Sun, 30 Oct 2005top
so I forgot that we switch back to Standard Time today, therefore waking up an hour too early, which is, I suppose, not as bad as waking up an hour late. and now for some reason my stomach is tied up in knots.
I really think that I'm pretty much losing my mind.
yesterday I fell asleep right after work, which is a shame, because I actually got out around 3:30 pm (I could've gotten out earlier, but I was slacking off too much at work) and the sun was still shining pretty bright. of course, it was a saturday, and since I'm essentially anthrophobic, it was doubtful that I would use it to good purpose anyway.
anyway, I woke up feeling all depressed for some reason. it's not like I had a bad dream or anything. I mean, sure, I was kind of bummed that I had to work the entire weekend, but this is not anything entirely new. I suppose I should be happy that I even get days off. but that wasn't it.
sure, there's the whole existential angst thing, the whole "I'm doomed to die all alone" meme that I've been obsessing with as of late. but I don't think it was really any of that crap.
mostly, I think that I certifiably have an Axis I diagnosis. I have lately been not wanting to do much except go to work, eat, and sleep, and sometimes not even that. unopened mail has been piling up again, and my apartment is in worse disarray than usual. dirty dishes have also been piling up, and it has been a supreme effort to throw away the garbage.
but I managed to extricate myself from this hellhole known as my apartment and sauntered on down to the nearby Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, had myself a dulce de leche latte, then moseyed on over to the also nearby Borders.
once upon a time, I had dreamed of becoming a writer.
now don't get me wrong. I really like what I'm doing now. I like taking care of people, and I like teaching them about health matters and how to manage them.
but there's always that feeling—I suppose it is merely greed—that I wish that I could do both. I almost (but not quite) wish that I could do both things half-assed rather than do one thing well and the other thing not at all. but here we are.
the thought is that soon enough, all this madness will end. In three years, I will (in theory) not be working 80-100 hours a week anymore, I'll have time to actually have a life. I guess the thing that freaks me out a little is that by then I'll be 32, just one year younger than when Jesus Christ was crucified, and what I'd really like to do is have a life now, while I'm still nominally in my very late and waning 20's.
I don't know. days like this, I'm afraid that twenty or thirty years from now, I'll look back at my life, at all the suffering, all the loneliness, all the dark despair that I've put myself through, and I'll wonder, was it worth it? and that answer will be, no, but there's nothing you can do about it now. hell, why wait twenty or thirty years, sometimes I think that now.
and it isn't so much that I don't like where I am now. what I regret, and what I resent, is what I had to let go in order to get here.
although "letting go" is perhaps too optimistic a term to use in reference to that which I never had. but I digress.
at the least, my depressive mood lifted a little bit.
still, what worries me is that despite the fact that I will no longer have to endure sub-freezing temperatures, I have a feeling that this is still going to be one long, hard, cold, miserable winter.
Tue, 25 Oct 2005top
maybe it will get better when I'm done with this ridiculous lifestyle of working, on average, 80 hours a week (and sometimes even more than that) despite getting paid essentially peanuts. but, knowing how my life has gone so far, I'm not going to hold my breath.
I found it amusing that dear S thought she should try to bolster my courage and encourage me to meet women. She serendipitously reiterated BD's mantra of mathematics, which is, if you get rejected enough times, inevitably, at some point, you are going to succeed. It is at once a very optimistic and yet very fatalistic belief system.
now, never mind the fact that I am hypersensitive to rejection. maybe I don't really quite try. it's more like I blunder into situations. this is, after all, how I got together with N all those years ago. I suppose that the words are not enough. instead I need to suffer and bleed to convince people that I really want and need them. and, sadly, I can't do it any more. at the first sign of pain, I stop and give up. which explains my massive failure rate, but I don't quite understand why it doesn't seem like it's quite that painful for everyone else.
I still reminesce about that time I told A that I really like her, but then left it at that, which I guess she was OK with, which is, I suppose, better than her saying flat out, no way. it is bizarre how a relationship that never was haunts me perhaps even more than when N cheated on me and slept with some other guy. I think my inability to show A how much she meant to me, how much I wanted her to be part of my life, just epitomizes my lack of agency in this world. thinking back to that time, I realize how helpless I am with trying to get my life going in the direction I want it to go in. Instead, I am doomed to tread paths that have already been laid out for me, and no matter how much I resist, I get inexorably pushed down these roads that people long dead have already paved for me.
