Fuck you. Fuck you and your ridiculous grade school form of cowardice that has let you bitch to me for almost TEN years instead of fixing your fucking middle class issues. Fuck the fact that with all the shit you talk about your life, with all the texts I've answered, phone calls I've taken, advice I've given, projects we've made and all the absolute whining you've done that you don't respect me enough to at least tell me you don't want to speak to me anymore. Double fuck the fact that you were cool until he put that ring on your finger.
I try not to ask for much from people. Honesty, respect. Basic human wants, I think. I ask that you treat me as well as I treat you and not more. If you can't give that, then cut ties so we can both be on our own ways. I guess that's what happened. I just had more invested than the other party.
The deal is, I had a friend from seventh grade until earlier this year. She was really close to me when we lived in Idaho, decently close in Hawaii and since I've been in Virginia due to mutual shit storms our lives haven't totally meshed. But we were still friends. When her douchebag boyfriend cheated on her and they broke up for 48 hours? I was the one she called. And I took that call. We texted and what not. Not always frequently, but I don't consistently text anyone. Even Sarah. And for God's sake, we're engaged!
I go on Facebook, curious because none of my previous texts had been answered and none of my messages or comments replied to to find out she deleted me. Okay, I get it. You're all engaged and growing up. I'm not always easy to deal with and those who can deserve a trophy no doubt. But you could have the fucking respect to tell me personally you have a problem or are tired or whatever the issue is before just cowardly dipping out like a bitch.
In all honesty, its understandable. I won't lie about it. Anyone who knows me knows I can not only be a bitch, but that I'm sometimes very hard to deal with. I'm not even angry she doesn't want to be friends. I'm completely angry with how she went about it. She's not a bad person. As annoyed as I am I'm not an idiot. She's starting a life with someone she loves and all that. Being all adulty. My complaint is completely related to the fact she didn't have the courtesy to forewarn me. Granted, its her nature to avoid conflict as much as humanly possible, still. 8 years feels like it merits some sort of heads up. Well, at any rate I wish her the best. I hope her fiance mans up and matures. I hope she finds a job she's happy at and that her self esteem starts to sky rocket. She does deserve to be happy for once. Its not something she's had a lot of in her life.
In other news. I graduate soon! WOO. I will be the fourth Foltermann, second member of my household and I believe first Holt to receive a college degree. Maybe. My cousin or aunt may have beaten me to it. I will be officially done with school December 17th and plan to party it up with my parents and maybe Tim and a few former work buddies.
I have a new job. I now work at the illustrious H&M, and I am obligated to mention none of my opinions or rants reflect the company, personnel, or values and I am not in any manner a spokesperson or public endorser. I'm excited about it. The company in itself is very interesting and well coordinated, the staff is awesome and the work is stuff I can do. Oh, and there's a store in Portland, Maine so I can likely transfer up there after my exit exam in January.
Which, my move date has been pushed back about a month. I neglected to take my exit exam BEFORE graduating, so I have to take the next one in January. After that I should be home free. I'll be in Maine, tackling moose, cuddling with my beau, and partying with Emily. Who is, by the way, going to be the bestest roommate in the whole wide world. I can't wait to live with her.
I want some steampunk-esque goggles to wear on top of my head. I don't know why, other than I like the way they look. And I have some things to ask my new manager about before I do them. There's nothing in the handbook for H&M about hair, tattoos or piercings so I want to double check with her before I dye my bangs green or turquoise. I had them pink but it faded quickly.
I'm also on chapter 9 of my novel and missed my National Novel Writing Month deadline by 433 words. One day this book will be on shelves. I will see it happen!
I'm too tired to type right. Off to bed I go.
Goodnight world!!
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
No longer a Ginger, Still no Soul
Well. I'm hungry, its 11:12pm and I have no more episodes of Big Bang Theory to ogle. Ramen it is.
So, I've been rotating easily between the two worlds of severe boredom and sleep deprivation lately and the result is doing some odd things, writing several chapters for National Novel Writing Month in a single day, and discovering 9GAG. Oh, 9GAG. I feel like you're what everyone meant to save me from my warning me about 4chan. Too late. Soul's gone.
Escaped being a ginger (not that I dislike it) by dyeing my hair dark brown, still forfeit my soul. I'm just doomed, it seems, might as well enjoy it!
So, I'm not sure if I actually made a reference to this or not before but when I visited Maine a post-friend of a friend of mine kept doing what they called The Necromorph Dance. Dead Space, bro. Now, these fucking humanoid monstrosities are nightmares bred with spiders.
