- not being able to sleep
- being hungry but not wanting to eat
- when you're hot but as soon as you do something to cool down you get cold
- not wanting to do anything
- doing drugs to do drugs
- unsatisfactory masturbation
- when people spell masturbation as "masterbation"
- when people spell things wrong in general
- still not being able to sleep
- inability to come up with hate-list items
- when music is either only too loud or too quite
- not remembering lyrics
- lack of conversation partners
- lack of interest in video games
- m rating on games
- people (that aren't me) walking in the house at night
- no will to get up and get something to eat
- that i'm annoyed that not everything in this post is uncapitalized, but i'll be annoyed if it is all non-capital
- the fact that the size of the post-area will split some of these into multiple lines
- that i couldn't figure out what (cos20)(cos40)(cos80) is
- my friend told me that it was 1/8 before i figured it out
- the numbers in this post piss me off
- basically everything
- running out of ideas
- still not being sleepy at all
- this list will end up looking much shorter than it should in my head
- lingering hunger
- lingering lack of willpower
- lingering insomnia
- that i changed the whole thing to non-capitalized and it's not pissing me off so i was wrong before which is pissing me off
- being wrong
- list will probably end up actually being too long
- so i was wrong again
- still hungry and not sleepy
- might get up after this
- i don't feel like tagging this post at all but i guess is should
- i should untag the other posts, it's useless
- don't feel like untagging posts
- fuck
5.28.2010
unsatisfactory list
this applies right now but there's some general hates here
5.24.2010
Beat Golf
Okay, so I have approximately $34 (just kidding, exactly $34), and this deal at GameStop is Buy 2 Get 1 Free (B2G1F or BTGOF or... whatever, that looks like Beat Golf) and I'm pretty sure the three games I want are all $17.99. So, I clearly don't have enough, as without tax that's $35.98, and with tax probably like $39.67 or something. This presents an issue as I'm not sure how long this deal extends for (actually, I hope it's still active).
So anyhow, now I have to go to my giant change bucket, with its maybe $50 in change (no quarters), and take out a few extra dimes. I'm not gonna put this game of Beat Golf to waste. As my bike is now stolen, I'm also putting in the effort of walking all that way (about six blocks) to GameStop. I will update when I am back. Wish me luck.
IMMEDIATE UPDATE: I didn't want to go into this unprepared, so I called the GameStop by me, and... I hate when this happens. The Beat Golf deal was... only for the weekend. Fuck me hard. I might still go though, I really want that Orange Box or Dead Space or F.E.A.R.... Damnit, I wanted them all. Now I don't have to spend my dad's quarters though. I'll update to tell you what I got, I guess.
LATER UPDATE: WELL. Deciding on Orange Box (I was a dollar or so short of getting Deadrising as well), I go to the line to the counter (mainly behind one kid). He is trying to buy a rated M game, and the guy says he needs ID. I look at my life, realize it hasn't been going on for 17 years, and ask anyway if I need my ID, hoping my beard will stray off any age-attack. The guy tells me I'm more believable than the other kid, but I need to have my ID. So no games at all.
Close enough
Well, I've looked into my dad's quarter jar that we have for laundry (I know, I'm terrible), and... Well, not I have an amazing $38.75. With my probably LOW estimate of tax (that's just sad), I'm still almost a dollar off. Uh oh, I have to go off on a tangent now.
This one time I thought I lost my swimming shorts (I haven't swam in so long, I forgot what those hydrodynamic ones are called... basically just Speedos, but not the... wrong kind). My mother would be very sad about that, and by sad, I mean ragingly angry. This would not be good. The nearest place that I knew for CERTAIN had the same exact trunks I had was about 5 miles away. That's not that much, but it still takes a bit on a bike, especially with all that traffic. Plus, the only free evening I had to make the trip was on a Friday after school, so I'd have to be quick. A bike ride was better than my angry mother though, so off I went.
The wrong kind, by the way.
When I arrived at the store, bringing all my change and money in bags and things, I found out I was about three bucks short. My entire plan and journey was... wasted?! The guy at the counter watched me take out crumpled bills and bags of change and painstakingly count them and showing them to him as if he thought that I was gonna trick him with the sheer amount of objects before him. In the end I was about three bucks off, as you already know, but he just gave me the trunks. Like, he didn't give me my money, but he wasn't a prick at all about the three bucks. And I mean, he wouldn't even be a prick, a few cents is understandable, but three bucks is a huge amount, clearly.
Anyway, the whole point of that was that sometimes people don't care that you're a little bit off if you put in the effort of having as much money as you can.
So anyhow, now I have to go to my giant change bucket, with its maybe $50 in change (no quarters), and take out a few extra dimes. I'm not gonna put this game of Beat Golf to waste. As my bike is now stolen, I'm also putting in the effort of walking all that way (about six blocks) to GameStop. I will update when I am back. Wish me luck.
IMMEDIATE UPDATE: I didn't want to go into this unprepared, so I called the GameStop by me, and... I hate when this happens. The Beat Golf deal was... only for the weekend. Fuck me hard. I might still go though, I really want that Orange Box or Dead Space or F.E.A.R.... Damnit, I wanted them all. Now I don't have to spend my dad's quarters though. I'll update to tell you what I got, I guess.
LATER UPDATE: WELL. Deciding on Orange Box (I was a dollar or so short of getting Deadrising as well), I go to the line to the counter (mainly behind one kid). He is trying to buy a rated M game, and the guy says he needs ID. I look at my life, realize it hasn't been going on for 17 years, and ask anyway if I need my ID, hoping my beard will stray off any age-attack. The guy tells me I'm more believable than the other kid, but I need to have my ID. So no games at all.
