Which Firefly Character Are You?
Apparently…. I am Inara. Where the hell did that come from?
Monthly Archives: September 2007
“QANTAS. QANTAS never crashed.”
Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is a psychiatric anxiety disorder most commonly characterized by a subject’s obsessive, distressing, intrusive thoughts and related compulsions (tasks or “rituals”) which attempt to neutralize the obsessions. It is listed by the World Health Organisation as one of the top 10 most disabling illnesses in terms of a diminished quality of life.
Twitch, twitch.
I bought a monitor on the weekend for the rug rat to use with his PC. The monitor is a beautiful new 19″ Samsung 232B monitor – a pristine white one. It’s so clean and white and crisp and pretty 🙂 and his daggy old dodgy off colour keyboard and mouse look even dodgier and daggier by the minute. Now it shouldnt matter. At all that the kid has some stuff that don’t look so good.
But it does matter. It matters a lot for reasons beyond my ability to explain. It bugs me. And I I have been thinking about it constantly since I bought the new monitor… and thought about looking for a new keyboard and mouse for him about six or seven times each day since Saturday. WHYYYYY????
I dont even go in that room much… so I hardly ever see it. But I know it’s there – the polar white new monitor with the ultra grotty keyboard…… AND it is making me twitch goddammit…. twitch almost as bad as when i make the bed and then someone comes along and sits on it!
Twitch, twitch……
How long do you give me before I’ve ordered The Small Child a new mouse and keyboard too?? 🙁
UPDATE: I didn’t make it through the week. :/
Perceptions are Reality
Isn’t it amazing how we can look at our friends, and see them so totally differently to how they perceive themselves. Often I like to think they’re all deluded and I know better! 🙂 (just kidding) It’s particularly odd how we like to project ‘happiness’ onto our friends, when it’s impossible to know if someone else is happy – hard enough to know if we’re happy within ourselves I think. I think it is a fairly safe assumption that hardly any of us go wandering through our lives feeling, being or knowing we are ‘happy’. For the most part, I don’t. I sometimes catch myself in certain moments and fleetingly realise that I’m happy. It’s usually little things, things that are easily overlooked or forgotten –
….. in the middle of laughing hysterically over something absurd,
….. standing out in a summer thunderstorm, rain drops falling on my face
….. the sun on my back on a cold morning with a hot cup of tea
….. lazily stretching out my back after sex 🙂
….. trying to keep up with half a dozen IM chats at once with friends
….. looking into the smiling eyes of someone you love
….. enjoying a quiet solitary moment with a glass of port
Little things like that… and occasionally I catch myself being calm, and acknowledge for that tiny little fleeting moment I’m happy – or at least for that second, I am able to over look the stresses and disappointments in my life. But they’re quick little fuckers – blink and you miss them. Seems as soon as the awareness of momentary happiness cross your consciousness… it’s gone. I find it perplexing that my worries or concerns can dominate my waking thoughts for hours, days and even weeks on end – but the things that make me feel happy manage only to surface momentarily.
Mostly I don’t think of myself as an excessively happy person. I don’t wander around smiling a lot, I don’t have a very generous sense of humour, I’m very demanding (on myself most of all), and have a tendency to ‘worry’ at things… everything.
The grand sum-total of nothingness!
When at last he drew away from her, he said, in a bitter, almost sneering little voice: ‘You couldn’t go off at the same time as a man, could you? You’d have to bring yourself off! You’d have to run the show!’
This little speech, at the moment, was one of the shocks of her life. Because that passive sort of giving himself was so obviously his only real mode of intercourse. ‘What do you mean?’ she said.
‘You know what I mean. You keep on for hours after I’ve gone off…and I have to hang on with my teeth till you bring yourself off by your own exertions.’
She was stunned by this unexpected piece of brutality, at the moment when she was glowing with a sort of pleasure beyond words, and a sort of love for him. Because, after all, like so many modern men, he was finished almost before he had begun. And that forced the woman to be active. ‘But you want me to go on, to get my own satisfaction?’ she said.
He laughed grimly: ‘I want it!’ he said. ‘That’s good! I want to hang on with my teeth clenched, while you go for me!’
‘But don’t you?’ she insisted.
He avoided the question. ‘All the darned women are like that,’ he said. ‘Either they don’t go off at all, as if they were dead in there…or else they wait till a chap’s really done, and then they start in to bring themselves off, and a chap’s got to hang on. I never had a woman yet who went off just at the same moment as I did.’
Connie only half heard this piece of novel, masculine information. She was only stunned by his feeling against her…his incomprehensible brutality. She felt so innocent. ‘But you want me to have my satisfaction too, don’t you?’ she repeated.
‘Oh, all right! I’m quite willing. But I’m darned if hanging on waiting for a woman to go off is much of a game for a man…’
This speech was one of the crucial blows of Connie’s life. It killed something in her. She had not been so very keen on Michaelis; till he started it, she did not want him. It was as if she never positively wanted him. But once he had started her, it seemed only natural for her to come to her own crisis with him. Almost she had loved him for it…almost that night she loved him, and wanted to marry him.
Perhaps instinctively he knew it, and that was why he had to bring down the whole show with a smash; the house of cards. Her whole sexual feeling for him, or for any man, collapsed that night. Her life fell apart from his as completely as if he had never existed.
.
There was debris everywhere man!
I am inexplicably bothered by the never ceasing accrual of files on my desktop – it annoys my anal retentive inner self so much that I am repeatedly finding myself sorting through it and deleting stuff. …. and I mean continuously … weekly sometimes daily looking at stuff and deciding if I need to keep it, and could it be better stored elsewhere. It’s a total mystery to me how it accumulates at all, given my obsessive-compulsive habitual and frequent sorting of the dastardly detritus that determinedly despoils my desktop!
How does it multiply like that…. one day all neat and polite on the left, and then two days later… .shit everywhere…. obscuring the wallpaper…. which you’ve no doubt ascertained is it’s main offense.
Am I the only desktop obsessed little freaker out there who can’t let the week go by without having a cleanup? Does anyone else jump on their friend’s PCs only to visibly twitch if nearly half the screen is taken up with annoying little file icons? How can I overcome this ridiculous neurosis??? 😐