Symbolic Stuff Nobody Gives a Crap About

I'm so good at nailing the batter. Not a good thing for the game but it's cathartic. :D
 
Sue has a group of affluent friends who get together and drink wine and donate money to a charity and give each other little gifts every few months. So she was showing me the different gifts people gave her, "handed to her" if you will. I'll just say some of them were hideous. :D

Emily used to do this with me too, she'd show me the gifts the parents of her students would give every Christmas. It was hilarious laughing at them.

I gave a cutout once as a birthday present in San Diego, probably never made it to him. Probably got a good laugh though.
 
Why it's hard being me.

I have a job to do. My employer gave me X amount of money to get Y amount of work done before they come home on Z.

The first hurdle is I have ADHD.
The second hurdle is I have an aching heart and it takes time to remedy it. Then working through the shame, moving on, regrouping, etc.
The third hurdle is the moment I start working, God starts saying "Doesn't that plate you're cleaning remind you of that clip? Go post it. Go post the clip, it'll be hilarious."

So now, two days and a thousand distractions later and I STILL haven't completed the first job I set out to do, which is the reason I'm here to begin with. It's unnerving and very frustrating, but it's nobodies fault, it's just my predicament.

So tonight is a really big TV night for me, all my favorite shows either premier or play tonight, they start in an hour, in my brain I thought I'd be done with my job four hours ago, would've had time to go to TJs and get some food, maybe even tidied my own house a bit before relaxing in front of my shows, but it's T minus 57 minutes and I'm sitting here looking at youtube clips having done NOTHING I was supposed to do in real life. And I have an amazing work ethic, but my "Great Work" is overtaking my "Real Work" and it's real work that pays the bills, not youtube clips. So I get crabby and frustrated. I think I'll go straight to bed tonight, wake up tomorrow early, drive back here again and just work. I was supposed to do that TODAY. Or...I could watch TV while I work tonight, but half the time they're taping shows and you can't tape one channel and watch another with their satellite company. And now I'm yammering on about stupid stuff.

I'm so frustrated right now.
 
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Yesterday I popped my head into the laundryroom to make sure it was tidy before heading out. Usually people put their clothes in and go back to their apartments, there's three washers and three dryers. Yesterday (and it was bizarre so I noted it in my head) there were not one, not two, but THREE people sitting on chairs and squatting and looking up at me waiting for their laundry to finish. And ALL three were men, usually the ladies do the laundry, yesterday it was two husbands and a boyfriend while their wives were at work. But the odd thing was that they were squatting, they looked pained, so much so I said "Is everything okay?" and they said everything was fine. I don't know if this relates, but yesterday they were not okay even though in my world, they were waiting for their clothes to dry. :D
 
I literally walked away thinking, "Awww, how cute. It's a day off, the band's all hanging out doing their laundry...I wonder why it's hurting them to do their laundry? Their faces were not right." :p
 
I feel like I want to try to explain the "people within people" thing I've experienced my whole life. I tried painting about it but it doesn't really explain it, one of those paintings is behind me in this pic:

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There's the person's normal face as indicated by the big head. Then there's the blank faces that change. It's still on the face of the person in question, but it's like for a few seconds their expression is not there own, it's a metaphor or mirror of another person's face or thoughts. So while Peter, Ben and Paul in the laundryroom yesterday were still Peter, Ben and Paul just doing their errands, they all had matching pained expressions, but no reason to be in pain, so it's like an anomaly my brain has to note for later, their shared pained expression takes on one of the blank mystery ghost faces. It's them, but it's not them exactly. That's not to diminish them as people, it's just like they host another person for a few seconds, then go back to being them. Everyone in my life does this, sometimes in more eerie and exact ways than others.

I feel like I'm still not describing it very well.

It's like every encounter with another human is a mess of information coming at me. The initial needs of the person standing across from me, then the needs of the many blank ghost faces that pop in to that person's face. My job is to organize who is talking at me when. Does that make sense? That's why left to my own devices, I don't like talking a lot or being talked to.
 
