in summary...

... this year has been extremely close to being both the best and worst year of my life.

Did a double overload while holding on to a job, but discovered that the general idea of overworking is pretty much just average-ish for me.

Gained weight, but I think a lot of it is muscle mass. Then lost it again. Or something.

Threw out most of my clothes, but found that you don't really need that many, even existing within a stereotypically judgemental subset of the population. Or maybe it's a good thing.

Gained a few furry friends. And a few less furry ones as well.

Got a job interview with a big multinational accounting firm, but apparently didn't fit in with their rather rigid style.

Has no work offers on the plate, but has a paid PhD offer from current work. Academia is less than tempting right now, but given the right terms, it might be fun to do something totally unlike me.

Has a slight dent in the cash money department, but at least I can say I can survive another couple of months jobless.

Lost a lover but found a depth that extends beyond that. Maybe the future lies with things of no certain patterns, but a determination that nobody can put down on paper and make you sign. Or maybe it's just letting go of futile dreams of partnership and just letting live with going as I came.

Closing the book of old things, and opening a new sketch pad, because the future belongs to things with a bit more depth than words can say alone.

famous last words...

... it's perfectly safe...

... the dragon isn't home...

... I've done this before...

... what's the worst that could happen...

... it's just a small chilli...

... let's just listen to mom...

... just a little bit more...

... I'm done with uni forever...

old old, new new...

Was robbed about a month or two ago, lost just about everything that mattered. All the laptops were gone, as was my shiny new monitor. Took a stack of money, as well as left a mess around the place.

It shows how little material possessions are worth when we replaced them all within a week. Sure, I was broke as hell, but when you're shelling out half your savings replacing stuff, it tends to be that way.

Finally finished most of the remaining bits of voluntary hell. One more paper in two days, and then a presentation and poster a week after and it's all over.

Things have been cordial, and to a degree affectionate, with the Rabbit. He's done with this run of scholar-isms, but to my somewhat dilute amusement is thinking of throwing himself back in again. His plans of globe trotting for "networking, relatives blah blah blah", as well as his insistence on holding onto archaic notions of filial duty and religion assure me that there will be no steady future for us.

So, all fun and games it is, but much as I can ignore such crap in other acquaintances, I find it all intolerable for a mate, and even less so for a self-confessed scientist. He'll have a fun time explaining all his occult voodoo bullshit to the education board, if his plans get where he wants.

In the short future, I guess there are worse things to look forward to, although I don't think I could care enough to save the world. Idiots are idiots, even well meaning ones. From what I can see, even a nuclear apocalypse will not do enough to get them to think. Live life cool and short, and leave it quick.

small things...

It takes only a series of small pains to drive anyone insane. A huge loss we can deal with. We become numb, things are not clear.

Today it's increasingly clear that it only takes a few small things to set me off.

I find myself talking to stuffed toys, finding more comfort in the cotton and synthetic fluff than people whose sham lives are an equally condemning reflection of your own.

All you need sometimes is just a little good news to make a tragic day good enough.

Fuck you, 3G Hutchinson. Fuck you and your fucking abysmal customer service policies. The moment the contract runs out, you won't see a fucking dime from me.

quick paces...

Is like dealing with faces.

Deluge of workload and dealing with it like a rock deals with a flood.

Got robbed Thursday, got replacement items on Friday, still need things to help the girls because they're frankly not too good with dealing with the issues.

The enthusiasm of the police here is refreshing from the frothing apathy you would expect from police elsewhere.

Is broke broke, and doesn't look like I'm moving out anytime soon, although fortune might dictate bigass lottery win, no?

trust...

Today, I have come to the relatively un-startling conclusion that I cannot trust anyone. Or rather, there is nobody I can trust.

I can't trust my family because they are either too blind to see, or they just would rather now know.

I can't trust my friends because they will tell me things I want to hear, or things I need to hear in a way that is the same as not hearing it at all.

