2004-09-24 - 4:13 p.m.
Our Shadowrun went embarrassingly well, in that we infiltrated artfully, got the wrong thing, and showed up to our Johnson with it. We then waltzed in through the front door, and they just handed us the stuff. Amatuers. I then had dinner near the Johnson, when the place blew up. Complete waste of a good shrimp alfredo.
Saturday, did the morning routine. I think I cleaned then until Faeries. Sunday we woke up late, went to lunch with Love's mom. We eventually got home, and I believe we chilled after that. Maybe I did laundry. Monday and Tuesday were dedicated to homework. Thurday was Teppan for dinner, which ate up the evening. Tonight D&D starts again. I believe I will run a "Getting to know the mixed-up world you are in" session.
My concept for this week is that I am doing too much, and that I have to do more, so I better work more on my temporal powers and stamina. My week consists of work, roleplaying, cooking, shopping, and cleaning. That's it. Now this is probably much more than many people have, but it is not enough for me. Thinking happens as a dreamlike extension of work, and in the moments in between work. My class work consists of realizing what a sad state our society is in, and the threats of the modern era against libraries, and the comming conflict between knowing, and not. Roleplaying, while taking two evenings gets no prep time from me yet. Sunday is the only day that promises to consistently not be booked, which means all the extra stuff gets pushed into there. My breaks at work get dedicated to working out, photography, and slipping a little extra necessary time in. I am going to try to work in sewing and reading, at some point. I have not done any pleasure reading since late summer. I have a novel I have to finish, and then I want to get started on my cultural studies again.
The idea I was struck with this afternoon is that people, to me, may be similar to chickens. I do not like chickens. I have never met a good one, and am too aware of their penchant to eat one another. I know they would have no qualms about eating me, and so I have no problem eating them. I have heard many stories about sweet, wonderful chickens, but all of those chickens were raised in loving, nurturing, natural environments. Now this metaphore does not extend very well to humans, because I have met plenty of humans on an individual level that I like. My feelings toward the human species are frighteningly similar to my feelings about chickens, though. They fill me with a vague apprehension, and I am dismayed by their penchant for eating each other. However there must be something that accounts for the difference in those who I like and the mass. I suspect that it has something to do with environment, and the individual relationship to it. I am going through an anti-social phase, in that stangers are not interesting. Ultimately, the lesson is, however, that I am chicken, but my goose is not necessarily cooked.
My project for the week though, was to contact some very old friends (at least old for me) this week, and I think I was successful, but I won't know for a little while yet. I also have been far better about maintaining distance relationships these days.
I am also getting hung up on proportions, and should look into the proportions of imaginary things. How big are ideas in relationship to one another?
Weekend notes (these really help me remember things for the next friday, sad ain't it):
Tonight: Game
Saturday:Clean, Joanne's, Faeries
Sunday: Visit Love's mom and my mom.
Go to a bank. Try to slip some homework in early. Try to mail those shirts.
P.S. I have constructed a wish list. I find this the most useful thing in the world. It has most of the material things that I want on it, and many of the immaterial. It helps me keep track of aquisitions, and shows me a sound limit to materialism. It also makes getting gifts for the man-who-has-more-than-any-man-should much easier. I would love to recieve similar lists from my friends, cause I am bad at shopping. You will understand if you see the shirts I got for various people. I am sorry Oregon, but I have only one shirt for you, and I do not have the address that goes with it. I'll bug people more about addresses as the year closes.
Cut the string, Chatty Cathy.