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The weekend Harvest axed Morrissey I fought Evan almost constantly while he was visiting and we did a business transaction, particularly Saturday and Sunday. I shouldn't have fought. I should've just gone with the flow. I'm sorry. I kept seeing signs that NOW was not the time to be a passive set, now's the time to stand up. I felt tears that weren't mine, I felt frustration, I thought it was pride that I was standing up to him so I continued fighting. But it was sadness. Things get lost in translation a lot in God Internet.

Epicfail at reading faces that day. I deserved all the Barnett Shaming.
 
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If you are using the name of a dead mason, have a dog and an internet identity named after a realtor in Odessa and are f***ing someone I love, I will strike you down DEAD. Start praying. And get the f*** out of the temple.
 
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been Secret Service? Or foreshadowing Gunn Control, Cali style?

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Cone, cone, cone, cone. cone. Ian.

A fist and a push and the land is ours. ENOCH and knocked and knocked and ISN'T DEATH AND SEX SOOOOOOOOO f***ING GLORIOUS? Then Enoch ascended to heaven on a HORUS, while the Set wept, collected her things, went home, showered, and spent the next 20 years suppressing the encounter. But esteemed and MUST BE LISTENED TO, men in aprons know the truth. And if they don't know, they find out. I wore an apron that day too. It was soaking wet after. Thank God for Felix the cook. :pray:

33rd Street, Shrine Auditorium. A Chevrolet dealership saved the day.

I love the chevron shirts but I can't say why.

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Pardon me for not giving a shit about casket fantasies and the delusions of grandeur acted out by grown ass men who wanna play God. God will play you back.
 
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Dylan Thomas champions the fight and to an extent I have an appreciation...but it gets to a point where you create this beautiful miracle, this wondrous thing, and instead of beholding that miracle and allowing it to shine, you control, manipulate, choreograph. It's like creating a symphony then once it's ready to play it's tune, you INSIST on blathering and talking LOUDER than your own creation in an effort to establish your merit and importance. It is as though you have never been a father, never allowed your child to shine in the pageant unless you stand up on the stage and take part...that's not how the passing of the torch works. You have to allow the children to take the wheel. Every attempt to manipulate invites a cloud of gnats that choke the essence of the very happening you are encouraging us to slog through and be excited about. We're all f***ing exhausted. We don't care anymore. I particularly don't care to shadowbox with your stupid puppets. Three f***ing days to clean a house that takes six hours at most. If this was drug out so long, what else has been for the sake of greedy greatness? I don't give a f***, I could quit the internet tomorrow, leave all hints and pointers in my brain. And another round of playing pretend I just might do that. I sense Moz agrees, he had shit to say today but a band of pukers is more GREAT, an opportunity to poke the cancel stick in him. Now this phoney body image shit? This isn't lessons. This isn't learning. This is wasting our time. My time, anyway. Don't even get me started on FAIRNESS of the situation. It's getting to a dangerous turning point where if pushed too far and too long with nothing, no gas in the car, no fluid in the radiator, crank case dry of oil in the car you drove into the ground for years, it's over. It's not great if that happens, it's a shame if that happens. Somewhere bad advice is being dispensed. The wrong source material is being referenced. When I point out quoting RB is wrong, that isn't me. That's God telling you to check your sources because the wrong manual is being used to operate the chariot that'll help us. That's my hindsight-is-20/20 opinion. I'm never not listening. You need to start listening and stop talking and controlling.
 
When are you gonna show Katniss what they did to District 12? I sure hope I have the day off to feel through it. I keep getting teasers of it. Editing?
 
This guy's gonna put me out of a job, he's way too good at signs. #signslevel:expert

 
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One of my little tenants has been hospitalized twice in the last 24 hours. :( She's only 5, she has epilepsy, she had a fit last night so they rushed her to the ER and they released her this morning. THen she gets home and she can't keep anything down and is barfing everywhere so they take her back and she's diagnosed with Menengitis, back to the hospital. :tears: This is the same little girl who was so scared after her kitchen caught on fire last week and who says hello to Barney every single opportunity. :pray: (Danielle if anyone's a pray-er.)
 
I just saw Danielle on the couch under a blanket watching cartoons. She waved, but not a Danielle wave. Poor little monkey must be exhausted, but she's home so that's good.
 
My sphynxes never looked so cute!

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I'm really confused. :( Can someone else take the horcrux please?
 
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