5.21.2010
2 Little Adderalls + Something Else
I'm pretty disappointed in myself. Since Wednesday I have been under the influence of at least something, with Adderall on Wednesday, something green and organic yesterday, and a combination of the two today. I haven't really had a clear thought since this morning, and that was soon ruined by hanging out with my friends, including Lil' May and Big Joe from the last post.
Let me tell you, combining drugs can have strange, intense consequences. At one moment, Lil' May... holy shit, hold that thought. I'm listening to NIN's Broken again, this time at full volume, and it is. Intense. Very. I've already used that adjective in this paragraph, but gah, it is. So loud and abusive. "Happiness In Slavery" is such a dark, painful song, but it is creepily groovy. Currently have that on.
Anyway, Lil' May handed me some blueberry muffin, and it just... I experienced what I considered the happiest moment of my life (sadly), describing it, if my memory serves me correct, as "if there was really a Force like in Star Wars in everything except instead of Force it was happiness, that bit of muffin was the center of it all and it was feeding my all the happy in the world." Then the rest of the day was me with my head down or lying down and not really responding to anyone with more than a sentence and being a bitch and telling people to stop touching me and talking to me. I am still in a shitty mood. A terribly shitty mood.
I have a fear that my brain has overproduced dopamine, and it must now recharge, leaving me in a state of shit. In fact, I have lost the will to write/type/describe. Goodbye.
Darn, what a bad, stupid, pictureless, depressing entry here.
Let me tell you, combining drugs can have strange, intense consequences. At one moment, Lil' May... holy shit, hold that thought. I'm listening to NIN's Broken again, this time at full volume, and it is. Intense. Very. I've already used that adjective in this paragraph, but gah, it is. So loud and abusive. "Happiness In Slavery" is such a dark, painful song, but it is creepily groovy. Currently have that on.
Anyway, Lil' May handed me some blueberry muffin, and it just... I experienced what I considered the happiest moment of my life (sadly), describing it, if my memory serves me correct, as "if there was really a Force like in Star Wars in everything except instead of Force it was happiness, that bit of muffin was the center of it all and it was feeding my all the happy in the world." Then the rest of the day was me with my head down or lying down and not really responding to anyone with more than a sentence and being a bitch and telling people to stop touching me and talking to me. I am still in a shitty mood. A terribly shitty mood.
I have a fear that my brain has overproduced dopamine, and it must now recharge, leaving me in a state of shit. In fact, I have lost the will to write/type/describe. Goodbye.
Darn, what a bad, stupid, pictureless, depressing entry here.
5.20.2010
4 Little Adderalls
First off, I was absolutely right when I said that I will fail to make updates at all times when I want to, such as the lack of one yesterday. Yesterday meaning Tuesday, not Wednesday. It is Thursday, granted, but since I haven't fallen asleep since Wednesday, it does not count as a new day until the sun rises. That is the official rule, you should follow it. Or not. Be a rebel. Who am I to dictate your day-naming rights?
Alright, so I have a friend, his name starts with an O so we can call him Big Joe, because that sounds silly to me right now. I have another friend, who's name starts with a J, so we can call her Lil' May. Because I said so. So Lil' May is apparently afflicted with that terrible, completely rare and valid condition called ADD. Or ADHD. I never really figured out the difference. Basically, she has some kind of attention deficit disorder. Apparently. So she was kindly and mercifully prescribed a little amphetamine called Adderall. It looks like this, at least the form she was given:
The actual pills are smaller than the ones on your screen, thankfully, otherwise they'd have a hard time being swallowed. I don't know about earlier, but now they're apperantly flavored... it's like eating a little berry capsule or something. You may be asking yourself "what?" So let's discuss what an amphetamine is. I've known this for a while, but it's interesting that today's topic in health was exactly different forms of drugs, including amphetamines. Amphetamines, or alpha-methylphenethylamines (now you can tell I'm ripping this from Wikipedia, I would never figure that naming shit out), are a form of stimulant. A stimulant is a drug that increases levels of body and brain functions, inducing greater focus, more energy, less fatigue, and a loss of appetite. Doesn't sound too bad. Note however that meth is just a stronger version of this stuff, so yeah. Not too bad.
Brainifically, the drug induces some changes in numbers of chemicals produced, particularly dopamines, the little things responsible for pleasure. Other chemicals with ridiculous names are norepinephrine, an adrenalin-like thing, and serotonin, which is too complicated for me to write about a lot at 3:41am, but apparently it controls the digestive track, but some extra serotonin controls appetite, sleep, and mood. So you can see how this stuff changes someone, obviously. It's amazing that a few milligrams of a substance in a body of about 60 kilograms (if the whole pill was an active ingredient, me taking those two would give me a 1/3000000 concentration of the stuff (if you had 30,000 dollars, and spent a cent of that, you'd spend as much of your money as there was Adderall in my body between about 12:50pm and 3:15pm yesterday)) can produce such noticeable effects.