So, I've been rotating easily between the two worlds of severe boredom and sleep deprivation lately and the result is doing some odd things, writing several chapters for National Novel Writing Month in a single day, and discovering 9GAG. Oh, 9GAG. I feel like you're what everyone meant to save me from my warning me about 4chan. Too late. Soul's gone.
Escaped being a ginger (not that I dislike it) by dyeing my hair dark brown, still forfeit my soul. I'm just doomed, it seems, might as well enjoy it!
So, I'm not sure if I actually made a reference to this or not before but when I visited Maine a post-friend of a friend of mine kept doing what they called The Necromorph Dance. Dead Space, bro. Now, these fucking humanoid monstrosities are nightmares bred with spiders.
(Stolen from Courtesy of ....too fucking long. Its from Google)
They like to eat you. Or stab you. Or delight you with a casual dance that is meant to be imitated with two human beings because we simply lack the sheer number of arms necessary to accomplish the dance on our own. Watching this was a highlight of my visit. Watching Emily fling herself onto David's back and they both started doing it without cue? Out of this world. Doing it on your own, behind your father's back?
Yeah, not as cool. Anyway, school is nearly done and I'm managing to fight the horde of zombies also known as final projects. You want something that truly wants your brain? Try be a fucking engineer. I'm not, but still, vector calculus looks like Klingon to me.
In local news, I need a FUCKING job. Applied at Target, got a dismissal email. Ka-fucking-pow, bro. Not even a decent rejection call. Just an email that basically said "We saw you worked for Forever 21, and we choose to not associate with your kind." I cuss a lot more later at night than I do when the sun is out. Like a language vampire. Not that I'm much better during the day. I applied at H&M, so hopefully that goes through. Its a temp position, which is what I want, pays over minimum and hey, clothes. All I know is that I need to get my savings back up so I can get my ass up north. I want to start my year of good graces.
Well, I'm done ranting and such for the night. More updating. Other than my ferrets being overly stimulated jackwagons there isn't much else to talk about. So, have a goodnight.
Ciao, bitches.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Land Ducks
Ninja the Ferret is a small furry pain my ass, too good at proving his name. This damn critter devises ways to escape all of his prisons. Seriously. If I didn't have Gidget I'd lose him again. She's a pretty good pointer when it comes to the ferrets, honestly. She nudges him back over the baby gate with her nose. She herds and traps him when he gets loose until I can come fetch him. In another world she'd be a fabulous hunting dog. The one thing she isn't afraid of.
The other ferrets are growing pretty big. They're getting heavy. And way more cuddly than ferrets of the past have been. Gizmo loves to be held. Stitch likes to have his belly rubbed. They're so adorable. I love my boys.
In celebration of my dad's success in school we went out to lunch at El Azteca, a Mexican restaurant. It was nice, we don't go to that particular spot often. The food was really good though. Seriously. And my favorite part? There were freaking ducks outside.
Land ducks.
I say land ducks because back in September, on the 11th when we were hunting for ferrets at Animal Jungle we saw a momma with ducklings. They were adorable fuzz balls. We had to swing the truck around a bend to get close enough for pictures without bothering them. They were living under the cover of a tree by a bank. It caught us my surprise not only because they were in middle of a fucking shopping center, but because these little fluffy bumpkins looked to be very young pretty late in the year.
See? Momma and her little ducklings hiding out under a tree.
Well, we go into El Azteca to get to Mexican party on. Without the tequila. My parents don't need to see me like that, no sir. So, we come waddling out of the place and what do I see round the corner of the back of the building? Land ducks. And they've gotten BIG.
In typical Cynthia fashion I made a big fuss and said if I was out of the truck I would grab one of those ducks. Mom says she'd like to see that. Dad decides this show would indeed be worth it, pulls around the parking lot and parks letting me escape the truck. Mom is taking pictures of this whole thing, by the way, determined I'm going to get mauled. Ducks are some of the only birds I tolerate. Birds are freaky. I dislike most of the them. Annoying, chirpy gits.
What happens when I stalk up to these late bloomers?
The other ferrets are growing pretty big. They're getting heavy. And way more cuddly than ferrets of the past have been. Gizmo loves to be held. Stitch likes to have his belly rubbed. They're so adorable. I love my boys.
