Yesterday, I found out that my academic career is over, ended and shutdown. Or rather concluded. It is a very strange feeling. When I was walking around back and forth between the library and my apartment around 5PM, I felt like I had lost 145 pounds. Like a massive weight that was hanging around my neck for the past five years had suddenly fallen off, and I hadn't gotten used to my new found mobility.

In fact, the whole atmosphere at the time was perversly disjointed. After I typed the last bit of my Japanese paper in my second home, and after MSWORD crashed on me, and after I nearly soiled my pants trying to find the backup file, I went outside. Apparently it had rained, hard. All of the flowers in front of the library had been decapatated, with the petals and dirt sprawled out all over the pavement. A tree had also been struck by lightning or blown over near the north entrance of the library. I felt like a pebble rattling around in one of those machines that makes smooth stones... the very last pebble left clanking around in there making a bunch of noise.

I guess what I was feeling was disbelief. Some how I, amidst people frowning and scowling at me when I mentioned how many credits I was taking, survived this whole thing. So perhaps it was slightly unbeliveable, or perhaps I had convinced myself that what I was doing was impossible. I don't know.

Today, I was kind of empty feeling. It was as if I've been trained for years to to do one kind of repetitive labor, and I'm still doing it after all my tools have been taken away, or perhaps I was just doing a kata the entire time. Which is kind of what I've been thinking about recently, what are all of those papers that I've written going to amount? There weren't any massive breakthroughs, was I just regurgitating half digested variations of what was fed to me? Would I be able to produce some kind of eye opening revelations like XYZ-san in AP English??! Or will I still be the babbling disconnnected one who is attached to some foreign culture which he is not yet a part of, like me in Ms. ABC's English class. What the hell am I going to do with a degree in Japanese, where is my future going to lead me, who can I depend on, why am I not dating anyone, why haven't I stayed in contact with my friends why what how who help me.

I learned a very important lesson today. Getting high off epoxy at the office is probably a bad idea.

My company is in the process of updating our horrendous 80's decor by applying a fresh coat of paint and some new carpeting. Instead of moving us all to some other part of the massive office building we occupy, they decided to it all while we're sitting obediently at our desks. Due to some glitch in office management, today was they day they decided to tear apart every office surrounding mine.


I stroll into work this morning (smile on my face and whistling, of course) only to be greeted by that sweet smell that only fresh paint and epoxy can make. I think to myself, 'oh, you've been through worse working with straight bleach at the day care center.' This, unfortunately, was a vast understatement of the situation. One of the construction workers was in an office across the hall with the door closed, replacing the carpet. Once he opened the door, a wave of fumes hit me like a ton of bricks.

The sensation that hit me a few minutes later was vaguely familiar, in a white trash kind of way. They said that the paint shouldn't make us feel funny, but this glue was making my head feel a little funny, like I was... over there. WAAAY over there. After a few minutes spent confirming that I was, in fact, really fucking high, I meandered down to my coworker's desk on the other side of the building. She had previously complained that subjecting us to this kind of mistreatment was not in our job descriptions, so I had the sympathetic ear. I sure that I didn't make much sense at all, but I must have conveyed my message.

I remember sitting down in her office chair for a few minutes before the office manager showed up and told me to go home. I suddenly had my coat, and was escorted out of the building by my boss. On the way down in the elevator, I remember telling her that I was so sorry about this, and rambling incoherently about all the work that was still sitting on my desk.

After a few hours, the world started to obey the laws of nature again. I appreciate that. I already inhale enough bad shit without sniffing glue, thank you very much. I can't wait to go in there on Monday and find out how everyone else handled the day. Maybe we can sit around during lunch and share out bad trip stories.

So kids, learn from my experiences. Don't get high at work. They send you home early.

Hey, wait a second...

Yesterday we finally got around to laundry, which turned out to be six full loads, which was a new personal record for us. I also made a batch of Scotcheroos, which are a mixture of Rice Krispies, Peanut Butter, Sugar and Corn Syrup; iced with a mixture of semi-sweet chips and butterscotch chips. They're 99% sugar, yet since they have peanut butter and cereal, they're good for you and can be eaten for breakfast.

Last night Ruth Anne went to a Dance Alloy concert, hosted by Contemporary Dance Theater, and left me home with Amelia. There was only a small about of kvetching when I limited Amelia to only one video, and all in all she went to sleep fairly easily, if rather late.

Overnight was much rain. This morning, the basement, which often has a small puddle in one corner after a long period of rain, had something more on the lake end of the spectrum. After some bailing, we got ourselves to Lowe's for some real sump pump type hardware. The biggest trouble with this solution, is that all we have is a low spot, not a real sump-pump hole, so the automatic switch which turn the pump on when the water is 12" deep really needs to kick on at 1" deep. I'm working on various sorts of kludges.

One advantage of this mess is that I could more easily find the problem, which is not where i thought it was. That is, the water was flowing in from the opposite side of the basement from where it collects. Perhaps some work on the downspout in that corner will help. Perhaps not.

iTunes status : 4110 songs, 9 days, 13.04 GB. Alternately, two of four case logic folders complete.

The neighborhood air raid siren is going off, and since it's not noon on Wednesday, I think it means that conditions are favorable to tornados; or maybe something else weather related. I always worry when I hear it, but I don't actually do anything, and nothings ever happened so far.

Decided not to go to the Billy Graham Mission tonight, as it would mean spending 5 hours doing nothing in order to watch the Rev. Graham on a giant monitor outside the stadium in the overflow seating.

Played StarCraft three times.

At m_turner's urging, added a more informative (yet by its very nature frustratingly incomplete) writeup to New Testament.

Changed the passwords on some of my accounts.

Deleted a couple of nodes.

Went to #everything. Managed to bore the living shit out of the few people talking there with my desultory attempts at conversation.

Wrote a few paragraphs of Neon Blood. It was like pushing a tank along a dirt road.

Went to sleep. Ah, blessed, blessed sleep. Surely this will release me from the day's relentless mediocrity!

Had boring, frustrating dreams. DAMMIT.

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