posted on April 26, 2010 at 6:47 pm by Khali
A migraine is like sheet lightening accompanied by a monstrous thunder. An aurora borealis pulsing with my heartbeat on the edges of my vision. Usually this crystalline halo is all I have to worry about, the thunder of pain is distant; an echo somewhere in the recesses of my head. It is never the same. An ice lance pulsing behind my eyes, or an army of fireants tromping over my scalp, making each individual hair follicle a focal point of fire. Or perhaps the deep resonant throb of taiko drums at the base of my skull, or elephantine tap dancers in my forehead, right behind my eyes.
Thankfully my threshold is high, so it’s rarely that this cacaphony of light and pain overwhelms me. For those who deal with these more often than I do: May the fireants sting the tap dancing elephants to oblivion and the halo be washed away by rain.
listening to Recovery - Kosheen
Posted in journal | No Comments » | Tags: anatomy of pain, life, my brain
posted on March 7, 2010 at 11:41 am by Khali
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Well, between all the crap at work and the crap at home there’s not much time for that… unless one makes time. I think that’s the frustrating thing - I’ve been waiting for a moment, a day, a space where I can just collect myself for the next project, but it doesn’t work like that. Mom told me once that shortly after I was born she asked her mother in law when she would be able to relax and the woman just looked at her, shook her head and said “it’s always like this”. The story really didn’t make that much sense to me until recently.
My time is not my own… and I think that’s part of the reason I’m looking so forward to going back to school. School is for me, not someone else. Right now I work for a company, but that work is not to expand myself, it’s not for me that I do it beyond the fact that I do it for the paycheck and I think most will agree that that’s the least important part of a job. If it’s not fulfilling as an activity then it’s just going to suck your time and your soul. I love to write, but after a long day at work my brain is essentially dead and anything I produce after then is essentially crap. My writing muscles have not seized, but my creative juices are a little dry since I’ve used all my mental energy in the day doing a good job. Everyone says “make time” and so I try on the weekends, but alloted time and my creative spark have little in common. I do better in this alloted time than I do after work, admittedly, but there is always something else to do: dishes, laundry, vacuuming, cooking, shopping, something. Even the games I play seem to be dominated by other people’s needs.
This is not to say that I don’t enjoy meeting other people’s needs. I love my family and work hard because of that to make things work. I just think that my exhaustion is catching up with me. It’s all the unknown amidst the mass of day in and day out crap. J’s arthritis is acting up to the point that I’m afraid for him - and he’s finally gone to the doctor. That’s how I know it’s bad.
Teenager is currently seeming to do quite well. She’s focussed on school, has a part time job and has just messily broken up with a boyfriend. (Honestly, I’m glad. The guy was a manipulative little…will not vent. Will not vent…)
I have caught up on my sleep now. Kind of. I was having bouts of either insomnia, or a series of vivid and exhausting dreams that would make it feel like I’d not slept at all. ‘Course, said dreams have been some excellent fodder for my tendency for fiction but I’ve yet to take many of them beyond the notes and scenes I’ve scribbled in my notebook. I’m working a bit on that today I think… after I finish with the kitchen… I can use the mindless repetition of dishes to work out a plotline.
I realise after reading some of my older entries that I seem to whine a lot. Not my intention, but it is hard to put on the brave, optimistic face twenty-four seven when I’m not really feeling it. Next weekend marks the long wait to see if I am accepted into UWO. Cross your fingers for me and/or pray to whichever gods dominate your existence and I will appreciate your positive energy. Cheers internets!
listening to: Night of the Hunter - 30 Seconds to Mars
Posted in journal | No Comments » | Tags: life, school, scratching the surface
posted on August 15, 2009 at 12:11 pm by Khali
Sometimes I wish I smoked. Then I would have an excuse to go out and just sit, staring into nothing. Thinking.
