Oh, Piss It

I hate being a sensitive person because it is a crap weakness.  So what? Things not going your way, a casual remark goes astray, big fat furry deal, right?  Probably.  But I'm one of those people who usually takes the casual remarks to heart.  And now the loveliness has dulled to a used copper penny.  

A little SAD

Damn. My nice long weekend is over. And my friend has flown back to NYC. Boo. I hate work. Don't get me wrong, my job is pretty good, but I hate having to get up early, put on nice clothes, do my make-up and hair, then go out into the 3C weather for the trek to work. So due to all these things (the trying to look "nice" and "professional" and going out into near subarctic winds) my job is in suck-mode right now.

Booo. Stupid Seasonal Affect Disorder. I've decided to hibernate. Fuck the good job. I mean, it's just money, right? I can leave for a few months until the ground has finished thawing, no? Ooh, and the good news is that I need to fatten myself up for hibernation. Yes, I can eat loads of chips and other crispy fatty goodies like burritos or deep-fried mars bars (perhaps only one deep-fried mars bar because I have a feeling just the one has a life-time full of saturated fattiness. Come to think of it, has anyone actually finished a full one? I have never had the guts to just go for it and tuck in. I know what I'm doing on my next trip to Scotland.) Good, then. Glad we've established the hiberation rules (that is sleeping for as long as I want and eating as much crap as I can). I'll see you all in May.

Spire

I have been keeping close tabs on this new building for the last couple of months. But only because it terrifies me. It's supposed to be close to 2,000 feet tall (that's about a half-mile high rising vertically into the sky, people). They say it will be the world's largest residential building. Wonderful. Great.

But what if it snaps in half like a tooth-pick from the gusty winds? A at work tells me that it is ugly due to its screw-like image. A giant nail dug into the skyline of Chicago. Hmm. I just think it is all a bit scary. What if you lived on the second floor and had 198 floors above you? How would they not crush everything?

I only recently found out that a skyscraper I had worked in sways 10 feet in each direction. I would be in the filing room listening to the odd creaking noises. Finally the groaning got too much for me so I stumbled out and asked the receptionist just what the christ was going on? I almost had a heart attack. I'm on the 30th floor of an 80 story building that is swaying in the wind.

"That's nothing." She calmly informed me, "The Sears sways 15 feet in each direction!" Like that made me feel better. Big wow, 15 feet isn't really less alarming than 10.

So, I've been keeping close tabs on this new building's progression. Kind of like keeping the enemy close. Even though it is only a building and not someone out to hurt me. I'm oddly interested. I've even signed up for prices on the property. Out of curiousity. Still worries me, though. In a vague, back-of-your-mind type of way.

Practice

Things are progressing quite well with the new flat. Bf and I have finally sorted most everything out with furniture and the other various stuff that goes into a new place. Yesterday was really exciting because we got something cheap and shiny to put my new toy on. So I have a proper place to practice now instead of the floor.

See? Proper place to put fun stuff:

Technology sometimes stumps me, though. If you buy something big and confusing and electronicky how come it doesn't come with directions? Why? I mean, for chrissakes, why? It's effed up. I'm left sorting everything out on my own and pressing buttons here and there finding out what's going on. In some ways it is really funny and fantastic. I'll be flipping around with stuff and then in with a mighty wallop! I get a reverberating and unexpected sound. Not unpleasant, mind. But wicked. I can't help but laugh out loud at my discoveries even though, by rights, I shouldn't have to discover anything (if I had a bloody instruction manual, that is). It's fun, anyhow, so I won't whinge as excessively as I could (or would? Grammar is all going to hell. Mine, I mean. Not actual grammar because that is impossible, obv).

Here's me having a giggle about my new stuff: (Oopsy- ignore the boobage going on...um, er, because I didn't mean to have so much showing as it is indecent. Please overlook them. Annoying buggers. Seriously, no sarcasm. They are crap. So don't be a pervert, yeah?)

Write

Over at my friend Justina's she blogs about finding her voice through writing.  She mentions that her writing could be better then lists several lovely writers that she looks up to.  I like Justina's writing.  I understand where she is coming from.  Writing seems easy.  And it is.  See?  I'm writing right now.  Words and more words.  Words here, there, and don't forget the words I'm typing at this very moment.  But good writing, quality writing is a bit more rare.

