everyone started to congratulate
           me - I know they were trying to be nice, and encouraging, and I know that I'm supposed to
           have enjoyed the praise and felt good about what I'd done, but it just ended up souring the
           whole experience for me - they were all so overly-congratulatory - "Wow!  Way to go, man!
           Good job!  I know you've been waiting for that one for a long time!  Awesome!  Great
           catch!" - even people on the other team were coming up and literally patting me on the back
           and saying "Great catch, man!" - but it wasn't a great catch! - it was the easiest catch in the
           fucking world! - and everyone overflowing with gratitude at my ability to not fuck up the easiest
           play of the game just seemed to exacerbate my humiliation

          -again, I know that I really should've taken the compliment for what it was and just been happy
           to receive the support and congratulations - and I honestly wish I could've - but it all just came
           across more like "Pats for Patrick" than honest praise for a job well-done

AT THE PLATE:

          -the first few games in the season I was kicking away, and getting on base a little less than
           half the time - then our coach decided we should all be bunting - my first bunting game went
           well, but since then it's been nothing but easy pop-outs caught by the pitcher or (even worse)
           the catcher, and I've only made it on base once with a bunt since that first game

          -so, this game, I decided to hell with my coach, I'm going to start kicking away again - unless
           I'm the first kicker in the inning, because strategy dictates that the first kicker should always
           bunt to try to get on base - besides, I've only been the first kicker in the inning one other time
           all season

          -I was the first kicker in the inning for both of my kicks this game

          -went ahead and bunted - both were easy outs - another dreaded pop-out caught by the
           catcher, and one where I actually managed to get off a bit of a kick, but they were just quicker
           than me and threw me out at 1st

FINAL:

          -we scored 1 run - they scored many, many, many more

INJURIES:

          -only emotional

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Snow...

This is the only story I wrote on my vacation last weekend.



The biggest and best hill in town was at the VFW golf course.  Every Winter, families would gather there on snow-covered weekends and schools-closed snow-days to slide down that awesome hill.

I was fifteen, and just about getting too old for this kind of thing.  Pretty soon, this would be "kid stuff" to me, and I would find better, more grown-up ways to pass the time.  But for now, this was still my favorite thing to do in the snow. 

It was mid-January before we had our first real snowfall that year, and our first snow-day, as well.  My Dad made a thermos of hot chocolate, and drove my brother and I and all of our equipment out to the golf course.  I had gotten a real snowboard for Christmas that year, and couldn't wait to try it out.  It was just a cheap, plastic knock-off from Toys 'R' Us, but it sure beat trying to ride down the hill standing up on our sleds, the way my friends and I had been doing the past couple of Winters.

Over and over I flew down that gigantic hill at what felt like a hundred miles an hour.  Then came the slow climb back up the steep, slippery slope to the top, just to strap in and spend another few seconds sliding back down again.  It was like my own personal amusement park ride, with no waiting line.  Half-way through the day, some friends and I built a snow-ramp in the middle of the hill, so we could start flying off into the air during our rides.  As the light began to dim at the end of the afternoon, my father and my brother were exhausted and ready to go home, but I felt like I could've stayed there all day and all night; I couldn't ever remember having more fun.

After we got home, and had put our wet clothes in the dryer, and were enjoying some more hot chocolate in our comfy, warm pajamas, my father said he had to talk with my brother and I about something.  He sat us down and started to talk about my dog, Dillon.  Technically, he was the family dog, but everyone knew he was really my dog, just as his mother, Dree, had been my father's.  Dree had been a breeding dog; a pure-bred Black Labrador Retriever.  Over the years, we'd bred four litters of pups from her, and Dillon was from her first.  I'd been three years-old back then, and Dillon and I had bonded instantly.  My parents had decided not to sell him off with the other pups, and instead let me keep him.  So Dillon and I had grown up together.  Whenever the family came home, he'd greet me before acknowledging anyone else.  If anyone else in the family and I called his name at the same time, he would come to me.  I was the one who spent days and days of Summer roaming the woods behind our development with him, chasing squirrels and rabbits and hiding from the older boys from the other neighborhoods.  Dillon was my best friend.  For many years of my childhood, he was my only friend.  And I was his favorite Human.

But he was twelve years-old by this point.  The fur under his chin had gone grey years ago.  He was moving very slowly now, when he bothered to move at all.  He slept most of the day.  And a few days earlier, he'd stopped eating.  It was time, my father said, to "put him out of his misery."