Back to Lil' May and Big Joe though. So Lil' May has a mind for business, and besides selling much more respected articles such as the female hemp plant, she decided she has no need for her Adderalls and sells those too. Big Joe now, he has a lifestyle of never having a sober weekend, or even work-day after school-time is over. Big Joe likes to try new things, and one day he noticed that I had two little adorable pills. Actually, that's wrong. Fuck me if I ever figure out how he found out I had tried Adderall in... oh, late January maybe? But he had, and he grew immediately interested. I explained to Big Joe some of the nice calming effects the pills had on me, and prior to that, the extreme horniness I felt that led to my hand becoming my make-out partner as we watched a Health video on the cardiovascular system. Big Joe was very excited.
We made a deal and I got Big Joe two pills. Taking them, he later announced that it was some "hot shit" (he probably said something different, but that's okay). Ever since then, Big Joe has been Lil' May's number one customer in Adderall, except my best friend, who owes Lil' May in excess of $60 for the little attention-boosters. Well, today/yesterday, he ordered a nice sum of 8 pills (luckily not 881), giving me 18 dollars (each pill goes for $2 from Lil' May), with 2 for myself. I go to Lil' May, seeing her before Division, and quickly purchase 8 pills. Thinking a few seconds more about it, I decided, "what the hell" and got two (I hope the inconsistencies in using numerals and words bothers the living bacteria out of you) more with the spare $2 from the 18 and $2 I happened to have on me besides that.
I kept the pills for the next two hours or so, and finally stragetically popped both at the beginning of my 7th period class, Italian. This would have the effects kick in during 8th period Health, which I found to be a good period to be not completely there in. Come 8th period, I could barely sit the fuck still. My fingers kept twitching and all. The entire period we had an assignment involving reading about drugs and answering questions about them. For the first time the Adderall actually helped me in work instead of distracting me, and I found myself ZOOOOOMING (with that many O's) through the assignment like there's no tomorrow (or as if it was going to be graded, which it wasn't (on the note of tomorrow, I suppose I am in yesterday's tomorrow now)). I felt the need to laugh at the amphetamine section of the book, especially when it told me all the nice reasons I should not abuse these drugs (which, like all drugs, are obviously fatal at first dose).
The effect continued into my 9th period (last class), American Literature. I honestly forgot what we did there but I mostly talked to some of my friends and had a blast, due to the increased good chemicals in my brain (that was a reference to Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions, by the way. You should go read some Vonnegut, best damn author out there, simultaneously with Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman). After 9th, I decided I did not want this extremely pleasant experience to end, so I called up Lil' May (who had cut the last few classes she had) and took her up on the 6 Adderalls she owed me for various favors. Of those 6 I used 2 today/yesterday, popping one right after meeting her outside the Arts Building of my school. I met up with some friends of mine after a failed math team practice, and we proceeded to sit in a hallway for about an hour and, in retrospect, actually do nothing. Which was loads of fun.
To my great stress, it was soon time to leave at 4:30pm (which is, coincidentally, almost 12 hours ago now), so off we go on the Brown Line. Well, three of us, the others (seven of us total, so four of them) had other means of getting home. We however took the Brown Line. Come Paulina, my first friendly gets off. Then the other chap and I exit on Irving Park. He walks to the street on which he lives, at which point he turns. I was really enjoying our conversation, however, so I accompanied him home due to a sudden panic at being alone. However, at his house, we had to split, and so my fear became reality. It really wasn't that bad though. As I waited for the bus back on Irving Park Road, I popped my fourth and final pill. 80 milligrams now. Although I am Polish, having lived in America for so long, I consider myself American. Therefor, I'd now like to show some patriotism and show you an artistic expression of the American Flag:
Also, circled in yellow is what I had and probably still partially have in my body. I had never taken more than three Adderalls in a day, and the last time of any dosage was at least a month and a half ago, so my tolerance was once again next to none. Four Adderalls, I found and am still finding out, have much longer, harsher effects than two.
I got home, and decided to be calm. About five minutes later I couldn't stand it, due to a sudden OCD that had developed in me. I failed to mention earlier, but by now I absolutely HAD to have at least two people texting me, otherwise I'd start panicing. This time I HAD to put on loud and cacophonous music, with songs like "Tastes Like Kevin Bacon" by iwrestledabearonce, "Endzeit" by Heaven Shall Burn, and "But The Nuns Are Watching" by the masters of comedy, I Set My Friends On Fire.
Screaming along at violent, throat-hurting levels, I decided that I need to listen to Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile, a beautiful masterpiece with angry noises in it. Doing this, I decided that I do, in fact, have an appetite, and as fast as I could heated up some of yesterday's (Tuesday's) seafood pasta, filling three cups of orange juice as it microwaved. I had a seat in my room, on the floor, in front of my (admittingly sexy) speakers, turned up to a comfortable, ear-fucking volume of 23 (out of 30), or that much louder than a vacuum cleaner. For reference, volume 8 is easily audible during the day with all those background noises outside my window.
I just sat there, eating what seemed like an endless pasta bowl, and screaming/moaning along to Trent Reznor singing/yelling/talking/moaning about his frail, wretched existence. My mother called to my dismay, telling me her phone has nearly depleted the number of lithiom ions on the negative side of its battery's electrode (basically, the damn battery died). My mother then told me to kindly bring her her charger, not being aware of how much damage this was causing to my new, OCD-run train of thought. Sitting there for 20 minutes more than I should've, I eventually gathered the necessary equipment (socks, shoes, iPod) to carry the charger the enormous two-block distance between our apartment and her job.
