I'm starting to consider a life without the Internet. I feel cleaner and more free. I feel like I can be myself more, and not pretend to be someone else behind a handle. I can live an actual life again.
I honestly can't believe I'm saying this, but I suppose I'm better off this way. Of course I will still have to log on sometimes -- check emails, blog, and take in the occasional good shit, but maybe it would be better if I live off the real world for a while.
For now I am taking a deep bow and fading off into the background. No more lies, I promised. Let's see how the truth will shine from where I will be standing.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Jettisoned Into Space
I don't want to waste this feeling. These days it always seems like I have an elastic string tied around my waist, with the other end firmly attached to Earth.
Most days -- especially during work days -- I have my sensibilities (mostly) anchored to the ground. But there are rare times, like right now, when I feel as if I am suddenly launched high up into the air and jettisoned into space. When the last thing I want to do is something anticlimactic, like going home.
It's difficult to explain, really. Is it freedom? Is it being alive? Is it being real? I'm not exactly sure. It's hard to keep focus when the entire universe is rushing like a runaway train before my eyes. All I know is I should keep up before the noise dies down.
Most days -- especially during work days -- I have my sensibilities (mostly) anchored to the ground. But there are rare times, like right now, when I feel as if I am suddenly launched high up into the air and jettisoned into space. When the last thing I want to do is something anticlimactic, like going home.
It's difficult to explain, really. Is it freedom? Is it being alive? Is it being real? I'm not exactly sure. It's hard to keep focus when the entire universe is rushing like a runaway train before my eyes. All I know is I should keep up before the noise dies down.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Something To Break
The last hour of the shift always puts me on edge. On one hand it's such a relief knowing I've survived one more day without ever shedding blood, but on the other hand it seems like this is where all the dormant stress-inducers suddenly pounce at me and bite me in the ass.
I can understand that it's most probably because of the fact that 10:30 PM here is 8:30 AM CST -- the time when most of our customers are alive and all cranked up when composing their lovely, lovely emails for us. Add to that the all too often misplaced eagerness of the agents to go home and not wanting to think anymore, it all sums up to quite a gut-wrenching 59 minutes, with me conveniently at the receiving end of the spectrum.
Never mind that I still have reports to finish before the hour is up, people will still indiscriminately shout my name from the other end of the room just to ask about a very simple problem we have been talking about again and again and again which, for some undecipherable reason, does not stick to whatever goo replaced their brains with! Do they not see it?! DO THEY NOT SEE IT?!?!
[Insert unintelligible shrieks of frustration here.]
In fairness, I still manage to give my BEST smile and offer the highest level of assistance to anyone who may ask it of me AND finish my reports on time to boot.
But oh goddess, I need something smashed at the end of the day. Please.
I can understand that it's most probably because of the fact that 10:30 PM here is 8:30 AM CST -- the time when most of our customers are alive and all cranked up when composing their lovely, lovely emails for us. Add to that the all too often misplaced eagerness of the agents to go home and not wanting to think anymore, it all sums up to quite a gut-wrenching 59 minutes, with me conveniently at the receiving end of the spectrum.
Never mind that I still have reports to finish before the hour is up, people will still indiscriminately shout my name from the other end of the room just to ask about a very simple problem we have been talking about again and again and again which, for some undecipherable reason, does not stick to whatever goo replaced their brains with! Do they not see it?! DO THEY NOT SEE IT?!?!
[Insert unintelligible shrieks of frustration here.]
In fairness, I still manage to give my BEST smile and offer the highest level of assistance to anyone who may ask it of me AND finish my reports on time to boot.
But oh goddess, I need something smashed at the end of the day. Please.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Weight
Its weight is unimaginable. The absence of knowing ones purpose is a burden so great, that its ability to incapacitate a life rivals even that of hopelessness.
And while I refuse to give in -- while I refuse to let my sensibilities cave in -- I am begging the cosmos not to push me any further. Because all it takes is one little nudge. Consider this a warning.
And while I refuse to give in -- while I refuse to let my sensibilities cave in -- I am begging the cosmos not to push me any further. Because all it takes is one little nudge. Consider this a warning.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Another OGT Surfaces
I was never hooked in this century's torrent of "reality" show hype, nor have I been interested in knowing the first thing about designing clothes (and in the rare times that I have, I -- as with most things in my life -- just wing it), but for some weird reason, I am this close to being addicted to Project Runway.
Oh wait. It's not that weird. I forget. I'm GAY. Whew. For a minute there I thought I just really liked Tim Gunn*.
Yes, there may be times when I am accused of having a stray sense of cultural identity, but having an affinity for all things beautiful and instrinsically bitchy shouldn't disturb me.
__________
[*] I do.
Oh wait. It's not that weird. I forget. I'm GAY. Whew. For a minute there I thought I just really liked Tim Gunn*.
Yes, there may be times when I am accused of having a stray sense of cultural identity, but having an affinity for all things beautiful and instrinsically bitchy shouldn't disturb me.
__________
[*] I do.