I feel sometimes like my entire universe is contracting inside my head, like a prelude to a massive explosion. I’m overcome with nostalgia, with anxiety, stress… things I used to think myself free of. Things I used to disregard as something for weaker people. Bit of a wake up call to realise that these things are breaking me down, piece by piece. I suppose this is the kind of thing people mean when they talk about existential crises. I mean what the hell am I doing here? Sometimes I feel like everything is so fucking pointless and that we’re all running around like chickens throwing out emotions and fucking up with no idea what the big idea is. Heh… ok, that’s exactly what’s happening, but it’s frightening to think that no one on this planet has any self-assurance, or any idea at all that there is actually a direction to go in. Maybe I just feel like that because I’ve lost what self-assurance, confidence or conviction that I once had. I know what I would like to believe. I would like to believe that every thing happens for a reason. Not in the sense that everything is predetermined, because that’s the opposite of chaos in that there is no room for chance, change, art or individuality in that vision of the universe… and that is almost as terrifying as there being too much of that. I suppose we all want to feel like there is order in the universe, and even more so when there feels like there is none in our lives. But it would be nice to feel that and not feel so fucking adrift.
I find myself holding on to the walls, walking slower, laying on the floor, anything, to make things less likely to slip away from me. It’s a little like vertigo in reverse: I’m not falling down, everything else is threatening to fly up and away out of my reach. WHOOSH.
I keep thinking to myself: if only I had some time to think about things, to sort them out in my head… and then I think, even if I make time I’m going to get distracted with all the pieces that fit in, or should fit in and don’t. There really is no way for me to lay everything out and take a good look at it. In other words, I do not have the luxury of falling apart. By that I mean that life makes its demands on me. Rather, I let life make demands. I don’t have control of it, in other words. What I’m not sure of is whether other people feel the other way, like they do have control or if they know it’s an illusion and that they are just holding on to the pretense that everything is just fine. Wearing the mask, doing the dance.
Well, it’s not fine. I’m not fine, I’m overwhelmed. I’m managing, but I’m overwhelmed. The world is not fine: people are rude, ignorant, self-centered, and obsessive to the point that the pretense of society, of communities are stretched into incoherence. Everyone is disconnected and don’t know how to communicate; giving too little or too much of themselves and struggling to find a balance. Playing mind games when there’s no reason to second-guess thier opponent, who is in fact not an opponent but a fellow in the insane rat-race in the first place, someone who should be counted on, not suspected or mistreated or held at arms length. Imagined enemies, tangled intrigues from one level of society to the next - is any of it even real in the face of the fact that people go home every night and have to look at themselves in the mirror? How many people can do that and be reasonably happy with what they see there, literally and metaphorically?
whoosh…. I close my eyes and wait for the spinning to stop just long enough so I can take a deep breath.
I’ve stopped reading the news or watching TV, again. I stopped for a while before and then felt I should be more informed for whatever reason, but I don’t want to know about the killing and dying and general douchebaggery that seems to make up “the news” these days. I want to find something in there that makes sense. I want to see people getting something good because they deserve it. I want to read about someone rescuing someone from some nasty fate, I want to know that people, somewhere, are not self-absorbed assholes. I want to know that my fight to remain sane in this insane world is not futile or even unique. I want a damn success story.
But I say nothing. I can’t tell that story. Not yet. I have a long way to go, on many levels. Right now I’m workin on this reverse vertigo. I just need to sort my personal pile of crap into more manageable pieces. So if I seem a little strange to you people in the next little while that’s what’s up. My head’s in pieces in a way it’s not been for nigh on ten years, though there is no single thing that has caused this particular mass of little black rainclouds. They just seemed to blow in on me all at once and in a great hurry. Now I’m just waiting for the storm to break so I can let the rain wash my brain clean.
listening to: Kosheen - Cover
reading: A complicated kindness - Miriam Toews
Posted in fiction maybe, journal | 1 Comment » | Tags: life, little black raincloud, my brain, nescience, thinky, woosh
posted on May 11, 2009 at 6:54 pm by Khali
This week…. Well, it’s been longer than a week since I last posted, hasn’t it? So I shall rephrase. This last interval has been a tad hairy, thus the absence. Long story short, I think I might be able to relax for five minutes now. Perhaps I shouldn’t say that since Murphy has a tendency to rule my life.
