The Hamster In The Ball
A lot on my mind. There is always a lot on my mind. I think that this must be a deep-seeded problem, or an essential aspect of who I am. I find that terribly irritating. I dwell. I reflect a lot, because I have such complex, sometimes troubling feelings about things (not in a creepy way, just feelings that upset my peace of mind). I think it is a constant search to try and understand myself, so that I can explain myself. Oddly, I’ve known one or two people who thought I should never have to explain myself, but I am an unusual character and it is only one or two people here or there that have the ability to understand where I’m coming from. Other people simply understand moments or aspects and that is enough for them- but that often leads to a number of misunderstandings, as well.
Gaming a lot recently. It is Wintersday in Guild Wars, and the guild went out on the Festival quests It took several hours of strategizing to finally successfully complete the Wintersday 2010 snowball fight with three characters and five heroes. Cooperation is not always our strong suit, as most of us think our way is the best way, and one by one we are determined to try our way before formulating a new strategy that involves ideas from us all. Damn stubborn gamers. Anyway, I earned a shitload of XP and some really great Wintersday gifts. It’s essential that we participate as much as we can during holidays because the rewards are so vital to building title tracks. I have 5 characters all told, and I have only really played two of them. One of them is stuck in pre-searing, but she will be my prize combat character, whereas my main character is an enchanter, and her class is traditionally not as strong. And while it’s true, out in the field, I need a lot of muscle and healing when it comes to heroes, when I am out with my guild mates, I’m the disabler. I leave the foes defenseless while the muscle goes in for the kill. Tonight’s raid was definitely a lesson in passive aggression. We had to do our best to stay out of agro, and avoid combat in order to sneak up on our target and then ambush it. We eventually won using this strategy after hours of attempting to muscle our way through a blanket of baddies. I sound so lame, but really, our guild is full of ‘rock stars’. What I mean to say is that we have so much XP, that we are levelled so high, and we log so many guild hours and have built our title tracks so high that any time there is a time-sensitive event taking place wherever we’ve zoned to that we have to push people off of us like you’d think we were a rock band or something. It’s funny. Our outfits are the dead giveaway though. I don’t think a single one of us is wearing stock or collectible armor. It’s all store costumes. You can tell the game is a thing we love and cherish dearly. The money, collectively, that has been spent (for one reason or another–coff–*gifts*–coff) on my costumes could have fed me in groceries for a week! Hahaha. I wish our Guild Hall smelled of rich mahogany. *pout* I really resisted getting into GW, but I caved for my husband, who didn’t want marriage to cut down his game hours. Now I’m hooked. 😛 I am so glad that I have a laptop that can run it with a decent framerate wirelessly. My Mom comes over to play on our 40" mediaserver because her PC died, and likes to use the excuse that she wants the company. Bah. She’s just using us for our hardware. But then she sleeps on our couch because she wants to be driven home. She lives a block away and my husband is now sleeping.
Taxes are done. One less stress. Now I can pray that Pharmacare will actually notice that they owe me coverage. I’ve been intentionally leaving my penfill cartridges in the upstairs fridge in the butter door, so that my housemate can see the weekly renewing boxes of insulin with their pretty $50 price tags on them. I find it aggravating that I have to slyly browbeat people with the idea that I suffer from a serious disease, and that while I spent many years in denial, I’m not lying about it, or it’s expense. Everyone thinks their issues are just so serious. Try having to spend $9,000 a year just on medical supplies when you make $9.50/hr. I get about $450 annually in tax returns, on top of the carbon tax refund, etc. Oh woot. Medical kicked in this month, and I get extended benefits, optical and dental very soon.
Something has to be said for my work ethic. I’ve traditionally had no trouble keeping a job on my own merit- every time I have ever been let go from a job it has been based on underlying circumstances (save for my second job). I think it is bloody pathetic to consistently blame everyone else for their supposed behavior when it is quite simply how slow, or how inexperienced or how inappropriate a person behaves that is most likely responsible for their being unhireable. I tire of the immaturity and petulence that comes along with irresponsible people. We’re being schooled on the subject at work, what with the recession going on. My manager is just absolutely stalked by job applicants. You’d think they were cannibals with a preference for Italian. Oh well. I work hard and bust my ass, and worry as little as possible that the next applicant might be the one who actually surprises us and blows us out of the water. Anyway- that is my rant on that for the evening.
To the end of work- I need to continue to try and step-stone to something better. I wish I could keep my perspective from when I am jobless, broke and desperate, because believe me, that outlook will keep you interested in the work you’ve got for as long as you can keep it. Realistically, this should be the way of things for me. But I have this experience. I’ve done this job so much and so long that it is numbing- I get angry from pent-up frustration sometimes that my potential is being squandered on things I’ve already accomplished. It feels like time for the next step. And I might be content with the work I do if I had other things in my life to funnel my energy into- but at the moment it is work and extreme insomnia-fuelled recording sessions that control my life. Believe me, I am over it. Laure and I have decided that when we have a direction, we’re starting our own business. She is very adept at graphic design and advertising. I’m good at web advertising, promotion and content. I have no idea what to do with that. The applications for something that vague are infinite.
Fuck- I am such a gemini. I am definitely a person who houses two distinct personalities. Part of me is very spiritual, and yearns to be healthy and connect with my powerful, nature-nurturing spirit. I do pilates and yoga at the moment, and I am considering taking part in Zumba. I go to the gym when I can (which is almost never) and I have given serious consideration, recently, to going vegan (there are many, many testimonials of patients with Type 1 diabetes putting their disease in remission through veganism). I am also looking to rejoin the pagan church, with my Mom, and participate in all of the rituals. I am currently studying the pagan rituals of Yule. This part of me is also torn- I love very gothic-themed things; studs, leather and lace, corsetry and bustles, steampunk-inspired clothing, dark imagery and the like.
On the other hand, the other half of me is very modern- I like to go out with friends and socialize. I thrive in the city (seriously, I don’t know what it is, but the city brings a part of me to life that is indescribably important to my sense of self, to my consciousness and which inspires me in ways I’m not sure anyone could understand). I like electronics and I love to play games. I am a total gadget-head, and I geek out intensely at the thought of making my home look like the grid. And these two distinct parts of me are joined by one mutual desire. Motherhood.
I made the mistake of accidentally walking through the baby section of Toys ‘R Us today. They have an entire department for baby clothes, furniture and strollers/seats, etc. I wanted to stay there. Lots and lots of parents with newborns were out in the mall today. It was hard to walk past everyone nuzzling their soft little children with their pudgy cheeks and tufts of soft hair. Some sleeping, slumped over in their onesies, tangled up in fleece blankets in their strollers, others smiling their wet, shiny, drooling smiles and looking around with that insatiable curiosity babies have. I stood in Toys ‘R Us, next to the perfect convertible crib (it came with a changing table attached and turned into a playpen and a daybed) wondering why anyone or anything would give me such a strong desire for something and then deny it. I keep hearing from people that I will be a mother, and a great mother. But something inside is squirming, choking really, knowing that they are wrong. Even when I try to plan a pregnancy (and one that may not even be viable because of my situation) I get chastised by people who know how broke I am. Fine. Take that away, too. It’s not like anything I want matters anyway.
I’m beginning to feel like the entire point of my life is to work so that I can afford to live long enough to work. Purposelessness sucks.