In celebration of my dad's success in school we went out to lunch at El Azteca, a Mexican restaurant. It was nice, we don't go to that particular spot often. The food was really good though. Seriously. And my favorite part? There were freaking ducks outside.
Land ducks.
I say land ducks because back in September, on the 11th when we were hunting for ferrets at Animal Jungle we saw a momma with ducklings. They were adorable fuzz balls. We had to swing the truck around a bend to get close enough for pictures without bothering them. They were living under the cover of a tree by a bank. It caught us my surprise not only because they were in middle of a fucking shopping center, but because these little fluffy bumpkins looked to be very young pretty late in the year.
See? Momma and her little ducklings hiding out under a tree.
Well, we go into El Azteca to get to Mexican party on. Without the tequila. My parents don't need to see me like that, no sir. So, we come waddling out of the place and what do I see round the corner of the back of the building? Land ducks. And they've gotten BIG.
In typical Cynthia fashion I made a big fuss and said if I was out of the truck I would grab one of those ducks. Mom says she'd like to see that. Dad decides this show would indeed be worth it, pulls around the parking lot and parks letting me escape the truck. Mom is taking pictures of this whole thing, by the way, determined I'm going to get mauled. Ducks are some of the only birds I tolerate. Birds are freaky. I dislike most of the them. Annoying, chirpy gits.
What happens when I stalk up to these late bloomers?
The little guys come running right up to me wagging their little ducky tails. It was amazing. I pet a duck and I liked it. Nothing quite like disappointing your mother when she's expecting you to be attacked outright by wild animals you have no business messing with in the first place. And for the record, I do not endorse this. Because they are my ducks. You can go assault your own land ridden aquatic fowl.
Look at em. Cute little buggers. They're still clinging to a few baby down feathers. Such an odd thing, but it was amazing. I thought I'd share this amazing story. And for the record, Virginia Beach Kill Shelters, if you take my ducks I will maim you.
Quack, motherfucker.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Like and Addict
I'm sick. Again. This is getting old fast, I used to have an immune system you set a fucking atom bomb off near without repercussions. Now I'm on a mixture of leftover hydrocodone and Tylenol Cold PM Warming, still unable to sleep. I'm considering making my own variety of Lazy Cakes with belladonna and melatonin.
I wrote a crappy rough draft of my project piece for Experimental Psychology, a class I'm pretty much scrapping by in based on my ability to take tastes and bullshit papers. Also, eating extra credit like its a fucking cupcake. The paper was late, so I'm sure that adding that to the fact it was realistically incomplete I might not get good credit for it. I'm going to have to set up a time to talk to the professor and see if I can make up the projects somehow. Oh, to top off the beginning of the week I have two exams. Awesome. And I believe I have a story due in Fiction.
I'm not in the best of moods. Thank God tomorrow is Halloween. I love Halloween. And I hope I get the call from JCPenney tomorrow. I'm tired of arguing with my mom over whether or not I'll be able to move in December. Its happening, whether or not I'm totally prepped for it. I've made up my mind and for once in my life I'm sticking to my guns and gritting through the speed bumps.
There was something else I wanted to say, but I don't remember. Let's see... Friday was awesome even though I got sick from it. Time with Tim is always a way to go about my life. We went to dinner, frozen yogurt and then to Hunt Club Farms and tortured some children. I was really on my game and I got lei'd by a doll girl. It was awesome. I made friends with zombies and got attacked by a small hillbilly child who was the most adorable fucking thing ever. I also pet sat some guinea pigs who were very sweet. Getting paid in cookies? The only way to live, man.
Oh! I realized Saturday that I treat everything like I'm addicted to it. I drink like I'm in recovery, I refuse drugs because of the idea that I may fall into a deep abyss of pain and ruin, I don't play internet games or do anything outright fun and of my generation for the fear that it will consume me. Its an interesting realization. I may expand on that later.
I have to go now, I think the medicine is kicking in. I'm about to pass out.
I wrote a crappy rough draft of my project piece for Experimental Psychology, a class I'm pretty much scrapping by in based on my ability to take tastes and bullshit papers. Also, eating extra credit like its a fucking cupcake. The paper was late, so I'm sure that adding that to the fact it was realistically incomplete I might not get good credit for it. I'm going to have to set up a time to talk to the professor and see if I can make up the projects somehow. Oh, to top off the beginning of the week I have two exams. Awesome. And I believe I have a story due in Fiction.
