[Begin Spoiler for Lost 2.17 - "Lockdown" — Highlight to view]
More like ... LOCKE, DOWN am I right? Heh heh heh heh. Seriously though, folks.
not-Henry is so a not-Other. I was firmly convinced of his Otherness right up until the end of the episode, when his Potentially Complicated And Dark Past was revealed. Up until this point, I was only thinking of two options. Either he was telling the truth, or he was an Other. And he was clearly not telling the truth. But having reevaluated things, I realized that not being entirely on the up-and-up does not necessarily make him an Other, and indeed, it's probably more interesting if he's not. With this in mind, I bring you:
OMG, It's Like Politics Or Something!
The Lostaways have undergone some trauma forced upon them by a shadowy and loosely defined terrorist group. They stumble across a convenient scapegoat for their problems, someone who, while perhaps not necessarily good, and perhaps not unworthy of ill-treated, nevertheless has nothing to do with the injuries they have suffered. Not to be dissuaded, the Lostaways press on until the "find" the evidence that supports their beliefs, all in the interest of not losing their scapegoat. The person spearheading this operation? Is an Iraqi. IRONY, eh?
[End Spoiler]
Thus completes my musings on ... pretty much everything. You would not believe how tired I am. Um. Unless you've ever been really really tired. Then you'd probably know. I am so tired -- nay, weary -- that I feel ill. I am irritable and might be prone to violent outbursts or crying. I heard this condition is sometimes treated with alcohol? How does that go?
Thursday
Tuesday
Life options.
Blogger was down yesterday, so I was deprived of the opportunity to make a post about chocolate milk.
Today I'm weighing a choice between a certain, monetarily-secure, soul-crushing, dream-dissipating life, and an unstable, second-guessing, disappointing attempt to do the only thing I have ever desired. This is not the first time this thought has occurred to me, but I think life would be easier without hope. If my hope would just die, I don't think I would be as vulnerable. If I didn't have hope, I could just give up.
Yesterday was chocolate milk. FYI.
Today I'm weighing a choice between a certain, monetarily-secure, soul-crushing, dream-dissipating life, and an unstable, second-guessing, disappointing attempt to do the only thing I have ever desired. This is not the first time this thought has occurred to me, but I think life would be easier without hope. If my hope would just die, I don't think I would be as vulnerable. If I didn't have hope, I could just give up.
Yesterday was chocolate milk. FYI.
Thursday
"Nothing."
God. WHY DO I KEEP SAYING THAT?
I had a frustrating and miserable day today. I'm very tired and I wish I could go to sleep and have all my problems magically disappear.
Actually, I completely forget what I was going to say about this, because when I got home I was wired and close to tears, but then I had dinner and some honeydew and now I'm actually pretty cool, just a little sleepy. But the above still stands.
In reference to the title, sometime, somehow, it seems that I became massively passive-aggressive. My answer to everyone, about everything (regarding myself), is "Nothing" or "Not much" or "Okay."
How have I been? Okay.
What have I been up to? Not much.
What did I do today? Nothing.
There's just, apparently, a lot I don't want to deal with right now.
I had a frustrating and miserable day today. I'm very tired and I wish I could go to sleep and have all my problems magically disappear.
Actually, I completely forget what I was going to say about this, because when I got home I was wired and close to tears, but then I had dinner and some honeydew and now I'm actually pretty cool, just a little sleepy. But the above still stands.
In reference to the title, sometime, somehow, it seems that I became massively passive-aggressive. My answer to everyone, about everything (regarding myself), is "Nothing" or "Not much" or "Okay."
How have I been? Okay.
What have I been up to? Not much.
What did I do today? Nothing.
There's just, apparently, a lot I don't want to deal with right now.
Tuesday
That's it, I'm going to have to learn Ukrainian.
Right after I attain fluency in Classical Latin and Irish Gaeilge, and learn passably conversational French and Italian and maybe Welsh.
Seriously, if I could be granted a super power, it would be to be fluent in all languages. Or not even to speak them, just to be able to understand them. Like, if I could stick some dough in my ears and be able to understand Turkish, that would rock so hard.
Seriously, if I could be granted a super power, it would be to be fluent in all languages. Or not even to speak them, just to be able to understand them. Like, if I could stick some dough in my ears and be able to understand Turkish, that would rock so hard.
Friday
Do these people think they are good drivers?
Holy crap, two entries in one day! Did you win the lottery or something?
So, of late, I have been employed in a regular type occupation. It is actually pretty cool in the sense that I work with people who are cool. This makes ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. I've actually found myself (mildly) looking forward to going to work. It's kinda crazy. Not that I want to sell insurance or anything. I'm just saying.
My foray into the 9-5 world (or rather, 9:30-5, or, whatever hours work that day, because if I want them to be different, that's cool, do you see what I mean?) unfortunately means that I am now subject to the maladies of the "rush hour." The good news is that the job only requires about 5-10 minutes of driving, because it's really really close to my house. The bad news is that in those 5-10 minutes, I encounter untold numbers of douchebags and idiots.
Yesterday I was nearly run off the road no fewer than three times. The first fellow was behind me in a monstrous truck. He pulled so close to me that I could only almost see the severed ram's head logo on the front grill. I was stopped at a red light. I was watching the lights to see when they would turn, and I began to move the instant the light became green. And the fucker honked at me. FUCKING HONKED AT ME. Like, what the fuck. A "what is the freaking hold up, you slow moron??" honk, in case that's not clear. I instantly realized that it didn't matter when I started moving, because he had fully planned to honk at me anyway.
