many things

April 9, 2013

I’m not dead. Yet. I’ve just been knitting and watching documentaries.

I have also been slowly recovering from a spike in rapid cycling, which sometimes happens. I distanced myself from people and gave myself some time alone. It helps me to become reclusive. People tend to set me off, and I don’t want to hurt them by saying something ridiculous that I didn’t mean to say.

During these times the dumbest things come out of my mouth. For one, I can’t speak straight, so my words are jumbled, and sometimes I stutter. Once one of the new hires at work got very suddenly too close to me and it frightened / unnerved me so much (because if there is one thing I hate with a passion, it is people getting too close to me without prior permission) that I started hard enough to gasp for breath and immediately hit a s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s. I had been trying to say the word “six”.

She giggled and asked if I was okay. All I could do was mumble yes and get back to what I had been doing, as far away from her as possible.

See, all of this comes back weeks after it happens. I couldn’t have written about this instance directly after it had happened; not even days afterward. It had to settle and boil down and be analyzed from top to bottom. I think I hurt her feelings, because she seemed to approach me gentler after that. Anyway, she only showed up for one more day, then quit.

I was relieved. I could not have dealt with extremely sudden invasions of my personal space. Work is stressful enough and my manager doesn’t have any understanding of personal space because she is affable and touchy and grew up in a house where you reach out and lightly smack another every time you say something you feel is remotely funny for some reason. One more closing in on my space makes me feel sick.

I’ve been known to say things that are entirely inappropriate. Hell, it’s my specialty. I don’t say these things in a comedic kind of way, though–oh no. I have to be awkward as hell. I have to turn a shade of puce when I talk and look suspicious because I fidget and lose eye contact.

Facepalm.

But, it’s okay. It happens. The best thing to do I have found in this situation is to just keep your mouth shut and try to think what it is you want to say rather than actually say it, even if you do feel it is relevant, because it probably is not.

It helps, it really, really helps, to have a conscious rein on things. My rein is “okay it’s time to go hide inside and knit for days upon days now.”

Advertisements

Molecules!

March 28, 2013

I haven’t written in a while. Whoops.

My days have been heavy with work and then coming home and playing video games and then flopping down for sleep. Sometimes after episodes there comes a stretch of nothing where the brain tries to recuperate. When socializing happens, you win a few friends, you lose a few more. At work, you try to maintain the Face That People Expect To See. Your diet loses a couple of points as you consume hot fudge sundaes with extra hot fudge.

I alternate video games. Last time it was Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, and before that, Okami. This time, it’s Harvest Moon: Animal Parade which is a very soothing time-waster. When I play video games now, I think of Carl Sagan saying to his son, “Never show this to me again. I don’t want to waste time.”

Eat a few sour cream and onion cheesy poofs. Turn up the dorky music that makes you feel better. Drown out the voice of reason a little longer.

I took up a journal, but I’ve only discovered an unhealthy decline in the perfection of my penmanship. I’m appalled.

There’s a three day weekend coming up, wherein I’ll probably only get out of my clothes to attend a family Easter dinner, and only grudgingly, which means I’ll wear comfortable things.

Otherwise, it is either a). Venture Brothers marathon + knitting; b). Firefly marathon + knitting; c). Writing

I’m tired. But it’s one more day.

berb

March 20, 2013

Ever have a day where someone tells you about something great that has happened to them and expect a lot of attention and praise out of you for it? Well fuck you, you’re not getting that out of me. Not this morning, at least. I’ll offer praise and attention when I’m feeling less like a cantankerous old man.

Good word, cantankerous.

I find that a lot of the time people tend to contact you to tell you about their wonderful news even when–and sometimes especially when–they haven’t spoken or paid attention to you in forever. They just want an ego-stroke, they don’t actually give much of a shit about you.

I am seriously having one of those days. I only want to care about people closest to me, not people who remember I exist when they want me to masturbate their feelings for them. I find it just about as ridiculous as an old high school bully trying to friend me on Facebook.

There is a reason why I live in the middle of nowhere, with just one person for company, and a smallish handful of close friends and neighbors whom I consider largely worth my time, effort, and mental masturbatory services. I do not do sycophantic fawning over people greedy for it.

I get exceedingly tired of people sometimes.

derp

March 20, 2013

And fuck if I don’t feel like I fit in anywhere. Is alienation a symptom of bipolar disorder or am I just paranoid right now? That “no one understands me, baw” feeling. Ugh, I hate it, it is pretentious, but fuck if I don’t feel like I fit in anywhere.

But you know. Bawww, whine, whatever. I was raised to believe that nothing I said had merit and people don’t pay me any mind anyway, so I don’t feel as if talking about this feeling is–well, let’s just say that when I feel this way, another voice tells me “shut up, cuntface, who the fuck gives a shit” which is true, completely true, wholly true.