Bought a new CD today, because we don't already have enough credit card debt. I just couldn't take it--I've been jonesing for new music something awful lately. Don't ask me why; I have three fairly new CDs that I bought with my share of our wedding gift certificate to Borders, and I'm not worn out on them yet. In fact, I've just recently realized that the Clash CD is about ten times better if you crank up the volume on the stereo to a hair shy of ear-splitting, so it's like that one's brand new all over again. And I've not yet tired of the rousing renditions of "Ride Forever" and "32 Down on the Robert MacKenzie" that Paul Gross and I do every morning on the way to work. (I have to sing along with Paul, because it turns out that neither of those songs is especially well suited to a capella work--believe me, I've tried). Plus I just got the new mix tape, although I can't play that in the car, as I have no cassette player. So I don't know why I feel so music deprived, but anyway I went and bought a Cibo Matto CD on the strength of one song of theirs that I happen to like. I only got to listen to four songs between Borders and home, but it's okay so far. Girly-trippy with a heavy bass (base? What the fuck homophone is it?) line and a smooth electronic feel. Not the type of music you want to hear during broad daylight, I'll say that. The Hubster commented that it would probably sound great at 2am after five or six beers.
Watched an episode of dS with Ray Vecchio today. Vecchio lust reading: nada. Probably because any energy I might otherwise have expended on Old Ray is being channeled into Young&InnocentWithBuzzCut!Fraser. Ooohhhhhhhhh. Growl.
Weird--it feels like Sunday to me. I keep starting to stress over having to go to work tomorrow, then pulling up short when I realize that it's only Saturday night. The thing is, we're supposed to go to Six Flags tomorrow, so I went to 5pm Mass this evening instead of my regular 5pm Sunday Mass. So it totally feels like the wrong day. I can't decide how much I want to go to Six Flags: I mean, we're going with C and S, who I like a lot, and I like roller coasters and all that, but...I've been to Six Flags, and it's not the best park. It's smallish by my jaded grew-up-within-two-hours-of-Disney-World-and-Busch-Gardens standards, and most of the rides are really jerky with inadequate padding for the head and neck region. Last time I was there, I still had the ring in the cartilage at the top of my left ear, and it kept getting whanged against the nasty non-padded headrests and hurt like fucking hell. If I recall correctly, I ended up having to take the ring out, and then the hole swelled up and I had to probe around in the wet unhealed cartilage for like ten minutes to get it back in, and it was really unpleasant. So forgive me if I have some bad associations with Six Flags. But then again, it'll probably be lots of fun this time...C and S and the Hubster are a good combination, and I don't currently have ear jewelry.
Huh. I've been missing my ear stud lately. Maybe because I'm again in a situation (work) where I'm the youngest person around by a couple of years, and I feel like acting out. I suppose there's no reason why I couldn't get my cartilage pierced again--other staff members have visible tattoos and such; it's not like anybody would complain--but I don't know if I miss it enough to deal with the swelling and the taking months to heal completely and the sleeping on one side only again. Plus...well...I look so damn young already. I probably should avoid any trappings that could potentially decrease my credibility with the parents of my clients. It's hard enough putting on the knowledgeable act as it is.
What to do now: read? Write? Go downstairs and futz around in the kitchen? Clean my desk? Eh. I am unmotivated.
Yaaah. Hyped up. I'm listening to the mix tape that I got from Mary on the Bindlestitch dS list (not that I'm on that list, I just happen to read her blog), and it's good. She made a little cover for the tape and everything--the title is "Queer as Due South." Heh. But it's a fun tape; a good mix of songs I've heard, new stuff, and songs that I've seen the lyrics to quoted but never actually heard. "I wanna be your blowjob queen" indeed.
I think the tape is annoying the Hubster, who's playing Everquest at his computer across the room, but I want to hear the whole thing before I turn it off. I'm not real sure what he's getting out of it, though--I mean, I'm alternately cracking up and sweating estrogen bullets because I know the songs were picked with Fraser, Ray, and Ray in mind, but is he hearing subtext? I can't even begin to guess how he would react if he were. Laugh? Cringe? Ignore it? He's slash-aware, but I think it creeps him out a little.
