I'm trying to figure out how to put 2012 into perspective. Without boring the fuck out of myself. 2012 was different from the two previous years, but the two years prior were a progression that culminated into the habit of 2012.
January 2010 was when I stopped working (quit my job at the Post), and that is a defining constant of the past three years, but 2012 was the year I basically lost interest in doing any and everything, and pretty much every single day, with minor variations, was the same idea for the entire year.
The routine was characterized by complete social avoidance. I met up with a total of three people. I also avoid my neighbors who live in the rooms on this same floor. I'm friendly saying 'hi' when I happen to run into one of them, but that's it.
In fact, my daily routine neurotically involved avoiding them by getting out of the apartment in the late afternoon before they started coming home from whatever they did during the day, presumably work. I'd come back after 9 o'clock or so as if I was coming home from . . . something; like somewhere I had to be with something to do. I know, neurotic.
There was some cycling later in the year because of the bike GPS I found, which is different from previous years when either 2010 or 2011 I stopped being able to drag me and my bike out of the apartment. Otherwise, very little sunlight was seen. I don't get direct sunlight in my room.
I constantly tried to turn out the lights and get to bed at or before 3 a.m. That rarely happened. Mostly I was pleased if I could accomplish that by 4. But usually couldn't.
Getting up was an entirely different and varied affair, often depending on insomnia. And my complete lack of interest in wanting to do anything made hours lying in bed listening to music completely reasonable. Even enjoyable.
I guess one affirmative development this past year was not only maintaining quiet sitting for 45 minutes after getting up for most of the year, not every day, but also adding a second 45 minute session afterwards, mostly concentrating on internal energies, inspired by tantra and Dzogchen teachings, which I've apparently been absorbing and integrating for years without even knowing it.
Otherwise, as I've noted before, all of my previous interests that used to identify me were pretty much completely gone. Listening to music has been a singular enjoyment, and a lot of time was spent on things Korea. The possible future life resonance thing.
If I'd been more diligent or efficient in dying like I was supposed to sometime during these past few years, my theory being I was heading for South Korea in my next life, and having failed to accomplish that goal, metaphysical or psychic resonances of that life-to-be have started to inexplicably appear in this life, as I've previously noted that I'd never been particularly interested in Korea despite plenty of exposure to the people and culture.
As for this year, my goal is still the same. Whether I'll accomplish it or not, I have no idea. I'm not going to sweat it. I'm boring the fuck out of myself.
Showing posts with label working. Show all posts
Showing posts with label working. Show all posts
Saturday, December 04, 2010
After getting through that long stretch of bad weather just fine, I was hoping I was over my S.A.D. I didn't even count how long we had bad weather, which is what I started to do during my first two years in Taiwan. I had a little daily weather diary so I had evidence to point to of how bad Taipei's weather was.
But Taipei is not Seattle, it's not the norm. I'm guessing it only happens during La Niña years. I can live with that. I did live with that in San Francisco, but it was El Niño over there that brought the bad winters.
But after this stretch of rain and gloom, we had off-and-on days, enough good weather that I've taken my bike out several times. Not to go on extended rides, but just to sprint through a 20-mile course along the riverside bikeways near my home. Just to maintain, likely in vain, some modicum of fitness.
Then today, it was *boom* gloom and doom day. S.A.D., that tightening, gripping feeling around the base of my neck. Probably no small factor for this reaction was that I agreed to fill in a shift at the newspaper today. It's true. It probably wouldn't have been bad if I could just huddle under the covers all day with my "huggie" pillow listening to music, the only thing that brings me solace these days. Am I the picture of depressive or what?
Eva didn't ask me if I could work any shifts next week, so that's a good sign that I won't have to go through the pre-work, social-phobic anxiety like today. I'm fine once I get into a situation. I'm fine once I sober up and can stop wondering if people can smell alcohol. But prior to it, I'm a mess. Well, my version of a mess, which I think looks pretty much the same as I always am.
And I have to meet up with my Mandarin teacher tomorrow for the first time since spring for language exchange. My language study is effectively on hold, but she needs to keep working on English because she's applying for some academic program and needs to improve her English.
And it looked like I was going to meet up with Alex and Ginny for the first time in months, since I lashed out at them for not being real friends. And they aren't. They're acquaintances who call me every few months to come out for drinks and all we do is sit around drinking beer awkwardly asking superficial questions to figure out what each other has been doing for the past several months when there has been no contact.
It got boring, and they have to prove they really want to be friends or else I can't be bothered. Oh, and Alex had pushed our acquaintanceship by asking a huge favor which should only be asked of someone you treat like a real friend. It was rude. That's why I lashed out and dissed her for a while. I unfriended Ginny on Facebook but then she re-requested being friends. When I unfriend someone and they ask to be friended again, they have complete immunity and I won't ever unfriend them again. Just one of my nutty rules for myself.
I think I'd rather just stay in bed all day.
But Taipei is not Seattle, it's not the norm. I'm guessing it only happens during La Niña years. I can live with that. I did live with that in San Francisco, but it was El Niño over there that brought the bad winters.
But after this stretch of rain and gloom, we had off-and-on days, enough good weather that I've taken my bike out several times. Not to go on extended rides, but just to sprint through a 20-mile course along the riverside bikeways near my home. Just to maintain, likely in vain, some modicum of fitness.
Then today, it was *boom* gloom and doom day. S.A.D., that tightening, gripping feeling around the base of my neck. Probably no small factor for this reaction was that I agreed to fill in a shift at the newspaper today. It's true. It probably wouldn't have been bad if I could just huddle under the covers all day with my "huggie" pillow listening to music, the only thing that brings me solace these days. Am I the picture of depressive or what?
Eva didn't ask me if I could work any shifts next week, so that's a good sign that I won't have to go through the pre-work, social-phobic anxiety like today. I'm fine once I get into a situation. I'm fine once I sober up and can stop wondering if people can smell alcohol. But prior to it, I'm a mess. Well, my version of a mess, which I think looks pretty much the same as I always am.
And I have to meet up with my Mandarin teacher tomorrow for the first time since spring for language exchange. My language study is effectively on hold, but she needs to keep working on English because she's applying for some academic program and needs to improve her English.
And it looked like I was going to meet up with Alex and Ginny for the first time in months, since I lashed out at them for not being real friends. And they aren't. They're acquaintances who call me every few months to come out for drinks and all we do is sit around drinking beer awkwardly asking superficial questions to figure out what each other has been doing for the past several months when there has been no contact.
It got boring, and they have to prove they really want to be friends or else I can't be bothered. Oh, and Alex had pushed our acquaintanceship by asking a huge favor which should only be asked of someone you treat like a real friend. It was rude. That's why I lashed out and dissed her for a while. I unfriended Ginny on Facebook but then she re-requested being friends. When I unfriend someone and they ask to be friended again, they have complete immunity and I won't ever unfriend them again. Just one of my nutty rules for myself.
I think I'd rather just stay in bed all day.
Monday, November 29, 2010
I just finished my second shift at work since leaving the newspaper in January. I went back for the first time last Tuesday after Eva – who through a bunch of circumstances over the past 10 months is pretty much the boss on the news floor now – explained to me that one of the full-time copy-editors just up and left one day. It sounded like an emergency.
Eva, mind you, is sick of this shit and recently handed in her resignation for the 3rd time this year, and after hearing that the response to it this time was, "Eva's stressed again, give her a few days off", she explained to them it was real this time and gave them her end date. The paper's management are still idiots.
But unlike my life over the past 10 months, a lot has changed at the Post. They actually found competent copy editors, who if they had found a year ago, I wouldn't have quit. Back then, I had one part-timer trying out who had to say to me, "I'm not stupid". If you have to tell me you're not stupid . . . you obviously haven't convinced me otherwise.
I'm being mean, I don't think she was necessarily stupid, she was just British. Just kidding. And I don't think I necessarily treated her like I thought she was stupid, but rushing to get out a newspaper every night, I wasn't in a position to give her a chance nor to communicate that I acknowledged she was not stupid. She was a stop-gap measure who did just enough work for me not to walk out myself.
She was eventually fired after I left.
The other person was clueless about time and deadlines, and he wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier. A nice enough bloke in Taiwan with his China doll, the usual stereotype, which is why he was there in the first place, but in the end he got fired, too.
He was also British, mind you, and they are pains in the ass for other reasons. The Post follows AP style and I always imagine these Brits seeing a British spelled word underlined in red by spell check and going, "that's not misspelled!" and ignoring it.
