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perplext
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Location: Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Interests: mac & cheese
Expertise: sourcing and consuming the aforesaid
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
Member Since:
10/31/2004
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| Pensieve-Dump #0223
This is, quite deliberately, a completely mundane post.
Today i woke up, had a shower, and fixed myself a chicken sandwich and a salad. i want to remember how good these simple, basic things felt coming on the heels of this period, which has seen me approach the completion of my degree, and the frantic job hunting and re-organization and stuff that has come with that, along with the pain and euphoria of love's emotional rollercoaster, along with the usual panic about papers, presentations, and all things exam-related.
In the kitchen as i was fixing my salad, an olive rolled off my plate and onto the floor - it seemed to be fleeing. as i felt the conditioned panic responses begin to kick in, the absurdity of the loss of an olive for my salad as the worst crisis that could possibly befall me today struck me like a kiss, and i knew that i would want to remember this feeling: the bliss of simplicity, and the ridiculousness of human lives and ambitions, and the way that we forget so easily why it is that we respond as we do.
Today i will download new music, write to my relatives, and strike up a conversation with someone completely new. | | |
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Pensieve-Dump #2079
Been reading again. Sometimes you just need to consume text like it's sugar-laden crack, innit? Yeah, that's what I'm saying. Incidentally, this zazen stuff is trippy. Prolly need something more pulpish-escapist once this is done. Mebbe break out the sci-fi, it's been a while.
On the coming election: I'm a little tired being told to strictly vote my conscience. Pragmatism. I don't vote for parties, I vote against them. Only if I'm certain that the party I hate does not have a chance of winning will my primary voting criterion involve a selection of the party that I feel ought most be in power -- if the representative of the party that I despise has a shot at winning, I'll vote for whichever candidate has the best shot at defeating the candidate from the despised party, since the alternatives only increase the likelihood of my electoral district getting fucked completely.
I'm all for political idealism, but you can't eat hope.
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Reinitialize Thine Employ!
Joyous Arbitrary Time Frame Initialization! Because it matters!
I've quit my job - last day should be in a few days, at which time I'll join the ranks of the Unemployed or Searching or Starting New Jobs.
In doing this, it seems I'll join others who've made (or will make) an employment shift this new year, among them a smattering of people from Blendar's recent post, and Blendar herself, if the magic of grad/starve cycles are to be believed.
Interestingly, out of 10 posters, 1 was negative about changing jobs, 1 was positive, 2 were neutral (self included). Another wasn't doing the job switch thing, but had been promoted -- still context-relevant, i s'pose. His gf, however, is doing the n00 yR job switch thang.
From this completely scientific sampling I conclude that job turnover takes a bucket-futz every Dec-Jan, which is likely news both goot und batt for those of us fortunate to be thrown into the tizzy mix. Either that or the xangan sphere has a disproportionate number of people who job-jump with solar cycle resets. I'm inclined to believe the former, though: pretty sure this happens in RL as well.
Wish me luck whoring ye new year's jobbe market, folks. For those doing likewise, best luck to you. If you wanna gripe about it at The Grind or something, coffee's on me. (=
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| Letter
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Dearest You,
I didn't really think you'd want to talk. It nevertheless seemed important to let you know that I'm willing to, if ever you change your mind. Well, now you know.
Love and warmest,
-Me
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Yeah, that's it.
(Sit and spin, BusComm, sit and spin.)
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| Philistine
Closure, he calls it. Alright, closure. All rights reserved, all wrongs reversed, she said. Neither of us believe it, and we stare into the tapestry, and pretend to laugh. The laugh means We don't either of us remember anymore, but let's pretend we each still do, for your sake, or mine. It's a convenient fiction.
Feng turned slowly from the mirror. Ahmin's slow smile crept along the edge of his thin lips. No teeth. This creature, it had no bite.
Ahmin opened his hand, and the petals he'd been tightly clasping tumbled, drifted lazily to the surface of the table between them. One soft yellow whispet landed at its edge, balanced there, gently and precariously, half on, half off, like an awkward moment. Or a comma,
It was more than Feng could stand, and her gaze took in the man, the room, the table, the petals scattered across its sterile plane like a loving blight. A warped reflection, her own and distorted, glared accusingly back from the surface of the metallic bowl on the dresser to her right, and from which now only three crumpled stems protruded.
Fingers. Clasping, wraith-like, twisted fingers.
With a stuttering cry, half-sob, half retribution, she made a mad grab for the bowl, its weight pregnant with water, with promise. Flung it at his face.
It bounced once on his forehead. The sound, like Ahmin's expression, unchanged, was ludicrous. The grin, fixed to his face. A habit, an anachronism. The water dripping from his nose a comedy dreadfully, stupidly, raw. The grin faded.
Feng ran from the room, the door swinging slowly shut behind her. No slam. Pneumatic hinges. Anti-climax. Behind her, Ahmin's tears, hidden by the torpid water.
Dripping, remorseless, down his face.
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