bad things


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I suppose I ought to know by now that if things are going too well, it’s because something terrible is about to happen.

It has only almost happened though.

But almost is bad enough. They just want to give us a few days to really begin dreading the imminence of the terrible thing that is probably happening.

And then, once they tell us and give it an official announcement, I am not sure what to do. Because when you are close to a person, the bad things that have happened to them are really happening to you. But there is nothing you can do to stop it. It’s just different this time because I already know we are waiting for it to happen, rather than finding out so far after the fact.

I cannot tell what feeling is predominant right now. Self-pitying despair? Fiery, Wolfish rage? That cool, metallic emptiness that tries to pass itself off as calm so that we can think what to do next?

I don’t know what to do. Or how to feel. I just don’t. I can’t even think of who to tell.

I will never eat a cinnamon apple again.

book things


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Bluechickenninja posts a lot about books. And I already think a lot about them as it is, but she posted two since my last visit to WP that made me go, “hmm…”

1. Favourite first sentences in books.
2. Characters we’d like to check back in with.

One is tough, but that’s because I don’t remember first sentences very well. (Or anything, really…just ask my fiancĂ©.)

Two I would have expected to be easier…but…I don’t know. It’s tough for different reasons. Probably because the first character that popped into my head when I got the idea of her post was a character who died in the book. So. You can’t check back in with the dead. At least not in that book, since it’s not a scifi/fantasy bit. :|

There are about to be spoilers…but I think a lot of books with characters I enjoyed turn out that way.

Hitchhiker’s Guide? Arthur died.
Oryx and Crake? Jimmy died.
The Sound and the Fury? Quentin died.

I can only think of two books with characters I wanted to follow further than their particular story ran…Shadow, from Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. I always hope that he will include more stories from that universe when he publishes his collections of short stories (haven’t gotten the most recent one yet, but it’s on my list…).
The other character I’d have liked to hear more from…probably Jake from Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. I couldn’t stand that all my classmates in our Hemingway/Faulkner class felt like that story had a satisfactory conclusion. Definitely not! Not that there’s any chance of hearing from those characters again, as the author is also dead…but still.

I think maybe my feelings are better characterized as disappointment that the characters I enjoyed left so much unsaid because they died in their narratives, and less disappointment that the stories themselves ended, because I’ve seen the opposite happen, too. A character will live and live and live and I begin to wish they would die. Like Anne Rice’s Lestat. I love those books, but man…after a certain point, you know it needs to end, and since the author keeps writing, you have to decide to end things on your own before they can turn sour.

That said…I’ve flipped through my books (a daunting task, as I have many), and these are probably my favourite opening sentences (for novels…I left out the short stories).

1. “The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone.”
Peter S Beagle, The Last Unicorn

2. “It was a pleasure to burn.”
Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

3. “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.”
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

4. “Fanny Swann popped the only red balloon, pretending that it was her father’s heart.”
Keven Henkes, Protecting Marie

5. “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.”
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

I don’t know…after reading through the first line of each stand-alone or first-in-series book I own…these are the ones I like best. And the third one? Not gripping or poetic, maybe, but it strikes me as sufficiently tragic to spark my interest…I rather enjoy my walks.

So, yeah. Thanks, bluechickenninja. :)

word problems


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I feel like my conversations at work get out of hand pretty quickly. Today, for example.