Actually, one of the current copy editors who is very good and professional and impressed me greatly when I worked with him last week is from Scotland, but his only fault is that I don't think he even knows what words are spelled differently between English and American. He had to ask about 'apologize', and I saw that 'defence' went to print this past week. Small fault, really. Definitely excusable.Unless he persists.
However, I still don't want to go back to work. Still no reason to. Still have to get through my parents' visit in December, then attempt #2, and failing at that, then we'll see where I am.
I actually didn't even want to go in today. I contacted Eva yesterday ostensibly to confirm today (also to let her know I remembered so she wouldn't have to worry about that since she was off today), hoping she'd tell me they'd found a new hire and I didn't have to come in if I didn't want to. No such luck, and she got me to agree to at least one other shift later in the week.
Getting from day-to-day is hard. Moments are hard. Work is actually easy. The day ahead of a work shift is dread.
Eva, mind you, is sick of this shit and recently handed in her resignation for the 3rd time this year, and after hearing that the response to it this time was, "Eva's stressed again, give her a few days off", she explained to them it was real this time and gave them her end date. The paper's management are still idiots.
But unlike my life over the past 10 months, a lot has changed at the Post. They actually found competent copy editors, who if they had found a year ago, I wouldn't have quit. Back then, I had one part-timer trying out who had to say to me, "I'm not stupid". If you have to tell me you're not stupid . . . you obviously haven't convinced me otherwise.
I'm being mean, I don't think she was necessarily stupid, she was just British. Just kidding. And I don't think I necessarily treated her like I thought she was stupid, but rushing to get out a newspaper every night, I wasn't in a position to give her a chance nor to communicate that I acknowledged she was not stupid. She was a stop-gap measure who did just enough work for me not to walk out myself.
She was eventually fired after I left.
The other person was clueless about time and deadlines, and he wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier. A nice enough bloke in Taiwan with his China doll, the usual stereotype, which is why he was there in the first place, but in the end he got fired, too.
He was also British, mind you, and they are pains in the ass for other reasons. The Post follows AP style and I always imagine these Brits seeing a British spelled word underlined in red by spell check and going, "that's not misspelled!" and ignoring it.
Actually, one of the current copy editors who is very good and professional and impressed me greatly when I worked with him last week is from Scotland, but his only fault is that I don't think he even knows what words are spelled differently between English and American. He had to ask about 'apologize', and I saw that 'defence' went to print this past week. Small fault, really. Definitely excusable.
However, I still don't want to go back to work. Still no reason to. Still have to get through my parents' visit in December, then attempt #2, and failing at that, then we'll see where I am.
I actually didn't even want to go in today. I contacted Eva yesterday ostensibly to confirm today (also to let her know I remembered so she wouldn't have to worry about that since she was off today), hoping she'd tell me they'd found a new hire and I didn't have to come in if I didn't want to. No such luck, and she got me to agree to at least one other shift later in the week.
Getting from day-to-day is hard. Moments are hard. Work is actually easy. The day ahead of a work shift is dread.
Friday, January 15, 2010
I have one last day at work. Friday – easy day.
For the past month and a half, the copy editing has basically been a one-man show – me. I've been sending pages on my own, and preventing the "help" from doing certain work because if they were doing things that I can do on my own, that was time wasted on things that I wasn't going to do because I was burning myself out getting the main pages out; things that took time, and the "help" were so slow, their pace matched the attention those tasks needed.
And I haven't been impressed by the work they did in editing. Since when is "flied" the past tense of "fly" except in baseball? That went to print.
The "help" I'm referring to are people recruited to do copy editing work, but they were brought on after the previous person left, so there was no time to train them. My ultimatum was that either I train someone or I put out a newspaper, not both. And I'm gonna come across as an asshole, but none of them are as smart as they think they are, none of them have been asking the right questions, and none of them have any idea of the pace they're going to have to work at.
And the management has been so clueless and negligent, I made no effort to make it easier for them when I drop the load in their laps. So much for my more compassion resolution. I have too many issues to be more compassionate.
I won't say never, but that newpaper is really leaving a bad taste in my mouth, and I'll have to be pretty desperate and pathetic to go back unless they do something about that position.
Not many people know that I'm not coming back. Hell, not many people know that I'm going away for three weeks (then not coming back). I generally don't think most people give a rats ass whether I'm there or not to let it be known that I'm basically leaving. Which is probably another good reason to leave.
For the past month and a half, the copy editing has basically been a one-man show – me. I've been sending pages on my own, and preventing the "help" from doing certain work because if they were doing things that I can do on my own, that was time wasted on things that I wasn't going to do because I was burning myself out getting the main pages out; things that took time, and the "help" were so slow, their pace matched the attention those tasks needed.
And I haven't been impressed by the work they did in editing. Since when is "flied" the past tense of "fly" except in baseball? That went to print.
The "help" I'm referring to are people recruited to do copy editing work, but they were brought on after the previous person left, so there was no time to train them. My ultimatum was that either I train someone or I put out a newspaper, not both. And I'm gonna come across as an asshole, but none of them are as smart as they think they are, none of them have been asking the right questions, and none of them have any idea of the pace they're going to have to work at.
And the management has been so clueless and negligent, I made no effort to make it easier for them when I drop the load in their laps. So much for my more compassion resolution. I have too many issues to be more compassionate.
I won't say never, but that newpaper is really leaving a bad taste in my mouth, and I'll have to be pretty desperate and pathetic to go back unless they do something about that position.
Not many people know that I'm not coming back. Hell, not many people know that I'm going away for three weeks (then not coming back). I generally don't think most people give a rats ass whether I'm there or not to let it be known that I'm basically leaving. Which is probably another good reason to leave.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
I'm looking at taking a break and going to N.J. for three weeks in January. Other plans notwithstanding. If work wants to retain me, they have to figure out how they will fill the full-functioning English editor position without me for three weeks.
I will also not train anyone in the position. Either I put out a newspaper or I train, not both. If they wanted someone trained, they should've gotten someone in when there were two full-functioning English editors.
If they can't abide my leaving for three weeks, tough cookies, I'm out. And even if they can abide my leaving, I'm leaving it open to quit. By the time I get back from my contemplated trip, I'll be counting down one year to leaving Taiwan – one year that I want dedicated to language study. Other plans notwithstanding.
I will also not train anyone in the position. Either I put out a newspaper or I train, not both. If they wanted someone trained, they should've gotten someone in when there were two full-functioning English editors.
If they can't abide my leaving for three weeks, tough cookies, I'm out. And even if they can abide my leaving, I'm leaving it open to quit. By the time I get back from my contemplated trip, I'll be counting down one year to leaving Taiwan – one year that I want dedicated to language study. Other plans notwithstanding.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
I'm gonna have to chalk this one up to "just follow where the world takes me". Part of the perfect situation totally fell apart, and I just can't feel OK with how my suddenly disappearing would really mess things up for my co-workers. I know, how conveeeenient.
It's only for these co-workers that I'm gonna let the next date pass. It's certainly not for the paper or the unfathomable brain-deadedness of the management.
To recap, my co-copy editor gave notice a month and a half ago. That should've been a major alert for management to get on the ball and get someone in quick to fill the position and get trained. But for almost a month and a half, I'm looking over at management in disbelief as nothing happens and nothing's going on.
Then finally at the end of last week, I hear someone is coming in to try-out. The situation finally dawns on management and I hear this week that they're going to offer him the position, even without trying out. Then today, I hear this guy is not interested in even trying out (this is not an attractive position, despite upper management's delusion that "everyone wants to work for The China Post" – maybe when print journalism meant something).
They had a big meeting tonight, to which I was happily not asked to join. It would have been logical, but the one thing the manager has gotten right is to involve me as less as possible. They worked on who's going to fill in shifts next week after my co-copy editor – who was pulled into the meeting because he's asucka a really nice, good person – leaves, without effecting my workload.
I'm probably going to let this next date pass, but I'm not standing down. I'm doing this out of mercy for my co-workers, but there is a tight limit on how much I'm going to "be responsible" for the management's fuck-ups. The timing is uncanny, though. God is a cat and I'm apparently a ball of yarn. And some other things to look into . . .
It's only for these co-workers that I'm gonna let the next date pass. It's certainly not for the paper or the unfathomable brain-deadedness of the management.
To recap, my co-copy editor gave notice a month and a half ago. That should've been a major alert for management to get on the ball and get someone in quick to fill the position and get trained. But for almost a month and a half, I'm looking over at management in disbelief as nothing happens and nothing's going on.
