Month: April 2008

  • coffee addiction

    I never thought the day would come when I would become a coffee addict. But apparently it has.  I now drink coffee every day. Sometimes quite a lot of it. In the mornings I always try to get coffee. When I stay up late I try to find some coffee. And even during the day sometimes I go grab some coffee. Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts coffee or the folgers coffee they give away for free at my job. And at restaurants and fast food places too, I am starting to more and more often order coffee.  Even now I feel this urge to go out and find a place open at 6 am and order some coffee.

    It’s so odd.

    I never used to even like the taste of coffee. There was a time not long ago when I could have honestly said that I had never drank a full mug or cup of coffee in my life. It just wasn’t my thing. As a result I certainly don’t own a coffee maker. I never used caffeein during college to keep myself awake in order to finish studying and projects and whatnot like everyone else did. It didn’t seem worth it to me.

    Actually I think I still don’t really like the taste of coffee all that much. I’m certainly no connoisseur. Every brand tastes the same to me pretty much and I always need to load it up with lots and lots of cream and sugar before I can drink it. And I’m no fan at all of the latte or the cappuccino’s I’ve drank but then maybe that’s only a matter of time. I also don’t much like bottled coffee you can buy and drink cold. That stuff tastes disgusting to me. Plain old hot coffee loaded down with cream and sugar is what I crave right now. And I drink it all the time.

    I wonder about other addictive substances then. I’ve never smoked. I can count the times I’ve consumed alcoholic beverages on one hand. And nor have I taken in any other controlled substance. It’s not that I am against those things. I think it’s fine for everyone to make use of them as much as they want so long as the use of it does not cause them to do harm or is used as an excuse from the responsibility of any harm that they cause while under said influence.

    No for me it was always the thought of interacting with anything that alters my thought processes too much that scared me off from such pursuits. I like the way I think right now. I’m perfectly fine with my inhibitions. Maybe…

    Well but now I am a coffee addict though I never thought I would be. Maybe there is a future version of me who is a chain smoking drunkard heroin addict. Maybe. You never know.  Maybe it’s like anything you dislike you can develop a taste for if you force yourself to do it. Like say eating broccoli or spinach. I eat those now though I never did before. Doesn’t mean I’ll ever like them more than I like pound cake or cookies. But you know. Tastes change. Wants change too.

    Eh, I’m not thinking too clearly this morning. I better go out and get myself some coffee. Maybe I’ll write more when I get back.

  • Random Rules

    I think I’ll make some random rules for myself. There are things that others do regularly that sort of piss me off and I realize that I do them too sometimes. So if I’m going to get pissed of when others do it, I might as well be consistent and refuse to ever do them myself right?

    Here’s the list:

    RULE 1:  I will never go invisible in a chat program again. If I’m online, people will know I’m online. If I don’t want to chat, I’ll just log off entirely.  Asymetric data pisses me off.

    RULE 2:  I will never post a xanga entry with comments and feedback disabled. There’s nothing more annoying to me then when I read something to which I desperately want to reply but can’t because the poster decided that he or she was too cowardly to allow people to comment.

    Yes. I know I’ve broken these rules in the past. I’m saying that going forward I won’t any more.

    I’ll edit this post and add to this list as I think of more.

  • Ah Life

    Lately I’ve been away… Away from Xanga. Away from Facebook too. Away from all other
    online means of communication too. Away from myself in a sense. Just away.



    I still checked xanga and facebook regularly, I just didn’t feel very much
    like interacting.  This was especially true at the beginning of this
    week. I felt as if I had no energy for it. Or anything. I just didn’t care.



    The excuse I give is that I was very busy. I was moving. It was a pain
    in the arse by any measure. And there was work, although work isn’t
    hard yet, it’s a lot of pressure. A million things to learn. And a
    sense in which I am being perpetually watched and judged on how quickly
    or not that I can learn it. And there’s a lot of tension there. A lot
    of stupid office politics that just pisses me off and leaves me feeling
    drained just by observing it. I just don’t get how people can stand
    these environments and work in them all their lives. It’s a wonder that
    there aren’t more people going on insane killing rampages in the
    workplace.



    And there have been other things too, like interviews, one of which I
    traveled half way across the country to go to last week. And
    appointments and discussions and chores and finances and other random
    things just taking up time.  And there’s that general sense of
    tiredness I felt. Just exhaustion. For no reason.