I've been writing my whole life but only until the last couple of years have I realised that I'm just writing words.  I'm not putting the effort or quality into my words that makes whatever it is I'm working on worth reading.  I've made a few fledgling attempts.  Some short stories were written and then discarded.  Because they weren't right.  Writing is hard, dammit.  It's beautiful and moving when you get it right, usually I realise this when I'm reading someone else's stuff.

I'm not giving up, though.  Because how weak is that?  I enjoy writing, it's fantastic.  Almost like therapy in a way.  You can release everything that is bothering or uplifting you onto a page and then put it out into the world at the press of a button.  After that you wait to see if people think it is total crap or relatively neatish.  I don't think a novel is in the future for me because I can't even get a short story down.  I'll probably be stuck in the blog-world for eons.  Get used to me here, people.  I don't think I'm going somewhere else anytime soon.  And if I do it better be in a big, fat book.

Haunted in the Office

There is something really odd going on in my office. Like really odd. Like doors opening by themselves kind of odd. First there's a strange alarm lasting a second that only A and I could hear but apparently the rest of the people in the room Could Not. Then whilst in L's office we both heard a strange strangled voice come from the phone when no lines were in use. And now I get a tenant complaining that her door keeps opening by itself. I mean! What the hell?

I can feel the negative energy, man. L claims to be able to "sense" spirits and she says she can feel the bad vibes. So, I reckon we should have a seance. Let's summon the spirits and see what kind of muck we can get ourselves into, yeah? I wanna see some poltergeist action! We don't have a tv but I could see L talking to the white noise. She looks a bit like the girl from that film, um, plus 25 years.

I'm sure nothing harmful can come of this. None. I mean, nothing like possession, right? Because I have a really big week coming up and I'm not going to have time to carry a demon around. They can try me in January, though. I seem to cart a few of them around at that time, anyway. Clingy bastards.

Updates on seance to follow.

Global Warming...is it that bad?

I understand that if Global Warming is actually occuring, which I believe it is, that it is not good for the planet overall. Apparently, bad things happen when the earth heats up a few degrees. But the only time it is actually a bit nice (if weird) to be a part of global warming is the colder time of year.

Chicago is known for its notoriously bitter winter winds. They are brutal. And they don't care who the fuck you are, you're going down sucka. Then the wind blows you into hypothermia only a block from home and you can barely move against it. Once you have actually reached some kind of inside warmth it takes approximately 3 days to thaw out or something like that. So winter is no fun for the most part. But it does make hot chocolate a good friend. And soup. Ahhhh...soup.

It should be cold right now. And it is a bit chilly but chilly in the sense of beginning of October chilly not Oh, cock, I can't take this cold yet type of chilly. Last year it was 55F on New Year's Eve. I'm not complaining about the warmth. It's nice. I can walk to work and save money. I can stroll to nearby pubs and shops without worrying about how many layers I have on and if they are enough (usually not).

I talked to a crazy cabbie about global warming. He said that in 10-15 years Chicago's weather is going to be equivalent to the stuff found in Northern Texas. So 50s (14-15C). Which we deduced wouldn't be so bad. We could live quite happily without snow. But he was a racist crazy and I was actually conversing with him for a few moments, so what do we know?

Hometown-ish

Just spent a weekend in the boons aka the country aka my hometown (kinda). God, it's a depressingly small town. I originally grew up in the suburbs of Chicago before migrating North a couple hundred miles to a place that is an hour away from decent civilisation (or indeed, any type of civilised life) as a 10 yr-old. A horrific age to move, lemme tell ya.

To me, this town of 1300 people was slow, narrow-minded, and gossipy (because let's be honest there is not much else to do in towns of this size besides root and push out babes as evident by many past classmates). I was always an itchy kid to travel but living in this horribly oppressed environment gave me iron motivation to save up and move out of the country entirely. And I did. Hurrah! And I didn't come back to this small town for even a visit until several years later.

But I had to go back. Family, y'know. Pretty important, actually. And since moving back to America, I've been up there a fair few times. Each time I'm always shocked by how fat everyone has gotten. They all have 2 or 3 kiddies from 2 or 3 fathers and most have a look of utter misery on their faces whilst they go about working at the local convienance shop or bar.

