The Blogtastic Blogfest That Is Getmeoutofthis.net!

Here’s some random ramblings about my thought processes: I find it interesting how my “poetry brain” works.

As someone who goes by a name that includes “poet” right in there, and who is writing a ton of poetry for her thesis, one would assume I can do poetry. I can read it, and think about it, and enjoy it. I totally can, too. That is something I am capable of. However, I find that, even more than most types of media, I can’t do that stuff with poetry if I am the least bit tired.

I mean, okay, give me a novel when I’m tired, and it’s going to be very slow going reading it, sure. I may nod off. But when I get done reading it, I can still tell you about it, and at least somewhat break down themes and things the author is attempting to do, and maybe even give a close reading or two of what I’ve read. I’m not going to say it’s going to be my best work ever, of course, but I can at least come up with something passable, that shows I’m the kind of crazy person who almost has a Masters degree in this shit.

However, today, I was trying to read and write a review of a book of poetry. I was feeling a little out of it and exhausted, but I was there to work, so I was trying to get it done. I would read the same poem three or four times, and if I didn’t nod off in the middle of it, I would get through and not understand a damn thing about it. I would have no clue what I just read. I’d read it again, and be unable to find the meaning in the words once again. I attempted to write a review, but I couldn’t say anything worthwhile about what I had just read. It was worthless effort.

This isn’t the first time it has happened, either. I just have so much trouble with poetry when I can’t focus, the kind of trouble I simply don’t have when analyzing other mediums.

I really wonder what it is about poems that makes this happen to me. Is it because I have to be able to hold the whole poem in my head to be able to see the connections, whereas something like a short story is a narrative line, and I don’t have to keep specifics, just generalities? That doesn’t sound like an implausible reason. Maybe it’s because poetry is so image-heavy, and when I can’t focus, I can’t create the images clear enough to see the reason why they’re there? That also could be it.

I really don’t know. I just know that poetry is something I really have to be in a state of mind conducive to thinking to be able to consume. You’d think I’d have figured out some other way to do it by now, but I haven’t, really. Oh well.

I get this kind of rage any time something frustrates me, but there is nothing that frustrates me more than my tech not working.

I guess I should explain.

I was having some very nice conversations with my boyfriend, with Cris, with Ecks, and I was trying to write a blog, because hey, I haven’t missed a nightly blog post since I started this bullshit like 2 years ago, so I’m not going to miss one tonight either! However, apparently our home phone line has been down. Nobody noticed, because it’s a waste of money that nobody uses, but she found out it wasn’t working, and tried to fix it, as well as getting my father and me on the case. Since we’ve done that, my internet has randomly disconnected once or twice a day or so, though not for long spans until this time I am about to tell you about, and the phone still doesn’t work as a phone.

Tonight, I was trying to do this stupid Xbox Live test thing, because why not? I like stupid Avatar items. I was running this, and at 45 seconds remaining, I get kicked off. Frustrating, sure, but it comes right back up and I start it again.

Then it kicks me off again.

I’ve been fighting for awhile now, trying to get this to work again. It’s been connecting and disconnecting, and keeping me from finishing my conversations, as well as writing a blog more interesting than this one. I was ready to throw my router across the room. I wanted to scream and wake everyone up. I wanted blood, and, frankly, if this doesn’t go through and post like it should, I will want the heads of everyone who gives DSL to this house. Every single person.

I get so angry. So fucking angry. I hate being angry. But you don’t fucking keep me from the people I love. I don’t care if you’re a modem or a person. You are not going to fucking do that.

Bleh.

I’ve been wearing glasses for a few days, I suppose. How as that been going?

Pretty well?

I mean, there is no doubt that I needed these. From the moment I started wearing them, I was kind of blown away by how much clearer my vision was. I left to pick up my glasses, taking a look at comics on the door to my office. When I came back, wearing the glasses, I was shocked at how much better defined the lines were on those same comics. It’s amazing.

Still, there’s a lot I need to get used to. I’ll take them off to shower, or sleep, and I’ll forget to put them back on. They’ll get smudged, and I won’t be able to really tell if they are or not, so I’ll hesitate in cleaning them or whatever, and end up feeling kind of silly. Bad habits I had about reading things out of the corner of my eye so that my eyes didn’t have to focus so much really don’t work with the glasses on. There’s a lot to get used to again.

