dull depression

I might be experiencing some of the symptoms of TMJ.  My dentist thinks that I grind my teeth when I sleep.  I sometimes have headaches.  I wake up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. . .  The dentist suggested a $400 mouthguard.  I’m just not sure if I would actually wear it.  I guess it comes down to if I want to feel better, I will.

Did you ever notice that certain excuses for irrational actions just don’t sound so good as soon as you start telling them to someone?

How have I gotten so impatient that I can’t even wait for a song to finish anymore?

With a great deal of the things I do, they’re just to take up the time.  I feel like I’m just passing time until there's no time left.  If only I could do something productive to take up my time.

The zombie’s dull tragedy -
I wrote this as a dull tragedy.  How do you expect me to change the pace and the mood in the middle of the story?

60 years from now, will this be all that’s left?

This make me a better person?  HA! I only sink deeper into myself.

About the only thing I know to help myself is that I myself must change.

Part of the problem with my depression, if that’s what it is, is that it is so deeply ingrained.  I have had this behavior for so long I don’t remember anything else.  Just periods where it was lessened or went away for awhile, but it always seems to come back.  And those may have only been the result of medication.  When it comes down to it, is the medication more than a mood elevator?  Will it give me self-confidence?  Not likely.  Would said mood elevators leave me feeling happy with where I am in life?

Depression. Blah, blah blah. No self-confidence. Blah, blah, blah. Stop complaining and do something about it already!  And stop repeating yourself!

Note: Many questions asked in my posts are not really rhetorical.  Feel free to try at an answer.

work problems

I suppose part of me didn’t want to explore what I’m about to explore. Maybe that’s why I was procrastinating my writing today. Forgive me if the following is a little too technical for some of you. I am willing to explain anything as usual.

Towards the end of the day at work Friday, the chairman asked us if both the test and production versions of a certain program that we bought (not wrote ourselves) could be installed alongside each other. I said yes and proceeded to tell him how you could tell the difference between the test and production versions. As a result, my coworkers thought that I thought it was a good idea to install them alongside each other. The truth is I wasn’t thinking one way or the other - just giving him information, and that it is a bad idea to have test and production version installed on the same computer. For some reason, my coworkers thinking I thought it was a good idea really bothered me for a few days. What disturbs me is how something so trivial could bother me so much.

Then, there was also this other thing at work. I have to do an upload of records from Oracle (a database system) to the mainframe which I used to do daily, but hasn’t been done in awhile. The upload is limited to 15,000 records, but this time 25,000 records have to be uploaded. Usually that means we just divide it up by date. Well, I discovered that 20,000 records were updated in one day which is very unusual. I tracked down what happened and fortunately, it was just normal operation. It was decided those could just be done right on the mainframe. I had to figure out how to filter out those updates. Someone else ended up figuring out how to get a list of those updates. I just had to get the opposite of it. Well, I thought I did, but as it was time for me to leave I discovered I hadn’t. As this upload has to be done at the end of the day and I’ve been trying to do the upload for the past few days, I ended up staying a few minutes after I’m supposed to leave almost every day last week. What bothers me is that I hadn’t actually tried what I thought was the solution unitl the last minute and that I couldn’t figure out the solution. Not to mention that, yet again, something like this shouldn’t bother me that much.

Bah, I’m back to playing Quake full force again. No change in my life really seems to last.

When I go to mother’s on the weekends it’s unlikely I will post anything until Sunday. I guess it’s how I take a break from computers in a way. Or maybe it’s just that her computer is too slow. Of course, it’s interesting to see what I end up doing when I take a break from computers (not forced). I guess we already explored that though. Forced ends up being the same as not forced. Either way: TV, reading, sleeping etc.

Something could always be on with 500 channels, but why watch all day? Where do you draw the line at a constant feed of entertainment, information, or otherwise?

gliding through change

Well, here I am, posting again.