It's like there's this cycle that re-occurs in a lot of small towns. Kids get up the pole whilst still in school, they either get married or move-in with the father (and sometimes someone who isn't), pop out a couple of kids by age 20, can't afford anything because of said tots, so they get a couple of easy jobs that doesn't require skill or thought due to lack of education because of original unprotected rooting, and thus are kept in poverty getting more and more depressed, they can't keep an eye on the kids all the time so rules go broken and then the kids get pregnant and move in with their boyfriends, can't afford anything...It's so fucking depressing.

This is why I don't like going to my hometown. But some people who live in this town actually like it. And what's more is that they are successful and working towards a better future in this place! I can't even imagine. Honestly. But I'm happy for them and I suppose there could be worse places.

Sometimes I wish I were...

a man. Because then I wouldn't have to deal with periods every month. Sure I'd have to put up with dangly bits and facial hair but I'm sure it's nothing compared to the torture I'm put through every few weeks. Of course, if I were a man this would change just about everything and I don't want things to change so no, I don't fully want to be a man. And I could definitely live without the dangly bits. I mean, definitely. Could live without them. And do.

See, the thing is I know that women are meant to reproduce. But it is particularly unfair for me because I don't ever want to give birth to a spawny little alien. Or child. (You say tomato, I say alien). It's not fair that I have to suffer pains everywhere and I am sick of the goddamn bible telling me that it is a women's lot because Eve stuffed up way back when. Yeah, right. Like I believe that bullshit propaganda.

So I'm at work, right. And obviously doing a crap job because in between scarfing peanut M&Ms down my gullet and popping painkillers whilst blogging the work ain't doing itself, y'know what I mean? If I were a man I wouldn't be having this problem right now (although still would be adjusting to weird dangly bits which don't get me wrong there is a time and place for).

*sigh* Off in hunt for large quantities of peanut M&Ms...

Savoury or Sweet?

The bf and I have disagreed upon this subject but the question still remains: which is better savoury foods or sweet? I can see the merits in both but when push comes to shove down your gob, there really is one that you'd always, always, settle for.

Bf is a notorious fan of the sugar. I am a savoury girl. Give me chips any day over chocolate. It's interesting when we venture outdoors to a restaurant. He's all "sweet marinated" this and "coconut shrimp" that while I'm eyeing the salty roast lamb and potatoes like a starved street cat. I'm not even bothered with deserts. It's like eh, who cares?

The good thing is at least I can have a bag of crisps laying around in a cupboard and not worry that they'll disappear on me. Same with the bf's various sweet snacks. I suppose, in a way, it is a blessing to have such opposite tastes in foods. Because otherwise we'd be nose to nose in heated convos about who ate the last pretzel and who hogged the remaining cookies to themselves. Still, though. Is one better than the other? Or is it all just eh, who cares?

This is probably the most pointless and boring post I've ever written. But there it is. Take it or leave it. I will not be offended.

Friday. No wait. Thursday. What?

It is one of those weeks where I am imagining that the time is faster than it actually is. I could've sworn it was Tuesday when it was Monday morning. Then yesterday I could've betted on it being Friday but it was only Wednesday. Today is Thursday and I feel like I should be waking up to pancakes or something as it is obviously Saturday morning.

Clearly my inner clocks are not stable. Those circadian rhythm yokes have slid off the right side of my balance. I can't sleep properly, I think the days are different than they actually are, and I feel peculiarly close with my cornflakes. I think I'm going a bit mad.

I feel like there is only one solution. I must take a time out. Go to the naughty chair if you will. (Oh yes, I have been naughty.) (But why are naughty chairs so naughty, anyway? They are quite peaceful, actually. Good meditation spots. Perhaps I should invest in a naughty chair? Does someone specially make them? Perhaps Ikea?).

I should go away for awhile. Far, far away. Away from the pollution (good god, why the hell can't buses run on flowers? I am so gonna die of cancer because of them.), away from tourists, and away from a crumbling and good-for-nothing transport system. Like North Chicago. Or Canada. Not for long, though. Just enough time to repair my lungs for the next walk to work.

Confusion I can handle temporarily. Let us hope this passes shortly or I actually may require a trip "out of state." MIA and all that.