Not quite tired of Nine Inch Nails, I put on The Downward Spiral at the beginning of my walk, expecting to then finish at home through better-quality speakers then screwed up, cheap, brandless earphones. However, I soon discovered the intensity of something playing less than an inch from your ear drum (which I haven't heard in a while, due to both my iPods being impractible to use unless you hold down the earphone jack the whole time, which I was doing) is quite pleasurable, especially with an intense, dense album like The Downward Spiral. I did not want to stop, and therefor walked around my neighborhood for an hour, ending up at home just as Trent was addressing his sweetest friend in "Hurt".
Damn, this is getting quite boring. I'ma skip to the part where I planned to go to sleep, followed by Big Joe telling me over AIM that he had, in fact, taken all 8 of his pills at once, and was now joyfully dancing. So here I was, in my PJ's, contacts off, in my bed, listening to more NIN, texting a rather nice girl I wouldn't at all mind dating, as well as Big Joe. I expected to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation as usual, which, not very courteous or pleasant to me, is an efficient method of sleeping. This did not work. I found that every single thing I did had some sort of negative effect on my comfort and sleep-readiness. My mouth was exceedingly dry, so I drank some orange juice, and found the weirdest sensation in my stomach of fluid moving around. I rolled on my side, no. On my back, no. Belly, no. I got too hot, so I lowered my covers. Now I was too cold. Everything had a bipolarity and both poles were dead-set on murdering my sleep.
Soon I felt sweaty and hot and figured I might in fact just have a fever. On the girl's suggestion I went to make some tea, but instead made some cocoa. Having drank this, I went to the bathroom to urinate and defecate, and found both pissing and shitting hugely beneficial in reducing my fever-like symptoms. The milk also helped reduce my hunger, at least for a while. But perhaps due to not-completely-gone effects or the OCD need to text, I still could not fall asleep. By about 1:30 both my chatting buddies were asleep, despite assertions minutes earlier from both that they were "not tired at all" and "awake to the fullest". I turned on The Downward Spiral again and sang and screamed and moaned along, this time hearing different noises because of the different audio delivery.
This is me in my bed. Sorta. Or that's who I imagine myself as. Not even, I tend to imagine myself as myself when I'm singing/yelling/moaning depressing, suicidal, sex-fueled, cleverly-worded diary entries. I keep sounding like I'm making fun of Nine Inch Nails or Trent here, but it really is my favorite band, and he my favorite artist. Also I guess he's my favorite band, being the only actual NIN dude.
Finishing that album at about 2:30, I was at a loss of what to do. I was once again hungry, so I went and made more cocoa. I then torrented Broken, also by Nine Inch Nails, which hugely goes against my policy of buying actual albums, ESPECIALLY from my favorite band, but I had that urge to listen to it. So I did soon, the torrent being done in about 5 minutes remarkably. The end of the record occured around 3:40, by which time I had started writing this entry. Jesus, I've been typing this for an hour now. If it sucks, I'm sorry, I have a temporary case of insomnia and frankly don't give a fuck because nobody's gonna read this stuff ever except me, or at least not for a LONG time. I now have about 100 minutes till it is time for me to wake up and take a shower, followed by getting ready for school. I don't get why I get up at 6:20 if school begins at 8:50. Oh right, the train takes... well no, the train takes about 35 minutes. Actually, as I had done before, I could wake up at 7:30, skip the shower, do all the essentials, and still leave the house at 8 and comfortably make it to school.
I am out of writing fuel and am once again hungry, so I'll go make more cocoa. It's a lot like that image I got off Google right there to the right, except... it's in a yellow cup. And It's a taller, more cylindrical cup. And it's a lighter shade of... whatever, brown. And come to think of it this whole time it was chocolate milk, not hot cocoa. I don't actually know the difference, but I imagine it's about the same thing. So no worries.
Jesus Christ, what do I do now? I still have time to kill. I'll go check my Facebook... nothing new. There's an amazing 4 people in idle chat mode. I don't want to talk to them.
Goodnight. Or goodmorning. Wish me luck on functioning properly today.
UPDATE: Having looked at this post soon after posting, I realized that these paragraphs are huge and unseemly and the images sucked in being where they should be. I fixed the images but fuck no am I rewriting/editing all this stuff. It's 5am! As it is getting lighter outside, it is now officially Thursday. I think I might've said Tuesday earlier. I frankly don't care.
Alright, so I have a friend, his name starts with an O so we can call him Big Joe, because that sounds silly to me right now. I have another friend, who's name starts with a J, so we can call her Lil' May. Because I said so. So Lil' May is apparently afflicted with that terrible, completely rare and valid condition called ADD. Or ADHD. I never really figured out the difference. Basically, she has some kind of attention deficit disorder. Apparently. So she was kindly and mercifully prescribed a little amphetamine called Adderall. It looks like this, at least the form she was given:
The actual pills are smaller than the ones on your screen, thankfully, otherwise they'd have a hard time being swallowed. I don't know about earlier, but now they're apperantly flavored... it's like eating a little berry capsule or something. You may be asking yourself "what?" So let's discuss what an amphetamine is. I've known this for a while, but it's interesting that today's topic in health was exactly different forms of drugs, including amphetamines. Amphetamines, or alpha-methylphenethylamines (now you can tell I'm ripping this from Wikipedia, I would never figure that naming shit out), are a form of stimulant. A stimulant is a drug that increases levels of body and brain functions, inducing greater focus, more energy, less fatigue, and a loss of appetite. Doesn't sound too bad. Note however that meth is just a stronger version of this stuff, so yeah. Not too bad.