I just realize my exposure to music seems limited.  Seems like everyone listens to some bands I’ve never heard of who “are the greatest band in the world.”  I guess it’s a friend tells a friend tells a friend thing.  And my friends stopped telling me what to like. ::grin::

I used to think I didn’t care what people thought of me.  I didn’t care whether I was popular or not in high school.  I didn’t care about my appearance.  (OK Is that a Freudian slip? – I was going to type purpose instead of appearance.)  I insisted I didn’t care about my appearance because I didn’t care what other people thought.  More likely, it was a self-esteem issue.  Now, I find myself constantly worried about what other people think of me and it kinda disgusts me.  I used to pride myself on not caring about that.  I was probably always like that, I just never realized it.

For anonymous: A coconut? Unfortunately, I tend to ignore the Metatron.

The monks covered themselves in oil before lighting themselves on fire.  A burning effigy.  A beacon to the world.  But we don’t need lighthouses anymore, do we?

I suffer with a dying connection.  Still can’t really play Quake.  Good or bad?  If I can’t play Quake, chances are that I’ll play something else or sleep.  If I take everything else away, I default to sleep.  Like I used to do in the bad old  days before college.

College.  I think I’ve basically glided through my entire life up to this point.  Putting in just enough effort to get by.  Perhaps another thing I’m tired of.  Change requires enormous effort – hence, another reason I’m stuck.

Who Moved My Cheese?   The difference is that I have to initiate the change as opposed to dealing with it.

Please remember to leave your name if you post anonymously.  Thank you.

02/20/2006

500 channels and nothing good and new on.

I’m still here.  Even after everything goes away, I will still be here.  I have always been here.  I never went away.  Still in front of the computer.  Sealed inside my jail cell of a room.

Haven’t you figured it out yet? I still have next to nothing to hold on to.

What if I actually had a sibling I shared some genes with?

Are some people simply incapable of being happy like some are incapable of being satisfied?

This useless wisdom has never helped me.  Its usage requires strength I’m convinced I don’t have.

The last semblance of “physical”dependence required is to fulfill that one basic necessity – To eat.  It comes down more to the use of her car than anything else.  I’m under the probably deluded impression I can’t go “grocery” shopping without it.  (Quotes because it’s not like I’m buying anything to actually cook with.)

One of my bosses, a fellow Drexel alum, recommended I pursue an MBA (he already has one) from Drexel.  Would that really help me in my job?  I doubt it as we don’t have credential based pay at the moment and even if we did, I wouldn’t get anything for an MBA being a programmer and all.  So unless I change employers. . .  There is also the question of whether I would even be admitted and then how in the world I would pay for it.

I have had a few people ask me if there was anything new or exciting in my life.  One of them does it on a regular basis.  There never is of course, but there’s nothing exciting going on his life either.  I tend to shy away from the exciting, as that would mean taking risks.  I guess I don’t have faith in my ability to choose what an acceptable risk is.  Unfortunately, that may be with good reason.  I do overestimate risks.  I keep thinking about Along Came Polly.  Although I never saw it, I do identify with the main character.

I’m not sure if I can keep this up.  I’m afraid of repetition.  I’m thinking I won’t be able to get a real post out on Friday or even Wednesday.  I hope I do.

safe and dull or risky enjoyment

I missed a day, but I will still post something tomorrow, hopefully.  The number of posts will be the same then.

613 – The number of mitzvot (good deeds) in the Jewish religion.

Well, it’s Saturday.  Can I complete this one? Keep going at a steady pace?  The music helps, but can it really give me that extra push necessary?

When do I take the step forwards and when do I take the step backwards?  Given the choice to IM with someone or play Quake, what determines my choice?  My mood at the time?  What I decide to do in that instance is, unfortunately, not consistent.

I suppose I’m talkative for a hermit.  I keep thinking that’s where I’m headed.  Slowly but surely.  Like entropy there’s no stopping it.  I never ask why bother though.

It’s like – I’m slowly dying and I don’t even care.  How I’d live my life wouldn’t even change if I could ever overcome a certain depression.  I’m just not strong enough.

Must stand.

Never a lasting impact.  My contributions will be forgotten.  I’m the dead-end in the family tree.  My father’s name will die as will quickly as it was born.

I need the quick twelve-step program to enjoying life.  And the strength to complete the steps.

Quiet, unique, dull.  At what point do I become what the psychiatrists and psychologists tell me I am?