I'm not in the best of moods. Thank God tomorrow is Halloween. I love Halloween. And I hope I get the call from JCPenney tomorrow. I'm tired of arguing with my mom over whether or not I'll be able to move in December. Its happening, whether or not I'm totally prepped for it. I've made up my mind and for once in my life I'm sticking to my guns and gritting through the speed bumps.
There was something else I wanted to say, but I don't remember. Let's see... Friday was awesome even though I got sick from it. Time with Tim is always a way to go about my life. We went to dinner, frozen yogurt and then to Hunt Club Farms and tortured some children. I was really on my game and I got lei'd by a doll girl. It was awesome. I made friends with zombies and got attacked by a small hillbilly child who was the most adorable fucking thing ever. I also pet sat some guinea pigs who were very sweet. Getting paid in cookies? The only way to live, man.
Oh! I realized Saturday that I treat everything like I'm addicted to it. I drink like I'm in recovery, I refuse drugs because of the idea that I may fall into a deep abyss of pain and ruin, I don't play internet games or do anything outright fun and of my generation for the fear that it will consume me. Its an interesting realization. I may expand on that later.
I have to go now, I think the medicine is kicking in. I'm about to pass out.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Gaydar
Lucky you, you get two posts in one night from me.
In an ongoing battle, my father and I have been discussing the... sexuality of a friend of mine. My dad is determined this guy simply is ambiguous to his own desires. I keep pointing out the evidence that lends to the opposite. This particular character in my life is pretty spot on on what he wants. Or, moreover, who he wants it from. For over a week now this has gone on and on and on. I'll bring this gentleman up and my dad will shoot back randomly with "I still don't think he's gay."
Today at dinner, celebrating adding a new truck to the family, we got into this conversation again. I blame myself. I brought him up. I was told, by this friend of mine, that I'm a hag because my gaydar is always tripping. This is something I can completely handle. Also, if Virginia Beach didn't have so many men locked in their closets, I might not always be detecting them. That's neither here not there.
So, while explaining this to my parents in a true Foltermann family dinner fashion I point out how this particular male friend of mine who prefers gentlemanly callers has no concept of how to find said men to call upon him. His gaydar is about six clicks from calibrated. Its like he has the compass Jack Sparrow wants to protect so badly (which is probably a good analogy. Let's face it Johnny, you aren't fooling anyone just because of the kids). Mom laughed and dad got confused, but let it go.
I'm downstairs, about to head up, and as I'm gathering my laptop, sweet tea, and dog Dad looks at me and goes "Hey, I just thought of something!"
"That's a nice change."
"Shut up. If (we'll call him Bob) Bob's gaydar doesn't work, how does he know he's gay. Radars identify themselves."
"Dad, he can't tell if other men are gay. He knows he is. We've talked about this. And radars don't show their home tower on the screen."
"No, but they recognize it. I think he's confused."
"Well, does your gaydar ping on you?"
"No."
"You have a pretty fucked up and unreliable gaydar, Dad. I mean, for all you know, you're confused. Maybe its supposed to ping and it doesn't because it isn't calibrated right."
"You're just making shit up now."
"No, I'm using the same logic you applied to Bob and you. I'm just right."
"Go upstairs."
So I go upstairs and tell him goodnight, and get almost to the top when I hear, "And I still love you even though Bob isn't gay."
"I think you need get calibrated!"
"Hag!"
And that's the end of my night. After bullshitting a single page, thorough proposal paper on the differences between rehabilitation and detention in the juvenile justice system, I got to unwind discussing my friend's sexuality with my father. Times are good.
In an ongoing battle, my father and I have been discussing the... sexuality of a friend of mine. My dad is determined this guy simply is ambiguous to his own desires. I keep pointing out the evidence that lends to the opposite. This particular character in my life is pretty spot on on what he wants. Or, moreover, who he wants it from. For over a week now this has gone on and on and on. I'll bring this gentleman up and my dad will shoot back randomly with "I still don't think he's gay."
Today at dinner, celebrating adding a new truck to the family, we got into this conversation again. I blame myself. I brought him up. I was told, by this friend of mine, that I'm a hag because my gaydar is always tripping. This is something I can completely handle. Also, if Virginia Beach didn't have so many men locked in their closets, I might not always be detecting them. That's neither here not there.
So, while explaining this to my parents in a true Foltermann family dinner fashion I point out how this particular male friend of mine who prefers gentlemanly callers has no concept of how to find said men to call upon him. His gaydar is about six clicks from calibrated. Its like he has the compass Jack Sparrow wants to protect so badly (which is probably a good analogy. Let's face it Johnny, you aren't fooling anyone just because of the kids). Mom laughed and dad got confused, but let it go.