Then finally at the end of last week, I hear someone is coming in to try-out. The situation finally dawns on management and I hear this week that they're going to offer him the position, even without trying out. Then today, I hear this guy is not interested in even trying out (this is not an attractive position, despite upper management's delusion that "everyone wants to work for The China Post" – maybe when print journalism meant something).
They had a big meeting tonight, to which I was happily not asked to join. It would have been logical, but the one thing the manager has gotten right is to involve me as less as possible. They worked on who's going to fill in shifts next week after my co-copy editor – who was pulled into the meeting because he's a
I'm probably going to let this next date pass, but I'm not standing down. I'm doing this out of mercy for my co-workers, but there is a tight limit on how much I'm going to "be responsible" for the management's fuck-ups. The timing is uncanny, though. God is a cat and I'm apparently a ball of yarn. And some other things to look into . . .
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| SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 8:46 p.m. - Last bunny day. Even in just a week they've grown so fast. |
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| 9:08 p.m. - Fiona ended up taking one of the bunnies. |
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| 10:19 p.m. - "(We) have a rabbit" |
Monday, November 23, 2009
Don't get me wrong, I go through moments where I . . . well, I'll be honest they're worrying moments . . . that I wonder how can I go through with this; that I get pulled into feeling I want to see how things develop, how things change. That I look at the people around me and wonder how I can do this to them.
I wonder if things might change at work for the better when I'm told that certain things are going to be happening soon. I also wonder about what the Large Hadron Collider will find. Seriously.
But no, I've been through this before, and it's different this time. I go through the moments, but then I get out of the moment and I realize my truth – separate from the illusory world that presents itself around me.
Nothing's going to change, where I've landed myself is pretty much it. If I go on, I'll have good moments, I'll learn, I'll appreciate, I'll do all the things I've been doing that have value, but it's different this time.
I just don't want to anymore. And not in a defeatist, nihilistic way, but that some things just are. It just is. I keep telling myself this is not an emotional issue anymore, and it's partly something I have to remind myself, but whenever I tell myself that, it's true. This is not an emotional issue anymore. Negative or positive, they just fall away and I'm faced with my own truth. What I've been coming to terms with my entire life.
I may get together with people this coming week. I'm scheduled in to work Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, and I'll go. But I'm not under any illusion that anything's going to make anything any different.
I wonder if things might change at work for the better when I'm told that certain things are going to be happening soon. I also wonder about what the Large Hadron Collider will find. Seriously.
But no, I've been through this before, and it's different this time. I go through the moments, but then I get out of the moment and I realize my truth – separate from the illusory world that presents itself around me.
Nothing's going to change, where I've landed myself is pretty much it. If I go on, I'll have good moments, I'll learn, I'll appreciate, I'll do all the things I've been doing that have value, but it's different this time.
I just don't want to anymore. And not in a defeatist, nihilistic way, but that some things just are. It just is. I keep telling myself this is not an emotional issue anymore, and it's partly something I have to remind myself, but whenever I tell myself that, it's true. This is not an emotional issue anymore. Negative or positive, they just fall away and I'm faced with my own truth. What I've been coming to terms with my entire life.
I may get together with people this coming week. I'm scheduled in to work Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, and I'll go. But I'm not under any illusion that anything's going to make anything any different.
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| SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 5:45 p.m. - Another bring-your-bunny-to-work day. |
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| 6:09 p.m. - Cute co-worker and his Fender P-Bass. He's in a punk band called Awesome Shit. |
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| 11:16 p.m. - Baby bunny break during crunch hour. |
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
This is not an emotional issue, but I trace emotions from moment to moment to figure out what may be going on inside. I spotlight the moments when I'm not thinking about leaving or don't want to leave, and then trace the meaning of those feelings to the inevitable of being done.
I trace them to this not being an emotional issue anymore. It's more than words can convey. Reality falls apart at the scenes.
My co-worker asks me about the coming weeks' schedules and each week I tell him I'm alright with it, when at a subtle level I'm letting him rely on me coming in tomorrow while fully leaving open the option for myself that I
won't
show.
Eva's as . . . I don't know how to describe it accurately . . . magnetic as ever? We're not friends, but we have our thing at work and that's all. The reality scenes of her rip apart. Amber scenes rip apart. Am I really there? Will my not being there make any difference? It doesn't matter. How they may react to my not showing up one day is not reality. Not my reality.
If I consider their reality, well suicide fucks things up. It fucks everything up. A lot of things in life get fucked up. In the big picture, in the long run, my leaving is nothing. People deal. In the big picture, Ritu's suicide hasn't affected the course of my life. I've carried her around all these years, but what big impact has that had on my life that I couldn't deal with? People will deal.
Suicide fucks things up for people. I just have to accept that. I accept it. Sorry, guys. Well, some of you. Not all of you. Not most of you. If you know how sorry I am, then you.
I don't have a history of drug usage, but if I'm around people who are doing them and they encourage me, I have proven to be amenable to taking them. But drugs don't impress me, I realized recently while on ecstasy someone had given me. I'm so not about drugs I was once ridiculed for pronouncing it like the band XTC.
I mess with my perceptions and reality all the time on my own. Taking drugs is just a variation on that theme, another perspective and reality to explore and mull over. I never get taken over by them or lose myself in them. While other people are high, I think I might be annoying to them because to me I'm still analyzing and mulling over the experience.
Alcohol is, of course, my drug of choice in that sort of exploration, but music also probably falls in that category of artificial emotional manipulation.
I'm going day to day now. Each day wondering why not today, each day pushing for today. When it feels right, I'll do it. I may never do it, too. But most important is that it is not an emotional issue, and it is a fact. I've reached my expiration date and things aren't going to turn around, and I don't want things to turn around, that's just not a concept to me. Even if things "turn around", it only lays bare the fact that it's my time and I'm done.
I trace them to this not being an emotional issue anymore. It's more than words can convey. Reality falls apart at the scenes.
My co-worker asks me about the coming weeks' schedules and each week I tell him I'm alright with it, when at a subtle level I'm letting him rely on me coming in tomorrow while fully leaving open the option for myself that I
won't
show.
Eva's as . . . I don't know how to describe it accurately . . . magnetic as ever? We're not friends, but we have our thing at work and that's all. The reality scenes of her rip apart. Amber scenes rip apart. Am I really there? Will my not being there make any difference? It doesn't matter. How they may react to my not showing up one day is not reality. Not my reality.
If I consider their reality, well suicide fucks things up. It fucks everything up. A lot of things in life get fucked up. In the big picture, in the long run, my leaving is nothing. People deal. In the big picture, Ritu's suicide hasn't affected the course of my life. I've carried her around all these years, but what big impact has that had on my life that I couldn't deal with? People will deal.
Suicide fucks things up for people. I just have to accept that. I accept it. Sorry, guys. Well, some of you. Not all of you. Not most of you. If you know how sorry I am, then you.
I don't have a history of drug usage, but if I'm around people who are doing them and they encourage me, I have proven to be amenable to taking them. But drugs don't impress me, I realized recently while on ecstasy someone had given me. I'm so not about drugs I was once ridiculed for pronouncing it like the band XTC.
I mess with my perceptions and reality all the time on my own. Taking drugs is just a variation on that theme, another perspective and reality to explore and mull over. I never get taken over by them or lose myself in them. While other people are high, I think I might be annoying to them because to me I'm still analyzing and mulling over the experience.
Alcohol is, of course, my drug of choice in that sort of exploration, but music also probably falls in that category of artificial emotional manipulation.
I'm going day to day now. Each day wondering why not today, each day pushing for today. When it feels right, I'll do it. I may never do it, too. But most important is that it is not an emotional issue, and it is a fact. I've reached my expiration date and things aren't going to turn around, and I don't want things to turn around, that's just not a concept to me. Even if things "turn around", it only lays bare the fact that it's my time and I'm done.