I think, also, that it is funny that I also told S how I felt about her, and she discouraged me quite ardently. I think we might remain pretty good friends, but she will be married some time soon, and I'm just going to hang out in the shadows, watching other people be happy.
it isn't quite that I don't try. it's just that my attempts really, really suck.
witness the latest minor disaster. it isn't necessarily the end of the world, that I woman I am interested in fails to call me back. one out of many, I suppose. but I don't know if I can really do this mathematics thing. I can't really see myself doing this more than four or five more times without it hurting really badly, and I figure the number of times I need to try are more in the hundreds range—or worse.
heh. if I didn't hate the current Pope so much, I should just get it over with and join the seminary.
it was interesting the choice of songs my iPod decided to play on the way to Tuesday night dinner with J and friends and back again:
- "You're the Only One for Me" by Allure
- "It Might Be You" by Roberta Flack
- "Everything" by Material Issue
- "Little Heaven" by Toad the Wet Sprocket
- "High and Dry" (cover of Radiohead) by Mike Moore
The first song reminds me of the time my sister tried to OD on Tylenol, after which I visited her for the first time at UCSD. The second song makes me think of all those times singing this song on my dad's laser disc karaoke machine. The third song was mine and N's song, which, ironically was covered by Fuse around the time I was hanging out a lot with S. The fourth song reminds me of my elementary school—this was one of the end title songs for the "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" movie starring Kristy Swanson, Luke Perry, and Paul Reubens A.K.A. Peewee Herman, and they shot some of the scenes near my elementary school. The fifth song is one of my favorite Radiohead songs, and sort of embodies my plainitive demand from the universe at large. So far the universe doesn't seem to give a damn.
I don't know. I think I'll just listen to whatever iTunes serves up to me right now. Like I've managed before, there is something about music that just makes me feel better, even if nothing else seems to be going right.
Mon, 24 Oct 2005top
for some reason, I am fantasizing about time travel right now. sometimes when I grow weary of my life, I wonder if I somehow missed an important flash point early in my life. you know, like there was a decision I was supposed to make, but I didn't make it.
sometimes I feel like I am seriously going the wrong way.
but I think of a super nintendo game that me, my brother, and my sister would continuously play way back when called "chrono trigger". the premise of the game is that the heroes have to travel across time to make certain things happen and prevent other things from happening so that the world doesn't get destroyed. on the way the heroes are faced with the bleak hopelessness of the future and the dark desolation of the past. an ancient, magical utopia is destroyed, like all other empires, by mad, ruthless power grabs and greed, and the future is annihilated by nuclear war, the planet left to rot like a hollowed out carcass, a world not dissimilar from the world of mad max and the thunderdome, or the horrific future envisioned similarly by both "The Terminator" and the "The Matrix." and the Enemy that must be defeated is revealed to be a thing that feeds on despair and destruction, and only an awful sacrifice by the main character saves everything.
not that I hallucinate that I'm going to save the world or anything.
I just wonder if I was supposed to go in a completely different direction. I kind of regret that a lot of my life has been spent in acts of wanton self-destruction, and as I start cresting the hill known as Life, I don't particularly look forwards to the ride down.
there is a subplot in the game about a man who gets torn out of his own proper time and into the hellish future, where he lives the rest of his days all by himself trying to build a time machine so that he can get back to his proper time. in the end, he fails, and dies, and days like this I sort of feel like that guy. I sometimes feel that my chances for happiness were somewhere in the distant past, if only I had made the right decisions instead of plunging headlong into the abyss, where I am alone and forsaken, and the worst thing about it is that it's all my fault.
of course, time travel makes me also think of John Titor. I had a dream about him once. I dreamt that I had successfully discovered the secret to time travel and that on the way to the future, I passed him as he made his way to the past.
my fantasy is kind of ridiculous, though. if I really did discover time travel, would I, instead of using that kind of power for the Good of Humanity™, use it instead to fulfill my own petty desires? I'm not sure I would even screw with Fate that much. after all, we are all here by the coalescensce of a trillion billion million different decisions and indecisions stretching all the way back to the big bang, and for me to screw with even one of these choices would mean not only possibly the difference between life and death, but the difference between existence and non-existence.
in the end, I content myself with the Many Worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics (on which the cult classic series "Sliders" is based.) Even if in this world I am doomed to loneliness, there is probably at least one or two worlds where I found fulfillment and happiness. all I want to be able to do is to be able to see what those worlds are like, to know that even if my future is desolate, that maybe it could've been all right if I had just made the right decisions in the past.
ah, whatever. I don't know why I imagine that it's all down hill from here. although I'm getting closer to it, I'm not quite half way through this life quite yet. surely there's still time for a change. or not.top
the days are getting short now, and I never really understood how people can claim Southern California doesn't have seasons. (I think I've waxed philosophically about this before, but anyway.) sure it doesn't get mind and limb numbingly cold, but there is still a significant, palpable change in the air.
I always seem to become extra-reflective during the autumn. (as if I weren't extra-reflective already.) my mind gets drawn deep into memory, as I wonder at my folly, at my mistakes and missed chances in autumns past.
I can't get to sleep. it's fucking 2am.
and whatever it was that I wanted to say seems to have slipped my mind. ah well. forget it.
Fri, 21 Oct 2005top
how low are your sex standards?
