chickawickaBOWOWOW
Nov. 2nd, 2002 02:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
psipsyThe System seems to work a lot better, despite having that crack. Dunno why.
Gonna go visit home sometime this weekend, and maybe bring Ai-chan down here on the way back. The weekend's not going to be as bad as I thought it was, in fact it's getting better by the minute. Tanuki's got a bunch of friends over, and I got me a big old mug of beer on hand.
This week felt like it was about 15 days long. Now it's Friday night, and I'm glad it's here.
Haven't heard much about what's going on where I used to work. So much of that's faded from memory, and yet I'll remember so much.
Ah yes, the olden days, and I also remember the little-spoken days of when I worked at Rutter's, in the actual warehouse. Spending evenings slinging cases of milk, one after another. Working into the wee hours of the night, all for the sake of having an evening job. Freaking out the mundanes by going out in public in the middle of summer wearing a heavy winter coat. It was refridgerated, so it was always cold. Except when there was some crazy spill and we would have to siphon the spilt milk to outside, then it got nasty. But we weren't outside, we were on the inside, doing what we had to do. Yeah.
Now, somewhere along the lines, Rutters and I had to part ways. It's another example of how much I don't know what happened after I left. But I'll remember the fun I had, and that I had some time to myself for thinking. It was good.
The more I'm typing tonight, the more I'm thinking, and the more I'm thinking, the more I'm typing. Now on my second mug of beer, there are thoughts in the back of my head that wish to be freed, and they see the beer as an opportunity for a jailbreak. But I'll outsmart those thoughts, yessirree, because I know them. My friends are playing GTA: Vice City. For some reason, I've never had the patience for video games. Got a bunch of RPG's for my playstation; I might have gotten past the 10 minute mark for one of them. I dunno, maybe it has something to do with having a better use for 60 hours of my time. Where has my life been going? I am befuddled. There's a million other paths I could have taken, and I could have been wondering the same thing has I taken any of those paths. In another life, I could have been a valiant knight in shining armor, battling fearsome dragons, wishing I was just some goofball anime otaku lounging around in my friend's basement, drinking beer and tapping away on a computer while browsing sites in a language I barely understand.
There's another fellow here, who brought his laptop and is doing some sort of spooky operation with his computer, downloading a new OS that compiles itself on the fly. Damn, it's weird just to look at the screen on it. Letters and numbers and symbols, flying by relentlessly, they mean something to someone, but to me, they are but a symbol of a language that I'll never know, a language manufactured by us humans, fluent by the machines we made and yet beyond the comprehension of many. Have we been surpassed by our own creations and the elite few that understand them? Have we lost our position of God to the things we made in our own image? No one knows.
My friends now kill each other repeatedly using fictional weapons, made of 1s and 0s, and nothing but pieces of plastic in their hands. Ah, phony violence. (How can one end up in 10th place in a four-player game?)
I approach a third serving of beer; each serving is close to 4 cans worth. Thank God for the Backspace key. I should be in bed by now, dreaming away, dreaming of happy things, happy things filled with hope and peace. Instead I'm sitting here killing brain cells. Maybe the alcohol will have good aim?
Hope. Hope is a strange creature, almost as strange as love, if not stranger. They cannot exist without each other. Perhaps that's what the speck of light is? No matter what happens, so long as one has Hope, they will have all they need. Hearts can come and go, so long as there is Hope.
Stick a fork in me, I'm done. For the night that is. Sometime during the week, I got a lot done, and I feel much better as a result. Learned you can't be honest with anyone if you can't be honest with yourself. It took awhile for me to learn that, but learn it I did. A lesson I hope I don't ever lose.
It's getting hard for me to stay awake, so I bid all of you out there a hearty "Good Night.".
Gonna go visit home sometime this weekend, and maybe bring Ai-chan down here on the way back. The weekend's not going to be as bad as I thought it was, in fact it's getting better by the minute. Tanuki's got a bunch of friends over, and I got me a big old mug of beer on hand.
This week felt like it was about 15 days long. Now it's Friday night, and I'm glad it's here.
Haven't heard much about what's going on where I used to work. So much of that's faded from memory, and yet I'll remember so much.
Ah yes, the olden days, and I also remember the little-spoken days of when I worked at Rutter's, in the actual warehouse. Spending evenings slinging cases of milk, one after another. Working into the wee hours of the night, all for the sake of having an evening job. Freaking out the mundanes by going out in public in the middle of summer wearing a heavy winter coat. It was refridgerated, so it was always cold. Except when there was some crazy spill and we would have to siphon the spilt milk to outside, then it got nasty. But we weren't outside, we were on the inside, doing what we had to do. Yeah.
Now, somewhere along the lines, Rutters and I had to part ways. It's another example of how much I don't know what happened after I left. But I'll remember the fun I had, and that I had some time to myself for thinking. It was good.
The more I'm typing tonight, the more I'm thinking, and the more I'm thinking, the more I'm typing. Now on my second mug of beer, there are thoughts in the back of my head that wish to be freed, and they see the beer as an opportunity for a jailbreak. But I'll outsmart those thoughts, yessirree, because I know them. My friends are playing GTA: Vice City. For some reason, I've never had the patience for video games. Got a bunch of RPG's for my playstation; I might have gotten past the 10 minute mark for one of them. I dunno, maybe it has something to do with having a better use for 60 hours of my time. Where has my life been going? I am befuddled. There's a million other paths I could have taken, and I could have been wondering the same thing has I taken any of those paths. In another life, I could have been a valiant knight in shining armor, battling fearsome dragons, wishing I was just some goofball anime otaku lounging around in my friend's basement, drinking beer and tapping away on a computer while browsing sites in a language I barely understand.
There's another fellow here, who brought his laptop and is doing some sort of spooky operation with his computer, downloading a new OS that compiles itself on the fly. Damn, it's weird just to look at the screen on it. Letters and numbers and symbols, flying by relentlessly, they mean something to someone, but to me, they are but a symbol of a language that I'll never know, a language manufactured by us humans, fluent by the machines we made and yet beyond the comprehension of many. Have we been surpassed by our own creations and the elite few that understand them? Have we lost our position of God to the things we made in our own image? No one knows.
My friends now kill each other repeatedly using fictional weapons, made of 1s and 0s, and nothing but pieces of plastic in their hands. Ah, phony violence. (How can one end up in 10th place in a four-player game?)
I approach a third serving of beer; each serving is close to 4 cans worth. Thank God for the Backspace key. I should be in bed by now, dreaming away, dreaming of happy things, happy things filled with hope and peace. Instead I'm sitting here killing brain cells. Maybe the alcohol will have good aim?
Hope. Hope is a strange creature, almost as strange as love, if not stranger. They cannot exist without each other. Perhaps that's what the speck of light is? No matter what happens, so long as one has Hope, they will have all they need. Hearts can come and go, so long as there is Hope.
Stick a fork in me, I'm done. For the night that is. Sometime during the week, I got a lot done, and I feel much better as a result. Learned you can't be honest with anyone if you can't be honest with yourself. It took awhile for me to learn that, but learn it I did. A lesson I hope I don't ever lose.
It's getting hard for me to stay awake, so I bid all of you out there a hearty "Good Night.".
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no subject
Date: 2002-11-05 08:52 pm (UTC)