    But really I think it had a lot more to do with the fact
    that I was really angry at the beginning of this week. About a lot of
    stuff.
    I’m not sure why exactly. It’s just that things don’t seem to ever work
    out anywhere close to the way I’d like them to. I seem to end up in
    situations where all
    the options seem at best mediocre and I have no data with which to make
    good decisions. I feel stuck sometimes. Forced to choose between
    insanity and unhappiness. It’s insufferable. Either I am much more
    intolerant than most people or I just have terribly bad luck. Or
    perhaps I have certain other character flaws that are detrimental.
    Probably a little of all three.



    Actually I still am angry on some level. Or maybe not anger, but
    something akin to it. Like the build up of anger. The precursor to
    anger. There’s sort of a pressure I
    can feel building up in the back of my head. Like a big knot that’s
    growing and growing. I’ve been feeling it for a while. Months and
    months. But lately it’s been a very sharp feeling. The pressure is
    growing rapidly. It’s like something is building up. Something is going
    to happen to me or I’m going to do something and I don’t really want to
    know what. 



    I did manage to move successfully and my new place is quite nice. Too
    nice. Much too nice. It’s a high class apartment with a huge living
    space, large kitchen, dining area, porch, and giant bathroom.  And a
    beautiful view. There’s a closet that’s so big it can fit almost
    everything I own. OK, that’s not true. It can’t fit my bookshelves, and
    my book collection, and my futon but those are all in storage. It can,
    however, fit everything I brought with me to Bethesda with room to
    spare. Including me. But not my car. So not everything. But close enough.



    I wish that I could have rented out just the closet. It’d have to be
    much cheaper and I think it’d be plenty of room for me. The apartment
    itself is too dang big. Too nice. I feel so out of place here. It’s
    like I ought not live in a place like this. This is an aberration. Like
    a mysterious misstep. It’s true the last place I lived was also way too
    nice for me to feel like I belonged there, but that was different,
    because it wasn’t my place. Rather I was just a guest. It didn’t feel
    so weird then.



    I’m pretty sure I won’t live here long. It’s too expensive anyways and
    I might be moving out of state or something before long. Economically
    staying here is nonsensical, but I still think I’ll be sad to leave. I
    hate giving up things.



    Truthfully though I’m not making very good use of the apartment. Most
    of my stuff is still packed. The living room is fully barren. Dining
    area too. And the porch. Most of my stuff is still packed up in my
    closet. I spend most of my time is this little computer nook where I am
    now typing on my laptop rambling and ranting about nothing.



    My mail doesn’t appear to have started being forwarded to this new
    address correctly. This disturbs me since I did not correctly sign up
    for direct deposit and I have two paychecks that will likely be sent to
    the wrong address. Right now I’m getting a lot of mail for the previous
    occupants of this apartment. I always drop it right back in the mail
    box so that the post office can take care of it. I wonder if the next
    occupants of the place I was living will do the same with my mail?



    At first after I moved in I didn’t have a microwave, shower curtain,
    television, mattress, dinnerware, silverware, pots or pans, any chairs,
    or a desk. Basically I had my laptop, clothing, and a bunch of boxes.
    None of that mattered too much. But there’s one other thing I didn’t
    have. Internet Access! I thought that I was going to go utterly insane.
    It was horrible, horrible, horrible.  I may not have felt much like
    interacting on xanga or facebook, but to be unable to even check my
    email or look anything up on wikipedia… I thought it was going to
    kill me.



    I upgraded my data plan on my cellphone to allow tethering. That was
    the fastest way to get internet access here. And I think I’ll just
    stick with it until I move somewhere else. It’s expensive, but at least
    I can use it anywhere.  Th 5GB limit until they start charging extra
    sucks ass, but I can hold off on doing my usual bit torrent thing for a
    month I think.



    As I finished moving I had a conversation where I was asked a question
    I should have known I’d be asked. But it surprised me to be asked. That
    I was asked proves that I must be so utterly obvious to everyone around
    me. Geez. I thought I was a little bit subtle. I guess not. I hate it
    when people understand me better than I understand myself.



    That conversation was ok though. Maybe a step in the right direction.
    Maybe a step toward fixing things. But it didn’t make me feel any
    better really. That knot’s still there. It grew a little bigger when I
    was asked that question fact.