Brainifically, the drug induces some changes in numbers of chemicals produced, particularly dopamines, the little things responsible for pleasure. Other chemicals with ridiculous names are norepinephrine, an adrenalin-like thing, and serotonin, which is too complicated for me to write about a lot at 3:41am, but apparently it controls the digestive track, but some extra serotonin controls appetite, sleep, and mood. So you can see how this stuff changes someone, obviously. It's amazing that a few milligrams of a substance in a body of about 60 kilograms (if the whole pill was an active ingredient, me taking those two would give me a 1/3000000 concentration of the stuff (if you had 30,000 dollars, and spent a cent of that, you'd spend as much of your money as there was Adderall in my body between about 12:50pm and 3:15pm yesterday)) can produce such noticeable effects.
Back to Lil' May and Big Joe though. So Lil' May has a mind for business, and besides selling much more respected articles such as the female hemp plant, she decided she has no need for her Adderalls and sells those too. Big Joe now, he has a lifestyle of never having a sober weekend, or even work-day after school-time is over. Big Joe likes to try new things, and one day he noticed that I had two little adorable pills. Actually, that's wrong. Fuck me if I ever figure out how he found out I had tried Adderall in... oh, late January maybe? But he had, and he grew immediately interested. I explained to Big Joe some of the nice calming effects the pills had on me, and prior to that, the extreme horniness I felt that led to my hand becoming my make-out partner as we watched a Health video on the cardiovascular system. Big Joe was very excited.
We made a deal and I got Big Joe two pills. Taking them, he later announced that it was some "hot shit" (he probably said something different, but that's okay). Ever since then, Big Joe has been Lil' May's number one customer in Adderall, except my best friend, who owes Lil' May in excess of $60 for the little attention-boosters. Well, today/yesterday, he ordered a nice sum of 8 pills (luckily not 881), giving me 18 dollars (each pill goes for $2 from Lil' May), with 2 for myself. I go to Lil' May, seeing her before Division, and quickly purchase 8 pills. Thinking a few seconds more about it, I decided, "what the hell" and got two (I hope the inconsistencies in using numerals and words bothers the living bacteria out of you) more with the spare $2 from the 18 and $2 I happened to have on me besides that.
I kept the pills for the next two hours or so, and finally stragetically popped both at the beginning of my 7th period class, Italian. This would have the effects kick in during 8th period Health, which I found to be a good period to be not completely there in. Come 8th period, I could barely sit the fuck still. My fingers kept twitching and all. The entire period we had an assignment involving reading about drugs and answering questions about them. For the first time the Adderall actually helped me in work instead of distracting me, and I found myself ZOOOOOMING (with that many O's) through the assignment like there's no tomorrow (or as if it was going to be graded, which it wasn't (on the note of tomorrow, I suppose I am in yesterday's tomorrow now)). I felt the need to laugh at the amphetamine section of the book, especially when it told me all the nice reasons I should not abuse these drugs (which, like all drugs, are obviously fatal at first dose).
The effect continued into my 9th period (last class), American Literature. I honestly forgot what we did there but I mostly talked to some of my friends and had a blast, due to the increased good chemicals in my brain (that was a reference to Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions, by the way. You should go read some Vonnegut, best damn author out there, simultaneously with Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman). After 9th, I decided I did not want this extremely pleasant experience to end, so I called up Lil' May (who had cut the last few classes she had) and took her up on the 6 Adderalls she owed me for various favors. Of those 6 I used 2 today/yesterday, popping one right after meeting her outside the Arts Building of my school. I met up with some friends of mine after a failed math team practice, and we proceeded to sit in a hallway for about an hour and, in retrospect, actually do nothing. Which was loads of fun.
To my great stress, it was soon time to leave at 4:30pm (which is, coincidentally, almost 12 hours ago now), so off we go on the Brown Line. Well, three of us, the others (seven of us total, so four of them) had other means of getting home. We however took the Brown Line. Come Paulina, my first friendly gets off. Then the other chap and I exit on Irving Park. He walks to the street on which he lives, at which point he turns. I was really enjoying our conversation, however, so I accompanied him home due to a sudden panic at being alone. However, at his house, we had to split, and so my fear became reality. It really wasn't that bad though. As I waited for the bus back on Irving Park Road, I popped my fourth and final pill. 80 milligrams now. Although I am Polish, having lived in America for so long, I consider myself American. Therefor, I'd now like to show some patriotism and show you an artistic expression of the American Flag:
Also, circled in yellow is what I had and probably still partially have in my body. I had never taken more than three Adderalls in a day, and the last time of any dosage was at least a month and a half ago, so my tolerance was once again next to none. Four Adderalls, I found and am still finding out, have much longer, harsher effects than two.
I got home, and decided to be calm. About five minutes later I couldn't stand it, due to a sudden OCD that had developed in me. I failed to mention earlier, but by now I absolutely HAD to have at least two people texting me, otherwise I'd start panicing. This time I HAD to put on loud and cacophonous music, with songs like "Tastes Like Kevin Bacon" by iwrestledabearonce, "Endzeit" by Heaven Shall Burn, and "But The Nuns Are Watching" by the masters of comedy, I Set My Friends On Fire.
Screaming along at violent, throat-hurting levels, I decided that I need to listen to Nine Inch Nails' The Fragile, a beautiful masterpiece with angry noises in it. Doing this, I decided that I do, in fact, have an appetite, and as fast as I could heated up some of yesterday's (Tuesday's) seafood pasta, filling three cups of orange juice as it microwaved. I had a seat in my room, on the floor, in front of my (admittingly sexy) speakers, turned up to a comfortable, ear-fucking volume of 23 (out of 30), or that much louder than a vacuum cleaner. For reference, volume 8 is easily audible during the day with all those background noises outside my window.