I'd known this day was coming; I wasn't ignorant.  Still, I hadn't been prepared for it to be right now, this day.  I'd just been so happy, having so much fun on that massive hill!  And now, suddenly, it's time to kill my dog?!  But what was the alternative?  Make him spend another day suffering, just so that I could continue to avoid dealing with the inevitable?  Why not today?  Would tomorrow really be any better?

My little brother, many years younger than me, didn't understand it the same way.  All he knew was that he didn't want our dog to die.  He cried and cried, and my parents took him upstairs to try and console him, leaving me alone in our basement family room with Dillon.

He sat at my feet, the way he had so many times before over the years, and he looked into my eyes, and arched his eyebrows, as if to ask what was wrong.  I petted him, and rubbed his ears the way he loved so much; and I told him how much I loved him, and how very much I was going to miss him.  And I cried, as I tried to love him enough to make up for what I knew was coming.

And then, before I knew it, and before I was ready, I heard my father call down to us from the top of the stairs that it was time to go.  He began to call out, "Dillon!  Come!  Come here, boy!  Dillon, come!"  But Dillon didn't move.  Whenever my father would call his name, Dillon would turn his head to look towards the sound of my father's voice, and then turn back to me, with this quizzical expression on his face, as if asking me what to do.  Eventually, I heard my father say, "Son, he's not going to listen to me.  You'll have to be the one to tell him."

I started crying again.  It was bad enough to be losing my best friend like this.  I really didn't know if I could be the one to tell him to go.  It was too much to ask of a kid.  But my Dad was right - it had to be done, it was the kind and loving thing to do, and I was the only one who could do it.

As best I could manage through the tears, I squeaked out a pathetic-sounding, "Go on, boy.  Go on.  Go upstairs."  But either he didn't understand me, or he didn't want to go.  So I got up and started up the stairs myself, saying, "Come on, boy."  Dillon rose slowly, on shaky legs, and padded weakly over to the stairs at my command.  He hadn't climbed the stairs in many months, and it took him a long time that day.  I wonder if he knew, as I did, that it would be the last time?

Finally we made it all the way to the top to join the rest of my family in the living room.  My little brother, my mother, and I were all crying at this point; everyone but my father.  He was trying to be strong for us.  He opened the front door, and said, again, "Come on, boy!  Here, Dillon!  Come!," trying to get the dog to follow him out the door and into the waiting car.  But, again, Dillon wouldn't move.  He just sat and looked from me, to my father, and back again.  "What should I do?," he was asking me.

I didn't wait to be told this time.  I held my head up, and stuffed down the tears, and walked out the front door, saying, "Come on, boy."  He slowly followed me out the door; I could almost hear his poor, old bones creaking in the cold.  The Sun had gone down by this point, and it was dark as I led him down our front walk to my father's car.  When he was younger, Dillon used to leap into this car in a rush of infectious enthusiasm, excited almost to the point of mania by the prospect of going on a trip someplace else.  His favorite was the beach.  He'd swim in the ocean until he was completely exhausted.  But those days were gone now, and in the end, my father had to pick him up and place him in the car himself.

Standing there on the sidewalk, in my pajamas, on a cold, January night, I could see my dog through the back window of the car.  He watched me as I waved goodbye to my best friend, feeling like a fool, and a murderer.  He watched me as they drove away, and I stood shivering and crying in the cold.  He never took his eyes off of me.  I wonder if he knew it was the end, too.

After they rounded the corner out of my sight at the end of our street, I suddenly felt more alone than I'd ever felt before.  And I was so scared.  And I was so angry!  Angry at my parents, angry at time and age and sickness; but more than anything, angry at myself.  And suddenly I was running.  Running through the snow and into the woods.  Running deep into the trees where there were no tracks and no paths and no sky to be seen.  Running until my feet were burning in agony from the freezing snow.  When I couldn't go any further, I collapsed on my back, sinking deep into a snowbank.

I laid there, all at once burning and freezing in pain, shivering and weeping for my best friend, for the life I had loved and helped to end, and watching the steam from the melting snow float up off of my body into the bare branches of the trees above me, silhouetted against the stars.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Disappointments & Failures...

How's that for a title, huh?

I was in a pretty good place the last time I wrote here, almost a week ago.  But the past week hasn't gone well for me, and I've swung myself over to the opposite end of the scale since then.