Mike: One more count before you go on vacation. Excited?
Me: Don’t remind me.
Mike: Every Monday afternoon, I get this feeling…that even at such a distance, I’m sensing your blood pressure rising just because you’re thinking about counting things.
Me: If they only wouldn’t open stuff needlessly. That’s the thing I can’t stand. Like those stupid food trays. One hundred and seventy-five to a box, and I have to count them individually, only to find that there are one hundred and seventy-two. Because they HAD to have those three trays–nevermind the other open box I haven’t counted yet…
Mike: You could teach a training class. Have some counting bears to illustrate the suffering of taking inventory on a smaller scale.
Me: Would I have to then inventory the counting bears? Because that would be the last straw. They’d want an open box of each colour.
Mike: You’d want to hurt someone, I see.
Me: In the spirit of maths, we could have a word problem: say I have one bullet, and three needlessly opened boxes of counting bears–
Mike: Wait! I just have to know–if you had two bullets, and we had you taking inventory with Hitler, Stalin, and Toby, would you say you’d shoot Toby twice?
Me: I would shoot whichever of them had opened all the boxes.
Mike: *laughing*
Me: They’d better just hope it was boxes of counting bears they opened, and not boxes of bullets. *pause* You should talk to Maggie about not hiring any more time-traveling dictators, too.
Mike: *laughing more* Paris and Kurt will be so disappointed.
Me: There’s only room enough for me here.
Mike: I’ll keep that in mind.


I still don’t know what to think. I see now that it is partly my own fault. But…my sisters? I don’t know what to make of them. One of them just says these things under her breath while we are having dinner and our dad or other sister is talking…and I am the only one who hears her, and I always laugh…because we have no souls (it seems), and mom always wants to know what is so funny, but no. Nope. Nothing. It’s not funny, actually.

But somehow she’s picked up on it enough to be evil to me…

And then our middle sister did the same thing yesterday.

I think I am just paranoid enough to think I am being elaborately trolled…by basically everyone at this point. Because of that text, too. That was a weird one…

Ugh. How did this happen?

I feel like…as inevitable as it was that I would react internally the way I have, I wish somehow that my Wolf-self had been clever enough to keep me from reacting outwardly in whatever way I’ve done that’s caused it to spread around like this. Like I’ve contaminated everyone.

It’s not a comfortable thing…despite the fact that everyone is taking it in stride. (Maybe that’s what worries me, actually.)

(And–more parenthesis, I know–I just had a thought. One that I think was trying to form when I woke this morning–and yes, it was actually morning!–but that couldn’t quite hold itself together yet…I think that the reason I am stuck in this now is because she isn’t there anymore, occupying so much space…and I feel…no way about it. Nothing. I feel nothing about the realization that she isn’t registering anymore. I don’t even feel surprised that I feel nothing…which is what I wanted to feel for all that time anyway…but I can’t even get excited about it now that it’s come to pass…

Admittedly, if I were to actually see her–unlikely–it would probably not last…but that’s the beauty of unlikely situations: their unlikeliness makes them a non-issue–except for paranoid people like me, because we will start to think about it anyway, just in case it happens…and I can’t really discount it, since the last “unlikely” scenario I was fancying did happen…ah, I should just stop. Like, really. Just bloody STOP.)



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You know those times when you do a stupid thing and try to play it off, but then it keeps popping into your mind all throughout the rest of the day, and you respond with sudden outbursts of cursing or banging your head on a thing, and that voice in your head is all like, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE???”

That happened. Because I was logging into a thing to show my GM something that wasn’t making sense…and I didn’t hit the tab button. And my password got logged into the username spot.

Explaining your passwords is easy when they are the names of your pets. But this one…ugh -_-”

Basically, the end result was my GM laughing hysterically about this running joke that the supervisors and I have about my various fictitious political alignments, and my resignation to using them as a basis for all the ridiculously long passwords we have to have for every work-related program we use (seriously, I can think of 9 right off the top of my head…).

Except that now I have to change half of mine because he admits he will probably remember what it is because he thought it was hilarious.

And I never did get my numbers-related question sorted out.


because we got bored talking about being served human meat…

Me: …I think that where I went wrong is when I told them they could decide amongst themselves who should stay.
Kurt: Right. Because who knows what they’ll actually end up doing then. They might all just leave and hope we don’t notice.
Me: I should just stick with dictating what they do and when.
Kurt: But it’s nice to let the crew decide for themselves sometimes. It’s just a nice thing to do.
Me: I do like being nice sometimes. I feel like I fit in better–
Me: Come again?
Kurt: I see what you’re doing. I know your government sent you here with orders to assimilate so we won’t notice–BUT I’M NOTICING RIGHT NOW!
Me: Oh? I see. Now, what government is this, again? The one that’s sent me?
Kurt: Whatever communis–NAZI GERMANY. They sent you.
Me: On one hand, I am excited about that because I always wanted to time travel. On the other hand…just no.
Kurt: I went too far.
Me: Perhaps.