I can't trust my acquaintances, because they are superficial at best.

I can't trust my enemies because they are all dead.

I can't trust strangers because 80% of the people in the world are stupid, and statistically, that invalidates 95% of the things said to me by strangers because the stupid ones talk the most.

I can't trust my teachers because I am naturally distrustful of designated authority. So by extension, everyone who is "higher" that I am.

I can't trust religion, because let's face it, religion is stupid and FOR the stupid.

I can't trust people on random fora, because they are strangers, which draws back to the above.

I can't trust him, because much as his intentions are good, there are just too many good things that we had that he threw away for the inconsequential, and the occasionally downright insulting.

And I can't trust myself.

No, not even myself.

corrections...

As much as we desire to correct the world around us to our understanding, often-time, the better reality to live is to allow them to fail in accordance to existing truths.

It is of no benefit to the self to sacrifice much so that those who have neither the capacity nor the will to think should gain from it. The greater good isn't that there are champions to save us, but that we should all strive to attain such great heights.

The glory of benefiting a society that cares not enough to better themselves by their individual parts, but to rely on the labours of the select few to raise them can only be brought down low when the few tire of shoddy treatment. Even worse when they willfully subjugate themselves under yokes of their own making.

There is no point trying to save them from themselves. The religious will always lay their fates and fortunes at the feet of an uncaring deity. The lazy will always hope that social mores will compel the productive into helping them fend. The stupid will not know the difference, and doom themselves into a life of pathetic ignorance.

If you have to pray, you have already failed the goals your god has set you. If you have to wait, already the grains in your hourglass elude your grasp. If you have to check the solution sheet at the back of the textbook, maybe you should just repeat the fucking unit.

gazing...

We all need something definite to look forward to. Otherwise, every day is meaningless.

I think I lost most of what there was to look forward to in life. Every day since then has been devoid of reason and purpose.

I should find something to give me a high.

win...

Oh yeah.

pretti-fication...

I'll say that the project is coming along nicely. Arms are getting nice and built, and nicely bulked chest, and I'm pretty sure the core is doing well under those inches of fat.

I read somewhere that sculpting an elephant is simple. You simply take a large block of of stone or whatever, and take off whatever doesn't look like an elephant. Hopefully there's some hot underwear model under all this flab.

Seems like buying the marble is a lot easier than chipping it off.

despondency...

It's true what they say. You find the most to say when you least want to hear about it. Is it therapeutic? I don't know.

Increasingly, it's become more about the fact that I'm not dead yet, rather than the other thing. Increasingly, it's the fact that I've given up on life as a whole, rather than the fact that I'm alone. Increasingly, it's going back to the way things were.

Is it good? Is it bad? Only thing I know is, it is what it is. Maybe death by starvation is the way I'll finally get it done.

icarian...

Just finished a most grueling week of more assessments than ass. Although mine felt pretty damned raped by the end of it. That said, it has all went fairly well, so we could say it's like the premium massage with "happy ending" thrown in. Just make sure to pay the masseur before he finishes.

The final stretch is the one you take just before you pull a hamstring and are out of the race before it begins. Hamstring sounds kinda tasty.

That said, I'm almost done with the semester. Exams should be fairly breezy, and they almost never factor into my considerations of workload anyway.

Then again, keeping the final stretch in mind, flying so close to the sun only gets you burned. Bring your sunblock.

zits...

The strangest place you can find a zit is on your nipple.

After popping it, it got really really sensitive. Couple this with a piercing and you have something like super sonar.

I spent most of today getting randomly stimulated, leading to arousal, after simply moving my arms. Sensitivity max.

historical truths...

Was just posting up some pictures on the ubiquitous omniscience that is Facebook. Some really REALLY old pictures. Fragments of memories from eons past.

I think I used to be happy then. When our biggest concerns tended to be minor, petty. When he still had that innocence. When I believed that he trusted me. When we, as a group, tended to have more than ourselves, but ourselves were ultimately the only things that mattered.