It started when my weekend vacation in the woods didn't work out as anticipated.  I got some writing done (expect to be reading my crappy work off and on for the next week or so), but nowhere near as much as I had wanted.  The mosquitoes and other bugs were simply relentless, so I couldn't do any meditating out in the peaceful forest setting, either, which I'd been looking forward to a great deal.  (We are both covered in itchy, red bites from head to toe now.)  And the hot tub out on the back deck, which is one of my favorite features of this cabin-in-the-woods, and which might've provided some needed respite from the bugs, was broken.  So, while the weather was beautiful, and the setting serene, I couldn't really spend any time outside to enjoy it.  Oh, and somehow, we only managed to have sex once all weekend.  So pathetic.  What a waste.

And to top it all off, after all of these disappointments, combined with all of the stress of getting everything ready for the vacation, and then not being able to find any way to relax once we got there, I ended up succumbing to my addictive desires, and relapsed again.  So much for "looking forward to spending this weekend sober."  I somehow managed to justify it with the fact that I was using a drug I'd never used before, and not one of the ones that I'm currently trying to resist because I've had problems with them in the past.  (Basically, I told myself it was okay to use this drug, because it wasn't alcohol or pot or painkillers, and because I'd never used it before.  Which is such complete bullshit.  Same old pattern I'm trying to break:  avoid using one drug by using another instead.)  I'm not going to name the drug here, but it's legal (or maybe it'd be better to say that it's not yet illegal), and while not actually a painkiller, one of the active chemicals in the plant bonds to the opiod-receptors in the brain, producing the same physical sensation, without most (if not all) of the harmful side-effects of true opiates (liver damage, chemical dependency, respiratory failure, withdrawl, etc.)

So, basically, it's a safe, cheap, legal way to get an opiate-like high.  How the fuck am I supposed to say no to that?!  The horrible, deadly, sickness-inducing side-effects of opiates are what I use to convince myself not to do them in the first place!  Without them, I'm reduced to telling myself, "Well, you shouldn't use it because... well, because you've committed to a year sober and you don't want to feel like a failure.  Oh, and don't forget that if you get high, on anything, at all, you'll end up feeling depressed and lazy and unmotivated and emotionally unbalanced for a week, remember?"

All of which is true, but I couldn't bring myself to give a shit at the time.  And now I'm paying the price.  I just wanted to enjoy my vacation, and I had run out of other options that I could find.  Somehow, sitting around the cabin watching DVDs (two of the three movies we watched ended up being really awful) and snacking (which just made me feel fat - I could feel all of my workouts being undone with every bite) just weren't going to do it for me.   And that's my problem in a nutshell.  I couldn't bring myself to stay sober, knowing that it meant not enjoying myself on my vacation.  Because when I get in a situation where I feel like I need to have a good time, and I try and fail to find any other way to do it, I always know that I've got this sure-fire method right in my back pocket.  And, sure, that shortcut comes with a heavy price to pay, but I can never seem to bring myself to care about that in the moment.  I'm always willing to pay almost any price later to enjoy myself now.

Like I said last week, a lot of what I'm trying to work on right now is learning how to suffer; how to allow myself to be okay with something like having a shitty, sober vacation, rather than feeling like I have to get high in order to avoid it (which only ends up making for a shittier vacation anyways).  And this was put to the test this weekend, hard.  And I failed that test, completely and utterly.

Anyways, then I got home and found out that my wireless had broken, again.  So I had to take the laptop back to the shop and have them fix it, again, less than a week after I got it back from them and spent two days frantically trying to restore all my files and programs.  But before I took it back to the shop I wanted to make another back up, since my previous one is corrupted.  I decided to back-up to disk this time, since every other method I've tried has failed.  After three hours, and three failed attempts, I had to give up on that method, as well.  (I have never, not once in my entire life, successfully backed-up a computer.  Every single attempt I have ever made using any method has failed.  Either it crashes while creating the back-up, or it doesn't restore from the back-up properly.  Why the fuck do I even bother?)

