No Use For A Title

I'm not sure if I'm surprised or disappointed - not to imply that the two are mutually exclusive - not to imply that they are related -- that my one-quarter-awake stream-of-consciousness post - which will be bumped off the main page by this post - only received 2 comments, one of which was my own.

I am, however, unsurprised - though perhaps disappointed - in the sheer number of times I have used "-" in this post; indeed it became absurd - and even gratuitous - in places.

-------

"it" being, by the way, the number of uses of "-", not the post itself - the disappointing nature of each post should - and usually will - go without saying.

In introspective news, I have relearned how to channel my emotions productively. Given my disposition, ethnicity, and nationality, I am mainly talking about anger, and channeling it in ways that are destructive to things other than myself (and the kitchen wall - though to be fair, that was more about impulsiveness than anger - indeed, I wasn't angry at all, except perhaps at myself after it happened). I was going to qualify that learning to redirect anger to a non-self-destructive end doesn't necessarily imply that it was self-destructive before, but that was a knee-jerk reaction and I'm not sure if it actually fully applies.

Given all of that, -----------

I bought two new suits today. Well, a suit and an extra jacket, which I'm told is like buying two suits. (I'm lucky I'm not such a pushover when it really counts [!]) Oh, and a question: why is there a bottom button if you aren't supposed to button it?

I have been informed that a blog isn't really legitimate until it does this*, so I may as well get it out of the way now:

One more kiss could be the best thing
But one more lie could be the worst
And all these thoughts are never resting
And you're not something I deserve

In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me
In this world there's real and make believe
And this seems real to me

[Chorus]
You love me but you dont know who I am
I'm tore between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you dont know who I am
So let me go
Let me go

I dream ahead to what I hope for
And I turn my back on loving you
How can this love be a good thing
When I know what I'm goin through

In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me
In this world there's real and make believe
And this seems real to me

[Chorus]
You love me but you dont know who I am
I'm tore between this life I lead and where I stand
You love me but you dont know who I am
So let me go
Just Let me goo...
Let me go

And no matter how hard I try
I can't escape these things inside I know
I knowww..
When all the pieces fall apart
You will be the only one who knows
Who knows

[Chorus]
You love me but you dont know who I am
I'm tore between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you dont know Who I am
So let me go
Just let me go

and you me but you dont
you love me but you dont
you love me but you dont know who I am
and you love me but you dont
you love me but you dont
you love me but you dont know me


*as for what "this" is...use some damn context clues. Your own conclusion would be much better than anything I could put here, because it's your own, and I'm sure I posted the essay about truth some time ago.

I've gotten two of my six final grades so far: A in Communication, and B in Psychology (the opposite of what I expected from the two, but that's to be expected).

On a tenuously related note, have you ever made a mistake and discovered that the only way to rectify it was another mistake?

Two wrongs may not make a right, but four lefts make a circle.

The last couple of posts, Blogger has disturbed me by finding no errors in my spelling. For my own peace of mind: qweith

I just realized that the above line could be seen as being what the two preceding it referred to, and that was not the case ("was" due to truth fluidity), though it does fit pretty well.

Crazy subconscious.

Two finals tomorrow. Since they're during normal class time instead of the three-hour allotted exam time, they're non-cumulative.

While outlining the Psychology chapters, I eventually typed out the phrase "difficulty enjoying sex" (with regard to women, due to early conditioning and other factors, but that's neither here nor there). Word, in its infinite wisdom, offered a grammar-enhancing solution: it said I should change the phrase to "difficulty-enjoying sex". I don't know about anyone else, but I can recognize the difference in meaning that a hyphen can impart. Indeed, one of the powers of English as it is today is its ability to use the same words and mean a myriad of different things, sometimes at the same time. One goes from having difficulty getting enjoyment from sex (which may not be entirely psychological, but see above) to either getting enjoyment from or being a personification of "difficult sex", whatever that is.

I think I'll conclude with that thought still in your heads. Goodbye.

A semi-strange thing has happened to me recently (by my own standard). If I were a D&D character, it would be explainable by taking 2 points from my Dexterity score and putting them in my Charisma score. Why do I believe this? Well, a lowered bonus to Dexterity is what let me rip half of my hand off, as you can still see below today (mild exaggeration). As for the Charisma, I suppose I can explain it away without cryptic references by calling it a process of elimination. I don't feel any stronger, more invincible, smarter, or in tune with my surroundings, whatever those are.

In other news, I made up for the sleep I didn't get Wednesday and Thursday nights, and I no longer feel like the walking dead. (I know, I was disappointed too.)