    The week before last I did manage to fix something. A connection I had
    that I thought I was virtually lost was repaired to some extent.
    Actually the truth is the other person allowed it to be fixed. I’m not
    sure why it happened or how it was fixed. I really didn’t understand
    why it had needed fixing in the first place.Well I think on some level I must understand it, but it isn’t something I am willing to face on a conscious level.



    Well whatever the reason or the cause,  it was a gargantuan relief to
    me to have that seem to be resolved. It felt miraculous. I had not
    believed things would change, so I was so happy that I was wrong. Maybe
    it was all my imagination. It might still be for all I know. But who
    cares. The knot loosened a little then the week before last. But then I
    went on a trip that Friday and the knot tightened right back up again.



    What about now? It’s still there and just as big too. What makes me
    write on Xanga again? I don’t know. I guess I’m getting accustomed to
    the weight of it now. I can bear it so long as it doesn’t grow any
    bigger. And I’m just waiting now. Waiting to hear an answer and waiting
    to have enough data to make a decision and decide in what direction my
    life will turn. The decision is so massive I can’t really stand to
    think about it right now. I want to have all the data first before I
    bear that weight.  I’m sort of hoping something will make the decision
    for me. Of course everyone I try to talk to just says something like
    “it’s up to you”. I hate that answer. I *know* it’s up to me. It
    doesn’t help to be told that again. However true.



    But then the waiting and the not knowing sucks too. I hate having it in
    front of me. I want it out of the way, behind. I hate waiting on data.
    I hate waiting. I’m impatient. I want to choose something. I want to do
    something. I might hate the outcome, but at least I’ll know, you know? I can adapt. I can react. I can move on. Perpetual stasis is driving me insane.



    Have you ever looked out over the edge of a cliff or off the roof of a
    building and felt that oh so irrational urge to just jump? To
    experience that impossible sensation of falling that will be forever
    denied to you if you don’t? Do you ever wonder what it would feel like?




    Not just jumping, I feel like this all the time. When I’m driving far
    too often thoughts of what it would be like to swerve off the road,
    driving into a ditch, or crash through the barricade in a garage and go
    flying off the roof, or just smash into another car, or swerve through
    opposing traffic. What would it be like I wonder? There’s that urge to
    experience things you’ve never experienced. To be a part of a life
    you’ve never lived. I feel it all the time. It’s tied up in that knot I
    think. That simmering anger and fear that’s lying just beneath the
    surface unseen and unnoticed by all.  There’s a need in me to take some
    sort of a risk. I’ve known the need for a long time. But I keep taking
    the easiest wiser course anyway.  Or worse, annoyed at my inability to
    take the risky course, but unwilling to got the wise and more obvious
    course, I just choose to do nothing at all. I sit in stasis. Waiting
    for something to push me into doing what I want to do but fear to try.



    I didn’t go to the Cherry Blossom Festival today in DC. I wanted to.
    Sort of. It’s a celebration of a culture I’ve always found fascinating
    and which has brought me great pleasure over the years. I would have
    seen lots of interesting things, experienced unique experiences. It
    would have been fun. It should have been fun anyway. I was all set to
    go. I left my apartment. Drove out and stopped to eat a breakfast at a
    restaurant. I even had my camera packed with a change of batteries.



    And at lunch I did nothing but stare off into space. My mind devoid of any meaningful thoughts.



    And then after. I just went home. And I took a nap.  I didn’t go. I had
    no desire to go. I knew somehow that I wouldn’t have enjoyed it at all.
    I just wasn’t in the right mindset for that kind of a thing.



    After my nap, I finished that damnable book I’ve been reading for
    weeks. I should have finished it long ago. It’s so strange. It’s a
    GREAT book by any measure. A work of fantasy. It has every aspect that
    I love in a book. Great characters that I can fall in love with.
    Mystery and magic. Subtle and suspenseful. Well written. An
    extraordinary adventure. Brilliant by any measure. 



    I should love this book. It should be one of my very favorites.



    It’s not.



    I don’t know what it is. But I am unsettled by it. Actually I’m
    unsettled by all of this author’s books. Guy Gavriel Kay. I don’t know
    what it is about him. Something. It’s like, I guess. He’s a person whom
    I think, if I met in real life, it would be impossible for me to get
    along with. It’d be like he’s from an entirely different world than me.
    A place where different things matter and different lifestyles are
    normal and different behaviors represent Good. I’m sure I’d just not
    like him from the get go. I know it. He and I would just find little or
    nothing on which we can relate. There are a lot of people like that
    I’ve met.  For some reason, some personalities just don’t seem to mesh
    with mine.