I think I like punk rock. A lot. I'm not quite ready to make a sweeping generalization about the genre, but I'm gradually realizing that there are a whole bunch of bands that identify as punk that I happen to really dig when I hear on the radio. The Clash, for one. How did I get to be 24 and not know I liked the Clash, for crying out loud? It's frankly kind of embarassing. I think part of the problem is that my conceptualization of what punk music sounds like has turned out to be significantly different from the reality of what punk music sounds like. It tends not to be in a minor key, for one thing. Since my persistent inability to process song lyrics means I don't always figure out what the song's about until way after I've made a judgement about whether or not I like the tune, I'm a total sucker for music that sounds energetic and happy. Of course, I'm much too uptight and gentrified to buy into the punk ideology--anarchy in the UK, my ass--but I don't much care if that makes me a poser. I'm not looking for a fuckin' worldview, people, I just wanna bang my head.
I'm exhausted. I haven't been getting enough sleep for the past few nights (6 1/2-ish hours instead of the 71/2 to 8 I really need), and work was yuck today. Went in way earlier than I needed to because my supervisor, L, had a doctor's appointment and needed me to see a kid for her and then possibly start the evaluation that was scheduled for this morning. I saw the kid, but then it turned out that the eval was Spanish-speaking only, so neither L nor I could have done it anyway. I was relieved, because it meant I didn't have to type up an eval report, but then a bunch of my afternoon kids cancelled and it ended up that I didn't have any clients until 2:15. 2:15. L's client had left at 9:45, so I would have had to just sit around for over four hours. My productivity is already really low, judging by the fucked-up method they use to calculate it there, and hanging around not seeing any kids for four hours would have been asking for trouble. So I figured, what the hell. I'll go home for a bit and play on the computer. I was picking up my stuff to walk out the door when L walked in. So I said I was thinking of leaving for a while, and she totally didn't care, but then I realized I should get her to sign some paperwork for me while we were both in the same place for once. That took till about 10:30ish, and then I made the colossal mistake of casually asking her if K the social worker had mentioned the possibility of switching the H family to my caseload. "Oh, so C doesn't want me anymore?" L says. I'm like, the hell? You hate that mom. You bitch about her constantly. She doesn't like you either. Why on earth would you care if I saw the kids instead? But I think I pushed a button somewhere, because L went off on her own little soapbox about ABA therapy and how it's so terrible and would be completely inappropriate for these kids, which is really not the main part of the issue. Then K walked in, and L repeated her snide comment, and then L, K, J the OT, and I all spent the next 40 minutes or so discussing the H family, basically going over ground that's already been gone over ad infinitum in team meetings. They finally wrapped it up around 11:15, and then I ended up in K's office rehashing the conversation for another half an hour. I was grateful to K for her attitude, since she is clearly trying to show respect for me beyond my position as really low man on the totem pole, but I was so mentally checked out of the situation by that point that I don't think I was very helpful. I'm not involved in the family's case right now; I don't think I can become involved in the case without putting myself in a very uncomfortable position with my supervisor, and frankly I don't particularly want to be involved. I had been gearing up to take a rare, much-needed break in the middle of the day, and I just wanted to go. By the time I got out of there, I had exactly an hour: enough time to speed home, eat my lunch, and speed back to work in time to see the 12:45 kid that L had asked me to take over for today. I cut it too close and was late anyway. Felt like an incompetent, hack therapist with my afternoon kids, then witnessed L having a bit of a temper tantrum in the middle of the office as I was preparing to leave at the end of the day. Bleah. Do not particularly want to go back tomorrow.
I think I've got the domain name thing figured out. It wasn't really that cool after all, but now I feel less incompetent. I also got the italics to work, which is less of a feat: it just involved remembering some extremely, blindingly basic HTML coding skills that I learned back in college and applying them here. In college I used to have a web page called "The Elevator to Valhalla" (don't ask) that I created myself from scratch, using HTML lessons posted at some random site I had surfed to. I was incredibly proud of it, and still am. I think I have some reason: it wasn't anything so special, but I made it almost totally by myself, and this was at a time when, say, two months prior I had been completely ignorant of all things internet. So the fact that I did it on my own, without the stupid template that Netscape or Explorer or what-have-you will provide now, was just barely short of a miracle. I had a ton of X-Files pictures on there, as well as some stuff about Joel Reinhart, this basketball player I had a crush on. I actually tried to revamp the site when I was in grad school (probably starting at 1am in the morning on a school night, if I remember my grad school self-destructive behavior correctly), but it turned out I had grown out of it. I'm still a little sad.