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| MONDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 12:43 a.m. - Underground crosswalk connecting all four corners of the Dunhua N. and Minsheng E. Rds. intersection. Artwork by local elementary school students is displayed along the walls. Good place to practice shakuhachi late at night, too. I love the not-over-the-top perplexed look on the mermaids face at all the human garbage in her home. That's some high-quality expressive student artwork. |
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| 2:28 p.m. - Xinjiang N. Rd. bridge over the Keelung River in Xizhi township. The bridge marks the current end of the bikeways eastward and further on requires riding on surface roads. |
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| 2:32 p.m. - Cemetery along the river. |
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| 2:54 p.m. - A new footbridge over the canal that divides Taipei and Xizhi, making the bikeways more seamless. Crossing the canal before required riding about 100 meters further to a road bridge, which was inconvenient at best, dangerous at worst because the shoulder is very small. |
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| 3:20 p.m. - Crossing the Keelung River on the Dajia Bridge north to south to go home. |
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| NOVEMBER 17, 5:24-5:25 p.m. - Cute co-workers and baby bunnies. |
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| 8:31 p.m. - Someone brought in the baby bunnies hoping to find homes for them. They were very useful as stress relief, too. |
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
It's November. Still no indication of any change at work and I emphasize there MUST be a change with my co-copy editor quitting. I'm sure not going to take up the slack on that end. Although a strange niggling prods me to just keep the job as long as possible, rather than as short as possible. Not sure what to make of that.
Sometimes I feel a backing off from suicide, like I write about it and think about it, but then I get back to living my life and there's this disconnect there. Why don't I just stop writing about it and thinking about it and then just get on with living my life?
And I have my answers, but instead of them being naturally there and being able to transition easily from question to answer, I have to take a leap from one lilypad to another. But I have my answers. But I have to leap to get to them.
This is not an emotional issue anymore. It's totally intellectual now, and it does make sense and it is logical to me. That tells me to work on shutting down the emotions.
Sometimes I feel a backing off from suicide, like I write about it and think about it, but then I get back to living my life and there's this disconnect there. Why don't I just stop writing about it and thinking about it and then just get on with living my life?
And I have my answers, but instead of them being naturally there and being able to transition easily from question to answer, I have to take a leap from one lilypad to another. But I have my answers. But I have to leap to get to them.
This is not an emotional issue anymore. It's totally intellectual now, and it does make sense and it is logical to me. That tells me to work on shutting down the emotions.
Friday, October 30, 2009
You know, when I wrote before how we all need to care for the people around us, I kinda thought that was a crock. And even though Ritu's suicide taught me that, I'm under no delusion that my suicide will convey that to anyone.
I'm watching a National Geographic series called "Meet The Natives", where a primitive tribe of Pacific islanders are given video cameras and flown to England (the natives) to do a reverse documentary sorta thing, filming our contemporary society from their point of view. They do much of the commentary.
It pleased me that in one town, their message to the people they met was just that. Care for each other, take care of each other. So maybe I'm not that way off. It's a deep thought. I thought I got it before, but it took a friend's suicide for me to get it, and I still think I don't get it. I'm still trying to think deep what it means to care for each other, take care of each other, when that is not really at the top of the food chain of our values.
And strangely, on an aside, I think that was the center of Jesus' ministry, his message of love that has been largely lost by the organized church. When really the deepest spirituality is as simple as that.
I've managed to cut back on drinking a little bit. Instead of buying a bottle every other day, I'm buying a bottle every third day, and it may be making a difference. I don't know. It might be just a coincidence with other factors.
I've gotten back my equilibrium for now, as futile as I realize it is now. But it's good because I'm more comfortable that my decisions will be made with a clearer mind.
Funny thing at work is that nothing has changed since my co-copy editor gave notice, and it's impossible for nothing to change. It seems to me the boss is totally trying to ignore the consequences of his quitting. Inconceivable! I still see myself quitting when he realizes that he has to ask me to do more, and I won't. It's all in the future unknown, so I won't speculate anymore what's going on.
One thing that I won't speculate on, though, is that I am done. No best case scenario will change the fundamentals of what I really want to happen.
I had an ideal age I wanted to die, coincidentally it was the age Ritu died, and I steamrolled right past it. But then I had an absolute, ultimate age I didn't want to get past, and I'm there. Getting past this age would be the most devastating, life-questioning thing I can think of. And I don't want that. None of us want that, right?
Dampening emotional considerations, I go through an inventory of my life, and there isn't anything that can happen, anything someone can say that would make me say, "oh, I want to live". And everything tells me that suicide would accomplish what I would want to accomplish, from the good points to the bad, from what I can control to what I can't, from who would get it and who wouldn't.
I had a dream last night, and from that dream I think I know how it feels like to be just about to be murdered in cold blood. I admit I emotionally panicked, although outwardly I was keeping my cool ("Um, guys, a little help!"). The last thing I remember before waking up was feeling the blood in my veins literally feel like it was turning to ice.
I have no idea what the point of all this is. I've been here before, and I don't like how it has turned out before.
I'm watching a National Geographic series called "Meet The Natives", where a primitive tribe of Pacific islanders are given video cameras and flown to England (the natives) to do a reverse documentary sorta thing, filming our contemporary society from their point of view. They do much of the commentary.
It pleased me that in one town, their message to the people they met was just that. Care for each other, take care of each other. So maybe I'm not that way off. It's a deep thought. I thought I got it before, but it took a friend's suicide for me to get it, and I still think I don't get it. I'm still trying to think deep what it means to care for each other, take care of each other, when that is not really at the top of the food chain of our values.
And strangely, on an aside, I think that was the center of Jesus' ministry, his message of love that has been largely lost by the organized church. When really the deepest spirituality is as simple as that.
I've managed to cut back on drinking a little bit. Instead of buying a bottle every other day, I'm buying a bottle every third day, and it may be making a difference. I don't know. It might be just a coincidence with other factors.
I've gotten back my equilibrium for now, as futile as I realize it is now. But it's good because I'm more comfortable that my decisions will be made with a clearer mind.
Funny thing at work is that nothing has changed since my co-copy editor gave notice, and it's impossible for nothing to change. It seems to me the boss is totally trying to ignore the consequences of his quitting. Inconceivable! I still see myself quitting when he realizes that he has to ask me to do more, and I won't. It's all in the future unknown, so I won't speculate anymore what's going on.
One thing that I won't speculate on, though, is that I am done. No best case scenario will change the fundamentals of what I really want to happen.
I had an ideal age I wanted to die, coincidentally it was the age Ritu died, and I steamrolled right past it. But then I had an absolute, ultimate age I didn't want to get past, and I'm there. Getting past this age would be the most devastating, life-questioning thing I can think of. And I don't want that. None of us want that, right?
Dampening emotional considerations, I go through an inventory of my life, and there isn't anything that can happen, anything someone can say that would make me say, "oh, I want to live". And everything tells me that suicide would accomplish what I would want to accomplish, from the good points to the bad, from what I can control to what I can't, from who would get it and who wouldn't.
I had a dream last night, and from that dream I think I know how it feels like to be just about to be murdered in cold blood. I admit I emotionally panicked, although outwardly I was keeping my cool ("Um, guys, a little help!"). The last thing I remember before waking up was feeling the blood in my veins literally feel like it was turning to ice.
I have no idea what the point of all this is. I've been here before, and I don't like how it has turned out before.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
My co-worker has given notice at work. He's staying until the end of November. This means I will likely give notice soon, too, depending on what happens. And I can't imagine things happening that will make me stay.
I'll leave as soon as conditions get any more unfavorable than they are now. Anything that tips the equilibrium at which I'm staying now. Things pretty much have to remain as they are now for me to stay, and it doesn't look good for them.
So I should be out of work soon. Which is funny about what I just wrote about work being oppressive. I think I can push along until I leave, although that makes me wonder if it's just another diversion tactic.
I definitely don't want to do what I did in San Francisco after I quit my job and let my savings dwindle for the next year and a half. I don't want to do that again. That was rather pathetic.
I don't know how being out of work will affect the difficulty with which I push through each next day. I want to say it probably won't change a thing, but it's still in the future and I can't project on the future.
But it won't change a thing, I've been through this before and nothing's going to change. OK, then, nothing's different.
I'll leave as soon as conditions get any more unfavorable than they are now. Anything that tips the equilibrium at which I'm staying now. Things pretty much have to remain as they are now for me to stay, and it doesn't look good for them.
So I should be out of work soon. Which is funny about what I just wrote about work being oppressive. I think I can push along until I leave, although that makes me wonder if it's just another diversion tactic.
I definitely don't want to do what I did in San Francisco after I quit my job and let my savings dwindle for the next year and a half. I don't want to do that again. That was rather pathetic.
I don't know how being out of work will affect the difficulty with which I push through each next day. I want to say it probably won't change a thing, but it's still in the future and I can't project on the future.
