December 31st, 2002


Oh, maaaaaaan ....

I don't think I really needed to see this piece of info, but for almost exactly (I know, "almost exactly" is right up there with "Corporate Ethics") the remainder of my school term/year/program (1/2/2003 - 1/24/2003) Mercury is going to be retrograde!

Now, I'm not a big "live life by astrology" kind of guy, but I've had people flag particularly bad stretches in my life as concurrent with Mercury in retrograde ... enough so that I sort of cringe when I hear that it's coming. If you're in the "huh? what the heck does that mean?" crowd (and I'm half there myself), here's a link about it:

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Signs of on-going problems ...

Today I did something that I had been putting off for quite a while, I sorted through the snail mail for Eschaton.

Now, on a day-to-day basis, I may seem to pretty well have my shit together, to the outside observer ... but I know what kind of crap I'm dealing with inside. As regular readers of this space may recall, I even took the step to try to medicate my way into a better mind-set earlier in the year, an experiment which was an abysmal failure (all of the meds that I tried being worse than the symptoms of my anxiety/depression).

For most people, dealing with the mail, with the phone, with the fax, are automatic, robot-like functions. For me they are hideous trials of screaming sub-texts thinly veiling vicious personal attacks. At home I miss a lot of mail, since The Wife has taken to sorting through it (and throwing 90% of it out unopened) as if she can't specifically identify a piece of mail by its outside, it's gone (we've had more credit card screw-ups that way!). As irritatting as this might be, it does serve a purpose as far as at least getting SOME of the mail attended to. I have no such system in place with the business mail.

Add to this the post-911 situation (I can no longer send boxes from the Hancock Building's post office as I'd been long used to) changing my "routes", and my school schedule leaving me nearly zero "free time" to deal with stuff like this, and I was only picking up the mail about once every six weeks. Which then went into a big box. And sat there.

Anyway, the Eschaton checking account was down to a few hundred bucks (and I'm never sure what's in there due to the "minimums" charged by the credit card processing folks ... something I'm going to have to make a decision on dumping or not soon) so I figured I'd better dive into the mail box and ferret out the checks. YES ... as a clear testimony to my incapacity for dealing with the mail, even the payments were in there unopened!

So, to wrap up this pointless bit of self-loathing, I got the past 8 months worth of checks pulled out, sorted through the rest (including, of course, assorted collection letters for ridiculously small amounts of monies owed various entities), and made nice neat piles to go through "eventually" (I have a similar box from May which has not reached "eventually" as yet).

I just wish I could get past this depression/anxiety thing that freezes me up around the mundane functions of the world. Unfortunately, I don't think they've made a pill yet that keeps me from feeling that every god-damned credit card statement is some sort of blitzkrieg strike at my worth as a human being!

This world sucks big time.

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Oh yeah ... poems ...

There might be some poems showing up here soonish. Of course, I've suggested that before and the poems have not appeared. I have yet to type up the last half of October, all of November, and December. The good news is that I'm only one poem shy of the 200-poem target I set for myself earlier this year when I "went back to" writing regularly.

As I've noted, the problem here (as it is with so damn many of my efforts) is one of TIME ... it takes me 10-15 minutes per poem to decipher my obscure scrawlings in the little 2.75x4.25" notebooks in which I've been composing of late, plus an additional 5-10 minutes or so each to whupp them into web-usable formats ... so (taking an average) for every 3 poems you see posted here, there's been an hour of "clerical" effort expended. So, for me to promise to have the 9 remaining poems from October up here means that I've managed to schedule 3 hours of time to dedicate to it ... and I'm only sleeping 4 hours a night as it is.

Anyway, I'm relatively pleased to have made my target. I realize that the poems are a bit emotionally monochromatic, but I've only been able to write from the place of the hurt, the fear, the hatred, and the horror for a very long time. Everything else seems totally phony ... any other standpoint seems false, a capitulation to external demands. So, those few (if any) who click through to read them get to watch me bleed. Hell, my poetry should be a regular rubberneckers' paradise!

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2002 sucked shit ...

Yeah, that's a big surprise, right?

I suppose, if one were the sort that tried to put positive spins on stuff (and we all know that's not my style) one could focus on my doing something to change the course of my career death-spiral. Of course, I can't really connect with the positive possibilities ... all I see are the ones where I've wasted a year, a ton of effort, and a huge student loan, to get myself into a fresh cycle of rejection, disdain, and degradation. THAT is the "real" to me.

Mind you, I'm perfectly willing to be surprised by a great job offer somewhere, at a company that I like, doing work that I don't hate, with people that I can stand, and getting paid a decent amount of money ... but I have so damn many emotional scars that ANY of that sounds like insisting that the Blue Fairy is going to show up and turn me into a "real boy" rather than the sack-of-shit speedbag for the mundane world that I feel like these days.

Anyway, I'm flogging out that last poem of the year and trying to stay conscious long enough for the clock to turn over. Whoopie. I'd say that "2003 HAS to be better than 2002", but that's just tempting fate, and if there is one thing that I'm pretty sure I've learned in life it's that things can get MUCH worse than they are at any given point in time, so any "looking forward to" I might be doing at 2003 is wishful at best.

Here's hoping it's not yet another suckfest ...

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