May 2nd, 2003

running, bomb tech

Damn, I'm good.

I have words of wisdom [post is heavily filtered] that I just pull out of my ass every now and then.

I just read about something, and respond to it, letting the words flow. It's odd, how I do that... and then I'm surprised when it turns out to be close to what was actually going on.

How odd, I always think... because I never should have drawn those conclusions.
running, bomb tech

Outline of the Day

So. Here's what happened.

Pick up LF.
Mommy comes home.
Head out: her for paycheck, me for plasma.
Drama over screw in seatbelt.
Actually head out.
Oooh, construction.
Wow, fast at plasma place.
Who forgot to lock the fucking door?
Hi, honey.
Panic search for checkbook.
Find checkbook.
Nap (hers).
Head for Sam's.
B pulls shit.
Call repair guy.
Head for repair guy's place.
Oh, let's cruise through construction again.
A train a train a train a train!
Holy shit, we made it.
The fuck's going on?
Ah well. Shopping.
Another. Goddamn. Train.
Oh, it was just overfilled. Let's go home anyway. No, let's go shopping.
...or was it? Shit. (Pfew!)
God Damn. There's that pesky construction again...
Mmm, shopping for stuff we need. LF, I thought I already told you, BEHAVE!
Oh, so he behaves for me and not for y'all? That's fucked up.
OK, done shopping.
Honey, we're home!
Oh, and we have pie.
OK, my turn to drive B. Into the parking spot we go.
Mommy and Marx need to shower so they can head off to do stuff with Chonch and her wife and the hard drives from Red!
Hungry LF. Wow, no complaints or even comments about the lettuce, and he saw me stick it in there too.
Night-night, LF.
Darkside on phone.
Bye, honey, have fun.
More Darkside on phone.
Ah, that was nice.
Catch up on LJ and comments.
running, bomb tech

I'm *evil*.

I told Mr. Benes (the jokin' Okie) the one about the rapscallion.

He will likely share it with his classes.

I'm evil.
running, bomb tech

Wow. Ow.

Stomach demands lunch. Have been working and slacking on my webpage. mi_wounded_soul, who turns out to be yaksha42's new roommate (You guys should tell me these things; I tend to friend back those that I know IRL!!) stopped into lab and said hi, and approved of my slacking ways.

I do not like baseball.* McGuirk does like it, so I'm happily (well, pseudo-happily) "chunking" a document that tells me more about the history of baseball than I care to know. All I needed to learn about baseball, I learned by reading In the Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinson, which may have been a Battle book, way back when. Good book. Don't care for the sport. Even though Ben Sisko does.

*Joan is probably going to yell at me for this one, but it's true.

You guys update a lot. That, and slashdot is broken again. Damn LJ's bad RSS habits!!
trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats

Darkside: clarifications and a little history.

It was brought to my attention that a lot of my recent Darkside posts sound angsty, drown-in-own-sweet-misery.

That wasn't really the intent, actually. It's hard to express the level of joy and delight I find in this man's company. I adore him, and he enjoys my company a surprising amount for how introverted and generally nonsocial he is.

I love him and we both know it. We don't talk about it much.

I want him to screw my brains out and we both know it. Neither of us mentions it.

I miss him terribly, and I tell him so every time we speak. Sometimes several times. The standard answer is, "That's not what these bruises say," referring to the fact that he and I spar with each other and sometimes inflict noticable marks, though no actual damage.

I worry about him frequently, as he does about me. We're neither one of us particularly whole at the moment; he has his empty places and wounds, as I have mine. In the past, he's been the one taking care of broken me. Recently, I've become well enough to do a few things to help him when I see somewhere that he's hurting.

We're best friends, and I would never lessen that, or take it in a direction that both of us weren't happy with. After a certain Huge Clue was whacked over my head, I've become exceptionally contented with the bond we have now, because now I can see not only where it could go, but why it's not going there.

It would be a mistake for our bond to get pushed any further until certain things get straightened out on both ends. I know what quite a few of them are, and we're slowly making progress on them. Some of them are pretty big.

I love him, and I miss him, and I would like to date him, or more... but you don't start a cross-country road trip when the Check Engine light comes on every two seconds, and there's an oil leak, and things are about to fall off. And you don't fix those problems by pushing the car down the hill to get it started. You fix it by taking it to a car repair place. Sometimes you do have to push the car down the hill to get it started in order to get it to the car repair place, but...

We have time, now. So I have patience.

I love him. It's awe-inspiring and delightful and scary and strange and weird and wonderful. I wouldn't trade it out, which explains why I haven't...
running, bomb tech


I'm going back, reading my journal, and commenting in it, annotating it. It's definitely interesting. ...I was so young.
running, bomb tech

'Til Death Do Us Part

...After thinking about it for quite some time, here and there, I've decided that Darkside and I can't do anything "'til death do us part".


I don't think death's going to part us.

I have a strong mystical streak, and I have noticed the strength of the connection between us. I don't think either of us are going anywhere, spiritually, without the other, any time soon. If I predecease him, it's likely that I'll either remain with him until he joins me, or we'll arrange to meet up somewhere.

There's no way I can ever write that note, now. If I went somewhere he couldn't follow, he would, anyway. Or he'd have a high chance of doing so. I can't risk that.