Driving home from St. Louis today, I called my mother. I didn’t hear her pick up, so I figured she must be asleep. However, she had picked up. I assumed I was wearing my bluetooth earpiece, because I felt something behind my ear, but it was just my glasses. Awkward.

The thing that really gets me about my glasses, though, is that nobody really comments on them. I don’t know if I just look like I always should have had glasses, or everyone assumes I don’t have my contacts in, or what. But seriously, almost nobody has said anything about them. I mean, that’s a better reaction than them being incredibly repulsed, to be sure, but I’m not sure what to make of it.

Still, I can read. That’s a benefit. I’m going to keep reading things, I think.

This is my 1000th Bloeg since I moved to this new server and such.

Holy fuck.

I just had to say that. I mean, seriously, 1000 posts. If I were to take the time to look backwards, over what I have written, shit, I have books upon books of completely useless ramblings about video games and Gender-Identity-Disorder-related depression. That’s not even counting all the stuff at my old blog, which is still hanging around.

I often don’t feel like a writer because I “never write anything.” It never feels like it, anyway. Yet as Brer would be quick to tell me, and as is obvious by the fact that my number of posts is in the fucking quadruple digits, I am a writer. I write. Granted, not all of this stuff on this blog is the super best thing in the world, but honestly, that’s okay. It’s practice. It’s something. Plus, I only do my best thinking when I’m trying to encapsulate what I think into words, so it’s a great way for me to learn what the hell I actually think about various subjects. This blog is a great thing.

A totally great thing.

So I’m taking a day to celebrate this silly, silly project that’s still going after years and years. Thanks, Droid, for convincing me to buy this domain name and giving me server space for so long. Thanks, internet, for putting up with me. Thanks. I’ll keep going if you will.

Today I had a little breakdown.

I came home from a busy day in St. Louis to find my mother in the computer room, having disassembled the modem and router setup. This strikes fear into my heart. I try not to react too harshly, as I know she’s trying to help. I ask her what this means about me relaxing with my food before work. She tells me I can’t relax, and that if I have time to relax I should help her, because I need to unhook everything else in the room and get it out of there so she can work.

I freak out even more at this, because the carpeting isn’t getting put in until Thursday. I’d be computerless, probably, until at least Friday afternoon under this plan. I attempt to figure this out, and she tells me that she needs the cables out of here, but that I should hook the router back up so she can use her laptop. I know this is her trying to lighten the mood, but it still rubs me the wrong way.

I decide to try to compromise, and start taking apart all my game systems and my TV. I won’t be able to play any games, but I’ve been too depressed and busy to anyway, so maybe that’s fine. In doing this, I knock over the closet door she has precariously perched on the wall next to my computer. It slams into my computer tower. I freak out, and turn on the computer to check it. It makes a horrible noise. I open the case, see no issues, close the case, it still makes the noise, I freak out more. Finally I notice a wire knocked loose. I fix it. It works. I start crying.

In some ways, I feel kind of lame for reacting like that. In others, I feel completely justified. Life sucks right now. I am trying my best, but fuck. I am pretty unhappy. I can only really unwind in here. This is where I can hide from things and recover. This is where I can calm down. But I can’t even have that anymore. I can’t even have anything. All because of this stupid carpet, and everything going on. Everything. I can’t have anything.

I mean, that’s not true. But fuck. Everything I have to fight for. Every little thing.

After this silly thing, people were asking me if I was okay. I was shaken. I’m still shaken, though I’m steadier now. Being able to type like this to you, having access to my friends and my daily routine with this computer… it is a lot of what keeps me balanced. Steady. Stable. It helps me not be completely depressed. I just…

Fuck.

Today I got fitted for glasses. (Is that the term? Fitted for glasses?) In doing this, juice was dripped into my eyes to dilate my pupils to make sure the doctor knew what was up. What then followed was like 2 hours of me not being able to see well enough to read.

Holy shit, I did not completely understand how much my world is built out of words, but it totally is.

Seriously, it blew me away how helpless it made me feel. I had to ask a woman to dial my mother on the phone for me to pick me up. When I got home, I tried to make myself dinner, but I couldn’t actually set the oven temperature or timer in order to pull it off. The only thing I could do was lay down and listen to podcasts, but I even had trouble working my iPod touch because everything was so blurry.