But it won't change a thing, I've been through this before and nothing's going to change. OK, then, nothing's different.
 |
| 9:24 p.m. - No new subject matter. |
Saturday, October 10, 2009
In my mind I'm saying my goodbyes. I'm mentally resigning myself that I already saw family members for the last time when I visited over the Summer. Since then I haven't heard from them anyway. My mother has called a few times, but that's about it. I've been ignoring all contact from extended family in Kaohsiung.
Notice is out.
The first wave of resignations at work has begun. Anna had her last day. Sweet girl. We never went deep, never had a substantial connection, but I think we enjoyed working with each other well enough. Still, it's the last time I'll see her.
I think Frances is next. Her English was excellent and she came to me with several problems that we talked through after work several times – one with her family, another with her girlfriend – so we connected substantially. Our sessions made me realize that doing the counseling thing is probably what I do best, so if I wasn't so self-absorbed and really wanted to do good and make an impact, I should enter the monastery. But I still don't see it in my future, even though I have ten more years until the cut off age.
Han and Rosanne have given their notice and will be gone at the end of the month. Han's English is so good that I talk to him like a native speaker, and only once in a while he trips up on something obscure that I'm reminded English is his second language. And just because his English is so good, he's a major social point for me at work.
Rosanne is a writer of local news so I don't have a whole lot of contact, but I've always liked her because she seems very genuine.
All goodbyes, but truth to tell, I don't remember any hellos.
My disappearance will have little to do with any of them, neither those who are leaving nor those who are staying.
My co-copy editor also has expressed he is near his breaking point, and as soon as he gives notice, I'll give notice. I won't put up with any of what he's put up with. Oh, which is the new boss who came on earlier this year. Anyone who has to deal with him can't stand him, which is why I'm fine with him – he avoids me at all costs for some reason. He has no idea that he's the reason why people are leaving.
Once I quit, I'm not going to drift like I did before. Jobless and idle in my apartment is not an attractive option – not an option. So very soon after I'm out of the job, it'll be time to move on.
Notice is out.
The first wave of resignations at work has begun. Anna had her last day. Sweet girl. We never went deep, never had a substantial connection, but I think we enjoyed working with each other well enough. Still, it's the last time I'll see her.
 |
| FRIDAY, OCTOBER 9, 12:20 a.m. - Farewell Anna. |
Han and Rosanne have given their notice and will be gone at the end of the month. Han's English is so good that I talk to him like a native speaker, and only once in a while he trips up on something obscure that I'm reminded English is his second language. And just because his English is so good, he's a major social point for me at work.
Rosanne is a writer of local news so I don't have a whole lot of contact, but I've always liked her because she seems very genuine.
All goodbyes, but truth to tell, I don't remember any hellos.
My disappearance will have little to do with any of them, neither those who are leaving nor those who are staying.
My co-copy editor also has expressed he is near his breaking point, and as soon as he gives notice, I'll give notice. I won't put up with any of what he's put up with. Oh, which is the new boss who came on earlier this year. Anyone who has to deal with him can't stand him, which is why I'm fine with him – he avoids me at all costs for some reason. He has no idea that he's the reason why people are leaving.
Once I quit, I'm not going to drift like I did before. Jobless and idle in my apartment is not an attractive option – not an option. So very soon after I'm out of the job, it'll be time to move on.
 |
| WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 7 - Nikon N70, Kodak BW400CN. Bottom pic ISO 200. |
Sunday, October 04, 2009
It's my movie, but I don't know how long it's been since I've played lead in a scene. Instead, I'm mostly waiting in the wings – doing my loner things – and that's become most of my life. The only time I get screen time is when I'm in a supporting role or extra in other people's movies.
The loner things may be scenes of their own. But then they would be the final scenes in my movie. All the major action and events are done. All the points of my movie have been made. These last minor scenes are just a coda, a way to end the film. How the film will end.
Funny, but on my last bike ride, my iPod shuffle was playing a lot of moody indie movie-ending songs, I felt.
I remember reflecting on a film called "Auto Focus," about the Bob Crane ("Hogan's Heroes") murder, and how the end of my film might be modeled on what director Paul Schrader did. He portrayed the decline and things going out of control by washing scenes out and using shaky hand-held shots to convey the feeling.
The end of my film may not be so dramatic. No descent. OK, there still may be one final climax at the very end of my film, but these scenes leading up to that probably should have a feel of calm, reflective isolation, with maybe a few indication of cracks in the ice wall. Like how in neurotically keeping track of my expenses – if not obsessive-compulsive – I'm buying a bottle of liquor every other day, every two days at most.
I don't think I want to die of liver or kidney failure. Sounds too drawn out. But maybe it gets drawn out because people end up going to the hospital, trying to survive. Trying to survive? Then why were they alcoholics? Alcoholics run the likely risk of dying! I know cases are more complicated than that, I don't necessarily mean to sound unsympathetic.
I won't go to a hospital. I knew what I was doing. I already have one symptom of having frequent pressure in my lower back. But even this is probably just early stages, but possibly, depending on my individual health, already past the point of no return.
If I went to the doctor now, I may simply be advised to stop drinking if I want to live, or it may be so bad that I may be hospitalized to turn things around. Who knows? But I won't go to a hospital and I won't see a doctor. If something goes wrong, no one will know about it until I physically can't go on. That's still a while a way, I shouldn't wonder.
It also feels like the cowardly way to go. If I have a point, then I need to make the point. If the point of my life is to achieve a suicide, then I need to focus on that. But maybe I am a coward and will wait to let alcohol take its course, or worse, stop drinking.
Finally, I don't think I'll quit my job without a reason. Granted the simplest of reasons is enough to send me over. Although that feeling may change tomorrow when I go back to work. I just had two days off – what people normally get, called a "week end", I think – and that has eased my negativity towards work. And I have another two days off at the end of this week, which has been unheard of recently. I wonder who's been taking those shifts.
It is a ridiculous job. One and a half persons, the copy editors, are the gatekeeper and monitor of everyone else's work – people pulling stories from the international wires, the people coming with local news, and the page designers.
I learned recently that a copy editor at a legitimate newspaper only checks English – grammar, spelling, consistency – and by the time a news story reaches the copy editor, it has already been through several editors. And every story gets actually read.
Instead, we have to supervise and monitor the international desk by being the ones responsible for there being no repeat stories in today's paper or from yesterday's paper. That's supposed to be their job. With one and a half copy editors, we don't read international stories. We only have time for a spell check and a format scan and then send them to the designers.
We have to supervise and monitor the designers and point out errors in the design elements. That should be their job. You don't need to know English to see that a line is wrong, or a byline font is wrong.
And don't get me started on the local news stories. Local news stories we have to read, but with one and a half copy editors, we still can't keep articles going to print that sound like they were written by English students. We can correct the English, but we don't have time to re-write the style, so there's a lot of stilted phrasings.
I don't sweat it anymore. I don't read our newspaper looking for mistakes that the copy editors missed. I read the local stories for amusement. Now, our newspaper is Taiwan's Leading Chinglish-Language Newspaper Since 1952.
The loner things may be scenes of their own. But then they would be the final scenes in my movie. All the major action and events are done. All the points of my movie have been made. These last minor scenes are just a coda, a way to end the film. How the film will end.
Funny, but on my last bike ride, my iPod shuffle was playing a lot of moody indie movie-ending songs, I felt.
I remember reflecting on a film called "Auto Focus," about the Bob Crane ("Hogan's Heroes") murder, and how the end of my film might be modeled on what director Paul Schrader did. He portrayed the decline and things going out of control by washing scenes out and using shaky hand-held shots to convey the feeling.
The end of my film may not be so dramatic. No descent. OK, there still may be one final climax at the very end of my film, but these scenes leading up to that probably should have a feel of calm, reflective isolation, with maybe a few indication of cracks in the ice wall. Like how in neurotically keeping track of my expenses – if not obsessive-compulsive – I'm buying a bottle of liquor every other day, every two days at most.
I don't think I want to die of liver or kidney failure. Sounds too drawn out. But maybe it gets drawn out because people end up going to the hospital, trying to survive. Trying to survive? Then why were they alcoholics? Alcoholics run the likely risk of dying! I know cases are more complicated than that, I don't necessarily mean to sound unsympathetic.
I won't go to a hospital. I knew what I was doing. I already have one symptom of having frequent pressure in my lower back. But even this is probably just early stages, but possibly, depending on my individual health, already past the point of no return.