No one ever made the mistake of telling me that step-parenthood was going to be easy. In fact most people rolled their eyes and cringed when I mentioned that J’s daughter was coming to live with us. She’s 16. I’m sure you can do the math. I’m sure you all remember what you were like at that age and cringe at the fits you probably gave your parents. Thing is, I think only half of it is intentional. She’s a smart kid and it’s infuriating that she seems to have no desire to use her brain because it’s too much work. I suppose it comes from being raised in an entirely different atmosphere. I don’t think she’s ever been held to a routine that involved chores, ever. In fact I get the distinct impression that she managed to weasel her way out of whatever was requested of her so many times that she just expects that that is how it works. Right now, she’s peeved that we don’t eat at what she considers a “normal” time and contrives to always be elsewhere so she doesn’t have to eat when we do, or what we do. We’ve suggested that she get a job because J and I can’t afford to maintain the level of spending that she’s used to (this kid must have fifty pairs of shoes!) but she has only tried half-heartedly. She doesn’t really need to because there always seems to be someone willing to fork over some money for whatever she wants. I despair of teaching her the value of money this way. I can’t help it, I care about how she’ll fare when she’s out there on her own but I’m sure that anything I say right now on the subject sounds more like the adults in the Peanuts cartoons or just plain nagging than anything.
It is also equally obvious that she is not used to talking to other people with a proper measure of respect. (This is not entirely unique to her, since I’m fairly certain it’s a trademark of her generation – and not just her age group. Check back with me in ten years and I bet you I’m right on this one. I may even fill you in on why I think this is/will be/might be true.) She keeps throwing the “respect is earned” thing in our faces, but she still talks down or back whenever she gets the chance. Getting her and J to communicate and not jump on each other at the first opportunity is a huge challenge, because J, of course, can’t stand being spoken to like he’s he teenager. (Who does, really?) They’re both so very good at pushing each other’s buttons and it’s a royal pain in the arse to bet out the nerf bat and beat them into submission and/or a place where they can talk like normal human beings. I get that they each want to be treated with respect: Kiddo like an adult and J like the elder. ‘Course, Kiddo is not an adult yet and she’s certainly not behaving in a manner that suggests we should treat her that way, but they’re both so busy being reactionary that I’m getting tired and confused. Because of that I’ve suggested counselling. For all of us. I’m tired of talking at cross-purposes and I can’t figure out how to get them, and me, on the same page. I’ll try anything! I’d like us to be a family after all.
J and I seem to be doing well in spite of everything. It seems that things have conspired to make us work together - not that we weren’t trying to do so before. It just seems that we have more things that require us to form a united front these days than we had before. We’re talking more and making more of an effort to communicate how we really feel about things rather than letting them slide into growliness and angst. We were so good at that for so long that it’s been a bit of a challenge, but neither of us was willing to accept the alternative. This makes me happy. We’re rediscovering what it is we loved about each other in the first place.
We had our birthdays this last weekend and treated each other to MP3 players so that we can have our own respective tunes. It’s a pretty awesome present I must say. (Thanks, Bear.)
In other news, work is weird and things keep happening to make me think that my time there is more limited than I originally thought. My boss doesn’t seem to think that I know my market, or what I’m doing, which is only half fair. I’m learning as I go, but I know for a fact that my branch doesn’t operate the same way that others do. The numbers back me up. As for going out and getting more big clients – well, there is only so much one can do in this kind of atmosphere. This place is totally tourist oriented and I mean totally. There is not the volume of import/export that there used to be.
And to that effect, tourists still amuse me. They are the one part of the job that makes it worthwhile. I mean sometimes we get the occasional “dick-bag” as The Music Fiend (that being my newest teller) calls them, but on the whole they are either very nice, or very amusing. You’d think the things they ask would stop amusing me, but it never gets old. For example:
This one lady comes in earlier today and she has this very puzzled expression on her face. She puts her purse up on the counter and leans close to the glass and says to The Music Fiend:
“I’m confused,”
“Oh no!” says TMF. “What can I do to help?”