Then the depression from a weekend spent getting high kicked in full-force, and (combined with all of the other things I was already legitimately depressed about) totally knocked me on my ass, and I ended up calling out sick and spending two days on my couch playing video games.  (I am such a fucking child!)  I'm chemically exhausted from the coming-down, and so it takes me hours to get up and out the door in the morning.  As such, I haven't worked out in almost a week, and I know I've managed to completely undo most of the gains I've made with all that hard work in the last month.  I finally managed to make it into work today, but an hour late, only to find out that I missed an important assignment while I was out, and my boss had to take care of it for me.  (I didn't know about it, because I couldn't check my work email, because my computer is still fucking broken!)  Then my boss had a "talk" with me about the fact that I never seem to have any internet at home.  (For years, this was because our building's internet sucked.  And now that we have finally managed to fix that, my computer has been broken for a month!)  And my story of why I never seem to have internet at home sounds ridiculous (even to me, and I know it's true!) so she didn't believe me, and I can hardly blame her.

I skipped SMART last night, because I'm too depressed, and too much of a coward to face all those assholes and admit what a stupid fucking failure I am.  And I skipped my therapist appointment today (which I should be at right now, actually) because I couldn't bring myself to leave work early to go to my appointment, after missing two days and then coming in late today.

So, basically, my vacation sucked, I relapsed, I'm chemically depressed and exhausted, my computer is still broken and back in the shop again, I haven't worked out in a week, I'm way behind and in trouble at work, and I feel like a miserable, worthless, piece-of-shit excuse for a person right now.

And it is ALL.  My.  Fault.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Attack Of The Blurble...

Ok, so, got my computer back, and spent all night setting it up.  Naturally, the System Restore crashed.  (I used Microsoft's built-in Backup/Restore this time.  This is the 3rd backup/restore method I have tried over the years, and not one of them has ever worked correctly.)  About 65-70% of my settings/files/programs restored correctly.  So, still some work to do, but nowhere near as much as there could've been.  Thankful for even the small victories right now.

Speaking of small victories, I'd been prepared for playing kickball tonight in the middle of the brutal heat wave we're having right now, but then this morning they canceled the game.  Apparently, a whole lot of people weren't going to bother playing in this heat.  So, hurray for that.  Not only because I won't have to play - or play in this heat - but also because I have a ton of other work to do tonight to get ready for our vacation this weekend, and I wasn't relishing the idea of having to do all of that around nine o'clock tonight when I finally got home from playing a game out in near-110 degree temps all evening.

And speaking of our vacation at our mountain forest cabin this weekend, I'm so happy to have my laptop back!  Means we'll be able to listen to our music, and, most importantly, I'll be able to get a bunch of writing done.  My plans are to spend as much of the weekend as possible writing, meditating, eating, and having sex.  Those are my only priorities for the next three days.  Definitely not going to suck to be me this weekend.

No wifi at the cabin, though, so don't expect to hear anything from me until at least Sunday.

And I keep forgetting about the fact that this will be my first ever trip to the cabin spent entirely sober.  I never would've even considered going up there before without at least something to drink or smoke.  Now I'm actually looking forward to it, and the fact that I'll be sober is an almost-overlooked afterthought.  Is that progress?

I hope you all enjoy your weekends half as much as I'm planning to enjoy mine.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Taking It...

Picking up my computer on the way home tonight, and spending the bulk of my night setting it up again.  I'm so happy I could shit my pants!

The yang to that happy yin seems to be my SMART meeting last night.  Every time I do my "check-in" lately (what they call taking your turn to speak) I just end up feeling embarrassed, and like I made an ass of myself.  And worse, I can't tell if I really did make an ass out of myself, or if I'm just being self-conscious.  Either way, the net result is that I end up feeling like I really don't want to go to these meetings anymore.  But I don't feel like I can stop, either.

I'm really not enjoying the experience; but, then again, is this an experience that you're really supposed to enjoy?  It's about learning and getting healthy, not having fun.  And I'd really like my Tuesday nights back (I could be volunteering at the planetarium if I didn't have to do this instead, which I'd much rather do), but inconvenience hardly seems like a good excuse to stop going.  You know what's really inconvenient?  A drug habit.

And I don't know if these meetings are doing me any good.  And that's the main reason why I still feel like I have to go:  I don't know if these meetings are doing me any good or not.  If I knew for a reasonable certainty that these meetings were not helping me much, then I would feel perfectly fine with deciding to stop going.  But if I stop now, without having answered that question, then I'm just quitting; I'm just giving up.  And as much as I'm not enjoying this, and as much as I don't seem to be getting much out of it beyond embarrassment, I'd be really upset with myself if I just gave up.

