Between Ghosts

Far seeing once meant
The future withholds wonderful things,
Private answers all remarkably admitted.
Now, it predicts breakfast.

-11.20.2017, the latest #spampoetry

My WordPress spam has gotten tedious. It’s increasingly disgusting ads, over and over, sprinkled with admonitions for me to monetize or SEOize this site using some method which must not be very good, else spammers wouldn’t need to advertise it.

However, my Google Junk Mail folder continues to provide useful crap for spackling into poetry.

Belated Challenge, Accepted in Passing

Week of 11/5 in Sagittarius: The poem that is written about the sun is waiting for you, but you have to write it.

Astro Poets (@poetastrologers), 11:41 pm, November 5th.

Write it? Ah, no. However, I was able to scrape one together out of spam.

much elegance neglected
decay winding a peculiar
ballooned heart
convinced it was mistaken
breathing on all these dirty windows
fogging them blind gold

-11.6.2017, posted today, because I’m trying to psych myself up for tackling my statistics homework by taking care of random things that I didn’t get to during the week1, and I found this sitting in my drafts folder along with another draft post that I just decided to delete.


1The past few weeks have seen me unable to get to my homework until the weekend, chiefly because my body likes human normal amounts of sleep, and my brain’s beginning to (reluctantly) concede that (maybe) it’s not an idiot.

The November Premise

This is not a political blog post. As we’ve discussed:  I don’t do those, because I prefer having one-on-one conversations about such things.  Once again this year, our household is receiving heavy telephone and drop-by survey traffic.

This is probably not my fault.

Probably.

The general premise of NaNoWriMo is “the world needs your novel”.

Yeeeeaaah.  I’m sure it doesn’t. Not that this certainty has stopped me from participating for several years, out of inertia or … something.1 Even when it has been crazy, I’ve carved out time to hit word counts, and inevitably hated myself because I dropped so many other things on the floor in order to do so, but it was okay!  I had an excuse!  It was November!  I could waste time writing a lot of crap (or telling myself I was editing a pile of crap by spackling a lot of new crap on top of it) and throw it all away on December 1st2 and nobody would think I was weird at all.  Nope, no weird here, no aberrant behavior, everything’s good, it’s all perfectly normal, lalalala.

It is November. It is crazy.

I don’t want an excuse to drop things on the floor.  I genuinely like the idea of having less panic and less self-loathing in my life, so yeah, going to avoid the whole dropping things in November thing.

If I write, I’ll write. If I don’t, that’s good too.3

Happy NaNoing. Be sure to take some time next Tuesday to go vote. Ideally, you have already figured out who is getting your vote, and you have reasons for choosing that candidate that don’t sound an awful lot like a parrot’s reciting the latest Facebooked horror story about the opposing candidate, but … you do you.


1The ‘something’ is likely perceived obligation.  I’m supposed to be writing, so ta-da, look, see, I’m writing something that I can share! Not that I do share it, but theoretically, I could.

2Or early February, because I can’t generally wrap my head around a new year until it’s the Lunar one.

3Admittedly, this philosophical insight was brought to you by this morning’s panicked freak out because it is November 4th, and I haven’t even bothered logging into the NaNoWriMo site, let alone started writing anything.  I went to the gym, and felt better afterwards. I’ll probably feel better still once I post this blog entry, or at least capable of making myself focus on my Statistics homework.

Somewhere Between

It’s a rattling nice place.
After my altered engagement
Truly programming is nothing
However it’s a logic
That does not come to me.
-The latest #spampoetry

I had a thought that I wanted to write down, but I lost it somewhere between homework and reloading the dishwasher and dozing off in front of American Ninja Warrior. It’ll come to me tomorrow, most likely during a round of questioning my life choices, otherwise known as running behind a middle school cross country team. I’ll find it.  Eventually.

=NVL(Number,24)

Started new
My novel number
It is error
– The latest #spampoetry

Toward the end of July, I had a work week with three 24 hour days in it.  It’s not like I’m not predisposed to insomnia anyway and haven’t worked those kind of hours before1,2, but this time was different, because I’d promised I wouldn’t do that anymore, and it took me to the end of that third day to realize that I hadn’t even felt a pang of self-preservation. Nope. None. There was work to do that needed to be done, and I was there to do it, and…

It was ridiculous. I wasn’t saving lives or putting out fires or keeping the streets safe or trying to make the world a better place through sweat, patience or holding the line against the darkness. At best, I was helping get people into jobs, or keep the ones they had.

