So this afternoon my roommate suggested I start a dating blog. Great idea, though I'd have to pull myself from the vortex of 'OKSTUPID' long enough to document these disasters. I did throw together a couple of angst-filled rants, but will hold off on sharing them until I can afford the subsequent forced institutionalization.
In the meantime...
Here's a highlight from date number two with bachelor number seven. It came on TV when he got up to take a piss. I couldn't find exact commercial online, so you'll have to settle for a different ad from the same fine establishment.
I’ve come to hate craigslist. Hate it. I fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking hate it. In spite of steering me towards two stable living situations, two legit job interviews, and a host of time-wasting temp agencies – oh, did I mention I hate temp agencies – I have to sink my teeth and frustration deep into this proverbial hand that feeds me. Chomp chomp fucking chomp.
Oh, why, do you ask? Hmmm. Job posts, anyone?
Christ. Where-the-fuck-do-I-start? Let's see - first, there’re those obvious scams 'located’ oh-so-specifically in my generic craigslist region. The ones that would have less astute users asking exactly where-the-fuck in ‘W. Mass’ are the headquarters of your long-established-yet-anonymous-company/school/law-firm/dentist's-office/scientology-center-with-the-fantastic-growth-opportunity-at-a-suspiciously-above-par-salary-for-just-the-right-unskilled-yet-ambitious-team-player.
Some customer service and GED preferred.
Sometimes these cheats even get clever and put ‘downtown’ in the location headline. Like, DOWNTOWN FUCKING WHERE? That’s right ‘W. Mass’ is one big fucking town, just head towards the center and bam – you’ll find all those jobs. Ooh, but do I want downtown ‘Vermont’ or downtown ‘W. Mass?’ Which is closer to desperationville?
Then there’re the a-holes who’ve mastered the mystery of google maps and actually post the actual name of an actual town. Now, assuming they've spelled the name right, I have in fact wasted a mouse click on these seemingly legitimate ads before finding – surprise! – no company info! But, hurry interviews on Thursday and Friday for qualified resumes! Ooh ooh ooh! I better hurry, I can't wait much longer to be bombarded with spam for Viagra and the University of Phoenix. Or my new favorite: the free meter from Liberty Medical!
My computer was (and sort-of still is) having an issue holding its charge, which temporarily limited me to an overpriced cyber cafe in Condado. In some ways, it's been nice. Combined with a few more hours of work, it's forced me to leave my house and cut down time wasted on fucking craigslist.
But I missed writing. And without my computer I've noticed a limit in self-expression and hence a reemergence of anxieties and obsessions. Pens and notebooks have only been so helpful. Maybe it's my shitty left-handed penmanship, but I just can't seem to write as well on paper. Less organized perhaps. If you don't believe me, here's a sample of depression-saturated-emo-gizz I scribbled down over the last week. Only nicer looking, of course.
I'm sad. I don't want to leave. Having inevitable expat computer issues... holding off on buying an umbrella. Words slip away. My Spanish plateaued and crashed. It'll come back, I tell myself. I speak incorrect English more than anything now. It's raining memory and executive function. It's pouring vocabulary and syntax. None of it stays and even the established moves out. Like gentrification of a sound mind. When you get depressed, when you go crazy, you can't afford to hold on the nonsense words and notions amidst violent obsessions and dwellings.
An excerpt, sure, but you get the picture: I've been a bit of a mess- even when censored for whininess and rumination. And, in the day and a half since I've had my computer back I've managed to cram in even more unnecessary obsession: googling and re-googling to find the same articles on Freddie Ulan and HoCo, among others.
So, I can't say whether the computer fosters obsessions or just magnifies them. But, I can say that as of today I've go a new obsession: I-dosing. This should fade quickly though. Despite early success using the focus track on this site, I was disappointed after listening to this one twice:
I'll have to give it another listen when I'm not writing a blog, as I would supposed that may be a bit of a distraction. Who knows - maybe it'll stimulate some nice dreams.
This may make you laugh, or cry. I don't recommend watching more than a minute or two, because the joke gets old quick. Even as a conspiracy theorist, I couldn't stomach it for very long.
Please take note of the link for local music posted at the right, a couple of links below my profile, just above the bird. It's a nice cheat sheet for who's playing where.
Since I'll soon be subjecting you to a President's Day rant, I thought I'd throw in an extra V-day themed post. For balance.
It'll take at least two lovey-dovey posts to balance the blistering p-day thoughts I've got brewing in my brain. In the meantime, enjoy this unbalanced over-the-shoulder shot of the water. Think of it as a preventative dose of digital depakote.