I’m safe.  I’m safely sealed off in my world of computers and locked doors.   Limited human contact.  Safely controlled.  Not allowed to make any new friends.  A girlfriend is strictly forbidden.  Maybe that type of a relationship would just screw me up even more until I’m more stable.

I'm already a zombie so lack of sleep doesn't affect me that much

I’m doomed.

dull tragedy here - move along

I know I must believe in myself as the Talmud says, but it still helps to know that others believe in me.

Perhaps that everything here seems so repetitive is a sign of something.  A sign just how boring I am. Or how boring my life is at the moment.  Maybe how boring my writing is.

“But really, how useful would I find being a BS artist?”

In this life where enjoyment is paramount, I can’t even experience what matters most.

Maybe I’m afraid I’ll belittle myself like I have a tendency to do, maybe that’s why I don’t talk much.

I’m going to see if I can post every other day.   Not sure I’ll really be able to maintain that rate but it’s worth a shot.

Listening to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.  It reminds me of twilight.  Of something ended.  Of the sun setting.  Of Death.  It’s just the one piano, but it is very powerful.  Sure his symphonies maybe inspiring, but this is haunting.

Meanwhile, I can’t even get myself to send an IM to a person.  What am I so afraid of? What other people think?  Caring about what other people think goes against so much of what I used to think.  Maybe I just want to be alone with my thoughts.  I do too much of that already.

Don’t make the mistakes I made. Live your life. 28 year olds aren’t supposed to be full of regret.  As if getting older means only more regret.

It’s weird.  The guys been dead for months, but the blog still gets updated like clockwork every other day.  No one wants to hear about this dull tragedy – except the morbidly fascinated.

I’m still not sure who reads this stuff on a regular basis.  The only way I can know is by comments. . .

sick religion

Well, I’m running out of archived writing.  I should start to do some more now.  Will it be on a regular basis?  Unfortunately, probably not.  I wonder if I’m more likely to write on weekends because of the fits of boredom.  This weekend, I’m not even sure if I should go out given the chance because I could still get someone sick.  Is that a decent excuse or not?

I wonder if I got to know my father more for who he was before the disease through my relatives if it would make a difference in my life.  I suppose it’s worth a shot.

I feel like I’m playing the computer games too much again.

This old tribe.  This old community.  The outsiders looking out.
613.  How many of you have any clue what that number means off the top of your head?

This old war . . . will never end.  The ne’re tamid is a burning city.  (Ne’re tamid is the everlasting light)  They feel abandoned.  They feel displaced as we have been for thousands of years.

The extreme nature of beliefs leads ultimately to destruction for everyone.

It always was all the different rules that never made sense to me – or anyone else for that matter.  What does afflicting the soul (fasting) really get you anyhow?

So with the golden rule, what if someone doesn’t want to be treated the way you want to be treated?  How are you supposed to know how a person wants to be treated?

from 02/02/2006

Born pessimist.  Whether or not I determine probabilities is irrelevant.

Transcendence of one’s own existence has always blinded you.  To look inside oneself has always been a dangerous action.  Many get lost in madness.  You just need an anchor to reality.  Our potential is limited artificially starting at birth.

Our species personality needs to be severely altered if you intend to solve those problems.

A real long-term view would be nice once in awhile.

What makes me so special?  A good answer could keep me happy.  Honestly, I don’t think I know metaphysics from Newtonian mechanics.

And this, symbolizes my inability to let go of the fantasies.  How do you overcome self-condemnation?

The ratio is all wrong: 2 hours of TV to 1 of writing?  

My grip on life is more tenuous then you think.  Life itself apparently isn’t that much of a reason to keep living.  No, I’m not in danger of suicide.  But, I do need something to hold on to, and I don’t have very much at the moment.  Like I have a death grip on my mother.  She isn’t going to live forever though.  My life reads like a dull tragedy.  These words only go up into the thin air.  No one hears my cries - I don’t cry to those who would bother to listen – only to those that won’t.

If only. . .

Just need a friend nearby who isn’t suffering more than I am.  Living through cyberspace isn’t really living.  I feel like I don’t try hard enough at anything I try to add to my life.  That isn’t just my opinion of my own efforts, that’s actually true.  Like writing or chess.  I keep at nothing except behaviors which only hurt me.