At worst?  Well. For a while, my work hours had been compressing my life to the edges of the day:  I was staying up late to get homework done, or getting up very early to handle household chores and basic self-care3.  It was manageable. For a while.  Then my work started eating those hours, too, and the hours I’d ordinarily spend sleeping.

Which was insane, but I didn’t really notice it until @bhoneydew drew my attention to it. I went huh, he’s right, and around then was when I promised I wouldn’t work any 24 hour days unless it was necessary.

Like I said earlier, I wasn’t doing anything strictly necessary.

So, I gave my two weeks’ notice. I did consider negotiating an hours cap for my role, but the nature of the business made that impractical: sales and business development waits for no one, even sanity.

I quit. I’m back in school. I have an unexpected opportunity to get some hands-on experience with big data, which is something I honestly enjoy working with — in a purposeful manner, not just because I stumbled into it years ago.

I do stay up late sometimes, but it’s no later than 2:00 am, and it’s because I’m working on homework or something like this blog post. I sleep well when I go, and I remember my dreams when I wake up. Food tastes like food again.

I think this will work. We’ll see, won’t we? Who knows, I might even finish that sweater this year.


1I was on call during a lot of days while I worked the graveyard shift for Altavista during 99-2000, and overall so sleep-deprived that when I got the phone call inviting me to come interview for Lucent, it took me three days to realize that I hadn’t talked to someone from Genentech. I’ve been told my in-person interview at Lucent (this at three in the afternoon after I’d worked double shifts for a week straight while also planning a wedding) was hilarious: I was clearly asleep, but able to answer every question I was asked. I don’t remember more than pieces of that day:  the dull grey carpet, the rectangle of sunlight on the conference room table and the white and green hedges out in front of the building that smelled like Ivory soap and gardenia.

2Other than a brief glorious period of three long naps a day, the Monster barely slept until he was seven.  Ergo, I barely slept until he was seven.

3Ironically, I took better care of myself when I was traveling. Being forced to be out of the house meant I showered every day, instead of just the days when I was able to make it to the gym. I tried very hard not to give up on that, even during periods when scheduling became a nightmare. I don’t eat when I’m stressed. Going to the gym forced me to eat even when everything tasted like sawdust.

Summer Armadillos

An ouroboros is cathexic by nature.

By nature, an ouroboros is cathexic.

Cathexic by nature is an ouroboros.

An ouroboros is cathexic by nature…

Repeat until there are no more margaritas.

Margaritas are finite, but delicious.

(8.25.2017)

I’ll explain later. At least most of it. It’s all good, even the stuff I can’t talk about.

Ninety Percent Thresholds

I still haven’t finished the sweater. To be honest, I haven’t worked on it at all. I was going to during the last two episodes of The Expanse, but I was so fried when I watched them that I didn’t need anything to do with my hands. American Gods debuted recently, so maybe I’ll get the sweater done when I get around to watching the episodes.

If that doesn’t work out, there’s always hope that it’ll happen during Suits or Killjoys — assuming I manage to watch the new seasons when they come on. To be honest, it’s rare that I watch more than one season of a series, and not unusual that I stop watching one right before it gets to a season ending cliffhanger. Pretty sure that would have happened with Season One of House of Cards if @bhoneydew and I hadn’t just binged it one weekend while we were sick.

I haven’t seen any episodes after that, even though I enjoyed House of Cards very much. I just can’t get myself in the right frame of mind to invest the time.

I’m still not sure what’s happening with my Goodreads reading challenge. Despite everything that’s going on1, I’m still way ahead of the curve. If I succeed in my devious Mother’s Day plan to read all day (after I finish my homework) and not look at anything work-related, I may even finish it!

1I’ve been working 50-hourish weeks for the past three weeks, while juggling my night class, Momming and this weird new peace with eating right and working out. Sadly, the good sleep habit I’ve been trying to cultivate did go right out the window — notice when I’m working on this? — but I’ve been cranky about that instead of just resigned2 so there’s hope for me yet.

2I haven’t been working on any creative projects. Seriously, the time I’d ordinarily put to that, I’ve been trying to put toward household foo. It’s not that I’m avoiding creative projects, it’s just that the household foo needs to be dealt with. It’ll get better. Eventually.