Is this really any surprise at all?
| Up for anything |
You had sex with 17 out of 21!
|My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:|
|Link: The How Low Are Your Sex Standards Test written by chicken_pot_pie on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test|
Sat, 15 Oct 2005top
why do I dream of things that cannot possibly ever happen? I know, I know. BD explained to me once in a drunken and blunted state: I seek the unattainable because it's safe. There is no fear of failure when you already know you are going to fail.
I'm not talking about unattainable as in "there's no way she'd ever be attracted to a fat slob like me, no way she'd ever fall for a big loser like me." I'm talking about unattainable as in "she's been with this guy for like nearly a decade, they're practically married," like utterly, damnably hopelessly unattainable.
and yet still I dream.
Wed, 12 Oct 2005top
so it seems that I have lost my voice. I woke up this morning and didn't realize that I didn't have one until I went to buy coffee. Huh. I guess that's what is unique about living alone (this is the first time I've ever done it) I can go for nearly three hours without having to utter a word to anyone. Even in the household where I hated one of my roommates, this wasn't really possible.
it is, I suppose, a little sad and pathetic, but, hey, we're not going to dwell on that today.
all in all it's been one kind-of fucked up week. Depressingly, I again had to stand by while a little kid died. I had traded a Saturday call (because I was deathly ill) and this past weekend I had to pay it back.
now I realize I can be disgustingly blase about death. It is truly a defense mechanism. I made it through the night by not thinking about it, even as I wrote orders to increase the morphine and start Ativan, and OK'ed not getting labs and even not getting vital signs. I even slept for a good three hours. But then I got up, wrote 8 progress notes, when the attending let me go home, and thanked me for taking care of the little kid who was dying, and I know I really didn't do too much. The aura of depression was palpable in the unit, and I walked out of there sadly, and by the time I made it to the cafeteria, it hit me.
I realize that my life has been stripped bare of emotion for a long time now. I don't remember the last time I cried, I mean, really cried. And, yeah, it's all a defense mechanism, because I'd probably be crying continuously about how fucked up this world is. But that's all I really wanted to do, with all the busywork done, and all that was left to me was to go home with another little bundle of sorrow tied to my heart. Even then I wouldn't let myself do it. The tears came, but I squeezed them back. How else are we supposed to survive this stupid life otherwise?
I find myself thinking about that little kid for a little bit every day now. I didn't even really know him or his family. I met them for like 15 minutes, and I blundered into their room with all the grace of a blind, ataxic elephant. And here's this kid who can't breathe, who is suffocating because of malignancy, and there's nothing I can do about it but stare like a stupid oaf. There's nothing I can tell this family that has suffered horrendously. I'm completely useless.
I can't even bear to think about that kid's family. It tears at the flesh of my heart. It's physical pain, and it's not even my own pain. I just can't imagine it. It sucks. That's as articulate as I'm going to get about it.
But yeah. I guess I had to vent that. It sucks not having anyone to talk to about it.
So, yeah, this is why I say with regards to a lot of things that it doesn't matter. Because if it did, then it would just hurt way too much, all the time.
Fri, 07 Oct 2005top
is it friday already?
the thing that sucks about my job is that for the most part I only get one day off every week. This means that, for the most part, Friday doesn't mean jackshit to me. Probably because I have just recently been let out of my cage and have actually been cavorting in the World Outside™, only to be penned back in again, I was acutely annoyed by how much fun the rest of the world seems to be having.
for sheer companionship and affection, you can't beat having a dog. the week I descended down into the Pit of Despair™, I had my sister's dog Pazzo as a constant companion. being that for the most part he is cooped up in my sister's apartment, she usually takes him out twice a day. this task devolved to me while I was in NYC. Man, sometimes I can't help but feel envy for the life of a dog. you don't have to worry about food or shelter, you can sleep all day, and the best most wonderful thing to look forward to is the daily walk.
Pazzo is rather well housebroken, and he exhibited supreme bowel and bladder control, to the point where he would whine in agony rather than soil himself. He would always remind me that it was time to go for a walk by headbutting my leg and trying to climb up me and claw at my face. So, at least, that was one thing that was fun, and which I miss.
When I got back to L.A., we tried to start walking our family dog Angel more regularly as well. Unfortunately, unlike Pazzo, Angel is extraordinarily antisocial. He has bitten people with little provocation (luckily he doesn't know how to rend and tear flesh—it's like his teeth don't work properly) The other thing is that, unlike Astoria, where my mom and dad live is on a decent sized hill. It makes for one good workout, but it is difficult to convince me out of my lazy stupor to go.
I've thought of getting a dog, but I realize that I wouldn't have the time, energy, or patience to housebreak him. And, if the condition of my potted plants upon my return to San Diego are any harbinger, I would probably end up guilty of canicide.
fuck, I have to work tomorrow.