So I laid there, thinking about it. I couldn’t talk to my friends online because I couldn’t read the screen. I couldn’t play games. Basically all my leisure activities that weren’t podcast-related were out of the picture, and even those were hindered. Not being able to make out letters kind of removed my ability to do the vast majority of things I do with my life. Hell, even my career revolves around this stuff.

It was kind of scary, I have to admit. And though I fully think I would be strong enough to survive and move on, somehow, if I lost my sight, man, there would be very, very little unchanged in my life. Every single thing I do would have to be replaced in some way. Every single thing.

I was pretty happy when I could see again.

I really wanted to write some sort of “blog post” today, but while things were nice for awhile, at the end of my evening, things got real shitty. So here I am, at 3 AM, tired as fuck with no blog post to give to you. At the same time, if I don’t post something, I shall feel like a failure. This is that thing I will post.

So, yeah. Here’s an LP recommendation from me. I’ve been watching this playthrough of Demon’s Souls. You’ll recall the game is not for me. However, it’s still super interesting, and I’m enjoying watching someone who really knows what they’re doing run through it.

If you don’t read Deptford’s comic, you’re missing out on some real gems. Real non-inked gems. Yep.

I’m also probably way behind the curve on this, but I just started reading the Comics Curmudgeon earlier, and laughed my ass off. Clean off. Seriously. Had to reattach it.

Anyway, fuck work-related bullshit. I’m going to try to sleep. Tomorrow you’ll probably either have a blog post about a Magic Card Draft, or a Porn Game. Feel free to start casting your votes now. Sleep a lot.

I’m deeming Operation: Get More Sleep a failure.
It isn’t a failure because I wasn’t getting more sleep. I was. It’s a failure because it’s dramatically cut down on my work efficiency.

I find that, more and more, I only get work done in the mornings. Once the afternoon hours hit, I am either busy being social, or busy hiding, eating, and trying to eek out a little relaxation before a busy evening. I can’t make myself focus on work then. I’ve tried, with limited success, but it just doesn’t work for me.

Yesterday, I woke up early. Really early. And I graded a huge stack of papers, wrote a speech to give later that evening, set up an appointment with a name change lawyer, and had my appointment in St. Louis. Many of these were things I had been trying to get done all weekend, but felt stuck, depression-wise. But I knocked it all out this morning, and had time to talk with Cara about things, too.

Yes, I’m going to have to spend more mornings getting up early and knocking shit out if I’m going to succeed, get this thesis done, and so on.

Therefore, I declare Operation Get More Sleep a failure. Long Live Operation Neversleep!

And with that, ironically, I’m going to bed.

Already took a day off for Depression (which Jonathan things is a game, because I capitalized it!) so fuck, taking a break here too. Here’s some links.

Best Let’s Play.

Shakespeare has some important advice, apparently. That’s nice of him.

Did you know that you can lose the tutorial battle of Final Fantasy Tactics? I sure as fuck didn’t, until I watched this video.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHmuchmuchAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

ANALYSIS CUBE! ANALYSIS CUBE! ANALYSIS CUBE! ANALYSIS CUBE! ANALYSIS CUBE!

I’ll force myself out of my horrible state tomorrow. Have a good day, everybody.

Lately, my life has been lead by terror.

It’s weird, though. I have so much like… actual stuff I could be scared about. I have actual shit going on in my life. Transitioning, graduating… all this shit is terrifying, potentially.

But I’m getting panic attacks about not formatting informal notes correctly, not being early enough to have enough time to sit around and be early, or a non-important radio message not going through on the radio that never works anyway.

It is beyond stupid and I hate myself for it. But these are like… well, okay, I’ve had worst “attacks” in the past, but I seriously have to stop and just breathe for a bit to calm down, and I’m left with this sense of dread over the stupidest things until they’re done. I had to ask how to STUFF ENVELOPES like three times today because I had to head off the feeling of slightly stuffing an envelope with a flyer wrong before it made me even more useless than I already am.

Best guess is that I’m projecting issues related to passing onto all manner of other things in my life. I certainly know that I was projecting my anxiety about my shopping trip today onto Cara, when it was just a thing we were going to do, as far as she was concerned. I’m sure this stuff is fairly similar. I’m worried about some bullshit like “letting people down” with what I’m doing, and that translates into panicking about letting them down in dumb ways which would never happen. That makes a level of sense.

But dammit. It is frustrating. Makes me want to just sleep for a few days, or stay inside. Bleh.