I just sat there, eating what seemed like an endless pasta bowl, and screaming/moaning along to Trent Reznor singing/yelling/talking/moaning about his frail, wretched existence. My mother called to my dismay, telling me her phone has nearly depleted the number of lithiom ions on the negative side of its battery's electrode (basically, the damn battery died). My mother then told me to kindly bring her her charger, not being aware of how much damage this was causing to my new, OCD-run train of thought. Sitting there for 20 minutes more than I should've, I eventually gathered the necessary equipment (socks, shoes, iPod) to carry the charger the enormous two-block distance between our apartment and her job.
Not quite tired of Nine Inch Nails, I put on The Downward Spiral at the beginning of my walk, expecting to then finish at home through better-quality speakers then screwed up, cheap, brandless earphones. However, I soon discovered the intensity of something playing less than an inch from your ear drum (which I haven't heard in a while, due to both my iPods being impractible to use unless you hold down the earphone jack the whole time, which I was doing) is quite pleasurable, especially with an intense, dense album like The Downward Spiral. I did not want to stop, and therefor walked around my neighborhood for an hour, ending up at home just as Trent was addressing his sweetest friend in "Hurt".
Damn, this is getting quite boring. I'ma skip to the part where I planned to go to sleep, followed by Big Joe telling me over AIM that he had, in fact, taken all 8 of his pills at once, and was now joyfully dancing. So here I was, in my PJ's, contacts off, in my bed, listening to more NIN, texting a rather nice girl I wouldn't at all mind dating, as well as Big Joe. I expected to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation as usual, which, not very courteous or pleasant to me, is an efficient method of sleeping. This did not work. I found that every single thing I did had some sort of negative effect on my comfort and sleep-readiness. My mouth was exceedingly dry, so I drank some orange juice, and found the weirdest sensation in my stomach of fluid moving around. I rolled on my side, no. On my back, no. Belly, no. I got too hot, so I lowered my covers. Now I was too cold. Everything had a bipolarity and both poles were dead-set on murdering my sleep.
Soon I felt sweaty and hot and figured I might in fact just have a fever. On the girl's suggestion I went to make some tea, but instead made some cocoa. Having drank this, I went to the bathroom to urinate and defecate, and found both pissing and shitting hugely beneficial in reducing my fever-like symptoms. The milk also helped reduce my hunger, at least for a while. But perhaps due to not-completely-gone effects or the OCD need to text, I still could not fall asleep. By about 1:30 both my chatting buddies were asleep, despite assertions minutes earlier from both that they were "not tired at all" and "awake to the fullest". I turned on The Downward Spiral again and sang and screamed and moaned along, this time hearing different noises because of the different audio delivery.
Finishing that album at about 2:30, I was at a loss of what to do. I was once again hungry, so I went and made more cocoa. I then torrented Broken, also by Nine Inch Nails, which hugely goes against my policy of buying actual albums, ESPECIALLY from my favorite band, but I had that urge to listen to it. So I did soon, the torrent being done in about 5 minutes remarkably. The end of the record occured around 3:40, by which time I had started writing this entry. Jesus, I've been typing this for an hour now. If it sucks, I'm sorry, I have a temporary case of insomnia and frankly don't give a fuck because nobody's gonna read this stuff ever except me, or at least not for a LONG time. I now have about 100 minutes till it is time for me to wake up and take a shower, followed by getting ready for school. I don't get why I get up at 6:20 if school begins at 8:50. Oh right, the train takes... well no, the train takes about 35 minutes. Actually, as I had done before, I could wake up at 7:30, skip the shower, do all the essentials, and still leave the house at 8 and comfortably make it to school.
Jesus Christ, what do I do now? I still have time to kill. I'll go check my Facebook... nothing new. There's an amazing 4 people in idle chat mode. I don't want to talk to them.
Goodnight. Or goodmorning. Wish me luck on functioning properly today.
UPDATE: Having looked at this post soon after posting, I realized that these paragraphs are huge and unseemly and the images sucked in being where they should be. I fixed the images but fuck no am I rewriting/editing all this stuff. It's 5am! As it is getting lighter outside, it is now officially Thursday. I think I might've said Tuesday earlier. I frankly don't care.
5.16.2010
Hat Trick ):
So you know those days when you start something new and you don't want to stop because it's awesome? That's like me and this blog here. I promised myself I wouldn't be too stupid and make more than a post every two or three days, you know, keep it coming slow and steady. Here I am, making the THIRD entry in a day. It is my first day and I have nothing better to do, but still.
Since this little project of mine is a release for when I'm bored, I guess that it's all okay for me to update it whenever I feel like. I just have this bad feeling that whatever imaginary people are reading my blog are... bored. Because my blog isn't particularly clever or entertaining. And they're so critical. And want to hurt me in horrid ways involving hot staplers.
I think about it and realize that all these criticisms are in my head, and I shouldn't care what my imaginary audience thinks, or, if ever they exist, my real audience. This whole project is for my self-enjoyment, and if it's not leading to that, there's no point at all in it. So yeah, I could be critical of myself and say "oh no, I'm such a stupid hobo flint-fucker, making more than one entry in a day!" Or I could be supportive and go "this is your project, Pat. You do whatever the hell you feel like, and besides. This makes up for all those times you'll be too lazy to update!"