Was blogging in my head all day today. It was kind of cool, although I expect the thrill will wear off pretty soon. It did keep me occupied during my morning run, though, which was nice for a change. I spent part of the run feeling mildly jealous of necessary angel; not that I know her in the least, but I remember reading a recent entry in her blog where she talked about the surprise of realizing that Billy-fucking-Hollywood had taken up residence in her head during her morning run. "I wasn't expecting him," she said. Well, nobody that cool was talking to me this morning, but quite honestly I think I'd rather keep the Hard Core Logo guys out. They're scary. But I do wish I had more than a nodding acquaintance with the characters in my head; I'm only running 30 minutes at a stretch now, and it's not really enough time to zone out on a train of thought or a story unless somebody's actively trying to make themselves heard. I end up concentrating far too much on my legs and my breathing and how long have I been going and is it too soon to take a walking break, not that I should need one during a freaking 30 minute run. Plus I'm training entirely under my own steam currently. I decided last week that I want to run the Motorola Marathon in March, but the running group I'm thinking about joining to help me train (which I need to do; the longest race I've ever done currently is a 10K) doesn't start meeting until August 25th. What am I supposed to do with myself until then, I ask you? I can and have trained purely out of self-discipline, but it's a hell of a lot of work. I don't think I could maintain my mental stamina for a marathon just by myself. I'd really rather not have until August 25th to obsess about running without anybody there to help me along.
Train of thought: I did have one. Ah yes: characters don't talk to me. I have a dS story I'd really like to finish, but it's Stella's POV and I can't figure out what would make her act the way I want her to. And that's the crux of it right there--I shouldn't be making her do anything. But it is my fault I think she damn well oughta stop in the hallway and eavesdrop? Somebody thought that would be a good idea, and I don't think it was me. But staying on track: I honestly don't know that I'd want to have the voices in my head on a regular basis. Those few instances when I've really felt driven to write, it was an uncomfortable feeling. My head, my brain was burning; I couldn't stop or think or concentrate until I got the words down on paper, and only then was there relief. For someone like me, who exerts so much time and energy into avoiding the stronger emotions, into remaining balanced at all costs, that's an unsettling experience. I don't know that I could handle it if it happened to me frequently.
But I'd damn well like to finish this story.
The Hubster is passed out asleep on the bed; I think his day didn't go so hot. I will go and make dinner without his involvement and then surprise him.
I got kind of excited when it looked like I was going to get my own domain name without even really trying, but I think I misunderstood the blogger set-up instructions. I don't particularly want a domain, or even a web page, but had I ended up with one I would have been proud all out of proportion to my actual interest level.
Saw "Memento" yesterday, and have been feeling vaguely depressed and out-of-sorts ever since. It was a fascinating movie--very complex organization that made it a pleasure to watch and absorb, even if I did feel a bit cheated at the ending (beginning?). I think I enjoyed it as much for the structure as for anything else; I remember reading a review when the movie originally came out that said it was an absolute nightmare to keep the dailies organized. However, I saw the movie mostly because I recently learned that Callum Keith Rennie had a bit part, and of course I had to see him 30 feet high. It was weird--I'm in love with Ray Kowalski; I mean, painfully, in that desperate peak of fandom madness that I always seem to hit no matter how hard I try to avoid it, but I do clearly understand and have internalized the difference between character and actor. I've never really had much problem with that; I guess I'm lucky in that one of my first great fan loves was Mulder, and David Duchovny seems like kind of a prick. But for some reason, seeing CKR playing another guy, a guy who was definitely not Ray, felt very much like the death of Ray Kowalski. Like he was dead, but nobody had bothered to tell me so I was just now finding out about it two years later. I don't know why I reacted that way--I've seen CKR in lots of other roles, and I'm fairly certain that some of them were more recent than the end of due South. For some reason, though, Memento whacked me out.