    And yet he can write books where I like all the characters and all the
    events and I think they are just damn near perfect. But at the same
    time. I don’t really like them.  I don’t fall in love with the books.
    Something holds me back.



    Or maybe it’s just that I’m changing in ways I can’t predict.  I used
    to be an avid reader. I used to read books upon books rapidly. This
    book I would have finished in a single night probably, back in the day.
    You’d be impressed by my book collection. It’s quite gargantuan.  Not
    just fantasy and fiction too. But books about a wide range of subjects.
    Politcs. Law. Economics. Literature. Philosophy. Science. Math.
    Psychology. I read most of the popular books as they become popular and
    lots of more obscure ones too. I used to take great joy in being well
    read. I loved to read. But mostly it was the fiction that I loved. Any
    epic story would capture my soul and not let go until I had read every
    word on every page. I’m not a person who skims or speed reads when I
    read either. I read it all. I skip nothing. I want to know every bit of
    it.



    But now… I’ve changed. I don’t read as much. I hardly read at all.
    I’ve got such a gigantic back log of books to read it’s insane. And yet
    I feel little urge to do so.  On my job I’ve got people recommending me
    all these books to read that will help me master the material I will
    need in order to be productive on the job. But I don’t feel any
    enthusiasm to read them. Once upon a time I would have devoured them
    too. I just loved learning. Even though I don’t much like programming,
    learning about programming was still exciting.  I loved it.



    Now, I couldn’t care less.  What happened? What changed?



    These days I sort of feel like I know enough. I want to find an area to
    exercise my knowledge in some sort of meaningful way. I’m sick of just
    reading about stuff. I sometimes feel like it’s just a big fat waste of
    time.



    And it’s not just reading either. Other joys too. Anime. Video games.
    Television shows. Facebook games. Movies. Board games. Magic. I used to
    LOVE magic. I used to play it all the time. I haven’t played magic in
    months.  I don’t care about it anymore. I get this feeling like I’ll
    only ever play it again for nostalgia’s sake. To reconnect with those
    friends with whom I forged bonds through playing that silly little card
    game.



    It’s almost as if that knot, that tension, having reached a certain
    size started sucking the joy away from everything. That build up just
    blocked my ability to experience normal pleasures. Only the most basic
    things still give me pleasure. And writing. Writing hasn’t been lost to
    me yet. But I wonder if that too is only a matter of time. I didn’t
    write anything for two weeks after all. And even writing isn’t like it
    used to be. I never would have written anything like this, six months
    ago or a year ago. And if I did write anything remotely like it, I
    wouldn’t have posted it on my xanga or even shared it with anyone. I’m
    changing. I’m changing too much.



    I sort of suspect that one’s sense of stability and belonging
    influences ones feelings toward everything. The more content you are
    with the way your life is right here and now the more likely you are to
    be able to find joy in anything. You’ll find more movies enjoyable,
    more books, more conversations, more games, more foods. Everything will
    be just a little bit better if you feel as if things are the way they
    ought to be or you feel at least that things are stable and getting
    better. If not… then you will either experience these things in a
    vain struggle to feel a joy that won’t come, or you’ll be like me, and
    you’ll just stop doing them and end up spending all your time staring
    off into space instead.



    Right now at least I still have writing. And the writing still helps.
    So I’m going to write. I’m going to write a lot. This is just the
    beginning. I’m going to write a sickening amount. And maybe that will
    help ward off whatever this impending something is that I feel is on the horizon. Maybe it will help.



    It probably won’t.



    But it’s not like I could ever really stop anyway. Writing is like
    sleeping or eating for me. I’m pretty sure if I refrain from doing it
    for too long I’ll start to hallucinate, become deranged, and eventually
    drop dead.  It’s a necessity.



    So anyway, get ready to see a lot of stupidly long blog posts. I think
    anyway. I’m not sure what I’ll write so I don’t know whether I will be
    posting all of it. But most likely I’ll be posting a lot of it. So deal
    with it if you dare.



    I should have a witty way to end this post. But nothing comes to mind. So It’s just going to end. Just like this.