I keep coming back to this lesson again and again all over my life.  I think it's one of the big things I'm trying to tackle through this process.  It's not simply about not drinking and not getting high for the next year.  What I'm really trying to do, is learn how to take it.  When my life sucks, and I'm stuck doing things that I don't want to do, and I'm unhappy with the way things are going, and there's nothing I can do to change it, then just shut the fuck up and take it.  You can't be happy all the time.  Sometimes you have to do things that you don't want to do and that make you unhappy.  And when you ease those pains with chemicals, that makes you weak.  And you come to rely on those chemicals, because you're not strong enough to simply put up with those feelings of stress and depression and unhappiness on your own.

So, I'm learning endurance here.  I'm working out my "acceptance muscle," and it's getting stronger.  I'm a lot stronger than I used to be, because I never bothered to work it out at all before.  Whenever I had to use that muscle, and whenever it got sore, I'd soothe it with the painkillers of booze, and pot - and sometimes even actual painkillers.  But now I'm using it, and working it out, and getting stronger, and learning to accept that sometimes I have to just shut the fuck up, and take it, and do what I have to do, instead of what I want to do.

Like going to these stupid fucking meetings.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

And Ye Shall Receive...

I'd say this is eerie by most people's standards.  But the life of a chaos magickian is a life of eerie coincidences.

Just received a voicemail informing me that my computer is ready to be picked up.

About a week early.

And not a moment too soon.

Return Of Blurble...

I WANT MY GODDAMN COMPUTER BACK!

There, I said it.  Apologies for the caps lock.

I really need to write again.  I'm feeling like such a useless slug.  I can feel myself getting more and more stressed out every day without it.  I even miss the pressure of feeling that I need to get something posted every day.  That pressure is nothing compared to the stress of not having the time or the means to write.

I'm going to be in a cabin in the woods on the side of a mountain this weekend, and all I can think is, Goddammit, that would be such a perfect place to get some great writing done!  But I won't be able to, because I need a computer for that.  (I can't write by hand; my hand moves way too slow for my brain.)

I'm having no luck finding the brightside to this.  It just feels wrong.  It feels fucking unhealthy.

I just want my computer back.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Requiem For A Snowflake...

Dear mother, Dear father
What is this hell
you have put me through?
Believer, deceiver
Day in, day out
Lived my life through you
Pushed onto me
what's wrong or right
Hidden from this thing
that they call life

Dear mother, Dear father
Every thought
I'd think you'd disapprove
Curator, dictator
Always censoring
my every move
Children are seen
but are not heard
Tear out everything inspired

Innocence
torn from me
without your shelter
Barred reality
I'm living blindly

Dear mother, Dear father
Time has frozen still
What's left of me?
Hear nothing, say nothing
Cannot face the fact
I think for me
No guarantee
it's life as-is
But damn you
for not giving me my chance

Dear mother, Dear father
Clipped my wings
before I learned to fly
Unspoiled, unspoken
I've outgrown
that fucking lullaby
Same thing
I've always heard from you
do as I say
not as I do

I'm in hell without you
Cannot cope without you two
Shocked at the world that I see
Innocent victim
Please rescue me

Dear mother, Dear father
Hidden in your world
you've made for me
I'm seething
I'm bleeding
Ripping wounds in me
that never heal
Undying spite
I feel for you
Living out this hell
you always knew...

NO!
                    -"Dyer's Eve"
                      Metallica

Friday, June 15, 2012

Kickball - Week 8...

Half our team didn't even show up this week.  (And, honestly, I can't blame them.  We're the worst team in the league, by far.  Every other team has beat us, some of them twice.  We're the only team out there every week that doesn't at least have a shot at winning.)  If one more player hadn't shown up, we wouldn't have had enough to officially play, and would've had to forfeit.  And the other team (2nd best in the league) had a full roster.

As you can imagine, we never had a chance.

POSITION:

          -the upside of having so few players show up was that I got to do more this game
          -I covered center field and 2nd base, so I got to move around a lot more
          -still never saw any action, though - everyone kicked right or left, and there was never a play at
           2nd base

AT THE PLATE:

          -again, because of the light roster, I got to do more at the plate - I kicked an unprecedented
           four times this game
          -three of them were easy pop-outs, and one was a walk - at least I got on base this time
          -for those keeping score (me), that's 8 easy pop-outs out of my last 9 kicks - I do alright in
           practice, but then I can't seem to repeat the same thing in the game, and I don't know why -
           I'm not nervous at all up there, honestly, so it's not like I'm choking - I don't get it!

