Getting restless. It’s almost 3 AM on the West Coast and I’ve been playing a lot of chess. Filled out another job profile thing on an online board. Eh. It’s worth a shot. Applied to some more bioinformatics positions recently, some in academia, some in industry. It would be nice to get hired doing something I’m curious about, but it may take a while, as it is not my field of primary expertise. I would say, secondary expertise. There’s a stack of poetry books, journals, and one from the olden times about color (for adults/professionals) and how colors are composed (no modern art principles! just like, gray is a composition of ash and concrete, sort of thing). It’s pretty neat. Unfortunately, I still have trouble reading. Hmm. What else…
Feeling better lately. What does “lately” mean, in any case? I’m not sure. I still have psychiatric/psychological symptoms darned near most of the time these days… it’s just way less intense than the peak, or like a year ago. The peak was not a year ago… well… there were many peaks. And if we’re going with the down-is-bad bias, then I guess we would call them troughs, not peaks. Peak intensity; trough mood. Trough mood, brah. Yep.
Still vaping. I wear a nicotine patch every day and it seems to be working. Getting engrossed in tasks keeps me from vaping. Mostly I vape when I’m nervous, so if I can focus on something, or else just calm down, I’m not as addicted, in that moment. Hmm. There seems to be progress. I would like to quit… nicotine altogether. Anyhoo.
Still have trouble reading. This may make professional life difficult. Ah, but, can I skim! And processing information is not the easiest. I have been out of it for so long, all my brainpower went to shit. Or so it seems. Hmm. Left forearm getting tired/sore from typing even this long in a row. All my blog posts have been pretty darned short, haven’t they? Well. Maybe some brain cells are regrowing or something. Somehow, this moment, right nowish, seems alright. The window is open and I can hear the traffic from the freeway every once in a while. The stray trucker. The late night Uber. Wait no, I doubt anyone takes Uber these days? Or maybe they just wear gas masks. N95s are the only legit thing for protecting you. But I guess anything is better than nothing. Well. Or maybe not. Maybe it doesn’t bum-fucking matter if there’s a raggedy-ass fuck piece of cloth over your mouth the virus particles are like, nanometers small. They definitely penetrate. But there’s a shortage of N95s, apparently. Ah well. If it makes you feel comfortable. Plus, it does protect others from yourself. This is all from what I’ve been told, processed by my internal logic ctrs.
Yeahp. This sore left forearm. Not much continuous typing lately.
The poetry collective is great. It’s a sensitive subject as I have been somewhat of an ass in public online space lately. But, ah, well, how to say–we’re “not rushing”. : )
Um. Finances. Savings. Taking rill good care of my munny. Sure thang, brah. Not drunk, I swears it, precious. Prshs. Psh. Fuck.
Throw in a good Fuck every once in a while.
Ah well. In any case. I have nowhere to go and when it digresses you can tell I’m about to leave. Anyway. I’m not sure. I like to have my fun, but my stamina is utterly horrific. Not-sex. Never-sex. Just real-life-stamina. Sometimes you have to make decisions. Maybe my arm was just warming up. People still spy on me when I need privacy the most. I can’t read. I’m scared of my family and I’m under the impression everyone’s angery at meh all the time. And like, it’s vicious. It’s so barbaric. It’s horrific. I don’t know how to describe it. I mean, I could, if you wanted me to bad enough, but, like, I kind of don’t want to put in the effort. As with most things. Just not worth it. I don’t see the reward to much these days. Enough climactic paragraph switches. Just write, for fucks sake. Sorry, talking to myself. Anyhoo.
Vape vape vape.
Poetry. My poetry blog is coming along quite well. Oh yeah. I redesigned my two main blogs (varjak.blog and burndoubtstar.art). Plus! new URLs! Neat, huh? Only cuz I’m a wealthy brat who can afford like, the personal plan or whatever. So expense. Srsly. I don’t ever want to be broke. But I’m prepared for it. I’m so frugal. I’m so frugal I bought a $500 early bird ticket to a science conference for spring of next year. Wow. I’m a shit, aren’t I. Heh. Well anyway. It should be fun, if I manage to gather more marbles, enough marbles, before then. Especially if I have a job, a bona fide routine by then. It could be swell. As a mathematician friend once said online, which I relate to quite strongly, “We could all be having so much more fun.” It was in regards to the study of math. And how it should be creative, not pedantic, and encouraging and open-minded and even open-hearted. I’m pro-that. Super pro-that. Anyway. Yeah. That’s how it is. Suckers. Gotta throw in a Suckers everyonce in a while. Heh. What am I even. I’m not so sure anymore. It’s alright. I accept it. Whatever the problem was, the problems were, whatever the fuck the shitstorm blew through this town in my mind, I accept it. It’s alright. It’s going to be okay.
Well anyway. Enough consolation. How are you guys doing? I know–you think I’m bipolar b/c of my intense mood swings and lashing out at the reader. Well. Yeah. It’s abusive. But. Well. I don’t know. It’s terrible, isn’t it. No excuses! n.n
Um. What else. Checkbooks, other stuff, in an organizer on my desk. It’s the what’s-beside-your-computer game. Dontchano! I’m like adding all my personal lingo to my personal Firefox dictionary cuz the red underlining is so jagged and red it burst my ballsack brain cells in two, fried half shut cut open wide, and it’s annoying. So it’s just I fix it. I fix it b/c it is annoying. Just like you! Sweetums. n.n
So many spies. Thought police always on my ass. No idea why. Hmm.
I could explain. I could expand. But do I want to?
Do I want anything?
Who knows. Let’s just see how long I last this time. God you’re terrible. Whoever you are, you’ve got to stop. So abusive. W-hmm. Anyway. I’m not sure what to say. How are you?
Boring stuff. Boring boring boring. Kills me. Deadly philosophy. Psychological agony. Just like B said on Pretty Words for Ugly Thoughts. Deadly ugly thoughts, to kill you from the inside out (how poetic–to kill from the inside out–so grammar, much wow) on the indoors, alone, living the 1st world life more traumatic and dramatized than a war veteran from Nam. Nam nam nam. Yammy. Whoknows. Anyhoo. Bizarre. Absolutely strange behavior from these folks. Oh yeah–my parents horrify me with their stupidity. But that’s another blog post entirely. I guess you italicize the punctuation after the word, too. I started doing that, in any case. I’m actually quite smart. You wouldn’t guess it from all my anger, but… I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m learning four foreign languages just so I can say four for over and over again because it’s fun. Fore. Yep. You heard me right. Good for you. Guessing games. All the way home. Disturbing. Anyway. What else… man I hate these spikes. I’m in so much main so frequently. It’s agonizing. I’m so glad I don’t have fybromyalgia. I have schizoaffective disorder! n.n
Just for comparisons-sake. Good for you. Go home. Sleepyhead. n.n
I should go to sleep, too. I don’t know what’s wrong. So many stalkers. I need to stop calling people out. Should be more tactful. Much cunning. Kajit steal! Um. Right. Referential theft. C-c-c-c-c-combo breakerrr!!
I’m uzhe in it for the lulz, in any case. Man. Making decisions is hard. Who knew there were so many different ways to say the exact same damned thing. Sigh. It’s exhasperating indeed. What call. What half. Har har har. Who cares.
We’re making good progresss. I give up. I don’t have to be here. Goodbye. I’m not writing anymore. I don’t have to do this. It’s my word selection. Babycakes. n.n~