An orange in an apple orchard
Around 22:00 I went to bed, thinking about recent mmods, when I managed to convince my brain, to push it aside and “Worry about that later”. I fell sound asleep. At 22:45 her royal pain had to wake me up, in order to get me to make a waffle.
and now I can’t get back to sleep short of being hit in the head with a mallet o/
Somehow I think it’s sad, responding to a butlers duty, having to deal with the apartment being almsot pitch black -> the only light source being the LEDs on the cable box. And I can almost see plane as day lol.
Shit, how many years did I spend hacking at stuff after nightfall….
Yesterday, well, relatively speaking; 3 hours sleep is enough for me to call it yesterday irregardless of hours passed, even if I’ve been up since 2am local lol. Beyond having to authorize my mother to deal with the issue (as she was the master mind), I was largely ear shotted into a phone conversation that came as little surprise.
Some years ago now (bah), the place that my high school course work was with, was getting pissy about the massive over times involved in getting it done. A lot of working hours (from 1 day a week, to 3 jobs per day per week) and a lot of self-studying else wheres on my own, tends to make for homework that’s about as challenging as breathing, and thus makes for limited interest in getting it done promptly. Eventually I knuckled down on it between busy seasons, because a H.S. diploma or G.E.D. would be required to have any chance of moving forward later (now near future). Her Royal Pain however decided to change distance “Schools” after getting annoyed with the first companies policy on sending out text books. That lead to me having to go through a fresh reboot on another set of course work with a new company.
Which I gave up working on after a few cycles, because I knew there would be zilch chance of getting that glorified piece of paper, once my mother stopped paying the damn thing off: reaching the point of calling it a brush off! Plus knowing that any long term savings of my own, would likely end up towards paying off her debts rather than catching up with a GED later (which came to pass twice, as she acquired debt since then).
The principal issue of yesterdays call, was that the company wants their outstanding balance paid off; blood from a stone anyone? My mother managed to lie herself into a corner about it, by using her recent health issues as an excuse to cover cheating them out of the money years prior, and I do believe court was mentioned :-S. The real royal screw however, is since the mega bitch saw fit to run the bills for the course under my name instead of her own that time out, it’ll likely be my arse if anything comes of it. I knew consenting to that stipulation, just for a chance to work towards finishing HS, was going to come back and haunt me someday… family is too good at fucking me over. If things were still as they were in Charles Dickens era, my mother would have become well familiar with debtors’ prison over the years, and this affair would aqaint me with one. Luckily things have changed a lot since then. So much as anticipated, if there ever been any decency of credit associated with my name, it’s well flushed: and that tends to cause trouble later on, in modern America o/. As if I didn’t have miserable enough a mood already.
The really ironic thing in this whole mess? High school and a loving heart is what made a slave of me in the first place. When I was something like 15~16 years old, ma decided to start her present business as a way to help pay off the coming course work, and to save up for when things were to get tighter; thus invalidating my employment plans. I was asked to ‘help‘ out with the work, because part of it would be going towards paying for my schooling: and I’ve gone unpaid since. Sure enough in the end: no diploma to be reached, my mother wouldn’t know how to save a dime if you beat her with one let along before the bottom dropped out, and I’ve spent the last 6 1/2 to 7 years of my life, being used and treated like a slave for it all. Arguably I would have been better off, taking the antifreeze cocktail out of here in the early 2000s, instead of discovering a reason to live for the rest of my life. Instead I’ve had to spend the last 4-5 years, all but imprisoned here.
To quote a friend: Fuck My Life.
Pour me somethin’ tall an’ strong,
Make it a “Hurricane” before I go insane.
It’s only half-past twelve but I don’t care.
It’s five o’clock somewhere.
Need I go on?
Now this article by Paul Graham was one that I thoroughly enjoyed. Although it might not be obvious to outsiders, it’s actually rather tastey for its wit ;).
In my web travels, I’ve just come across an interesting web-focused application and service, called Teambox. So far it seems to offer, a rather interesting stack of tools. Assuming it could be suitably extended into the neccessary work flow, by adding things such as SCM integration, code reviews, and issue tracking, it would be darn freaking useful.
Little old me, is used to projects where the best things in life are e-mail, XMPP, and Git, hahahaa!
My brother turned out to have a double agenda to showing up on Mother’s Day, not surprisingly. To deliver a gift, and find an easy supper while his wife was out of town lol.
Our mother finally got what she has been wanting: one of their new puppies. He’s a dark fawn coloured Chiahuahua, something like 8 weeks old, and so adorable it’s gotta be illegal. It’s her dog, but obviously means that I’ll be the one to to get cussed at over its care. That means yours truly has to worry about cleaning up after it, feeding it, watching over it, and so on and so forth…. plus walking him when he gets older. I also have to hear about every minute detail twenty times, and be pushed for help in naming him o/. Guess I’m the last slave who thinks people should look after their own responsibilities.
I’ve had to grown through hearing every dumb question imaginable, and as usual when my mother is involved, answer things by repeating myself 3-5 times! It’s annoying as hell to start with, let alone when you consider that I may be the only asshole in this family, who doesn’t deserve a hearing aid.
The only good thing I can say about trying to serve between land minds and war-bait, is we had stop off for my brother to pick up a pack of smokes and to take the puppy to see one of my mothers best friends. So I got to see their dog Nikita, which is a 100+ pound Boerboel; my brother was scared of her lol.
Fortunately dinner went well, only stressors being thrown about; my brother took over my computer to piss away the time playing FarmVile on Facebook, I gave him a temporary PC user account named ‘moron’, in order to keep him out of my session. I can clear it off the linux box tomorrow.
If near future plans work out, I think my friend is right, we do need a drink stronger than water.
They just made a crack on the radio, that Toby Keith once set an alleyway on fire as a kid: and wasn’t afraid of the police finding out, just that he knew he was gonna get it once his mom found out xD
They tend to take forever to find/create and to fill out for the occasion :-S. I rarely will send a card, unless there’s some target meaning to it, some sense of exposition. Be it a goal to bring a smile to someones face when things are going rotten, or wish them a great holiday. A lot of thought goes into the process of me sending a card, trying to find something that is both appropriate, and can help express to the receiverwhat was intended. In retrospect of the years, I reckon I should just be thankful for the practicality of e-mail; making something elaborate by hand and mail, takes even more effort, on top of the mental toll. Even worse before modern graphics software was invented lol.
Mother’s Day, in particular is a pain. Both in the sense of trying to express emotion, bring something positive… and having to make a dance around, ones that are sadly just not usable, although I truly wish they were (with a straight face). Like wise, when my mother is concerned:, having to even more carefully study the matter before hand, in order minimize the potential points for blacklash over it. Which is a matter that stings in it’s own right, let along the former. I’m well familiar with the painful consequences of failure.
The positive parts of my life, have thought me how to be thoughtful about the people I care about, the miserably parts have made me learn how to navigate a mine field without losing any limbs in the process. FML.