I'm downstairs, about to head up, and as I'm gathering my laptop, sweet tea, and dog Dad looks at me and goes "Hey, I just thought of something!"
"That's a nice change."
"Shut up. If (we'll call him Bob) Bob's gaydar doesn't work, how does he know he's gay. Radars identify themselves."
"Dad, he can't tell if other men are gay. He knows he is. We've talked about this. And radars don't show their home tower on the screen."
"No, but they recognize it. I think he's confused."
"Well, does your gaydar ping on you?"
"No."
"You have a pretty fucked up and unreliable gaydar, Dad. I mean, for all you know, you're confused. Maybe its supposed to ping and it doesn't because it isn't calibrated right."
"You're just making shit up now."
"No, I'm using the same logic you applied to Bob and you. I'm just right."
"Go upstairs."
So I go upstairs and tell him goodnight, and get almost to the top when I hear, "And I still love you even though Bob isn't gay."
"I think you need get calibrated!"
"Hag!"
And that's the end of my night. After bullshitting a single page, thorough proposal paper on the differences between rehabilitation and detention in the juvenile justice system, I got to unwind discussing my friend's sexuality with my father. Times are good.
Sheldon is Amazing
Watching: The Big Bang Theory
So, today has been interesting. Definitely one of my more productive days as of late. Even though I never got around to writing that proposal that's already late.
Yesterday, before losing my ferret and after baking the lemon cupcakes, I realized that part of our ceiling was caving in from water damage. I woke up this morning before my alarm went off to a phone call from my mother to tell me that the repair guy was coming to fix the water pipes. Oh, and half the damn ceiling was on the dining room floor. I came downstairs to plaster and water making a party out of the carpet. Do you know what plaster does when its mixed with stale water? It turns into the shit your art teacher wouldn't let you play with unsupervised because when it dries it DOES NOT COME OFF. It was like a paste that looked down at paper mache and poked it in the fucking eye.
So, one repair guy and 21 frosted cupcakes later, after I washed every dish left unguarded in the kitchen, I released the hounds from where I had locked them in my room. They eat people, so we have to keep them trapped when we have visitors. Anyhow, with a group of a maniacal dogs hungry for the blood they'd missed out on, I managed to salvage the carpet. Somewhat. I hadn't known plaster could leave stains. I picked up, scrubbed, and vacuumed the carpet until it practically sparkled.
So, after I cleaned I made lemon bars and waited out the clock until it was time to meet Tim on campus. We went to see Steve Almond read from his recent book and from collected poetry and essays he's self-published. Dinner at Red Lobster and one episode of Big Bang Theory after, and I'm weighing an extra five pounds day dreaming about my boyfriend trying to work up the energy to stop procrastinating and do my damn homework. Since yesterday I've been a little worse to the left of kilter. Losing a ferret in the great outdoors for nearly an hour will do that to you.
We shouldn't have named him Ninja.
I love this show. Its so amazing. Funny, smart and reminds me of a lot of people I know. Sheldon is a mixture of some of my high school friends and my little brother. Plus, I really love nerd humor. I know more about comic books, movies, super heroes, and theoretical physics because of this show than I know what to do with.
So, on that note I'm going to try to do my homework now, and have a good evening with a bath and some homemade sweet treats.
So, today has been interesting. Definitely one of my more productive days as of late. Even though I never got around to writing that proposal that's already late.
Yesterday, before losing my ferret and after baking the lemon cupcakes, I realized that part of our ceiling was caving in from water damage. I woke up this morning before my alarm went off to a phone call from my mother to tell me that the repair guy was coming to fix the water pipes. Oh, and half the damn ceiling was on the dining room floor. I came downstairs to plaster and water making a party out of the carpet. Do you know what plaster does when its mixed with stale water? It turns into the shit your art teacher wouldn't let you play with unsupervised because when it dries it DOES NOT COME OFF. It was like a paste that looked down at paper mache and poked it in the fucking eye.
So, one repair guy and 21 frosted cupcakes later, after I washed every dish left unguarded in the kitchen, I released the hounds from where I had locked them in my room. They eat people, so we have to keep them trapped when we have visitors. Anyhow, with a group of a maniacal dogs hungry for the blood they'd missed out on, I managed to salvage the carpet. Somewhat. I hadn't known plaster could leave stains. I picked up, scrubbed, and vacuumed the carpet until it practically sparkled.