“Well, I put my bank card in the ATM and asked for some money and I don’t know what happened!”
“Oh no! Did it give you a receipt or anything?” TMF asks, thinking that perhaps the machine rejected the card.
“Yes!” says the woman and pulls out her wallet. She pulls out a slip of paper and then several twenties. “Yes and it gave me these too, but these aren’t American at all!”
“Oh,” says TMF as she takes the paper and the twenties in through the slot. “This is easy to explain. You see, the machine gave you Canadian money.’
“But I asked for sixty American!”
“Well, you typed in 60 probably, right?”
“Yes,”
“The machine gave you 60 dollars. All it has in it is Canadian you see.” There’s a pause and I can see the woman thinking about this. It’s obvious she had never thought of the machine having anything in it before. It makes me wonder what people think about how they work. If I had asked her before this experience would she have even thought about the actual physical existence of the machine, the physical reality of the money inside it?
“But it took out 60 American from my account!” the woman says, a slightly hysterical look in her eye as she points to the receipt.
“Don’t worry,” says TMF, your bank does the conversion for you; you only withdrew 60 Canadian worth.”
“Are you sure?” she asks suspiciously.
“Positive,” says TMF in her firmest voice. Again there’s a pause, but after a second there’s a visible slump of relief in her shoulders.
“Ok, so what do I do with this?” she asks, gesturing at the three queens in TMF’s hand.
“How long are you in town?” TMF asks.
“Three days,” the woman replies and TMF smiles.
“You’ll need this then,” she says and slides it back to the woman.
“But aren’t all the prices in American?” she asks, the edge of hysteria creeping back onto her face.
“Actually, they’re in Canadian. You are in Canada here after all,” TMF explains.
“Really?”
“Yes, that’s why the machine gave you Canadian money.”
“Oh,” she says and stares at the green money for a moment before stepping away. “This is so new for me,” she says and leaves the store. TMF turns to me and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out - I can’t help it, I burst out laughing.
Now, before you say I’m being mean, this happens with many people, not just American tourists. I mean I suppose it’s not something one thinks about, but I think that if you really did you might come to a logical conclusion. What gets me is that no one actually thinks about how things work, they just take things for granted. Anyway, that was the highlight of a stupid day at work. It amused me. Leave me alone.
On the writing front. I’ve written nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. I blame lack of time and stress. Those may be lame excuses, but thats what excuses are. Lame. Truth is, I haven’t taken the time to sit down and write. I’ve let life distract me. Life and all the crap and noise and whatever that comes with it. I am the queen of procrastination.
listening to: Ferry Corsten - Down on Love
reading: Charles de Lint - Widdershins
eating: stew
drinking: pepsi
headspace: a cluttered attic
feeling: flat
Posted in commonplace book, work | 2 Comments » | Tags: blargh, life, step-parenthood, the things tourists do, what lovers do, work
posted on April 11, 2009 at 10:41 pm by Khali
I have long since given up on pretending that I don’t like the things I do to try and fit in with any one group because there is no point in doing so. (So yes, I love Star Wars and I’m a Star Trek nut to the point that I’m going to see the movie this year when it comes out and not just because it does so on my birthday. I also love Harry Potter, Firefly, mass quantities of Sci-fi and fantasy among all my other geeky pursuits. I love history. I love words. Sue me.)
I do, however, have a problem with the way things come out of my mouth. I may no longer make apologies for the things I think are awesome but I’m having a hard time unlearning a habit I picked up in the harshest of times in most people’s life: junior high. I’m not going to lament about how I got teased and whatever, because a lot of us got teased - I just happened to have several things to get teased about rather than just one or two. All I really wanted was for people to like me. And so I’d tell stories. That’s what my mom called it - but really, it was more like embellishing the truth. Blowing things a little out of proportion. Base-line, it was lying. I was not even aware I was doing this anymore it was that much of a habit. Stupid little things too, like saying I’ve read a book that I really haven’t because somewhere in my pea-sized brain I feel that you’ll like me more if I have read that book. It’s bullshit of course and I’ve been getting so much better at catching myself in these little things. I’m sure people have noticed that I do this more than they let on, so if I do it to you kick me, please. It’s a bad habit and it spills over into other stuff and I think that’s lame.
