|Sunday, July 8th, 2001|
3:34a - survival mode | pain | she turned me into a newt
Ever since a few days ago . . . a few days ago I took one of those major emotional hits, caused by ex and flunky, basically. One of those where you *have* to go talk to someone, or you can't survive.
Here in Seattle . . . there's nobody I really go to. I suppose someone in the Gang might've been willing, but . . . perhaps it's sexist of me, but I find it far far easier to open to someone female. And the only females here in Seattle that I know, I don't know very *well*. It basically came down to call someone or talk to someone on the 'net. Both of which can only be done from home.
I was about an hour and a half from home. If the busses cooperated.
Dilemma: I need to go home to survive. Going home will take an hour and a half. I will not survive an hour and a half.
Solution: Don't survive for an hour and a half.
. . . so, I shut down. Completely. Remember how I talked about how I had died mentally a while back, then been brought back by who-knows-what? This was the same thing. Only conscious. Imprint a single requirement - TALK TO TIRA. Then click.
How did I know I could turn back on? . . . simple. I didn't.
Not that simple of course - it turned into two requirements, talk to tira and don't think. Which created its own set of dilemmas. See, I don't know how well people will understand this. But one thing I can do is segment off parts of my mind to manipulate. I can, for example, ask "what would I do if I just wanted to hit on this girl and didn't care about the consequences?" It's easy to solve. I just segment off a chunk of my brain and modify it. And . . . the chunk is *me*. I can do that in the other direction too - selectively forget about things temporarily, or selectively modify my main personality. (this is handy for acting or roleplaying.) In this case . . . I pulled everything I could into stasis and removed everything - *everything* - except those two requirements from my mind.
Which caused some problems. Because I literally couldn't remember why I called her, once I did. I just knew that I had to talk to her.
Luckily - yes, actual luckily - what I had hoped would happen did. Once I talked to her, it was enough of a push to get things coming back. Holding off parts of my mind *does* take energy . . . I just wasn't sure if that might be a minimum-energy point (it was) or if it was, whether it might be too difficult to get out of it. If things had been a bit different . . . I'd probably . . . I don't know. Either I'd be trying to hop a plane to DC, I think (all I know is that I have to talk to Tira. therefore I must trust her. since I have nothing else to do, and since I seem to have sacrificed myself for my survival, I must have thought myself important enough to keep. I must assume that I was more functional then than I am now, so I have to trust the then-self more than I trust the now-self, so I have to preserve myself, and I seem to have thought that Tira could help me with that. Since I know nothing else . . . End logic.) or . . . yeah. Or doing nothing . . . literally.
So I survived.
But . . . ever since then, everything's hurt more. Literally. I wasn't expecting to come out of that as functional as I went in, and I haven't been disappointed. But . . .
I wasn't expecting to feel mental pain physically, and constantly.
I wish it would stop hurting.
Thoughts . . . one of the things I used to wish waybackwhen during the Bad Years was that I wouldn't be me anymore - that somehow my mind would be wiped and I'd turn into someone else. My ex said that she thought this was basically suicide, and I agreed, because, well, it was. Death of the mind is death of the person.
Does this mean she's killed me twice now? If someone is killed, then gets resurrected, does it still count?
It's okay, though. (takes on a british accent) I got better.
current mood: damaged
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2:21p - double standards
Why am I never surprised when other people get a small flood of support in need - and I take it completely for granted that *I* go out of my way to help people - but never expect people to flood to *me*?
. . . now it's my turn to say thanks. Thanks :) I really hadn't realized how much people were liking me . . . well. Thanks for your support, everyone.
On another note -
these brownies are GREAT.
I don't know about *other* people, but I personally don't like fully cooked brownies. They end up generally a bit spongy and dry. I prefer to leave them a little undercooked, so there's still moisture - the problem is then they're gooey. Which is survivable, all things considered - there are worse things than gooey brownies.
Well, with these brownies, I thought I'd screwed up and left they *way* undercooked, because they were really gooey. Still mighty tasty though. Well, after leaving them overnight, I came back, and - they've solidified! it's, like, solid brownie chocolate now. With embedded mostly-melted chocolate chips, but not *quite* totally melted, so I get little crunches of chocolate now and then. And the crust is crunchy. These are truly great brownies.
. . . just like my friends! (okay, okay, that was contrived.)
Thanks again . . . great friends and brownies . . . really, what more could someone want?
current mood: happy
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9:01p - cybernetic thumb
Our VCR breaks - refuses to eject its tape, or do anything else - so my mom fiddles with it and unplugs it. She says that if I want to use it, I should see if I can get it working. Since I don't actually care, I don't. It sits there unplugged for a few days, then my mom gets a new one, though makes sure it can be returned first. So she says I should set it up. I go behind the TV and say, hey, if I can't get the current VCR to do *something*, I've just lost my only copy of Twelve Monkeys. and something else that my mom taped. So I plug it in and hit eject. It does.
"Hey mom, the VCR's working again."
Sometimes I wish this didn't happen . . . because it looks like I think I'm better than people when I say "lemme try". When I know perfectly well that half the time I can get better results than others just by doing the exact same thing.
I don't understand it, personally - I like computers, and I guess they like me.
A novice was trying to fix a broken Lisp machine by turning the power off and on. Don't bother telling me that it's impossible . . . because I know that already.
The professor, seeing what the student was doing, spoke sternly: "You cannot fix a machine by just power-cycling it with no understanding of what is going wrong."
The professor turned the machine off and on.
The machine worked.
Sometimes it's nice, but . . . I dunno. Sometimes it would be good to be normal . . . not like that's going to happen anytime soon :P
I suppose I could try to poetically link this to the fact that Gattaca just came on TV, but I'd rather not - I'd rather go watch Gattaca.
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