*done*

I just finished my final paper, pretty much all in one day. (I did some reading outlining in advance, but these things don't just write themselves. [That's what quotations are for.]) And on a solid 1.5-2.25 hours of sleep.

Now, I have an hour to get ready for a group meeting on another project, which we have to present to the rest of the class tomorrow.

I love college.

[More at 10]

I just realized: it's 4-20. *retarded laugh*

Get it? 4-20. *retarded laugh, again*

*lesser retarded laugh*

*walk away without further incident*

[The following post may contain explicit themes and/or language; viewer discretion is advised.]

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Those aren't all the same "fuck"; it helps to read it out loud...unless you have a voice like the Hawking chair.

[Boom shaka-laka-laka boom. [I had to.]]

If this post has seemed a little more...diffuse - perhaps even "weird" - than usual, that's because it probably is. But, don't attribute to imbalance what can be accounted for by sleep deprivation, with which I am intimately familiar.

What the hell am I doing here, you ask? [You don't, really, but it would really help my discourse if you did, so take this cup of stfu and, well, stfu.] I'm waiting for a final version of a group presentation that we have to email to the professor at 9am tomorrow [today at this point, by this clock at least - but it's fast, so let's ignore that and get out of this bracket now]. It was supposed to be done around 11:30 [2:00 this afternoon, really, but (gasp!) not everyone did their assigned part!] The guy we all passed the buck to [who is apparently not Harry S. Truman, incidentally (did you know the S. didn't actually stand for anything? Or was that Ulysses S. Grant...I know it was Grant, but I'm pretty sure Truman's S was just there too, somewhat like Homer J. Simpson's "J" standing for "Jay", except not really since "Jay" is at least a multiple-letter phonetic construction.)] had to go to work, and said he'd be back at the library at 11, if any of us wanted to meet him to get input on the hopefully final version. I doubt that anyone went. [If you had to look up to remember what I was talking about before the digression, you are not alone. (In a purely metaphysical sense, of course; I'm not actually implying anything on the subject of whether or not anyone is, in reality, alone.)]

That's part of the reason I hate bureaucracy and any form of group work. Delegating tasks to other people quickly becomes a chore equaling the task, and not many people are so idealistic as to think everyone will do their fair share, not even Libertarians. Well, maybe some of them do, but those ones are more than just idealistic, they're retarded. [The causes of high correlation among the groups - including speculation that idealism is a subset of retardation - would be an interesting path to follow, if I were capable of following a logical path right now. (To be fair though, what I am writing right now isn't much more unfocused than my thoughts normally are, I just don't have enough sense/motivation/nuclear energy (choose one) to bother with attempts at not writing down what I think. {That concept opens up an entirely new proverbial can of worms [Is it really proverbial? Shouldn't it be metaphorical? Ah, fuck it]. I don't intend to say that I'm writing down everything I'm thinking; I feel I should clarify that. [Though I suppose if I didn't, I wouldn't even be writing this, but get back to that cup of stfu and leave me the hell alone dammit] Indeed, I'm quite certain that there is no state of mind capable of thought I could be in in which [haha, double "in"...don't ask what that made me think of] I would not guard some of my thoughts. Thoughts/ideas are, on the whole, at least as horrible as they are useful; I wouldn't wish them on my worst enemy (mostly because they don't involve pain, but *shrug*). Idle thoughts which one could only eliminate through strict mental conformity (which would narrow one's world-view considerably) are too easily used against, er, one. [By "one" I mean "me", of course, but I'm sure other people have had the same experience. I think] I don't want to restrict my thoughts for any reason, even if they are horrible and useless and get me into trouble and so on ad infinitum. Thinking is too core to my identity, I suppose. [By "too" I mean too much so to allow restriction of it, not "too" as in too much.] [Oh, and at this point I've gone way off topic [whatever that was]. In order to avoid risking the safety of the universe, I hereby affirm that the mark caused by holding shift and hitting the . key on a standard Windows keyboard [don't want to do it too early (heh heh)] serves as an equivalent to any - and, indeed, multiple - marks, including but not limited to "}", ")", and "]". [Note that they are in quotation marks and thereby do not count as actual punctuation, a compromise that came about when a fight broke out over who was to ascend to the throne in an ancient country long since forgotten (no, not France)] This, verily, is that mark: >

Having used entirely contrived and artificial means to escape what I was talking about [man, don't even get started on that], I will now bring this "entry" "to a close". No one is going to read the whole thing; not even me. No one is that bored/stupid/crazy/bored/brain-damaged/interested [choose two]. Out of curiosity, if anyone does read the whole thing, comment on it. But don't lie; lying is a sin. A sin punishable by an early death brought about by the Hand of God itself (or me, if It is unavailable and delegates the task to me (!)) You may laugh or sneer, but no jury in this country would convict me...