Can you see inside yourself?  Have you been blinded yet?  Our true nature is not something we dare to look upon.  Dare I journey inward for the betterment of myself?  What is inside is not necessarily dark or light.  Only blended shades of gray.  

Is it no coincidence the episode of My Name is Earl had Earl giving someone a reason to live – by being his friend, even though Earl really doesn’t like him.  Is my only company miserable as well?

Please give me something more to hold on to!

“This should not be how you see me.  This should not be how you see yourself.  Neither of us are just shells.”  Perhaps if I see him for who he actually was instead of what it turned him into.  Of the two biggest pieces of the puzzle of who I am, I seem to be missing a great deal of one of the pieces.  Perhaps only now do I see the need or have the drive to find those missing parts.
My progress is so gut-wrenchingly slow.

sadness and . . .

Mortality is necessary to experience life as sadness is required to experience joy.  Death serves well as an emotional roller coaster.  Death -> sadness -> greater joy.  The problem is when the sadness is drawn out.  Wanted to see what would happen if I spent a month away from the computer.  If you have forever there is no drive to experience life.  It is the inequities that bother me more.  They are unnecessary.

Perhaps I get the fear from my mother, without my father to counteract it. . .  If I saw my father cook more maybe I would do it more.  I think he really enjoyed cooking. I remember making biscuits with him.

I guess my father’s disease being the cause of so many of my problems just seems to fit together a little too nicely.

Father would be 65 three days ago.

I don’t what to say even to any girls I meet online.  After a few conversations I get stuck.  How do I know when to ask if they want to meet me?

Maybe I curse myself with that stuff about always being alone. So . ..
WHY?

So many songs about that thing which I feel I cannot experience.

Only possible activities: sleep, TV, writing, reading, eating. I need to make more friends, but I've always had trouble with that. I feel like I'm losing my physical health sometimes.

My story is a sad, dull story.

(I currently have the flu and haven't really been doing anything as of late. . . The doctor recommended I take the whole week off. I'd prefer not to, though, even if I do have enough sick days. At this point I've taken three days off.)

I suppose I can't get rid of the zombie box because I think that there's always going to be some show that I will actually want to watch. (which there are currently) At my mother's, however, I all too often, end up watching TV simply due to boredom. But that leads into a bunch of other issues I'll cover later.

written on 1/17/2006

Do you promise to spend more time communicating and less time playing games?

Can you? Can you trust yourself to install a game and not play it for 3 hours everyday?

The enigma of the ZIP drive: It inistigated the crash - is it good or bad?

So Dad, how am I doing?

It all could come together - I just have to take it slowly. . . Set reasonable expectations for myself.

Are you torturing yourself until you bleed by trying to write this way?

You are your own solution.

BLECCH! I'm spending way too much time watching the zombie box and not enough time . . . writing, reading, cleaning, eating, washing, cooking, talking, having fun, loving, living.

I should be able to write for one hour for every one hour I watch the zombie box.

Don't stop . . . writing.

Why do I deny myself the pleasures of life? Guilt? Guilt of what? Something to do with my father? On what grounds? Not visiting him enough in the veterans' home?

So hard to get myself to write. Too hard. I don't have the discipline or the strength.

I went to work that one day feeling happy. Looking forward to work and what would come afterward - more writing. But I only came home exhausted. I didn't feel like doing anything but resting. Afterwards, I just worked on the computer - moving data to DVDs or the other hard drive. While the DVDs were burning I ended up watching television - possibly because I couldn't find any paper - something I knew would happen. Having to completely wipe the hard drive makes me think of rebirth and my possibilities for change.

I realize now my mother won't stay in the home I grew up in forever. The place I have always known as home will eventually be gone.

What is the value of a life never lived. Either way, I don't see anything changing. If I can't envision it, it can't happen. It all just seems almost impossible. Even if I bre3ak it down into steps. Besides, some of the biggest things seem impossible to break down into steps- ie not enough self-confidence.

If only I was confident . . . I could devote one hour to writing each day.