FINAL:

          -I stopped counting when they hit double-digits

INJURIES:

          -actually managed to get in a workout this time, with all the running around and extra kicking
           and stuff
          -but I'm getting used to it, so no injuries or anything - wasn't even sore afterwards
          -oh, wait! - I did manage to somehow pull an ab muscle trying to catch a pop-fly in practice -
           no idea how that works

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Vow...

I Love you.
More than I ever thought I could Love anything.
I will never stop Loving you.
I COULD never stop Loving you.
And, as sure as I am that the Sun does not shine on my world
without your permission,
I am sure that I want you
to be the last thing I ever see.
I want your voice to be the last thing I ever hear,
and I want your hand holding mine
to be the last thing I ever feel.

And if you would consent to hold me,
even only as my last breath whispered from me,
then I will vow to protect you
from anything and everything that threatens or disturbs you;
to worship you
as if you were the god who gave me life, breath, and soul;
to adore you
as the most beautiful,
the most sexy,
the most compassionate,
the most Loving,
the most brilliant,
and the most magnificent woman that the Gods have ever seen fit
to grace our world with.
And I will vow to Love you
more than any person before or after us
has ever been able to do.

You are Light,
Life,
and Love to me,
and you ALWAYS will be.

+   +   +

I confess, as the years have passed, I haven't done a very good job of living up to this oath.

You should hold me to it.

Please hold me to it.

This is who I want to be.

This is who I thought I was.

Help make me this man.

Let me be him, again, for you.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

One Hundred...

I've got a ton of work to do, and I'm already ridiculously behind, and I have to leave early today to get to my counseling appointment and then rush home for a condo board meeting and it's not like I have a computer at home to post from right now anyways, so this is my 100th post since I started this blog, and I have absolutely nothing worthwhile to post about, nor any time in which to do it.

Fabulous.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Son of Blurble...

I miss my computer.

Workout is going well.  Weight is coming off at a good clip.  My stomach is flatter, and my pants fit better (my tight pants feel normal, and what used to be my good-fitting pants are starting to feel baggy).  I'm pleasantly sore all the freakin' time.

Really not happy right now, though.  I miss my computer (as I said), I miss writing, I miss meditating, I miss having free time, I hate kickball... .  And I just generally miss being happy and feeling that I like my life.  I miss Her, and realize now that I basically always have, even though she's right there, standing right next to me.  How could two people who are so close end up so far apart?

SMART meeting tonight.  No idea what to talk about it.  Really don't want to go, but feel like I should.

Guess that's about it for now.

Apologies for the boring and the whiny.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Nihil...

I have nothing to say.

Friday, June 8, 2012

Kickball - Week 7...

Another hard fought game (by the rest of the team, at least - I didn't do a damn thing), and another heartbreaking loss by one run in the last inning.

Why do I keep doing this??  I don't want to do this anymore, I'm not having any fun, I'm exhausted, gods know I add no value or worth to my team whatsoever, and I'm not even getting any exercise.  So why do I keep doing this to myself?

I guess because I don't want to quit more than I don't want to play kickball anymore.  I guess because I at least want the satisfaction of completing the season, seeing as it is likely the only satisfaction I'm going to get out of the experience.

POSITION:

          -he had me in Left field for odd innings - even innings, the old guy took the spot
          -some of the girls (not all of them) also had to split innings this way - so I'm grouped with the
           girls and the old guy - Awesome.
          -no balls came anywhere near Left field the whole game

AT THE PLATE:

          -both my kicks were easy outs - I never even made it to 1st base - and both my outs were the
           third out to end the inning
          -my first kick I managed to somehow bunt the ball directly behind me and straight into the
           arms of the catcher, for the shortest pop-fly out in kickball history - I was right there, saw it
           with my own eyes, and still do not understand how it happened - it seemed to defy all known
           physics - unless the ball was made of iron and the catcher's hands were actually magnets -
           another classic "this could only happen to me" moment
          -although, I did feel slightly vindicated when one of our best kickers managed to kick the ball
           into their own face this game

FINAL:

          -who gives a fuck

INJURIES:

          -didn't hurt myself, because I didn't do a goddamned thing the whole game
          -half the innings I sat on the bench watching the game, the other innings I stood in the field
           watching the game - and I never ran more than ten feet from home plate either time I kicked
          -big fucking woo

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Bride of Blurble...