I demonstrated my patriotism today by buying a new electric shaver and a "deluxe" electric toothbrush. (I guess it's deluxe because of the massage function.) None of that non-electric crap for me.

I also applied for another credit card (just for the hell of it, of course) when I closed my crappy "hardly no interest" savings account. No need to worry about me being a typical American with that damn thing, though.

In less materialistic news*, my hand injury is nearly completely healed; I should know what kind of scar, if any, it will yield soon. The only problem with hyperbolic healing is that it actually becomes slower for minor injuries.

Oh well.

In more self-centered news*, next week is going to be a bitch. Every class has something big due, and every day has at least one thing too. Some of this stuff (group projects) I have to start this weekend, and the rest (x-page papers, where x >= 6) I probably should start.

That's about it; can't think of anything else right now.

*sits silently*

*gives a "...well?" look*

*motions for you to go away*

*gets up and leaves, disgusted*

*if such a thing exists

My grandmother made me spit out my Pepsi today, when she mentioned that she'd had a potato chip sandwich. Then she wonders why she's gained 2 pounds recently.

As for my hand, the outer perimeter has mostly healed, but the inside is a darkened husk of its former self.

So it suits me.

Making up for lost time, or just the same inane crap as always? We report, you decide. (tm)

Because my grandfather had to go pick up my grandmother today, I had to actually carry my house key outside of the house! First time for everything, I guess. When I got back here, I decided to try the door first, just to see what would happen.

It opened.

No reason to panic, though; there was crap sitting on the dining room table that wasn't there before. Maybe he never left, because maybe someone else went and got her.

Nope.

It was my aunt (how did she get a key?).

In other news, I'm still going to do what I always do when I'm home alone. ...no, you freak; I meant order pizza. My other "alone" activities require my left hand to be in top shape, like writing. And...brushing my teeth.

*nods solemnly*

I was going to order Domino's, but their phone user interface is horrible. Give me the centralized call center of Pizza Hut any day. (It's actually cheaper than a comparable Papa John's delivery - which I'm not a huge fan of anyway - and Little Caesar's doesn't deliver around here.)

And that's it for today. Go fuck yourself, Cleveland Ohio.

This one took a little better. It healed a lot since earlier today; the little red dot used to be connected to the bigger red part at the bottom. Oh, while I remember: Who's the !? commenting person? 

Nice and overexposed...in more than one sense. 

As I said about a minute ago in my comment on the previous post, not much has been going on that fits with this blog's theme, whatever it is.

Something interesting did happen today, though. I took a bus to get back to campus from downtown, and when I got off, I fell. That in itself wouldn't be too interesting except for the way that I fell and what happened afterward. When I got up, I noticed that a chunk of skin from my hand decided to take that opportunity to try and secede from the rest of the union. I shrugged, put my hand in my...er...hand, and walked to the nearest building, into the nearest bathroom, and proceeded to wash the rest of my hand, but not the ripped area. I did wet it to get what little blood there was out of the way so I could rip off the rogue skin cells, however. Then, I made a makeshift bandage out of a paper towel, which is hanging loosely off my wrist as I type (It's only there to prevent air from hitting the area directly).

The part with only minor damage is already starting to heal, but the part where most of the blood came from is still letting out some kind of liquid. I'm not going to bother disinfecting it or any other wussy shit like that though; I'm confident that the largest adverse effect possible is a scar.

On a partially related note: left side.

I'll get a picture of it when I get home, I'm almost positive it won't heal by then (if I'm able to be hurt by falling, my abilities aren't working anyway).

[Note: When I tried the spell check, it picked up "blog's" and "disinfectant," saying the latter should be "disambiguate." I'll be damned if I ever disambiguate anything.]

You know those needles you get sometimes in your foot, when you let it "fall asleep"? I get those in my chest and my back occasionally. If I get them in my back, they're usually preceded by ones in my chest, as if something is moving through me.

I think I'm beginning to dissociate from myself again (that is, it sometimes feels as if I am controlling my self from outside myself). I wonder if any more of my less essential "parts" will be lost in a transition.

If that happens and I am made aware of it - if I am indeed able to become aware of it - I'll probably refer to it here.

For posterity.