If I went to the doctor now, I may simply be advised to stop drinking if I want to live, or it may be so bad that I may be hospitalized to turn things around. Who knows? But I won't go to a hospital and I won't see a doctor. If something goes wrong, no one will know about it until I physically can't go on. That's still a while a way, I shouldn't wonder.
It also feels like the cowardly way to go. If I have a point, then I need to make the point. If the point of my life is to achieve a suicide, then I need to focus on that. But maybe I am a coward and will wait to let alcohol take its course, or worse, stop drinking.
Finally, I don't think I'll quit my job without a reason. Granted the simplest of reasons is enough to send me over. Although that feeling may change tomorrow when I go back to work. I just had two days off – what people normally get, called a "week end", I think – and that has eased my negativity towards work. And I have another two days off at the end of this week, which has been unheard of recently. I wonder who's been taking those shifts.
It is a ridiculous job. One and a half persons, the copy editors, are the gatekeeper and monitor of everyone else's work – people pulling stories from the international wires, the people coming with local news, and the page designers.
I learned recently that a copy editor at a legitimate newspaper only checks English – grammar, spelling, consistency – and by the time a news story reaches the copy editor, it has already been through several editors. And every story gets actually read.
Instead, we have to supervise and monitor the international desk by being the ones responsible for there being no repeat stories in today's paper or from yesterday's paper. That's supposed to be their job. With one and a half copy editors, we don't read international stories. We only have time for a spell check and a format scan and then send them to the designers.
We have to supervise and monitor the designers and point out errors in the design elements. That should be their job. You don't need to know English to see that a line is wrong, or a byline font is wrong.
And don't get me started on the local news stories. Local news stories we have to read, but with one and a half copy editors, we still can't keep articles going to print that sound like they were written by English students. We can correct the English, but we don't have time to re-write the style, so there's a lot of stilted phrasings.
I don't sweat it anymore. I don't read our newspaper looking for mistakes that the copy editors missed. I read the local stories for amusement. Now, our newspaper is Taiwan's Leading Chinglish-Language Newspaper Since 1952.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
I wrote on my Facebook page: "I'm wondering if I should stay at work because I have no reason to leave, or if I should leave work because I have no reason to stay."
It's normally something I would've written here; it was a bit risky putting it on Facebook because it reveals too much – too much for casual acquaintances. Whenever someone responds with "concern", I know I've gone too far, but fortunately this post was clean.
The quandary it poses is just a disguise for the key point: no reason, no point. But on the other hand, no reason to leave, no reason to stay – sounds like freedom to me, along with the option to either leave or stay.
The boss who came in earlier this year is totally oblivious to how he's about to lose key swaths of his workforce, and even more oblivious to the fact that he's the reason. There's a lot of grumbling, people sending out resumes, some who've already landed other jobs.
And here I am with the choice whether to leave or stay. And I'm one of the only people who doesn't complain about the boss because for some reason he's staying as far away from me as possible. I won't guess why, but in the few interactions I've had with him, he's been totally respectful. As have I.
I guess that's the "should I stay because I have no reason to leave part".
Although I do have reason to leave. Just none that relate directly to the job I'm supposed to be doing.
It's normally something I would've written here; it was a bit risky putting it on Facebook because it reveals too much – too much for casual acquaintances. Whenever someone responds with "concern", I know I've gone too far, but fortunately this post was clean.
The quandary it poses is just a disguise for the key point: no reason, no point. But on the other hand, no reason to leave, no reason to stay – sounds like freedom to me, along with the option to either leave or stay.
The boss who came in earlier this year is totally oblivious to how he's about to lose key swaths of his workforce, and even more oblivious to the fact that he's the reason. There's a lot of grumbling, people sending out resumes, some who've already landed other jobs.
And here I am with the choice whether to leave or stay. And I'm one of the only people who doesn't complain about the boss because for some reason he's staying as far away from me as possible. I won't guess why, but in the few interactions I've had with him, he's been totally respectful. As have I.
I guess that's the "should I stay because I have no reason to leave part".
Although I do have reason to leave. Just none that relate directly to the job I'm supposed to be doing.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Today would have been a perfect day to just disappear, but something is stopping me. Nothing new there.
Today is my day off. Tomorrow, Saturday, I have a part-time shift on the easiest day of the week. If I didn't show up, it wouldn't be so dire – in my opinion, Saturday doesn't require 2 copy editors – and there may be someone there who could swing shift to replace me if I mysteriously didn't show up.
I think I've laid enough signals that if I didn't show up at one shift, they shouldn't expect me to show up at any future shifts. Well no, I haven't laid signals – I've said it outright.
But if I'm thinking that way, that's indicative in itself. Not showing up should mean I don't give a crap about these little details. So why am I thinking of these little details?
I shouldn't be. Or is my attention to these little details indicative of simple resonant responsibility, and maybe even compassion, to the fact that these other people still take their lives seriously, more seriously than I took mine, and I should try to minimize any disruption to their lives?
Hmph, am I so arrogant to think my "disruption to their lives" extends beyond just practical work considerations? That's easy: maybe. But not not enough to sway me either way.
This is all wrong. Suicide is suicide. It messes things up for other people. And there is no warning. If you're going to commit suicide, you don't project it and hope people are prepared for it. Nothing prepares people for it. And projecting it means it's a cry for help, not a genuine intention.
And what gets messed up in other people's lives by my suicide is actually quite minor. They'll deal, it'll pass.
Family? I want them to feel the effects of my suicide. Friends? What friends? Please.
Today is my day off. Tomorrow, Saturday, I have a part-time shift on the easiest day of the week. If I didn't show up, it wouldn't be so dire – in my opinion, Saturday doesn't require 2 copy editors – and there may be someone there who could swing shift to replace me if I mysteriously didn't show up.
I think I've laid enough signals that if I didn't show up at one shift, they shouldn't expect me to show up at any future shifts. Well no, I haven't laid signals – I've said it outright.
But if I'm thinking that way, that's indicative in itself. Not showing up should mean I don't give a crap about these little details. So why am I thinking of these little details?
I shouldn't be. Or is my attention to these little details indicative of simple resonant responsibility, and maybe even compassion, to the fact that these other people still take their lives seriously, more seriously than I took mine, and I should try to minimize any disruption to their lives?
Hmph, am I so arrogant to think my "disruption to their lives" extends beyond just practical work considerations? That's easy: maybe. But not not enough to sway me either way.
This is all wrong. Suicide is suicide. It messes things up for other people. And there is no warning. If you're going to commit suicide, you don't project it and hope people are prepared for it. Nothing prepares people for it. And projecting it means it's a cry for help, not a genuine intention.
And what gets messed up in other people's lives by my suicide is actually quite minor. They'll deal, it'll pass.
Family? I want them to feel the effects of my suicide. Friends? What friends? Please.
 |
| THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 5:54 p.m. - 101 and waxing croissant moon. |
Monday, September 21, 2009
When I got reinstated at my job in April, I thought I could do it. Maintain it. I thought I could just be satisfied and float indefinitely.
Now I'm realizing that's just not me.
I still do the meditations of just being satisfied, just being happy, and not let the niggling negative thoughts get the better of me, distress me, but something's been amplifying them. Probably me.
Work is getting unbearable. I go to work and I just want to die. I hate myself, I hate my life. Riding to work is madness in my head and riding home from work is serious decompression. The positive and negative sides of my personality in serious battle.
I don't know if I'm the only person at work under this kind of stress. I aim to put out newspapers with no facial errors. And the management still annoys me with nitpicking that makes me want to punch them in the nose. Why am I working there? This newspaper obviously doesn't have the wisdom or the resources to be the quality newspaper they think they are.
On days I don't work, I notice numerous things that I wouldn't have let pass. Why am I doing this to myself? Probably because when I leave, I want someone to notice it. But who am I kidding? No one's going to notice it.
And still I tell myself that this can't last much longer. From the usual mental distress to what should be fact that my liver can't last much longer, emphasized by more frequent lower back aches.
And the only thing that makes me happy is keeping death right in front of my face and realizing life is too worthwhile and beautiful to go through it distressed.
Now I'm realizing that's just not me.
I still do the meditations of just being satisfied, just being happy, and not let the niggling negative thoughts get the better of me, distress me, but something's been amplifying them. Probably me.
Work is getting unbearable. I go to work and I just want to die. I hate myself, I hate my life. Riding to work is madness in my head and riding home from work is serious decompression. The positive and negative sides of my personality in serious battle.