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That site.

I can never find what I actually want to watch there, which means I’ve made a lot more trips to the used bookstore to check for a few titles I am wanting to watch (or re-watch)…they never have them either.

And now Netflix is sort of grasping at straws to suggest things for me based on a handful of things I told it I’ve seen before, and the titles I keep asking it about.

I’m not sure what to make of its suggestions.

See, it suggested a TV show to me, and I added it (haven’t watched it yet), but I thought it was odd because there are only three episodes so far. And it’s a show I’ve never heard of. So I asked IMDB, and apparently it’s a foreign show.

Ah. Okay.

I might still watch it…but I’ve run into a few weird things regarding the subtitling in some of the foreign films that it’s persuaded me to watch. Makes me hesitate a bit.

I watched a Danish movie called The Hunt, because I remembered us talking about it at work because it was nominated for a “best foreign film” Oscar or something…so I figured I’d give it a go. And the film is in Danish, so that’s fine. Read subtitles and pay attention. No big deal.

Except…there was an English-speaking woman who apparently understood Danish, but did not speak it because she almost never has lines in Danish. But she’s not English nor American…nor Canadian or Australian or Irish or Scottish or South African…none of the accents I recognised as being from a place with a large English-speaking population.

Turns out the actress is Swedish. But if she’s Swedish….why does her character speak almost exclusively English? I was confused. Especially when the other characters keep talking to her in Danish, with the exception of a few lines from the main character, and then another set of characters who ask her if she needs them to tell her something in English so she can understand better, and she says no and then they do anyway. Wth.

It wasn’t a bad movie, but the plot was meh.

And then there was one that I watched because it turned out to have Ron Weasley Rupert Grint in it.

Into the White started out with some backstory in text format…and the text was in German, which puzzled me at first. Because I assumed the movie would have the text available in the language of the intended audience…makes sense, right? Fortunately, Netflix gave me subtitles for the backstory. And those were the only subtitles supplied by Netflix.

Anyway. Given my assumption, I thought it was going to be a primarily foreign language movie. Okay, fine. I like to read.

But then the English characters turned out to only speak English, so any other characters had to speak English to them. Alrighty…except…now that the movie’s primary language is English, why are the subtitles only for the non-English languages? Does that mean we are now assuming the entire audience understands English? I could get it if the subtitles were courtesy of Netflix, but the text was different, like it was a fixture in the film itself.

All I can guess is that the filmmakers figured the movie’s entire audience could understand spoken English, but not German or Norwegian…but that the same audience would probably be able to read the backstory in German anyway?

*shakes head*
I don’t even know.

…at least it wasn’t like Chappie (and other films by Neill Blomkamp, I suppose), where they subtitled spoken English with text in English because they figured people wouldn’t be able to understand a really strong South African accent.

Subtitles are weird, man.

Now I must sleep.

the dark side really does have cookies…or cotton candy, anyway

I am going to get our youtube privileges taken away. Now when we draw up the site, it suggests tons of movie trailers, which is 90% of what we watch at work…but I noticed today that if you scroll down just a little, it is making regular recommendations that we listen to musical selections from The Red Army Choir and the Wehrmacht Musikkorps.

I am just going to have to start listening to music on my phone when I am closing by myself. -_-”

That, or I’ll have to hope they will understand when I tell them it happened like some dubious character pulling up in a nondescript van and asking if you want ponies and cotton candy, and I got totally suckered in by that.

Because that’s what a lot of these marches make me think of…they all sound so damned happy. And I just want to feel cheerful and forget what it is like to be sick with anger. :(

give up

I should simply stop hoping for things and just give up.

