Symptoms of Cretinism

Yesterday, the office called. Or should I say, the office I WAS supposed to work for. Someone named Grace explained to me that the company I was to start working for on Monday suddenly found itself with a dilemma of some sort, and consequently had to delay indefinitely the hiring of new people. Myself included. So there, I lost my job before I even started. I want to swear, over and over again, but that wouldn't be the Christian thing to do. It's just one of those days (one of many) that I feel like crap - angry, tired, frustrated, and sad at the same time. What makes things suck all the more is the fact that I cannot do anything about anything. I feel like the all the forces of the world are arrayed against me; yes, me, the great scourge of all creation, spawn of the fires of hell - I guess I'm that evil to deserve all this. That's besides having to contend with that damn Murphy's law all the time. So now tell me, please, what in the friggin' hell should I

A number of people have been asking me when I'm going to post something again. One even said that I should try posting something happy for a change. Right. Happy. As if I have something that's all rainbows and mushy-mushy and flowers all around to write about. I really wish I had, but I don't. I have a job now - I start on Monday - something that's supposed to involve summarizing the important news of the day and posting it on an online publication. It's good work, I guess, but with 10,000 measly pesos a month as gross pay and a six day work week, I can't seem to find my inner meadow - the one filled with unicorns and open fields and butterflies. But of course, beggars can't be choosers. So now I have to trudge through the last of my bumming days scurrying back and forth to apply for papers and certificates and whatnot - besides trying to finish the work of Mike's mom. Sigh. I miss sleeping 'til 2 in the afternoon already.

We live in a small world - cliche, yes, but true. And what a predicament that puts me in. I guess I have to accept that there will ALWAYS be something and someone (who probably thinks I'm an asshole to boot) who will remind me of S. I've taken to calling her that - S - which means nothing significant really; its just a way - one of many - that I have taken upon myself to practice so I can forget. So that S, and every memory, picture, and image of her is reduced to words - signs and symbols - a letter, things without meaning. For meanings elicit pain, and I' d like a break from that, thank you very much. Yes, yes, I know, I'll get there, eventually - more than one person's told me that - and I know I'm quite-a-ways there. Of course, there are days when I plod around like the tortoise in the race or scamper around arrogantly like the rabbit. They both get to the finish line at the end. But you see, it's really not the finish line that matters, its the getti

I was going to write something entitled "Dyslexic Thinking", but since my thought patterns have arranged themselves into something I can't quite put my finger on, well, I guess I'll just let Sylvia Plath speak for me. And oh, she gassed herself to death. ^_^ Besides, I've always liked this poem. ^_^ Mad (Boy's) Girl's Love Song - by Sylvia Plath* I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.) God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade: Exit seraphim and Satan's men: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside m