"I wish I could see myself as a great romantic figure. Someone to be admired... And respected... Loved? I'm aware enough to know what a far cry that wish is... I'm sick... I have to face that one simple fact. Something... is... very... very... wrong with me."
-Michael Allred "Madman"
Something is wrong with me too.
It's been happening for about two weeks, but I only just recently stopped and said, "What the hell is happening here?"
For starters, I'm getting forgetful. I've lived in this appartment for 10 months and I've only ever locked myself out once, about a month after I moved in... Now, in the past two weeks, I've locked myself out twice. The first time, two weeks ago, the landlord gave me an extra copy of my key. I put the spare key in my wallet because for some reason I've never locked myself out without my wallet. I've always had the spare van key in my wallet, which I then use to drive to the landlord's house and ask to borrow his key. Today I locked myself out without my keys or my wallet. I'm begining to suspect that if I had my spare key surgically implanted in my ass, soon I would somehow lock myself out without my ass.
And I forget why I'm in a room each time I enter it. This is really bad because I only have two rooms. It's not like I'm going up the stairs and down the hall. I walk the five feet from my bedroom to my kitchen and I can't remember why the hell I did it.
Secondly, my brain is turning off sooner than it usually does. It used to be that by the end of my work day I'd be getting tired and disorganized. You know, like from 4:30 to 5. It seemed acceptable, long day, running out of steam. Now it's happening around 3:00. I stare at my projects like I'm a veggetable. I pop open menus in Photoshop and then, after 30 seconds of looking, I realize I didn't really need anything from that menu.
And the creative block is horrible. Instead of brain storming I'm just getting a thick brain fog. I feel like I'm running into the same brick wall over and over. Not only can I not think outside the box, I've laid out a futon and decided that the box is a pretty cool place to be.
What the hell is wrong with me? Me loose brain?
11/23/2003
11/13/2003
Today at work I began to wonder if I was like the guest that just dosen't leave when the party is over.
The seed of doubt was sewn yesterday when a client stopped by. The Office Manager was showing him around our, admittedly, cool workplace. When they reached the folding table that I had been using as a desk, I was introduced as the "Semi Permanent Contractor." The client was actually the first one to point out, "Wow. Gotta love that title, eh?"
Yea, I thought, that is pretty shitty, isn't it. It didn't really sink in until today that the introduction might have been a bit tongue-in-cheek. Like, "And here's Jon. We hired him to design a program last year. The project has been over for a month or so now, but he just won't take a hint."
The seed of doubt was sewn yesterday when a client stopped by. The Office Manager was showing him around our, admittedly, cool workplace. When they reached the folding table that I had been using as a desk, I was introduced as the "Semi Permanent Contractor." The client was actually the first one to point out, "Wow. Gotta love that title, eh?"
Yea, I thought, that is pretty shitty, isn't it. It didn't really sink in until today that the introduction might have been a bit tongue-in-cheek. Like, "And here's Jon. We hired him to design a program last year. The project has been over for a month or so now, but he just won't take a hint."
11/11/2003
I've managed to thwart another of my van's attempts to assassinate me.
I've said before that I know next to nothing about auto mechanics, so what little I do know is from first hand experience and, usually, catastrophic failures. Yesterday, for example, I learned that if the brakes on the van go out and you press the pedal hard enough, the emergency brakes will kick in. This is not written in the manual. I can add this tidbit to the short list of things I know about my van; like reasons the engine won't start and signs that the fucking wheel is about to fall off.
Fortunately, the brake had been acting "spongy" that afternoon and I had the common sense to be driving slowly and trying to get back to my house via side roads. Of course, after I finally managed to park in my driveway, I decided that I'd have to have the bitch towed to the garage.
I'm a little too tired to go into details right now, but when we were reunited again it was very awkward. There was a long silence as I strugled to voice my concerns about the way it's been behaving. The van just stared at me. It might have been my imagination, but I could swear I saw resentment in those headlights; like it had gone to a lot of trouble, and yet I was still alive.