I don't know if I'm the only person at work under this kind of stress. I aim to put out newspapers with no facial errors. And the management still annoys me with nitpicking that makes me want to punch them in the nose. Why am I working there? This newspaper obviously doesn't have the wisdom or the resources to be the quality newspaper they think they are.
On days I don't work, I notice numerous things that I wouldn't have let pass. Why am I doing this to myself? Probably because when I leave, I want someone to notice it. But who am I kidding? No one's going to notice it.
And still I tell myself that this can't last much longer. From the usual mental distress to what should be fact that my liver can't last much longer, emphasized by more frequent lower back aches.
And the only thing that makes me happy is keeping death right in front of my face and realizing life is too worthwhile and beautiful to go through it distressed.
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| 3:38 p.m. - Photostitch of Maishuai Bridge #1 and Rainbow Bridge over the Keelung River. |
Thursday, September 17, 2009
I didn't actually seriously think anything would come out of this thing with Tako, but I was just curious if anyone could still be interested in me, so I didn't discourage her friendliness and attention. But to lay it all to rest, aside from our huge age difference, she finally got a substantive red flag.
A bunch of co-workers bought a bunch of beers and hung out in a nearby park after work not long ago. One of the things that came up were red flags – things that would stop our attraction to another person in its tracks.
I didn't mention this one: If they mention they are still in a prior emotional "entanglement." That's a fatal red flag for me and I lose all interest. Generally, the entanglement can still potentially be clarified, but in this case, along with her age, that's it, done. Red flags do compound.
It made me think of a corollary red flag that I also forgot to mention: If they repeatedly mention their exes, that's a fatal red flag. Maybe they're trying to show off that they're desirable, but it comes off that they're still hung up. It's usually the latter.
The general rule is that if you're interested in someone, you only want them to think of you and that person. If you bring another person into the image, you basically ruined it. It's a pretty basic and obvious rule, so in my case, people are generally overtly telling me they aren't interested in me.
I don't seriously think anyone could be interested in me, but for shits and giggles I still look for the red flags. Let's see what Amber's will be. There's something wrong with everyone in my book.
A bunch of co-workers bought a bunch of beers and hung out in a nearby park after work not long ago. One of the things that came up were red flags – things that would stop our attraction to another person in its tracks.
I didn't mention this one: If they mention they are still in a prior emotional "entanglement." That's a fatal red flag for me and I lose all interest. Generally, the entanglement can still potentially be clarified, but in this case, along with her age, that's it, done. Red flags do compound.
It made me think of a corollary red flag that I also forgot to mention: If they repeatedly mention their exes, that's a fatal red flag. Maybe they're trying to show off that they're desirable, but it comes off that they're still hung up. It's usually the latter.
The general rule is that if you're interested in someone, you only want them to think of you and that person. If you bring another person into the image, you basically ruined it. It's a pretty basic and obvious rule, so in my case, people are generally overtly telling me they aren't interested in me.
I don't seriously think anyone could be interested in me, but for shits and giggles I still look for the red flags. Let's see what Amber's will be. There's something wrong with everyone in my book.
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| SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 8:11 p.m. - At work. The phone is the woman's, as is the phone puff. My iPod Shuffle. |
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| WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2:59-3:00 p.m. - Around my neighborhood. Canon IXUS 860 IS (color removed, not the camera's black & white setting). |
Saturday, September 05, 2009
I like the web presence thing.
I think I've had a good run, and the web has provided me an opportunity of leaving a smattering of a record, incomplete as it must be, for as long as the mediums may last. To whom, I don't care. It doesn't matter. But this blog was the first, and is sorta the hub, which is why it's kinda dear to me. It's the most secret, I don't link to it, I don't tell anyone about it, but I link out to more socially acceptable places for a more complete picture.
It's September.
I couldn't believe it when we hit August. I keep telling myself I can't go on much longer, and I really, simply can't. But I still have to remind myself for some ungodly reason.
Being dead in the water is one thing, but I'm not dead in the water. I'm suicidal. It's my credo. So if all other factors in my life point to dead in the water, suicide still should have some momentum. And it does. I tell myself.
I'm still zombified from insomnia. And listening to music is still the most precious thing to me.
Touched by a few things.
My high school mentor that I mentioned not long ago, who I found on Facebook, sent me a kalimba(!), reminding me that I once was a good person, good enough of a person to make enough of an impression that years and years later, he would send me an unsolicited gift that would move me near to tears. Kalimbas are his business now, but still, it was something he totally did not have to do.
I'm not that person anymore. I don't even like people. And people I meet now have no idea about that. They just know I keep them at arm's distance. King Kong's arm.
So why is my co-worker Tako being so friendly to me. Flirty? Nah, I'll stick with friendly. She's not flirty. But she seems to be aiming for some connection, but I don't think she has any idea how OLD I am. She is WAY young. When she asks how old I am, I'll tell her the truth straight out. Put an end to that real quick.
Eva, also a co-worker, may be more flirty. I'm not sure. Flirty implies not as serious, so maybe. I definitely don't mean any negative connotations associated with that word. To the extent that she may be flirty, it's very sweet; just chatting up, establishing some sort of perceived "understanding" between us, maybe. And I'm just as flirty to her.
She is someone who I didn't think was attractive at all when I first saw her, but upon closer scrutiny found that she's exquisitely and uniquely beautiful. Red flags went up when she mentioned she's Christian and doesn't listen to music, but I realize the red flag system is purely intellectual, and has no practical use, if you know what I mean.
Put either of them up against suicide and suicide prevails. I need to keep my focus, I need to follow the signs.
Even if they were something, some potential, it's too little, too late. If anything, they are just a final test of resolve. If they were something, they should have shown up years ago; but I've had more than 10 years of cultivating nothing of that sort.
So why should I react to them at all? Habit? Sadism? I'll cop-out with something Amina once said: It seemed right at the time. And there actually is wisdom in that. But it doesn't change a thing.
I think I've had a good run, and the web has provided me an opportunity of leaving a smattering of a record, incomplete as it must be, for as long as the mediums may last. To whom, I don't care. It doesn't matter. But this blog was the first, and is sorta the hub, which is why it's kinda dear to me. It's the most secret, I don't link to it, I don't tell anyone about it, but I link out to more socially acceptable places for a more complete picture.
It's September.
I couldn't believe it when we hit August. I keep telling myself I can't go on much longer, and I really, simply can't. But I still have to remind myself for some ungodly reason.
Being dead in the water is one thing, but I'm not dead in the water. I'm suicidal. It's my credo. So if all other factors in my life point to dead in the water, suicide still should have some momentum. And it does. I tell myself.
I'm still zombified from insomnia. And listening to music is still the most precious thing to me.
Touched by a few things.
My high school mentor that I mentioned not long ago, who I found on Facebook, sent me a kalimba(!), reminding me that I once was a good person, good enough of a person to make enough of an impression that years and years later, he would send me an unsolicited gift that would move me near to tears. Kalimbas are his business now, but still, it was something he totally did not have to do.
I'm not that person anymore. I don't even like people. And people I meet now have no idea about that. They just know I keep them at arm's distance. King Kong's arm.
So why is my co-worker Tako being so friendly to me. Flirty? Nah, I'll stick with friendly. She's not flirty. But she seems to be aiming for some connection, but I don't think she has any idea how OLD I am. She is WAY young. When she asks how old I am, I'll tell her the truth straight out. Put an end to that real quick.
Eva, also a co-worker, may be more flirty. I'm not sure. Flirty implies not as serious, so maybe. I definitely don't mean any negative connotations associated with that word. To the extent that she may be flirty, it's very sweet; just chatting up, establishing some sort of perceived "understanding" between us, maybe. And I'm just as flirty to her.
She is someone who I didn't think was attractive at all when I first saw her, but upon closer scrutiny found that she's exquisitely and uniquely beautiful. Red flags went up when she mentioned she's Christian and doesn't listen to music, but I realize the red flag system is purely intellectual, and has no practical use, if you know what I mean.
Put either of them up against suicide and suicide prevails. I need to keep my focus, I need to follow the signs.
Even if they were something, some potential, it's too little, too late. If anything, they are just a final test of resolve. If they were something, they should have shown up years ago; but I've had more than 10 years of cultivating nothing of that sort.
So why should I react to them at all? Habit? Sadism? I'll cop-out with something Amina once said: It seemed right at the time. And there actually is wisdom in that. But it doesn't change a thing.
