(no subject)
Okay, lets get these out the way, non?
Take the What Should Your New Year's Resolution Be? Quiz
Well la dee fucking da. How wonderfully deep and insightful that an internet quiz tells me, the man who only makes it to gaming cons in the past year, that I should get out more. I spose it's true, though. I don't travel nearly as much as I'd like, and I've yet to actually set foot in Spain, Ireland, or Australia. Damnit.
Take the Which Empire Records Character are You? Quiz.
Know what's stupid about this? It's "epitome", you asses. Asses, I say! Other than that, it's pretty funny because I always thought Lucas was dee sheet in that movie. And I also never have any idea what I'm doing. Not that the huddled masses looking up at me with lost and puppy-like faces can tell. Seth zee fearless will get us out of this firey doom again, just like last time!
So Kim tells me that I don't have to be "Mr. Strong" all the time. She's right, but I don't think she gets it completely. Not her fault, since I have a hard time explaining it, anyway. It's not about being "Mr. Strong and Dependable" and whatnot, it's about being what other people can't. Because I can. I guess this is why I've always been bad at forming relationships with people - because I just don't put myself on the same level as others. Not in a condescending way, really. It's a matter that I feel like I'm able to be there for people and constantly be the net they can fall on without worry or hesitation. And if you wonder why that breeds solitary social behavior, you're Richard Simmons.
So on the 31st, I get sick. Well, I was actually sick the day after Chris decided to show up and give the gift of black plague to everyone at the New Year's party. So I suppose I was sick from the 29th on out, I just refused to care. I had people to entertain, events to coordinate, and a household to maintain. Seth the Net, yo. Where does this get me?
(if you don't like descriptive nastiness, however brief, go no further)
It gets me literally on my back in an alley, blacked out in a pool of my own vomit. My body finally broke free of what I like to think of a pretty good mental discipline and lost it on the night of the 31st. I stumbled out the back of Debbie's store (I still haven't worked up the courage to call her and ask if I actually broke the door open or just imagined it) then heaved once while leaning against the dumpster. I remember that (after I was done choking up the #3 from McDonald's) it suddenly felt as if someone had kicked me on the left side of my ribs. Then my head felt extremely light, and I had the feeling like I was twirling around on the tips of my toes.
And here's where it gets really odd. I'm hearing this really discordant sound, like two people playing notes on flutes with no regard for harmony, and I'm tumbling end over end through the air. I finally land on something cold and wet, and I look up to see a huge black bird on this dead tree making the noise. I bring my eyes back to ground level and notice that my nose is about five inches away from a gravestone that has (survey says...) my own name chisled on it.
And there's no one there for the ceremony. Now, usually I don't bemoan my station in life, nor do I really freak out about anything, really. I'm not an easy person to get close to, and deeply and truly I don't care. Usually. However, after having fought off the Flu From the Pits of Hell for days, having eaten only one meal in 48 hours, and having slept about 9 in 72, my mind isn't proceeding along the usual tracks.
I lean back to try and get up, and the world feels like it's spinning again, and my head pops in pain like I slammed it into something... because I did. Turns out I'm actually on my back, still in the real world, and I've neatly dispensed the rest of #3 over the side of my face and into a oblong shape beside/under me. And there's DJ looking out the back door and going, "Uh, Seth... are you okay?"
Naturally, the relative stupidity of that question at the point gave me enough motivation to get up and gurgle out a little chuckle before I lost my balance and slammed into the concrete again. Let's hear it for delicate displays of graces and dignity. I did manage to make it home (at this point, I was in full "Seth is in total control, please stand aside and render no aid" mode, having waved off Debbie's worry with repeated "I'm sorry, Debbie. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I broke your door and I think I made a mess back there. I'll come back to night to fix it."). And, after this grand adventure, I fell into a heaving and blubbering heap onto the floor of my bedroom, where Kim scooped me up and poured me onto the bed.
Auld lang, indeed. And a big "Happy One Year Anniversary" for my woman did that not make.
So I suppose at this point it would be moot to mention I spent the next few hours in feverish mumbling about birds and gravestones while flipping about on my matress like the last kernel left in the Jiffypop machine. This whole time, Kim is doing her best to catch the rest of my expulsions in a trash sack and calm me down.
The question here is, is Kim right? Am I too stupidly self-reliant? To the point of self-destruction? I guess this passage is a bit of a weighted argument in favor of all three questions, to which I can offer no rebuttal. Had Kim not been there, I most likely would have forced myself onto my feet after coming home, and gone down to take shots with Nikki and Scott all night long. Yes, the Lee's Summit hospital crew and I would have shared a special bond that night, I'm sure. "Dumbass #1" printed on my tags and all.
There's not a question in my mind that I fell hard this past week. I pushed myself apparently farther than my bounds sat, and I was forcibly set back within those lines. I love Kim, and I honestly think I would have pushed myself to a free ambulance ride if she wasn't there to keep me in check. I just wonder if that boundary was always so short. This has nothing to do with having Kim to fall back on, because I don't question the gift I have in her for it. Everyone needs someone like that, even if you never have to use them in that capacity. I just feel like I could have dealt with it myself... but I couldn't. Maybe I could have a year ago, when I was a little colder and whatever? Do I have to give up being so strong in order to have someone in my life?
Stupid questions, really. I'll leave it alone and let it go without a thought if it had to be that way to keep her. I just want to know if that's how it is. Blah blah blah.
I need to buy a humidifier. Waking up with bleeding noses no good. Rar.