Every time I think things are moving forward, someone ruins them, and then I have to be evil because that is the choice I’m given: let someone else make the decisions for me, and spend my life unhappy with them…or refuse. And naturally, people get all hurt by my refusals.

I should just do what people want me to do, shouldn’t I? Just let everyone else tell me how things are to be, and accept that there isn’t a choice, and the way I imagined things happening is, of course, nowhere close to reality.

I want to be happy, damn it.
And I was. I was so happy earlier today, and that got ruined before the night was over. Because of course it did. I am simply not allowed to be happy. Other people can’t stomach the idea of letting me be happy because my happiness requires too much of them.

Not that I can blame them.
I am very nearly unlovable. Especially if you don’t know me at all, or if you know me too well…as with our solar system, there’s a “Goldilocks area” where you know me just well enough to like me, but not so well that you see what an exacting, evil monster I am…

I should have learned quicker to keep people in that area, because telling them what a monster I am doesn’t deter them…they think they want to love me, and they’re wrong. Because I will just turn evil on them once they start destroying my vision of how things ought to be, and then (I like to imagine) they will ask themselves why they ever thought they wanted to love me when I am neverendingly awful.

Maybe only stupid people love me. I have not considered things in that light before.

Not, you know…stupid for loving me, but just stupid. Like they are too dumb to understand the fact that I have stated what I will and won’t do for years, and have not budged from that declaration…and they think they can text me and get me to change my mind about significant things like where I will live and when and under what circumstances…

Excuse me? I am blown away that one could think that was an acceptable thing to think about me. If it had been someone who didn’t know me well, okay. I could see it. But someone who knows me very, very well? One would think they’d know better. But no. Of course not.

It’s like they enjoy texting me constantly when I am busy at work, and sending me into a fit of rage that makes me sick to my stomach, and unable to sleep or to stop shaking. All because they couldn’t fucking wait for a time when we could have a real, in-person, calm conversation about it.

I just want to die because I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t. I can’t make anyone else happy, and I’m certain nobody else gives a fuck about my own happiness…I should just give up and hope that everyone else will do likewise and save us all the trouble.

meaningless connections

Okay. This.

Here is the problem, as I see it:

I am told that the human mind finds connections where there are none, and that this is why we are like we are, finding meanings where there “aren’t” meanings, and making stories and symbols and communicating complex (and ultimately “meaningless” ideas, depending on whether you believe or don’t believe in meaning as a thing that exists…). And yes, okay. I think a lot of connections we forge are stupid or meaningless.

But it is hard–so hard–to write them off when it is your own brain doing it.

Like this movie, right? I would never have watched it, except that I’d already seen another one that I would never have watched but for this thing that I am trying so hard to blame on my Wolf.

But they were both watched. And in this second one, where I already knew this scene existed because I was…I don’t know…serving drinks or something stupid. You needed more water with lemon, or a bottle of malt vinegar. Something dumb. But I remember this scene–that is the point–

No. No, I’m getting ahead of myself.

The movie. I watched it because I had already seen one with you in it, and I wanted to hear you talk again because it amused me. And because I am profoundly affected by voices. It’s a thing with me.

But…I liked you voice and I wanted to hear you talk more, so I watched this movie. And I knew this scene was in it, where you told a story that I already knew–and that is why I remember it…because I was moderately excited to hear a telling of this story I already knew and liked (very well…I liked it a lot or I would not remember).

This is the thing though:
You don’t just tell the story. You tell it with details that say to me, “this is you. This is why you are like that.”

I mean, as connections go…it would have been weak. But I wrote a post about that story just a few days ago. And it was fresh in my mind. And now all I can think about is how bizarre it feels, that I would hear you talking about something I was so recently thinking of.

I only slept for about three hours last night, and now I fear I will be unable to sleep again because I will be awake, thinking of this.

And listening to the songs…my goodness, the songs…
It was all a terrible, terrible mistake. I swear.

Except that, as you point out, I could not help but make that mistake because it is who I am. It was so because it could be no other way.


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