It’s almost 7am on April 28 — That would be the first workday of the first week of the first day that I’m keeping track of me trying to live better by boring you with the details.
I have made coffee.
My coffee maker was a gift!! Thank you Stephanie Philbrick and family for that gift some time back. I fill up the little thing with coffee and put in some water and it squirts hot coffee stuff into my cup.
The blogging format is too formal.
Twitter is too Twitter.
Facebook is in everybody’s Face.
I’ve complained long and hard in my head this way, so at this point I have to candy-walk… carrot-walk myself into doing something… So a day of coffee, blogging, and working out this logging/blogging things with own data systems….
I will be moving away from blogger and the rest. I figure if someone wants to read something I’ve written then they can go to where I stored those words. If I can no longer afford to store those words, then the court may appoint a public repeater.
The previous sentence mixes up a bunch of information I’ve been meaning to disseminate, but haven’t.
I figure 1/2 of a my life should be input and then 1/2 of my life should be output. I’m willing to say that at 45 years, that, hopefully, I have reached the Wednesday of my life week. And I intend to spend the rest of Wednesday telling you things, and then maybe tomorrow selling you things, and then on Friday I might throw things and then on Saturday I might be crapping things in your general direction. And then on Sunday, ice cream.
You see, I need to put thoughts somewhere. I need to not be bothered by how they look to you (and I’m not, but this blogging form tends to make me want to check my work a little too often to be helpful to me).. and blogging causes an interrupt on Facebook and whatever… the social media streams… So… I need to make my thought collector gadget thing like RIGHT NOW.
There’s is a small window between wanting to do something and doing it in my universe. And this is what I struggle against. It’s the reason I do all the crazy things I do — just to get the train back around to a few hours where I will actually produce something.
All of my depression problems revolve around not being able to produce… It’s not depression that stops production, it is the lack of production that causes depression.
Fortunately, my brain doesn’t give a flying flip what kind of production I do. I do need money. I do want respect. I crave to see my children. I want this and I think I should have done that by now, but all my brain needs to do is run. And this right now is running.
In the 2007 period, I was thinking that eventually everyone is going to have to get used to complete transparency because or might as well because the old ideas of privacy were being turned on their heads. And people just march right into this openness. And I frankly think it is a good thing. More eyes means more government.
More eyes means more government of personal behavior. Am I willing do DO THIS SOMETHING? We have all our check list stuff: Is it moral, is it beneficial, does it have downside… You can simply cut right to the chase and ask yourself — WOULD YOU DO IT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?
And so now I have been living my life with complete honesty, for the most part — I don’t lie about what I do.
7:28am Monday
The clock is good.
I am currently hearing a background hiss. It’s almost a tone. It can be a tone if I want to concentrate. The ‘sound’ is related to what my brain is doing right now. The sounds will be less noticeable a little later today. I noticed last year that the sound is always there and I deduced that it was a remnant of what I listen to during the last stage of a dxm journey. It used to fade to silence, and then I would sleep. The more carefully I listened to the static, the more loudly I could discern it. And now I can always hear it.
Listening is so important.
7:35am Monday
So am I going to save this? That causes another page… and another thing onto Facebook and Twitter and OHHHH!! I was teasing with “programming in my underwear.”
I did spend some time last weekend in my underwear. I’m kinda smiley about that anyway because I was with a female person and this is not something I do very often (enough) and so, well, Spring! I was a little giddy and we were talking about what I do and her laptop was there on the bed so I looked up php programming sandbox and then proceeded to teach her the basics of variables and expressions and left hand side and right hand side — you know, in the order that I thought made sense. AND THAT DID NOT COMPLETELY FRUSTRATE HER. She’s very smart anyway, and I was trying to put first things first without getting all “gotta learn anatomy first, Dr. House” on her, and she was coming up with questions that involved the grammar and then she asked me my I don’t spend more time teaching people because she could tell I was exciting about my work just then. I had been complaining that while I am thankful that I can do what I do, that I don’t do enough of what I can do to put bacon on the sammich.
Anyway, that was the point.
And another point. I’ve found that I’m put into situations where I’m needed or where I need to learn something or whatever. And last weekend, I got to experience what it’s like being stalked by an ex-boyfriend. Well, I got to experience what it’s like to pretend no one is home while her ex-boyfriend knocks on the door, and then the window, and then the door, and the window, and then the door. And then he goes away for 12 hours. And then he knocks on the door. And then he says things through the window.
And I’m thinking, “Just tell this guy to go away.”
And I actually say, “Let’s tell him to go away.”
But it’s not that easy.
This has been going on for more than a year, I find out.
Having been an abusive person — hell, having done some pretty needy bullshit just like two years ago — It was good for me to be there to see what she was going through. None of my “guy” solutions would work (and it wasn’t my life I would be “guying” into)… So I shared the protective order knowledge I have… And another friend of hers (a guy) took her in that night and was going to drive her to get that order the next morning.
She won’t tell me the details. She says, “I’m fine, and how are you?” Because it’s really none of my business what she does or does not do.
BUT.
It was coming down to this: She was thinking about going out and confronting this guy as a distraction so that I could get away without him seeing me because he would really freak out if he knew I was in there. Except this dude is an ex for last year. Actually, this dude was becoming an ex last year when I met this woman — he had degraded down into sending a bunch of really terrible, abusive text messages. The pattern is: 1. Hello 2. Why didn’t you respond? 3. Where the fuck are you? 4. Respond now because I hate you. 5. You suck.
Whatever… I know the pattern because I’ve worked the other side of the pattern.
Anyway, it was good for me to see the confusion and irrational thinking. She was worried about me being hurt. She was worried about me making everything worse. She was a prisoner.
The guy eventually went away.
She had a friend drive over to give her a ride to a safe place.
I left.
The next day she did tell me she has a busted lip and some bruises, but that it wasn’t my fault.
Obviously none of this is my fault, I know that. She doesn’t know that it’s not her fault. Her wanting to protect my feelings is probably part of the problem, in my humble opinion. She’s in a situation where she’s trying to manage this other guy’s behavior (which is impossible).
Anyway. It was good for me. I hope I helped some. I did lots of disclosure. She did lots of disclosure. Information is power.
8:03am AND NACHO IS JUST adamant that I do something… But what?
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