Knowing how my life works, I'll be superduper active on this for a few weeks, maybe even some months, then it'll die away into nothing as I stop caring enough to update. Two months later or so, I'll attempt to make a daring comeback, with such encouraging messages as "I really should get back to this!" and "Break time OVER." Then I'll update up to FOUR times, and I'll be happy. Then I'll forget to and just say "ehhhh, later." Finally, I'll feel miserable for letting another part of me die.
I had a journal once, and that was the one exception where my comeback totally kicked everything's ass, with a new entry every day and all that stuff (not a LiveJournal, an ACTUAL JOURNAL that I could do ANYTHING to). I was so happy, and I was like "damn, in twenty years since I'll totally still have this I'll be able to see how stupid or smart I was and reminesce about the good ol' days". Too bad my journal was for school. And too bad my schoolwork is in my backpack. Too bad that backpack's now LOST. You may be brave and ask "how the bloody fuck do you lose a backpack?" To which I'd reply "beats me."
Thanks to a typo I fixed earlier (on "ehhhh, later."), I figured out that later and alter are almost the same word. Hot damn, I just made my day.
Since this little project of mine is a release for when I'm bored, I guess that it's all okay for me to update it whenever I feel like. I just have this bad feeling that whatever imaginary people are reading my blog are... bored. Because my blog isn't particularly clever or entertaining. And they're so critical. And want to hurt me in horrid ways involving hot staplers.
I think about it and realize that all these criticisms are in my head, and I shouldn't care what my imaginary audience thinks, or, if ever they exist, my real audience. This whole project is for my self-enjoyment, and if it's not leading to that, there's no point at all in it. So yeah, I could be critical of myself and say "oh no, I'm such a stupid hobo flint-fucker, making more than one entry in a day!" Or I could be supportive and go "this is your project, Pat. You do whatever the hell you feel like, and besides. This makes up for all those times you'll be too lazy to update!"
Knowing how my life works, I'll be superduper active on this for a few weeks, maybe even some months, then it'll die away into nothing as I stop caring enough to update. Two months later or so, I'll attempt to make a daring comeback, with such encouraging messages as "I really should get back to this!" and "Break time OVER." Then I'll update up to FOUR times, and I'll be happy. Then I'll forget to and just say "ehhhh, later." Finally, I'll feel miserable for letting another part of me die.
I had a journal once, and that was the one exception where my comeback totally kicked everything's ass, with a new entry every day and all that stuff (not a LiveJournal, an ACTUAL JOURNAL that I could do ANYTHING to). I was so happy, and I was like "damn, in twenty years since I'll totally still have this I'll be able to see how stupid or smart I was and reminesce about the good ol' days". Too bad my journal was for school. And too bad my schoolwork is in my backpack. Too bad that backpack's now LOST. You may be brave and ask "how the bloody fuck do you lose a backpack?" To which I'd reply "beats me."
Thanks to a typo I fixed earlier (on "ehhhh, later."), I figured out that later and alter are almost the same word. Hot damn, I just made my day.
On Pictures And The Best Food Ever
So if you're so keen to notice, my last and first post had two very nice pictures in it that I definitely worked on for maybe six or seven days... straight. But even with that massive amount of dedication, the end result came out pretty sloppy. Terribly sloppy. So sloppy as I should be ashamed of my work.
Pictures tend to spice up a blog, make it more interesting than a large or unlarge squad of text, bombarding your eyes and brain with organized, nicely presented information. That doesn't quite work for your brain, unless you've got nothing better to do. Your brain wants to have fun and be busy, and it can't do that while it's absorbing MORE and MORE characters. I'm definitely sure I've written over FORTY-ONE (that's a prime too!) words now, and your brain wants to say "STOP IT JESUS TWO PARAGRAPHS IS JUST TOO MUCH".
Now, the type of image is important too. I could just import something from Wikipedia, like so:
While certainly a fine-quality, educational image, it serves no purpose. And, unless this was a blog strictly about math and we were discussing the golden ratio, you wouldn't want to see such an amount of work in an equation, or an equation at all. So perhaps a different, less informative image would be necessary. Instead of pulling something off Wikipedia, I could type 'ass clouds' into google and get this:
Oh that's nice. Look at those clouds, they look so smooth. I wish I could just lick them, I'll bet they taste like the best damn ice cream ever. You know, ice cream is sometimes disregarded as a dessert, or a rare-occasion thing, or something you'd buy at Jewel or that one store that doesn't exist in Chicago but does everywhere else, Kroger. No no, ice cream is a fine delicacy that should be enjoyed as often as possible. I once had the pleasure of going to Charlie Trotter's, some insanely fancy restaurant, and had some nice olive oil sorbet. You may be thinking something along the lines of "what the fuck", but no, this was definitely the best meal of my life. You may also be thinking "sorbet isn't ice cream", but fuck you.
Olive Sorbet, courtesy of the hungry hedonist:
Having run clean out of ways to continue this post (just kidding, I'm just lazy), here's a picture everyone might enjoy regardless of context:
Pictures tend to spice up a blog, make it more interesting than a large or unlarge squad of text, bombarding your eyes and brain with organized, nicely presented information. That doesn't quite work for your brain, unless you've got nothing better to do. Your brain wants to have fun and be busy, and it can't do that while it's absorbing MORE and MORE characters. I'm definitely sure I've written over FORTY-ONE (that's a prime too!) words now, and your brain wants to say "STOP IT JESUS TWO PARAGRAPHS IS JUST TOO MUCH".