I fear what might happen next. First the wheel, now the brakes. If the van gets more daring I believe the next "accident," will be something more severe. I must keep a close eye on it.
I've said before that I know next to nothing about auto mechanics, so what little I do know is from first hand experience and, usually, catastrophic failures. Yesterday, for example, I learned that if the brakes on the van go out and you press the pedal hard enough, the emergency brakes will kick in. This is not written in the manual. I can add this tidbit to the short list of things I know about my van; like reasons the engine won't start and signs that the fucking wheel is about to fall off.
Fortunately, the brake had been acting "spongy" that afternoon and I had the common sense to be driving slowly and trying to get back to my house via side roads. Of course, after I finally managed to park in my driveway, I decided that I'd have to have the bitch towed to the garage.
I'm a little too tired to go into details right now, but when we were reunited again it was very awkward. There was a long silence as I strugled to voice my concerns about the way it's been behaving. The van just stared at me. It might have been my imagination, but I could swear I saw resentment in those headlights; like it had gone to a lot of trouble, and yet I was still alive.
I fear what might happen next. First the wheel, now the brakes. If the van gets more daring I believe the next "accident," will be something more severe. I must keep a close eye on it.
11/08/2003
11/06/2003
Last time I was at Blockbuster I bought a copy of "28 Days Later." Anyone will tell you that buying movies at Blockbuster is incredibly stupid. Because of some bizarre space-time flux, movies at Blockbuster cost more than they do anywhere else on earth. The fact that this movie was on sale did not help. I shelled out my $22.50 (plus tax) simply because I just happend to be there. A few days later I found myself at Best Buy and, not to my surprise, the actual price of 28 Days Later was $19.99. I proceeded to kick myself. Today I got my usual junk mail from Hotmail.com (I actually signed up for the DVD newsletter), and I was offered a copy of 28 Days Later for $18.50. I kicked myself even harder. I suppose a week from now the price will keep dropping and it'll be on sale for $17.00. If anyone in America want's to save money on DVD's, let me know and I'll buy it first.
11/02/2003
A funny thing happened on Halloween night.
In order to cater to the bloodthirsty trick or treaters WHO NEARLY KNOCKED DOWN MY DOOR, I left a pan on the front porch, filled it with Snickers, Milky Ways, and Three Muskateers and taped a sign to it that said, "Please Just Two Each!"
Shortly thereafter I went out with my friend to a pseudo Halloween party. When we came back, about four hours later, I had no delusion that the pan would even be there, much less the candy in it. To my shock and awe the pan was still there, and it HAD MORE CANDY THAN WHEN I LEFT IT! That was fucking spooky.
The volume was the same, but in addition to the candy bars there were now M & Ms, Almond Joys, and Kit Kats. I tried to wrap my mind around it. My first thought was that maybe some of the trick or treaters had misread the sign and left two of THEIR candies. For the few moments I had accepted this explaination I was convinced that the children of Waltham were all morons. Then my friend guessed aloud that my neighbors had added to the pot, so to speak.
Oh, yea, like that makes any sense.
In order to cater to the bloodthirsty trick or treaters WHO NEARLY KNOCKED DOWN MY DOOR, I left a pan on the front porch, filled it with Snickers, Milky Ways, and Three Muskateers and taped a sign to it that said, "Please Just Two Each!"
Shortly thereafter I went out with my friend to a pseudo Halloween party. When we came back, about four hours later, I had no delusion that the pan would even be there, much less the candy in it. To my shock and awe the pan was still there, and it HAD MORE CANDY THAN WHEN I LEFT IT! That was fucking spooky.
The volume was the same, but in addition to the candy bars there were now M & Ms, Almond Joys, and Kit Kats. I tried to wrap my mind around it. My first thought was that maybe some of the trick or treaters had misread the sign and left two of THEIR candies. For the few moments I had accepted this explaination I was convinced that the children of Waltham were all morons. Then my friend guessed aloud that my neighbors had added to the pot, so to speak.
Oh, yea, like that makes any sense.
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