My thoughts are many as I write this. How can I explain the past few days? It's near impossible.
If you happened upon my Skype profile you'll notice a few things different. I expect I'll be back on there again someday. I think. And yes, my profile photo there has been replaced by a vintage 'please stand by' graphic, let me assure you the problem is not with your set.
(And I don't know where Susan Anton is at 10PM or at this moment either.) (Trivia: we share the same birthday.)
In the 'about me' section on Skype I posted my favorite quatrain from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Now, let me stun you(as I was stunned) with this bit of news from an Iowan restaurant called Rubaiyat: Food for Thought. On Rubi's history page, it's revealed that the original Persian manuscript was translated into in English around 1859 by F. Scott Fitzgerald (born 1896).
No wonder Zelda went crazy.
That style of 'food for thought' is probably one reason Laura Ingalls Wilder skipped over her time in nearby Burr Oak, and went from Plum Creek's Minnesota to South Dakota's Silver Lake.
No segue to the Big Woods this time, folks. He's living happy ever after, remember.
I'm not great at saying goodbye. But I'm making myself a bit less available for the time being.
There's a strange little cyber game I got pulled into the other day, one that is played from time to time and which generally goes like this:
"Hey, lets cam but just as we get started, I'll either hang up on you but will blame it on the net connection or suddenly have to leave. But don't worry because 5 or 10 or 50 more of your friends will be coming along in 'This is Your Life' style, to do the same thing." I'm supposed to get so frustrated I'll....I'll....
I'll what? That's what I want to know. Stomp my feet? Cry? Report you to the FCC? Wonder why this is such a popular game for you but not for me?
OR there's this option: We're camming, and you reveal that at this time you're lounging on the patio at a friends place. This friend seems oblivious as to what we're doing but keeps appearing in the background of your cam, dressed, either on the phone, carrying luggage or rotating the tires on a '72 Chevy Vega. Now, from what I can tell from the background noise, it's pretty likely that I'm being watched by others, but don't tell me that, I might....
Might what? Get irritated that I'm not the center of attention? Wonder why this is such a fun activity for you? I find it boring. And when I tell you in heavily accented English that 'I don't get mad, but I vill get even' then I look into the camera and say 'And that goes for any-vun een on zee joke' and the call ends, should I think that I just have great dramatic timing?
I don't feel paranoid either. That side-effects tends to elude me, which is fine. As apparently does good humor about the sheer stupidity of things like Skype, being way too serious and too analytical. And getting high because I'm bored, and worried and afraid and alone and thinking that anyone cares if I live or die because we all go through these things at some period.
But the worst trait I have is this: getting involved emotionally.
What do I feel? Boredom. With a few bad apples who aren't worth the investment I've put into writing this post. I forgive you, but I've a harder time forgiving myself. For thinking I could make a difference.
Like I stated on Skype, I'll be back after these messages.
If you happened upon my Skype profile you'll notice a few things different. I expect I'll be back on there again someday. I think. And yes, my profile photo there has been replaced by a vintage 'please stand by' graphic, let me assure you the problem is not with your set.
(And I don't know where Susan Anton is at 10PM or at this moment either.) (Trivia: we share the same birthday.)
In the 'about me' section on Skype I posted my favorite quatrain from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Now, let me stun you(as I was stunned) with this bit of news from an Iowan restaurant called Rubaiyat: Food for Thought. On Rubi's history page, it's revealed that the original Persian manuscript was translated into in English around 1859 by F. Scott Fitzgerald (born 1896).
No wonder Zelda went crazy.
That style of 'food for thought' is probably one reason Laura Ingalls Wilder skipped over her time in nearby Burr Oak, and went from Plum Creek's Minnesota to South Dakota's Silver Lake.
No segue to the Big Woods this time, folks. He's living happy ever after, remember.
I'm not great at saying goodbye. But I'm making myself a bit less available for the time being.
There's a strange little cyber game I got pulled into the other day, one that is played from time to time and which generally goes like this:
"Hey, lets cam but just as we get started, I'll either hang up on you but will blame it on the net connection or suddenly have to leave. But don't worry because 5 or 10 or 50 more of your friends will be coming along in 'This is Your Life' style, to do the same thing." I'm supposed to get so frustrated I'll....I'll....
I'll what? That's what I want to know. Stomp my feet? Cry? Report you to the FCC? Wonder why this is such a popular game for you but not for me?
OR there's this option: We're camming, and you reveal that at this time you're lounging on the patio at a friends place. This friend seems oblivious as to what we're doing but keeps appearing in the background of your cam, dressed, either on the phone, carrying luggage or rotating the tires on a '72 Chevy Vega. Now, from what I can tell from the background noise, it's pretty likely that I'm being watched by others, but don't tell me that, I might....
Might what? Get irritated that I'm not the center of attention? Wonder why this is such a fun activity for you? I find it boring. And when I tell you in heavily accented English that 'I don't get mad, but I vill get even' then I look into the camera and say 'And that goes for any-vun een on zee joke' and the call ends, should I think that I just have great dramatic timing?
I don't feel paranoid either. That side-effects tends to elude me, which is fine. As apparently does good humor about the sheer stupidity of things like Skype, being way too serious and too analytical. And getting high because I'm bored, and worried and afraid and alone and thinking that anyone cares if I live or die because we all go through these things at some period.
But the worst trait I have is this: getting involved emotionally.
What do I feel? Boredom. With a few bad apples who aren't worth the investment I've put into writing this post. I forgive you, but I've a harder time forgiving myself. For thinking I could make a difference.
Like I stated on Skype, I'll be back after these messages.
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