There’s a bread company conspiracy where they always put an odd number of slices in the pack so you can’t make a sandwich with the last one

There’s a bread company conspiracy where they always put an odd number of slices in the pack so you can’t make a sandwich with the last one
Bronwen and I agreed to a marriage pact, where we would marry each other if we weren’t in a relationship by a certain age. The thing is, she’s six years younger than me, so we decided that her expiration date is 35, and mine 41, because it’s easier for men to date/marry than women, at an older age.
Note how I didn’t say “easy”. Heaven knows I had a hard enough time with dating in my teens. And twenties. And probably 30s.
According to her, we also have a suicide pact, even though I have no recollection of this. The only reason I can think of agreeing to that is if large parts of the world were destroyed by meteors, leading to the collapse of the economic system, creating anarchy, and reducing everyone to hunter-gatherers.
Bronwen and I are most certainly not hunter-gatherers, and we’d probably suffer unbearably just trying to survive, or be killed soon after because we’re too naive or compassionate for a dog-eat-dog world. The thing is, if that happened I’d try to join forces with Pat and Jen, because they always have everything together1. So maybe if they were also killed by this cosmic hailstorm, then it would still be an option.
Ah-ah-ah-AH-TREYU
Office mate just gave me a beautiful European designer shirt! So nice! And it fits!!
An exhausting Tai Chi class has left parts of my body shaking. I’m probably doing something wrong, but at least I’ll sleep well tonight.
(Turn up the sound!)
I never have a lot of it, but when I do, it means I can scratch my cat with my chin.
Once again, taken with my iPhone.
Taking an ice cream and Buffalo ’66 break. This is going to be good.
They’re putting me on the road today. At least it’ll be a chance to listen to the new music I got from Trolley.
She was looking through some of my photos when she asked, “Is that the girl you like? The one on the swing?”
“Yeah”, I said. Then, “Like? Liked?”, because I wasn’t sure.
“You still like her. If you’re questioning it, that means you still do.”
Damn.
(I thought it only appropriate that I name this entry after another Shane Watt song, as the last one was as well. Amazingly enough, they both go together.)
I’ve been feeling better. A lot better actually. One of the reasons why I was feeling so depressed on Friday was because I was so unmotivated, not so much in terms of not wanting to do anything, but not wanting to do anything productive.
Part of this puritan attitude (as John’s professor dad calls it) is due to my upbringing. The months of summer between school semesters were never a time to relax, according to my parents, it was a time to study ahead for the upcoming year. I was made to feel guilty if I was having fun.
Then, at one point on Friday, I realized how wrong that was.
So this weekend I embraced my lack of motivation. I decided that I didn’t care about being productive. That I’ve been working hard the last few weeks and I’m ahead on my projects, so I needed a break.
I watched a few movies I’d been saving. I hung out with Bronwen. I played some GTA IV (which offers it’s own particular satisfaction in terms of being able to beat up executives and hipsters who are walking around with cups of gourmet coffee). When I needed a break, I decided to do some maintenance on my music library, something I never seem to find the time for otherwise. And what do you know, I ended up being productive without meaning to.
Amazing how a change in mindset can instantly flip one’s mood. It’s normally not so easy for me, because in the back of my mind I feel like I’m fooling myself, but for some reason, it worked really well this time. Probably because it makes a lot of sense.
Next week, I’m going to stick to a schedule to get things back on track. I’m going to exercise some self-control and abstain from any brain activity and start reading one of the books that Tatiana gave me, to help me fall asleep before bed.
I used to think that I should always be looking forward to tomorrow. Instead, I’m looking forward to right now.
Playing one-on-one Taboo definitely requires an honour system to make sure you’re giving your opponent the best clues.
Bronwen and I had a hug-off against each other. We won.
It’s been a particularly trying week. I’ve been feeling so jaded. Broken. Helpless. Undefined.
Both the cause and the consequence is that I’ve been sleeping terribly lately. Next week I’m going to try to have a more self-control and stay on a strict schedule. Bring some order into my life.
I tried to make an appointment with my therapist, since I have $300 mental health coverage with my work per calendar year (although this only amounts to two sessions). Unfortunately, I need a referral from my family doctor to claim the coverage, because referrals are only good for one year, and it’s been that long since I saw him.
I think of how judgmental my dad was when I told him I was seeing a psychologist. But then I realize that he’s probably the only person I feel like I can really talk to right now (my therapist, not my dad). I wish I could talk to my friends, but my thoughts are either too embarrassing to admit to them, or too complicated for them to understand.
I’ve been listening to some quiet, sombre stuff lately. Trying to acquire a taste for Leonard Cohen’s middle years, when he traded in his guitar for horns and violins, even some Depeche Mode. Depeche Fucking Mode. It hasn’t been helping.
I just don’t know what to do with myself lately. But I’m pretty sure I really need to cry right now.
There is now at least one other person (that I know of) with the same tattoo as me (in concept, at least): http://tinyurl.com/mxdyrk