fame and tranquility...

I found it surprising that I could become angrier at the world. It's a common enough thing that people often have their perception of self-worth tied inextricably with their state of employment. The shocker was that I find being free of engagement being infuriating. It's become a situation that is driving my hostility towards the world at large towards an increasingly difficult to manage intensity.

I wonder if it's because I have always prided myself as somehow being better than everyone else. That said, the expectation of gaining easy employment is somewhat contradictory to that position - why should I, if I disdain the human standard, be at all comfortable with working for another? At the very least, I should start gathering my world-domination kit together, no?

In recent years, I feel I have drifted into the position of quiet obsolecence. If there was a saying, I don't know it, so I'll just make it up. Heroes and happiness are not part of the same equation. I think that, to make any significant change in the world, you necessarily have to give up on personal happiness; do not confuse this with satisfaction.

I often drift between flashes of the contented, if selfish, life of a 9 to 5 job with all the plum luxuries and dying a tired old stereotype, to starting a world-shattering doomsday cult (and to be honest, which of them aren't?) and tearing down the travesty that we call civilisation. At the end, I think it most comfortable to be somewhere in the middle. To wield sufficient influence to destroy several lives on a whim, but not so much to attract a lot of unwanted attention.

Fame and tranquility can never be bedfellows.
-Michel Eyquem de Montaigne

pierced and recapped...

Today marks a year since I got pierced. Maybe it's time for a jewelry change.

Incidentally, this year's birthday has also been delightfully mediocre. A welcome departure from typical tragedy, although it certainly could be better. Loves me a lot of cash-money gifts. Could stand to win the lottery, too.

dying...

In wanting to die, do we ever get to experience the satisfaction of receiving it?

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.