So, after I cleaned I made lemon bars and waited out the clock until it was time to meet Tim on campus. We went to see Steve Almond read from his recent book and from collected poetry and essays he's self-published. Dinner at Red Lobster and one episode of Big Bang Theory after, and I'm weighing an extra five pounds day dreaming about my boyfriend trying to work up the energy to stop procrastinating and do my damn homework. Since yesterday I've been a little worse to the left of kilter. Losing a ferret in the great outdoors for nearly an hour will do that to you.
We shouldn't have named him Ninja.
I love this show. Its so amazing. Funny, smart and reminds me of a lot of people I know. Sheldon is a mixture of some of my high school friends and my little brother. Plus, I really love nerd humor. I know more about comic books, movies, super heroes, and theoretical physics because of this show than I know what to do with.
So, on that note I'm going to try to do my homework now, and have a good evening with a bath and some homemade sweet treats.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
I'm a Google Slave
I discovered that I'm a slave to Google and content with that arrangement. Google takes care of me. It tells me when I forget to do things I told it were important. It helps me decide if someone is being a dick about pricing on things I want. It organized my blog, email and media accounts. It sends everything to my phone and tablet seamlessly. Google is amazing.
I'm also incredibly tired again. It seems to be a trend. I talked to my mom about it after doing some light investigating into why my dreams are seemingly turn into hallucinations, and I've apparently never slept. Not even as an infant. This is something I knew about myself, but its taken on a whole new meaning given my new attention to my sleep cycle. I'm naturally inclined to either require less amounts of sleep or my body was created with a deficit somewhere that impairs REM from occurring at 'regular' rates. Psychologically and biologically speaking, its intriguing to wonder about the consequences.
I should explain where this rant is coming from. Recently I was on hydrocodone. It didn't react well at all with me, which my doctor didn't seem to understand. I stopped sleeping nearly at all. I got about two hours a day for three days. I started hallucinating conversations with people that weren't even there, and at one point my dreams went into such a vivid state that I could no longer distinguish that line between dream and reality. I was walking a very fine edge, slipping off either side abruptly. Since then my schedule hasn't fully readjusted, so I've still been a little strange in the head. I won't lie, its a bit inspirational in my writings and it opens up some crazy freeway of perception and thought (most likely a fallacy) in my mind. Its a bit disconcerting.
Anyhow. In my sudden lack of sleep, I've become enveloped in a new pocket of time. While its hard for me to focus entirely on any given specific task I'm browsing information with more gusto than usual. I'm also able to mindlessly crank out pages of energy based stories at a time. So, I've taken to connecting my electronic devices to one another via internet tethering through Google software. I've updated my online calenders, connected my addresses, pretty much everything.
And now, I feel geeky enough and I'm going to bed. Or, to go watch Family Guy.
I'm also incredibly tired again. It seems to be a trend. I talked to my mom about it after doing some light investigating into why my dreams are seemingly turn into hallucinations, and I've apparently never slept. Not even as an infant. This is something I knew about myself, but its taken on a whole new meaning given my new attention to my sleep cycle. I'm naturally inclined to either require less amounts of sleep or my body was created with a deficit somewhere that impairs REM from occurring at 'regular' rates. Psychologically and biologically speaking, its intriguing to wonder about the consequences.
I should explain where this rant is coming from. Recently I was on hydrocodone. It didn't react well at all with me, which my doctor didn't seem to understand. I stopped sleeping nearly at all. I got about two hours a day for three days. I started hallucinating conversations with people that weren't even there, and at one point my dreams went into such a vivid state that I could no longer distinguish that line between dream and reality. I was walking a very fine edge, slipping off either side abruptly. Since then my schedule hasn't fully readjusted, so I've still been a little strange in the head. I won't lie, its a bit inspirational in my writings and it opens up some crazy freeway of perception and thought (most likely a fallacy) in my mind. Its a bit disconcerting.
Anyhow. In my sudden lack of sleep, I've become enveloped in a new pocket of time. While its hard for me to focus entirely on any given specific task I'm browsing information with more gusto than usual. I'm also able to mindlessly crank out pages of energy based stories at a time. So, I've taken to connecting my electronic devices to one another via internet tethering through Google software. I've updated my online calenders, connected my addresses, pretty much everything.
And now, I feel geeky enough and I'm going to bed. Or, to go watch Family Guy.
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