Uncategorized

Ever have your forehead throbbing, and try rubbing it while rotating your head about your necks axis, while trying to relax those muscles? Well, it does help like you might think, but I suggest closing your eyes for most of the loop. Using two hands doesn’t.

I find it positively unhinging, I can’t stand being idle. My minds bounding like a rubber ball, only there’s so much to bounce between. Not counting this weekends extra work, it’s still a factor of ~14 weeks until I’ve the hours needed to apply for the license exam: 12 weeks if I’m lucky. 12/4 suggests that’s roughly 3 months.. I’m going out of my skull. The only practical way to move forward, is dependent upon WORK, ya know, that little four lettered word that describes what most people do all day? Work that pays. Resorting to *foot travel*, has seen my stress levels being pushed up an order of magnitude. It’s like take the most adaunt pain in the pass you’ve ever had to listen to, them multiple it by the number of hours of sharing the same roof… family, what is it good for? At least *normal* people, you can refile under /dev/null. There’s only one simple fact: no license == contingency plans. The only solution past that, is DEFCON 0. I’ve spent at least two and a half years on the research issues alone, let along how much thought I’ve put into things, on how to move forward without being made worse of a slave here. I can’t sit here much longer.

I’ve busted my back for years, and I have to be held back thus? Is it to much to expect someone, to get off their fucking ass every now and again? If I was in water, I would be drowning; while family smokes a cigarette and drinks a coke in delight. FML. I’m not a mercenary, I don’t expect very much out of anyone, but for once in my life, it would be nice to have a little cotton picking help‽ I hardly ask for anything… not even a fucking sliver of food. What do I get? I’m going out of my freaking mind. I think I’m starting to remember what the word love looks like. Both in the sense that’s how far you have to be willing to go, to actually love someone, and in the sense, that you can rest assured… your flesh and blood will eventually place you there.

How much time, can you spend trying to solve a problem, while being kept form even lifting a fucking finger towards it… and still hang on to your sanity?

I can honestly say… both eating real food, and eating junk food, nether helps the knots in my stomach :-(.

Between the headaches, the knots, and everything else, why doesn’t someone just shoot me and be done with it…

So far, the only good thing I really can say about the month of May, is I’m stuck working part of this weekend. Means ma gets ~$50 in her coffers and I should get at least another 2 1/2 hours driving time this week.

What do I have to do, get out and push with a RPG?

I think I need a long vacation….

I muut say, whatever the human body releases under such physical exerciser certainly helps one string thoughts together again. All but staggering in the process, among other things, one of things I got done, was moving my desktop from the living room, into my room here. I’ve placed it near to the air vent, which seems to decrease the running temps a bit. Don’t want to think what winter will loo like. I also forgot just how freaking heavy an old 19″ CRT monitor weighs, especially when you’re already exhausted. My rooms still a wreck but I’m to tired to car at this point.

The one good ting, I’ve slept ’til almost 0300, that’s nearly two hours more than when I’ve been getting up lately… haven’t been able to sleep worth a slug. Going nuts….

That reminds me, blasted PC is now right next to the router: but Windows now refuses to work with the Ethernet NIC, so I’m still stuck using the wireless lol. The Linux install will work with either… but hey, we’re talking about 60% and regularly dropping out, up to 100% signal, now that the distance is about 1 foot.

Maybe I can play some Quake or sth this morning, that ought to hold my attention for an hour or two…. I hope.

My minds self checks are starting to question my remaining sanity, I’m not sure how to take that. As positive, that my head has self checks for it, or as a negative that I’m questioning my sanity :-S. What is sanity anyway, but a reality measure, of how far we’ve been pushed?

The last few weeks, it’s like being inside of an egg beater, or being an egg thrown back and forth between ping-pong rackets, because I won’t break apart. I’ve been trying to keep a log of things, today I can add bits of dizzy to it, fuck, remind me not to look out windows while cleaning them.

I’m going out of my skull. With the amount I’m sleeping, I’m spending more time thinking, hell it’s almost as much as I used to spend training. What was it my time added up to back then, about 40-45 hours a week? That’s a lot of stuffing to contain. Am I even making sense?

Driving felt like a piece of my brain missing, still the only higher order thoughts it demands is keeping things on the pavement and in the right lane. So many years in ‘mech and air sims has most of it down to a level of breathing, that’s how hard driving is, normally.

Heads going ape, I’m not stable. planning to rip things apart, down to rearranging furnature ffs. My intentions to work myself until i finally pass out.

I wonder what you get when you combine a pseudo logarithmic stress graph with routine spurts of highly exponentiation “Stress jacking”, and computation it across a life time…

Recently, I have been looking into Ruby on Rails, while I’m more then familiar with programming in Ruby, I’ve never really had much opportunity to play with RoR. Then again, the amount of time I’ve had to spend around Python for one reason or another, I haven’t been using Ruby all that much in the past few years. Still, about all I need is API docs, and a language reference here and there for things I rarely need (e.g. the interpreters environment variables). I’ve also been parsing a copy of Effective C++ from the library, in the odd chance that I might learn something ‘new’. I know enough about programming to be weary of the quad-barreled super shotgun constantly pointing at ones feet, but don’t always physically have the time to deal with C++s minute details. It’s the price of living here, productive use of time = death star sized more valuable then over thinking. Then again, most people would say that I over think >-<.

I’ve been thinking a bit about my note storage problem, as I don’t use my journal for ‘every’ train of thought, although this months number of entries might suggest otherwise lol. Working on solving that problem of notes management, might be one way to pass some time, and try and reclaim some lost stack space, the question is whether or not I can actually work on something that complex right now…

For days I’ve been feeling in knots, living here is like having your head banged into a wall. Literally it feels like a cross between wanting to puke your guts out, and having your insides rung out like a wet towel; not comfortable! Dissatisfied with my war for freedom, my mother seeks to enlist help in constraining me, from even marching to the library—while simultaneously being the idiomatic stick in the mud, about my interest in getting a license and a separate job.

In short, she’s trying to type cast me from an animal in a cage, to an animal chained inside a cage.

Never in my life, have I ever been afforded peace… it’s been denied me, since birth. It’s rare here, that I’m even treated like a human being deserving of life; whether or not I deserve to live, I’m the last person who can answer that question—but I am a human being. Is it such a horrible thing, to ask that life have some reason to get out of bed in the morning, some reason to draw breath? Arguably I would’ve been better off eliminating myself in the early 2000s, but *every* concept of improving the quality of existence, has generally been met with the up most hostile force, that my family can attempt to bring to bear.

What the fuck kind of family is this? I know I’ve considered it “Non functional”, as a private notational level below dysfunctional, but somethings just make me fucking sick to my stomach. I can’t take much more of this. DEFCON 0, begins to look all the more sharply on the horizon. I will not be caged! I’ve passed up opportunities in order to do whats right by family, but I will not be locked away…

Death or liberty, there is no third notion – and like John McClane, I die hard.

In my reading of King Lear last week, I came across an segment of the text, that rather sums up an expression of how my mother often regards her children:

“But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; or rather a disease that’s in my flesh, which I must needs call mine.”

— King Lear, Act II Scene IV, Shakespeare’s King Lear.

Only substitute son with daughter, in this families case. I think she rather missed the “Like mother, like daughter” implications of that statement, even though ma generally agreed with it. (That’s a matter of internal history, predating me by at least 30 years.)