So no, I’ve not watched that one episode of Family Guy, even though I’ve seen several of them. (I’m not a huge fan of the cartoon, though I do think Stewie has his moments. So far as TV goes it’s better than UFC or that show about people who get in insanely huge trucks and then drive them across several inches of ice just to make more than I do in a year. Ok going to stop here because I’m in serious danger of rambling… )
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I want to make myself better than I have been. I’ve said and done things that I’m not proud of, so I’m doing my best now to be better than that. Call it self-improvement, whatever you like, I’m just tired of not liking myself.
Cheers…
*if you are a star wars nut, you’ll know what that means 
listening to: Moby - Natural Blues
reading: nothing atm
eating: a cinnamon bun
drinking: chai
Posted in journal | 1 Comment » | Tags: geek, life, my brain, thinky
posted on March 28, 2009 at 6:58 pm by Khali
I have to say that I really like the fact that I have to approve comments on my blog. So far I have had 5 spammers try and sell me what my old boss called ‘dick pills’. Sorry. I don’t need to enhance my performance in that manner, thanks.
I do have to improve my performance in other circles, however. (How’s that for a segue?) Anyway, I’ve been slacking in many areas of my life and I think that has a lot to do with how I feel about myself - which, honestly, isn’t stellar. I think it’s been painfully obvious to most people but me that I suffer from a lack of self-worth. And if it hasn’t been obvious then damn, I have been hiding it well. Anyway, I am attributing my inabilty to complete projects, in part, to this particular flaw. I have an Eeyore voice in my head that says: ‘what’s the point?’ Well. Fuck you Eeyore. Seriously. I’m tired of you.
In other news, I have had some unwanted visitation on my site. I’m sure those of you who actually read my ranty little page know that that is one of the reasons (other than the fact that J was so fantastically excited about having our own host) that I moved in the first place. I have since blocked that IP - or rather J has, but I see that this person has been visiting me via links from my friends. Granted I may have cultivated the attention in the first place and I have partial blame for even being on the internet like this in the first place, and if you think that way you can keep that to yourselves because I know it’s true. But this has become tiresome. Said unwanted visitor has been following me around the internets and it’s got to the point where it should stop. End of story.
Now, on to more intersesting things. I got to see Bill and Caralee on Thursday. We went to have tea and we chatted about random stuff. I don’t do this often enough with the nice peops in my life. They made my day. And today, I spent with the lovely Lindsie being crafty. SO two awesome things in one week.
I did read Twilight though, finally. I have been told by every female I have come across (well, almost every one, but when the tellers at the bank are all talking about the same book and recommend it to me, as well as all my coworkers… well there has to be something there.) Since The Kiddo has the set I read the first one. It IS easy to read. I can see the appeal of Edward Cullen and I like several of the less conventional aspects of Meyer’s vampires, but I am not as much a fan of these as I am of Harry Potter or The Golden Compass. I may read the rest of them, but I’m not dying to know what happens next the way I am with the last of Green Angel Tower, or Gravity’s Rainbow.
Sadly though, I have only written a total of 507 wds on le novel this week. I hope to rectify a little of that tomorrow, provided that I wake up at a reasonable hour and that my brain doesn’t refuse to work. I have a feeling that my characters have been sneaking around and changing things on me in my absense…. and I also think there is a new character wanting to get in on the game. Part of me wants to tell him to screw off, but the rest of me, most of me, wants to know what the hell he’s up to.
listening to: Collide - White Rabbit
reading: Stephen King - On Writing
eating: BLT
drinking: something with ice in it
Posted in journal | No Comments » | Tags: life, scribbling