Finally caught up on all my work, email, etc. that's piled up during the past few days of PC Swap Madness.  Feels good to be done with that.  Not only because I don't have to deal with it anymore, but the feeling of accomplishment is quite pleasant, as well.

I'm really tired, though.  Been extra busy and out late pretty much every night, plus I've been pushing myself at the gym extra hard this week (might've picked the wrong week to start back in on the weights - ouch).  I've been getting to bed early to try and make up for it, but it hasn't been enough; I'm still utterly exhausted every morning.

I really, really do not want to go play kickball right now.  I do not have the energy, and after last game, it's lost any sense of fun or enjoyment it might've once held for me.  Half-an-hour ago, the sky was black with clouds, and the wind was whipping the trees back and forth.  Seemed certain that we were about to get hit with a major thunderstorm.  Thought my prayers had been answered.  Now the sky is clear and blue, the wind has died down, and there is no sign at all of that huge thunderstorm anywhere.

What the hell?!

I'm disappointed in you, Thor.


Ugh.  Guess it's time to go suit up and humiliate myself for the evening.  Oh, joy.  Will me luck.

(Some skill wouldn't hurt, either.)

(Why couldn't we have had a softball team??  I can play softball!  I can catch softballs, I can throw softballs, I can even fucking hit softballs!  But, no, we had to play with a giant, red, bouncy ball, just so that I can go out there every Thursday night and feel like an eight year-old girl.  Awesome.)

(And by "awesome," I mean, "completely fucking weak.")

(Ugh.)

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Quickly Noted...

I really like Windows 7 so far.

And I hate myself a little bit for saying that.


Also, kickball tomorrow.  "Gird your loins, ladies!"

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Chutes and Ladders...

Just a brief synopsis of my day...

In preparation for the upgrade of my work PC (currently my only working computer, since my laptop is in the shop being repaired) from Windows XP to Windows 7 tomorrow, I had a bunch of files to backup, and one program (Quicken) to upgrade, since the version of Quicken that I've been using to manage my personal finances for the last ten years is not compatible with Win7.

I'd already bought the latest version of Quicken, so the upgrade installation should only take about an hour.  Decided to do that first, only to discover that the CD-ROM drive on my PC is apparently broken.  Luckily managed to scrounge a portable CD-ROM from the Help Desk that plugs in on a USB.  After running for a half-hour, the installation program suddenly shuts down with an error message.  Had to restart my computer and do it again; another half an hour, but this time it works.  But when I start up the new program, it tells me that I can't covert data from my old version (2002) to the new version (2012).  I'll need to download and install an intermediate version (2004), convert my data from 2002 to 2004, then re-install 2012, and then finally convert my data from 2004 to 2012.  Ugh, ok.  Luckily, they offered a free version of 2004 for download.

So, downloaded that, but it took me a half dozen tries to install it.  Kept getting error messages, had to uninstall 2012 first (another half-hour), but it eventually worked, and I managed to convert my data to 2004 format.  Then I spent another half-hour installing 2012, only to have it fail with the same error message again.  Had to restart my machine (all told, had to restart my machine six times - at about ten minutes a piece, that's an hour I spent restarting my machine alone!), and install it again.  Another half-hour, but this time it worked.

But then when I went to run it, it told me that I couldn't use my data because it was for a Deluxe version of Quicken.  (Apparently the "free" version of 2004 that they offered was the Quicken 2004 Deluxe.)  And so, in order to be able to use my data that I had just spent over four hours trying to convert, I would need to upgrade to the Deluxe version of 2012, at a cost of $60.  I'd already spent $30 on the version I'd just spent all day trying to install!  I then spent an hour on the phone with an argumentative gentleman from New Delhi at Quicken Customer Service trying to find a way around this, to no avail.  Ended up having to upgrade to the Deluxe version, even though I didn't want it, just to save my data.  Spent another half an hour installing it and converting my data (FINALLY!).

All told, I ended up spending almost seven hours of my day just trying to install this one fucking program.  In my entire life using computers, I have never had this much difficulty installing a program, ever.  Not even close.

And I couldn't use my computer for anything else the whole time it was installing (so that would be all day), so I still had all the rest of my work to do!  But I was out of time, because I had to rush home to try and see the Transit of Venus.