Anjin-san off.
Take the What Should Your New Year's Resolution Be? Quiz
Well la dee fucking da. How wonderfully deep and insightful that an internet quiz tells me, the man who only makes it to gaming cons in the past year, that I should get out more. I spose it's true, though. I don't travel nearly as much as I'd like, and I've yet to actually set foot in Spain, Ireland, or Australia. Damnit.
Take the Which Empire Records Character are You? Quiz.
Know what's stupid about this? It's "epitome", you asses. Asses, I say! Other than that, it's pretty funny because I always thought Lucas was dee sheet in that movie. And I also never have any idea what I'm doing. Not that the huddled masses looking up at me with lost and puppy-like faces can tell. Seth zee fearless will get us out of this firey doom again, just like last time!
So Kim tells me that I don't have to be "Mr. Strong" all the time. She's right, but I don't think she gets it completely. Not her fault, since I have a hard time explaining it, anyway. It's not about being "Mr. Strong and Dependable" and whatnot, it's about being what other people can't. Because I can. I guess this is why I've always been bad at forming relationships with people - because I just don't put myself on the same level as others. Not in a condescending way, really. It's a matter that I feel like I'm able to be there for people and constantly be the net they can fall on without worry or hesitation. And if you wonder why that breeds solitary social behavior, you're Richard Simmons.
So on the 31st, I get sick. Well, I was actually sick the day after Chris decided to show up and give the gift of black plague to everyone at the New Year's party. So I suppose I was sick from the 29th on out, I just refused to care. I had people to entertain, events to coordinate, and a household to maintain. Seth the Net, yo. Where does this get me?
(if you don't like descriptive nastiness, however brief, go no further)
It gets me literally on my back in an alley, blacked out in a pool of my own vomit. My body finally broke free of what I like to think of a pretty good mental discipline and lost it on the night of the 31st. I stumbled out the back of Debbie's store (I still haven't worked up the courage to call her and ask if I actually broke the door open or just imagined it) then heaved once while leaning against the dumpster. I remember that (after I was done choking up the #3 from McDonald's) it suddenly felt as if someone had kicked me on the left side of my ribs. Then my head felt extremely light, and I had the feeling like I was twirling around on the tips of my toes.
And here's where it gets really odd. I'm hearing this really discordant sound, like two people playing notes on flutes with no regard for harmony, and I'm tumbling end over end through the air. I finally land on something cold and wet, and I look up to see a huge black bird on this dead tree making the noise. I bring my eyes back to ground level and notice that my nose is about five inches away from a gravestone that has (survey says...) my own name chisled on it.
And there's no one there for the ceremony. Now, usually I don't bemoan my station in life, nor do I really freak out about anything, really. I'm not an easy person to get close to, and deeply and truly I don't care. Usually. However, after having fought off the Flu From the Pits of Hell for days, having eaten only one meal in 48 hours, and having slept about 9 in 72, my mind isn't proceeding along the usual tracks.
I lean back to try and get up, and the world feels like it's spinning again, and my head pops in pain like I slammed it into something... because I did. Turns out I'm actually on my back, still in the real world, and I've neatly dispensed the rest of #3 over the side of my face and into a oblong shape beside/under me. And there's DJ looking out the back door and going, "Uh, Seth... are you okay?"
Naturally, the relative stupidity of that question at the point gave me enough motivation to get up and gurgle out a little chuckle before I lost my balance and slammed into the concrete again. Let's hear it for delicate displays of graces and dignity. I did manage to make it home (at this point, I was in full "Seth is in total control, please stand aside and render no aid" mode, having waved off Debbie's worry with repeated "I'm sorry, Debbie. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I broke your door and I think I made a mess back there. I'll come back to night to fix it."). And, after this grand adventure, I fell into a heaving and blubbering heap onto the floor of my bedroom, where Kim scooped me up and poured me onto the bed.
Auld lang, indeed. And a big "Happy One Year Anniversary" for my woman did that not make.
So I suppose at this point it would be moot to mention I spent the next few hours in feverish mumbling about birds and gravestones while flipping about on my matress like the last kernel left in the Jiffypop machine. This whole time, Kim is doing her best to catch the rest of my expulsions in a trash sack and calm me down.
The question here is, is Kim right? Am I too stupidly self-reliant? To the point of self-destruction? I guess this passage is a bit of a weighted argument in favor of all three questions, to which I can offer no rebuttal. Had Kim not been there, I most likely would have forced myself onto my feet after coming home, and gone down to take shots with Nikki and Scott all night long. Yes, the Lee's Summit hospital crew and I would have shared a special bond that night, I'm sure. "Dumbass #1" printed on my tags and all.
There's not a question in my mind that I fell hard this past week. I pushed myself apparently farther than my bounds sat, and I was forcibly set back within those lines. I love Kim, and I honestly think I would have pushed myself to a free ambulance ride if she wasn't there to keep me in check. I just wonder if that boundary was always so short. This has nothing to do with having Kim to fall back on, because I don't question the gift I have in her for it. Everyone needs someone like that, even if you never have to use them in that capacity. I just feel like I could have dealt with it myself... but I couldn't. Maybe I could have a year ago, when I was a little colder and whatever? Do I have to give up being so strong in order to have someone in my life?
Stupid questions, really. I'll leave it alone and let it go without a thought if it had to be that way to keep her. I just want to know if that's how it is. Blah blah blah.
I need to buy a humidifier. Waking up with bleeding noses no good. Rar.
Anjin-san off.