We are scattered. Even those who are not, are not the same as the things that went in. We cannot even pretend to reenact those times.

In search of a happy past, I have only succeeded in fragmenting my present. Gawd, I should just go to bed.

passion...

On the train back from my weekly card-flopping adventures, I found myself musing at the relatively entertaining though of randomly hooking up with some chick I'd meet at a particular predatory bird's organized events. The really interesting bit was, would I ever do something that was, for the most part, an impulse driven act? Then the question lead me to HAVE I ever given into the heat of passion at ANY time in my life?

Sexually, I reckon only once have I ever put aside the ever present, ever churning logical machinery and just given into the spur of the moment. The occasion itself, besides the notable lack of control, was mostly non-descript. Once, with a particular rabbit that I used to have, we were just sitting, watching reruns of reruns, when the itch hit. It was the only time I recall where it was just passion with no thought, no control, and pure unhinged ecstasy.

The only other times that remotely approach the total abandonment that would characterise passion would be the malicious glee in which I happen to take when arguing.

It's only a break, he says. But from what I have seen, it looks like a break up. It would hurt, I guess, but it doesn't. Maybe that's the most hurtful of all.

To never need passion is a thing that will free me from the shackles of ever needing anyone else, and imprison me in a world of silence where nobody will celebrate my coming and going.

Maybe, just maybe, my passion is where I never have to say anything, because I will never be understood.

the coming out...

... was dramatic in a non-dramatic sense.

It's strange to be mostly calm, if shivering (because it's cold), at giving the news, but I suppose the expectation that they already knew made it less complex. Delivering your message in a controlled manner is always best, I reckon.

The response was one beyond the binary "we still love you" and the "get out of my house, you faggot child", mostly one of curiousity and shocked silence (on the part of Dad).

I think they mostly disapprove internally, but they are sticking to policy of raising decent self-aware, self-thinking children. Which is why I think it's a good thing they're family.

At least, undramatic, and I have the finances to see me through the year.

cat and mouse...

Will it always be this game of cat and mouse, dearest rabbit?

For the prey, you seem too awfully fond of the hunt.

I miss you, you know. Even now, even the wolf finds some tears left to shed, a few more pieces of heart yet to break.

You know things will never be the same anymore? It seems oddly fitting we spent our last day together so far apart. I never got a kiss goodbye.

Do you hate me? Is that why you toy? Could it be the kindest and cruelest thing to do to you is to die horribly in your sight?

The sweet dreams that remind me of you turn to the worst nightmares when I wake up.

Come back soon, dear rabbit. End this game of cat and mouse.

pins and needles...

... through my nipples...

postulate...

I reckon that being a nice person alone is insufficient to procure any advantage over the average person. Pretty much anyone can be nice, although granted that people are increasingly crass, it will definitely give you an edge where service folk are concerned.

Now, being attractive AND nice? You're talking extra scoops of ice cream, diamond-encrusted platinum class service, and other freebies galore.

Gonna hotti-fy myself. And it's all for the member benefits. How delightful.

truths...

... or maybe it would be funniest if I let you kill me.

I've already died inside enough times because of you, anyway.

and nothing else is new...

'Tis strange how excitable people get over sex. Funny that they try so hard to get people to not have sex. It's like trying not to think of something. Quite, quite, quite pointless. And often hilarious.

There's nothing in the news that would surprise me overly much, except maybe if the published numbers matched my lottery ticket. Then again, SOMEONE has to win it sometime.

This just might be the best year yet. Or the worst. The most likely thing is that it will be somewhere between the best and worst, leaving it nowhere in particular, which would be the desired outcome.

I'd like to save you from ruination, but sometimes, world, it's just easier and funnier if I let you kill yourself.

day x-1...

Second last day on the job. Pay was definitely good, and work was quite fun when it kicked in.

Nothing like getting cash money to play with lasers and explosives.