some miseries are private

I know now why I never had a drug habit. Other than the money and such incidentals. It makes one annoying as hell, and the side effects are bothersome. Indeed. I'm going to have to apologize for hassling people with the telephone tomorrow. I think I made a million calls from Melynda's cell phone and at work. Every person I had a phone number for in my wallet.

Discussed our mutal dislike of sheep with Morgan this morning, and for once didn't feel like a total git in Czech class. Maybe I'll even learn my lines this weekend. I have an exam next week in Classics, and probably one in Nutrition as well. So much work to do in the next couple of months. I'm taking my last credits over the summer. Stretching out my undergrad days just a little longer. Selfishness I suppose.

We're going to clean the house this weekend, pack some of our things. I can't wait to move. The idea of a new space and freedom from my last connection to someone who used to be my friend sounds so good right now.

Watching the world fluctuate, plane ticket prices, headlines, stock markets, stories, video clips, radio static. I'm so glad the verdict came back guilty in the San Francisco dog mauling trial. People who keep animals they don't understand, don't train, or can't control make me want to scream. Creating monsters like this, breeding animals and shaping them into machines of destruction... There's no other reason to have something like a Presa Canario. It's bred to kill.

My mother used to train police dogs, and do Schitzhund training with German Shepards. Some of my earliest memories were of playing with the enormous black dogs we had, Poppy and Shadow. Magic, who was with me from Lubbock til the end of high school. He used to walk the house at night, check to see if everyone was asleep. When I came home at one in the morning, he greeted me at the door. They were trained to protect and defend, and I was never afraid with them. Most dogs are not inherrently dangerous. They are wonderous creatures. Of course, there are always exceptions. Some are vicious, to be sure, and some turn violent. I've seen it. It happens. It's not something to be encouraged.

I hear that Information Society song in my head. Those tapes make me sad now. Remembering what I can't go back to. It has to be obvious now. My fault for dragging things on too long. My fault for not being able to find the words in a situation I couldn't get a grip on. We have to know now, that there is no going back. God, I'm sorry. I'm genuinely sorry for the mistakes I've made.


take free enneagram test

random

Give me life
Give me pain
Give me my
Self again

If you could hear me now, would you tell me not to scream?

(no subject)

Dreaming this week has been an exercise in unconscious creativity. Last night was a long movie, of many stories. Technology, love and fighting, dying, mountain climbing, walking through heather and scrub brush weirdly mixed in a landscape half Europe and half Texas. I remembering shouting, a lot.

I almost wish it was pouring or hailing today. Working a Saturday during a sale won't be good. Yesterday was bad enough. The store was crowded, and people can be such damn vultures. I loathe the greediness, the inconsiderate behaviour, the stupidity. I undercharged a woman yesterday, and I let it go without thinking about it too much. She then had the nerve to come back five minutes later and barge her way to the head of the line and say I'd overcharged her. Bah.