:: a.whisper.in.water ::

:: Monday, July 28, 2003 ::

What Is This, a Fucking LiveJournal?
I just don't want to be at work today. The more non-involved I am with life (the universe, and everything), the better my day is going to be, because to be perfectly simple about it, it's one of Those Days. It's far from the dreaded pigeonhole of morose teen-angst. It's just waking up out of phase with the Way Things Should Be and having some sort of stomach ailment (DON'T FUCKING CLICK THAT LINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH ME. HONEST TO GOD, THIS IS THE WORST PICTURE I'VE COME ACROSS ON THE NET AND IT WAS A HORRID MISTAKE TO LINK IT IN THE FIRST PLACE) that's probably the result of swallowing some tainted poolwater (is there any other sort?) at Jenn's folks' cookout, which was a pretty entertaining affair, though it was, in effect, a Party For Adults where kids, inclusive of us college folk, just sort of have to find things to do with themselves that don't involve going upstairs and making out (for more than five minutes).

The weekend was certainly nothing to complain about while I was there, but I didn't get to hang out enough with Jenn, and so felt like I had nothing to take away from it, not enough warmth, not enough meaningful interaction. She felt just the same way, and yet a discussion of the matter still turned into an argument wherein she felt attacked, and I simply pissed with everything. Being sick, my friends, sucks. I don't get sick often, and fail miserably to take it gracefully. I suspect I'm going to officially blame everything on my stomach, since just thinking about it makes me want to tear down the hall with a turpentine-soaked 2x4 wrapped in oily rags. Instead, I have to sit in front of the most patience-demanding device ever. I fucking hate the AFM when it's being temperamental. You can't even punch it to vent frustration; it costs more than I care to know. It's a terrifying thought, being in a position to render $250,000 (I'm guessing) null and void in two seconds. I imagine the situation is actually fairly common (factories, car dealerships, Fort Knox), but, speaking from the perspective of a kid who went through 5 watches in two years, who fancied that he had a supernaturally destructive touch rather than acknowledge how clumsy he was and take responsibility for it all internally, it's definitely not for me. Ever since yesterday's Amtrak ride, consciousness has accompanied a constant desire to simply break things, and when that fades, I'll rejoin you all in your merry kingdom of work and play.

As it is, I've been distracting myself with Bookworm, a word game whose addictive qualities rival that of the mighty Text Twist. I'm tired of my Jekyll/Hyde nature when it comes to arguing with Jenn. Somewhere long ago, I stopped acting as though things were all my fault, and started resenting it when I felt like I was supposed to act as though this were true. Such is the defensive personality I regard as my greatest impediment to sub-marital happiness.

Music: None, and that's the problem.

:: Aziz 4:13 PM [+] ::
...