Now, the type of image is important too. I could just import something from Wikipedia, like so:
While certainly a fine-quality, educational image, it serves no purpose. And, unless this was a blog strictly about math and we were discussing the golden ratio, you wouldn't want to see such an amount of work in an equation, or an equation at all. So perhaps a different, less informative image would be necessary. Instead of pulling something off Wikipedia, I could type 'ass clouds' into google and get this:
Oh that's nice. Look at those clouds, they look so smooth. I wish I could just lick them, I'll bet they taste like the best damn ice cream ever. You know, ice cream is sometimes disregarded as a dessert, or a rare-occasion thing, or something you'd buy at Jewel or that one store that doesn't exist in Chicago but does everywhere else, Kroger. No no, ice cream is a fine delicacy that should be enjoyed as often as possible. I once had the pleasure of going to Charlie Trotter's, some insanely fancy restaurant, and had some nice olive oil sorbet. You may be thinking something along the lines of "what the fuck", but no, this was definitely the best meal of my life. You may also be thinking "sorbet isn't ice cream", but fuck you.
Olive Sorbet, courtesy of the hungry hedonist:
Having run clean out of ways to continue this post (just kidding, I'm just lazy), here's a picture everyone might enjoy regardless of context:
The Hardest Decision Ever Made
So here I am, or was, and probably will be, at 3:53 AM, unable to sleep and without any friends except this one guy who's so cool for being stupid like me and not sleeping. And I decide to make a blog because I was reading a blog earlier and I was like "Holy woah, I have thoughts and things to write! I could probably even make or take a picture or two! Blog time? YEAH BABY!"
I excitedly typed blogspot into my URL bar up there, ready to enter that crazy world of clever people who know how to entertain (I can italize with the click of two buttons?!). Ecstatic with joy, I was struck with a dilemma. What on Earth do I name my blog? This would be what it'd be remembered as when I become world-known for my wit! People would go "You know that blog, [awesome mysterious but not too dramatic name here]? It's pretty damn bitchin'."
I took a good FIVE MINUTES (did I highlight that text and click the 'b' up there? Hell no! ctrl+b sucka!) deciding, in an irrational, panicful (that's a word), insomnia-driven frenzy on what to entitle this masterpiece, on what to brand my work as. I went to from stupid titles like "Cleverly-Titled Blog" to the absurd but tasty and still stupid "Banana Cream".
After a while I got into my usual exercise of thinking about numbers, and then I remembered this list of primes I made out of boredom, and then it hit me.
Think about the types of numbers you see. I don't know what types of numbers you see. You might see numbers like $1,237.58 as a salary and then $920.33 as a salary after everything's taken away from it. You might see numbers like 56 and 33 and 18 if you're into the whole lottery business. If you're in high-school trigonometry like me, you might see sin70. I also do math competitions, math is my thing see, and I regularly see answers that are between 1 and 300, some crazy 9-digit numbers, roots of roots of roots, and simple, non-threatening fractions like 11/6. But what I never ever see are numbers in the 800s. Especially not 880s. And 881, I don't think I've ever seen that number until I made my list of primes (881 is the 152nd if I recall).
Since that day (about two weeks ago now), 881 has stuck in my head as the oddest number. The ugly duckling of numbers. Yet it has so much charm, it's not ugly. It's too beautiful to be with the other, lowlier numbers, like 1 and -3 and that freak i. Therefor this blog is beautiful. Read it every day. Even if I don't update. I'll give you free platonic love, and physical love if you want it bad enough.
I excitedly typed blogspot into my URL bar up there, ready to enter that crazy world of clever people who know how to entertain (I can italize with the click of two buttons?!). Ecstatic with joy, I was struck with a dilemma. What on Earth do I name my blog? This would be what it'd be remembered as when I become world-known for my wit! People would go "You know that blog, [awesome mysterious but not too dramatic name here]? It's pretty damn bitchin'."
I took a good FIVE MINUTES (did I highlight that text and click the 'b' up there? Hell no! ctrl+b sucka!) deciding, in an irrational, panicful (that's a word), insomnia-driven frenzy on what to entitle this masterpiece, on what to brand my work as. I went to from stupid titles like "Cleverly-Titled Blog" to the absurd but tasty and still stupid "Banana Cream".
After a while I got into my usual exercise of thinking about numbers, and then I remembered this list of primes I made out of boredom, and then it hit me.
Think about the types of numbers you see. I don't know what types of numbers you see. You might see numbers like $1,237.58 as a salary and then $920.33 as a salary after everything's taken away from it. You might see numbers like 56 and 33 and 18 if you're into the whole lottery business. If you're in high-school trigonometry like me, you might see sin70. I also do math competitions, math is my thing see, and I regularly see answers that are between 1 and 300, some crazy 9-digit numbers, roots of roots of roots, and simple, non-threatening fractions like 11/6. But what I never ever see are numbers in the 800s. Especially not 880s. And 881, I don't think I've ever seen that number until I made my list of primes (881 is the 152nd if I recall).
Since that day (about two weeks ago now), 881 has stuck in my head as the oddest number. The ugly duckling of numbers. Yet it has so much charm, it's not ugly. It's too beautiful to be with the other, lowlier numbers, like 1 and -3 and that freak i. Therefor this blog is beautiful. Read it every day. Even if I don't update. I'll give you free platonic love, and physical love if you want it bad enough.
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