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| TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 12:29 a.m. - It's fine to be funny in a headline if it's a fluff piece and undeniably says what's in the article. |
Saturday, July 25, 2009
I don't know if freaked out is the word. Maybe perplexing would be more neutral and indicative of the lack of real emotional response I'm having towards Facebook. People with photos of their babies or having gotten married, blah, blah, blah, bores me to death. If only it were that easy. God how I want nothing to do with those people and their perceived boring, normative lives. I'd rather die. Death would be a much more worthwhile experience. Unfortunately, as conscious memory goes, it's a one-time deal, with not a lot of memory.
Maybe that's what adulthood is all about. When you make the decision that whatever teenage/college-aged paradigm that used to make life interesting gets buried in favor of the lifetime partner, procreation, nesting, settling down. Why did you get married? Why did you start a family? Did you think you were buying safety when you bought that piece of ground? She said all the best freaks are here, please stop staring at me.
All I have are reasons why not, and few are the people I want to hear the answers from. Luyen I'd want to hear. Diem I would not. Ed I would not. Dong I would not. Madoka I would not. Amina I would not. Nobuko I would. Vikki I would . . . not. Maybe it's the insomnia talking. It's in full swing, and I felt I was pre-meltdown at work today. I flipped the calendar a page forward at work today for a look-see and August . . . why am I doing this to myself. How much longer can this go on? I'm convinced that it won't. My health has to collapse sooner rather than later, and insomnia is only weakening my system.
I was supposed to meet a friend on Wednesday, but didn't hear back from him until later in the evening. He was in the hospital with appendicitis. He had just gotten back to Taiwan to start a new job when this happened. He was supposed to sign a new lease that day. When I went to visit him in the hospital the next day, he had people there with him. He was hardly waiting for me to show up. Afterwards, I thought that if my appendix broke, I'd probably die. If I had excruciating, debilitating pain, I wouldn't think of getting myself to the hospital or ER, as he had. I'd just suffer it in my apartment, maybe crawl to the Keelung riverbank in a protracted nightmare, but from what I hear, if you don't get your appendix operated on, you die.
And I wouldn't have peeps attending to me.
I'm just preparing to enjoy the dying process. Clear the thoughts, calm the mind, relax the body, let it happen. Smile. Even times when depression or depressive thoughts come to mind, I just mentally put my fingertips on it, and move it to a physical space outside of me and it's not depressing. It has no reality, it's plastic, malleable. Pre-meltdown at work, move it away from me. Feelings that used to attack me aren't me anymore, aren't mine. Pain and pleasure actually are the same thing, just different degrees of that thing. I was trying to explain that to a co-worker today with the mosquito bite meditation, and she wasn't getting it. She will, but not today.
Truth to tell, much of my perceived discontent has gone under meditation. Why discontent? Discontent is desire unfulfilled. What's the desire? Is it something to be fulfilled? Is it something fulfillable? Under scrutiny for what it really is, discontent also goes away. Breathe, and satisfaction is right here. Desire itself is unfulfillable. If I have desire, it's an affliction. Satisfying the desire doesn't cure the affliction.
I'm gonna try to go to sleep. I'll be awake in 3 hours and struggling to get enough rest for another full-time shift tomorrow. Saturday night is the easiest shift, which is why I took it, my 3rd full-time shift in a row.
Maybe that's what adulthood is all about. When you make the decision that whatever teenage/college-aged paradigm that used to make life interesting gets buried in favor of the lifetime partner, procreation, nesting, settling down. Why did you get married? Why did you start a family? Did you think you were buying safety when you bought that piece of ground? She said all the best freaks are here, please stop staring at me.
All I have are reasons why not, and few are the people I want to hear the answers from. Luyen I'd want to hear. Diem I would not. Ed I would not. Dong I would not. Madoka I would not. Amina I would not. Nobuko I would. Vikki I would . . . not. Maybe it's the insomnia talking. It's in full swing, and I felt I was pre-meltdown at work today. I flipped the calendar a page forward at work today for a look-see and August . . . why am I doing this to myself. How much longer can this go on? I'm convinced that it won't. My health has to collapse sooner rather than later, and insomnia is only weakening my system.
I was supposed to meet a friend on Wednesday, but didn't hear back from him until later in the evening. He was in the hospital with appendicitis. He had just gotten back to Taiwan to start a new job when this happened. He was supposed to sign a new lease that day. When I went to visit him in the hospital the next day, he had people there with him. He was hardly waiting for me to show up. Afterwards, I thought that if my appendix broke, I'd probably die. If I had excruciating, debilitating pain, I wouldn't think of getting myself to the hospital or ER, as he had. I'd just suffer it in my apartment, maybe crawl to the Keelung riverbank in a protracted nightmare, but from what I hear, if you don't get your appendix operated on, you die.
And I wouldn't have peeps attending to me.
I'm just preparing to enjoy the dying process. Clear the thoughts, calm the mind, relax the body, let it happen. Smile. Even times when depression or depressive thoughts come to mind, I just mentally put my fingertips on it, and move it to a physical space outside of me and it's not depressing. It has no reality, it's plastic, malleable. Pre-meltdown at work, move it away from me. Feelings that used to attack me aren't me anymore, aren't mine. Pain and pleasure actually are the same thing, just different degrees of that thing. I was trying to explain that to a co-worker today with the mosquito bite meditation, and she wasn't getting it. She will, but not today.
Truth to tell, much of my perceived discontent has gone under meditation. Why discontent? Discontent is desire unfulfilled. What's the desire? Is it something to be fulfilled? Is it something fulfillable? Under scrutiny for what it really is, discontent also goes away. Breathe, and satisfaction is right here. Desire itself is unfulfillable. If I have desire, it's an affliction. Satisfying the desire doesn't cure the affliction.
I'm gonna try to go to sleep. I'll be awake in 3 hours and struggling to get enough rest for another full-time shift tomorrow. Saturday night is the easiest shift, which is why I took it, my 3rd full-time shift in a row.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Diary of an insomniac
I was hoping the insomnia was gone. Since grappling with it two weeks ago in Kaohsiung, I think I've actually been getting enough sleep in hours, but I haven't been getting enough rest. Waking up and being able to go back to sleep may have been counting towards hours, but not rest. I've been just clinging on by my fingernails to get enough sleep to function at work. Just enough to not quit. And I'm about to quit again for good.
I went down to Kaohsiung again this past weekend. I got my Taiwanese citizenship. And my sleep got disturbed again. It's 8 in the morning now after sleeping from 5 to 6:20. Yesterday I got a full sleep, but then slept all through the afternoon, went to work the part time shift, which starts later, and I was a complete zombie. I think I was even near hostile at some points. I don't remember much of it. Sleep, but no rest. But I'm a Taiwanese citizen now.
I'm sick of the bullshit at the job. It's not a matter of just being satisfied with what I've got, just being happy, which I can do. I'll jump ship if any other opportunity comes up. I wasn't hostile in any way that other people would call hostile. I felt I was hostile, but I think "direct" is a more objective way to describe it.
Something's definitely wrong. Something definitely has to be wrong. If something's not wrong, what the hell is going on? How can I be abusing my life in this way without something seriously wrong? At this point, I just want to make it to my U.S. trip and wrap things up over there. Dropping dead at any point is just fine with me.
Kaohsiung:
I went down to Kaohsiung again this past weekend. I got my Taiwanese citizenship. And my sleep got disturbed again. It's 8 in the morning now after sleeping from 5 to 6:20. Yesterday I got a full sleep, but then slept all through the afternoon, went to work the part time shift, which starts later, and I was a complete zombie. I think I was even near hostile at some points. I don't remember much of it. Sleep, but no rest. But I'm a Taiwanese citizen now.
I'm sick of the bullshit at the job. It's not a matter of just being satisfied with what I've got, just being happy, which I can do. I'll jump ship if any other opportunity comes up. I wasn't hostile in any way that other people would call hostile. I felt I was hostile, but I think "direct" is a more objective way to describe it.
Something's definitely wrong. Something definitely has to be wrong. If something's not wrong, what the hell is going on? How can I be abusing my life in this way without something seriously wrong? At this point, I just want to make it to my U.S. trip and wrap things up over there. Dropping dead at any point is just fine with me.
Kaohsiung:
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| FRIDAY, MAY 22 - Actually undated and unlocated, but confidently extrapolated. Rainbow V 22mm lens toy camera. Kodak BW400CN. |
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| SATURDAY, MAY 23 |
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| World Games stadium. |
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| 2:52 p.m. - World Games stadium. |
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| 4:01 p.m. - Dali shopping center. |
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| 4:58 p.m. - Park Road. |
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