Venus crosses the face of the Sun (from our point of view on Earth) twice about every hundred years or so.  The last time it happened was in 2004.  The next time it will happen, after today, is 2117.  Literally, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  And I am lucky to live within walking distance of an elementary school science lab/planetarium that had set up telescopes with special filters to allow the public to view the transit from 6-8p today.

But it was cloudy.  From horizon to horizon, grey fluffballs of clouds covering the entire sky.

Anticipating a long wait, we brought along one of our two folding camp chairs.  Removing it from it's carrying pouch, She discovered a hidden treasure inside.  A sword, with a crystal handle, and a brass hilt.  This sword had been an important magickal item to me for years.  I used it in various Solar rituals.  It had also been one of the treasures offered up in our wedding ceremony.  I had lost it years ago.  So long ago in fact, that it has been years since I even considered it lost; for many years now I have simply assumed that it was gone, and that I would never see it again.

And then, suddenly, as I'm waiting, desperately, for the Sun to appear from behind the curtain of clouds, so that I could watch this once-in-a-lifetime spectacle of our closest neighbor planet floating across its immense, bright face, my long-lost Magickal Sun Sword simply appears out of nowhere.  Almost as if by magick.

Surely, this was a sign that my luck was turning.

And, sure enough, with less than fifteen minutes before the Sun disappeared behind the horizon, there was a sudden break in the clouds!  And She managed to secure us a spot near the front of the line!!  (You have my eternal gratitude for this, Precious. You saved me from disappointment and disaster.)

And so, for about ten seconds, I was able to look through a telescope's eyepiece, and directly into the face of our Star.  And there she was - Venus.  A small, black dot, floating against a backdrop of the enormous, white circle of the Sun.  I saw it with my own eyes.

I will remember those ten seconds for the rest of my life.

And then I got to drive all the way back to my office to finish up the file backup preparations for tomorrow that I hadn't had a chance to do earlier.  And now I'm done, and it's time to go home.  And by the time I get there, it will be past my bedtime.

But I don't even care.

Today was a great day.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Blurberry...

No internet at home for the next few weeks, while the computer's in the shop.  (That's why this is my first post since Friday.)

No time to post at work today, or in the foreseeable future.  Several urgent projects to work on, plus they're swapping out my machine on Wednesday for a new one with a new operating system that I don't know how to use (Windows 7).  So, setting that up is going to take a day or two, at least.

So many things I want to talk about:
          -my horrible weekend trying (and failing) to fix and re-format both of my laptops
          -tomorrow's Transit of Venus (last one until 2117!)
          -my new workout (started back with the weights this morning; "Arms. Like. NOODLES!")


This really fucking sucks.  But I don't think there's anything I can do about it.  So I guess I need to just accept it.  And if I can do that, then the Brightside would be, enjoying the small, measure of relaxation and freedom afforded me by this temporary reprieve from my computer, and the internet, and my writing responsibilities.

"Make the most of it."

Friday, June 1, 2012

Kickball - Week 6...

One of the most humiliating experiences of my adult life.  (And I only say "my adult life," because my childhood was basically just one, long, extended humiliating experience.)

POSITION:

          -played 2nd base in both games, which was certainly an improvement over the outfield

          -still dropped both balls that came near me

          -only other action I saw was one throw to my base, where the shortstop (who is also our
           coach) ran over to try and catch the ball a foot in front of me - guess he didn't have much
           confidence that I'd be able to catch it myself - and who could blame him - oh, and he dropped
           the ball

AT THE PLATE:

          -got two base-hits out of five at-bats - hardly a stellar record - never got farther than 2nd base

FINAL:

          -we lost both games

          -we lost the first game by double-digits - worst score of the season so far for us - it was just
           one error after another - two of our best players didn't even show up until halfway through the
           first inning - at one point, someone on the other team actually scored an inside-the-park
           home run (that's a new one!) because we kept making error after error trying to get him out - I
           was just glad when that one was over

          -second game we played against the team we tied last time - we played this game hard - we
           played our asses off - we played with heart - we were already exhausted, but we really
           wanted this win - we kept the score really tight the whole game, made only a couple of errors,
           and had a good shot to win - in the bottom of the last inning, down by one run, I basically lost
           the game for our team - yeah, that feels good

INJURIES:

          -feel like I drove my left hip up into my fucking shoulder

          -my shins feel like Freddy Krueger is using them to play a fucking harp solo

          -I hurt real bad