So, I just got internet in my apartment. I came home after work and attempted to secure my wireless network. Then I realized I’m a silly girl who has no idea how to do such a thing. I screwed it up and then a friend told me about the reset button. So as of right now, my internet has no password. But I’m connected. That’s the cool thing.
Somebody should come over to my apartment and secure it for me so my neighbors don’t hack into all of my very sensitive files (17 drafts of my seminar piece, 9 attempts at the above shot with my webcam, russian vocabulary translations).
I have a feeling that someday I’m going to turn into the sort of person who begins every sentence with “My therapist says…” Right now, I’m too poor for that. But it’s good to have something to aspire to, right? Anyway, I realized the other day that I’m certainly my own brand of crazy. Crazy isn’t the appropriate word, but my head hurts too much to think of something else. But everybody is. We all have our weird quirks and terrible ways of dealing with things. Me? When I cry, I fold my tissue into halves. I try to prove that whole seven times thing wrong. I don’t think it’s worked. But I do my damndest. I’m a very dedicated worker. I could go more into this, but I’d rather eat ice cream for dinner and quickly change the subject.
I’ve also been reading my Norton Anthology of Short Fiction for fun. I haven’t touched it since my intro to creative writing class about ten years ago (I lied, it was only about four, but it feels like it’s been ten years), so I’ve been reading stories for what feels like the first time. I spent about $70 on the thing to read four or five stories out of it that semester. Apparently the professor had never heard of a copier. It’s become the thing I fall asleep with at night. It’s a nice giant book that feels like a bible but with way more insight into the human psyche. It’s fantastic.
Like that ditty, from Donald Barthelme’s “Me and Mrs. Mandible”. Tell me that isn’t true. I dare you.
Oh, I’m also reading Freud’s Dream Psychology Psychoanalysis for Beginners. You know, for fun. Making fun of Freud is something that will never get old. I promise you. I expect to someday talk to a therapist about things in this book.
I’ve also been self-medicating again. Large doses of Ok Go and evening jogs on the trail near my apartment. Going almost two weeks without internet forces you to get creative with your time. There is really only so much a phone and 3G can do for a girl. She’s forced to return to books and writing without blogging. It’s weird. There isn’t any immediate gratification from pressing that “publish” button. She has to write the kind stuff that requires (and deserves) revision.
If you’re feeling down or lonely, I can’t recommend Ok Go enough. I know, they’re that band you liked in high school and pretend you’re too cool for now, but seriously. You’re a robot if this video doesn’t make you smile or at the very least breathe a sigh of relief. Listening to this band will decidedly end your pity party.
Also, that’s the first acceptable use (outside of the military) for a ghillie suit that I have ever seen.
I think my therapist would say I’m avoiding what’s really bothering me.