The next instance came on a stomach-clenching stretch of road, because it's a 40mph curving road bounded by concrete dividers. You then come to a light where the speed becomes 25mph. It's best not to ask. Anyway, at this light, I turn. Except I wondered if I'd be able to make the turn, as the young man and his jalopy behind me was seemingly attached to my rear bumper. I wasn't really sure if I should try to go faster, or slower, or what. I wondered if he realized that I would need to stop soon. And if he would hit me when that eventuality presented itself. It turned out okay.
The last was on my very street, and I really have no idea what happened. I wanted to go to the post office, but I needed to stop at my house to get something. So I was going to park on my quiet residential street. Instead, I had to kind of swerve over when a blue car was, yet again, upon the very ass of my car. As he sped by, he gave me some incredulous looks and hand gestures, as if *I* were the asshole.
Now, don't get me wrong, I considered that maybe I had gotten drunk or something and had been driving like crap that day. But I wasn't.
Today I watched a car in front of me tail the car ahead of it, with the brake lights flashing every few seconds. That probably wouldn't have happened had the one driver not been up the other one's ass. And that's when this entry's title occurred to me.
Seriously, there are many bad drivers. I really don't like to drive. I find it to be immensely stressful, though perhaps good for my abdominal muscles. And it's not that I don't trust myself. I don't trust other people. And ... do they realize how much they suck? I have to think that if they did, then they would endeavor not to suck anymore. But perhaps they don't know. And if they don't know, *why* don't they know? Why don't they realize who much they fucking suck!
The end.
So, of late, I have been employed in a regular type occupation. It is actually pretty cool in the sense that I work with people who are cool. This makes ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. I've actually found myself (mildly) looking forward to going to work. It's kinda crazy. Not that I want to sell insurance or anything. I'm just saying.
My foray into the 9-5 world (or rather, 9:30-5, or, whatever hours work that day, because if I want them to be different, that's cool, do you see what I mean?) unfortunately means that I am now subject to the maladies of the "rush hour." The good news is that the job only requires about 5-10 minutes of driving, because it's really really close to my house. The bad news is that in those 5-10 minutes, I encounter untold numbers of douchebags and idiots.
Yesterday I was nearly run off the road no fewer than three times. The first fellow was behind me in a monstrous truck. He pulled so close to me that I could only almost see the severed ram's head logo on the front grill. I was stopped at a red light. I was watching the lights to see when they would turn, and I began to move the instant the light became green. And the fucker honked at me. FUCKING HONKED AT ME. Like, what the fuck. A "what is the freaking hold up, you slow moron??" honk, in case that's not clear. I instantly realized that it didn't matter when I started moving, because he had fully planned to honk at me anyway.
The next instance came on a stomach-clenching stretch of road, because it's a 40mph curving road bounded by concrete dividers. You then come to a light where the speed becomes 25mph. It's best not to ask. Anyway, at this light, I turn. Except I wondered if I'd be able to make the turn, as the young man and his jalopy behind me was seemingly attached to my rear bumper. I wasn't really sure if I should try to go faster, or slower, or what. I wondered if he realized that I would need to stop soon. And if he would hit me when that eventuality presented itself. It turned out okay.
The last was on my very street, and I really have no idea what happened. I wanted to go to the post office, but I needed to stop at my house to get something. So I was going to park on my quiet residential street. Instead, I had to kind of swerve over when a blue car was, yet again, upon the very ass of my car. As he sped by, he gave me some incredulous looks and hand gestures, as if *I* were the asshole.
Now, don't get me wrong, I considered that maybe I had gotten drunk or something and had been driving like crap that day. But I wasn't.
Today I watched a car in front of me tail the car ahead of it, with the brake lights flashing every few seconds. That probably wouldn't have happened had the one driver not been up the other one's ass. And that's when this entry's title occurred to me.
Seriously, there are many bad drivers. I really don't like to drive. I find it to be immensely stressful, though perhaps good for my abdominal muscles. And it's not that I don't trust myself. I don't trust other people. And ... do they realize how much they suck? I have to think that if they did, then they would endeavor not to suck anymore. But perhaps they don't know. And if they don't know, *why* don't they know? Why don't they realize who much they fucking suck!
The end.
For the record, I actually have quite a lot to say.
My head is, sometimes literally, abuzz with thoughts these days. It's just that I have no one to talk to. Well, that's not true. I do have people to talk to. But no one appropriate.
I'm pretty sure that there was a time when I would have been cool with just thinking it all over. Now, however, I find myself actively desiring to hear someone else's opinions on what's going on in my head. Not in a shrink way, though. Also, someone with whom I'd feel comfortable discussing the topics. And that person doesn't seem to exist. Or, perhaps, has ceased to exist.
My brand new plan is to stop this entry before it becomes too godawfully whiny.
I'm pretty sure that there was a time when I would have been cool with just thinking it all over. Now, however, I find myself actively desiring to hear someone else's opinions on what's going on in my head. Not in a shrink way, though. Also, someone with whom I'd feel comfortable discussing the topics. And that person doesn't seem to exist. Or, perhaps, has ceased to exist.
My brand new plan is to stop this entry before it becomes too godawfully whiny.
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