Listening
"Tell Me About the Forest (You Once Called Home)," DCD
"Complications of the Flesh," NIN
"A Place For my Head," Linkin Park
"The Trick is to Keep Breathing," Garbage
"Lazybones," Soul Coughing
"Revolver," Hooverphonic
"Siip Siie," Ekova
"i i e e e," Tori Amos

I'm excited and twitchy and have tons of thoughts and feelings reeling around inside of me so that it's hard to classify it all. I have way too much work to do, so I really shouldn't be wasting time writing, but I'm so distracted it almost doesn't matter. I'm not exactly excited in a fun happy way...though I am a little bit...arg

Got paid so things are looking a little bit better just a little while. Althought, Sallie Mae is just gonna have to wait *again.*

Go on vacation tomorrow. Leave bright, damn early. Though I don't know if we're taking a shuttle to John Wayne or driving. If it's a shuttle then I don't know where I'm going to stash my car. Maybe I'll just suck up the $30 ticket and deal.

If all goes well tomorrow night I'll have dinner with Molasses' parents and the next day I'll meet Rabbit's little girl. Maybe I'll call her Bunny. Don't know. I'll give her a name after I meet her.

Still feel like there's tons to do before we take off. I feel like I ought to have a camera, but I don't really know why. I took pictures of all the DC places eleven years ago. Maybe of the people....

I'm not gonna have much money to spare, but at least staying with Molasses' parents will save us some. Though I still owe him for my plane ticket.

Tonight we will Mage it, so I won't really get to do anything then. But I'll try to call home before it gets too late. I keep meaning to call my mom, but I forget once I leave work and don't remember before eleven pm or so.

My mood hasn't been especially helpful. Yesterday I spent the day teetering between exhausted and depressed, though I think being sleep deprived has contributed toward being depressed. I haven't gotten much more sleep since then but I've got more adrenaline moving through me which is making me twitchy.

I drove to Molasses' from work yesterday in shitty Thursday afternoon traffic. The 710 was a parkinglot, but of course there weren't any realistic alternatives. I wanted to kill everyone I saw until halfway there I was nodding off from the heat and boredom. To try to alleviate my fury I tried thinking about sex, but it's hard to get off when the world is consipiring to piss me off. To stay awake I resorted to smacking myself, but that only helps in short spurts. Really it's a wonder I keep making that drive in one piece.

I got to his place and tried to be peppy and failed miserably. We went to dinner during which I started to wake up more and get happier(ish). Then he asked if I had been in a bad mood earlier because I was hungry. Forgive him, he knows not what he says.

(BTW - Saw Minority Report, intriguing concept, and the ad technology is frightening just because it's likely on it's way *very* soon. Supposedly it's Spielburg's darkest work. faugh, say I. Truth will always be darker than fiction, and thus Shindler's List kicks it's butt all over the place. But anyway, it was an adaptation of the Philip K Dick short story, which I've never read. But still pretty fun, eventhough the plot is a bit paradoxical by its nature. Anyway, I love Blade Runner so I can't really say anything bad about something Dick created.)

I'm worried that my mood will carry over into the next week. I really don't want to be 3000 miles away and in a pissy mood. I also don't want to be a guest in someone's house and eying the place for a terminal exit. But mostly I hope I can leave it behind and just rest. I need to relax really bad.

The 'rents are good people and I don't want to inflict me on them. I sorta don't think that'll be a problem but then you never know.

Okey some other personal stuff. So I've been trying to lose weight. Primarily through exercise, since dieting is a crazy idea some white person who doesn't know what food is actually for dreamed up. It's pretty much been useless, though I feel less weak and under the weather (except when I'm tired). But I'm not any lighter, and definately not any smaller. I suppose I should keep it up but it's insanely frustrating, and when I mean insanely, I mean it's a darned good thing I don't keep knives around at work.

I'm definately sensing a connection between my perceptions of my body and my mood. Although sometimes my mood is its own thing and doesn't come because of what I see in the mirror, often what I see in the mirror does affect my mood. And it's not a good thing. I hate admitting it -- I mean I *HATE* (HATEHATEHATEHATEHATE) admitting it -- but knowing my figure is not standard and should be trimmed down just to be "normal" has moved from a cerebral understanding to something far deeper and more insidius. I hate acknowledging that my conception of normal, and indeed of beauty, has been co-opted by norms proposed in mass media. I hate that about as much as I hate how I look.

I don't know about you, but I have images that wander around my head like wallpaper that I only noticed when I'm not concentrating on anything in particular. It's like echoes of the last song I heard that fades under real noise. I'm pretty sure they don't mean anything. Just a creative mind tangled up in the constraints of reason, having never really figured out how to work together. They are often of violence, though it's not in the bad way that violence actually is, but a more glorified Hollywood look. When I'm annoyed I'm usually destroying some personification of that which is annoying me with a sword or a bat. But when I'm not, the images are often of my own destruction.

They used to be of me getting slashed with a knife. At various times depending on my stress level it's been of me being strangled somehow, either with hands or a noose. These days, oddly enough, it's been of me being tied up and hauled underwater. I don't know why. I've never had any issues with water, blades or asphyixiation or even guns. (I only get shot to death in my dreams...I don't daydream about guns *shrug*) Like I said, I don't think it really means anything. It's just noise and shit that hangs out in my brain is easily ignored.

So yeah... lots of shit and none of it means anything.