Posted by spoc on May 3, 2004, at 3:25:24
In reply to well say it aint so! » spoc, posted by karen_kay on May 2, 2004, at 19:13:37
Karen, my little twinkie (now THAT'S a favorite word, deliciously irreverent and suitable for things from people to broad references to junky food... Maybe if I do change my name here I will come back as Twinkie...), first let me say, don't let this eleventh-hour post, issued to try to talk you down from the ledge, fool you into thinking that I am still logged on and paying attention. (How am I doin on syntax so far Kid?).
Next, let me say that my main purpose for coming into your life has surely now become obvious: to smoke Kid out and drive him insane with jealousy and into your arms. He is now clearly ready to leave his wife and family and chase the pants off your butt. I can stick around anyway, but I don't know if he'll have it, because it's obvious you'll always prefer me now.
OR! Maybe this has all been retribution for you never asking me for my slinky (the toy) joke when I selflessly offered it to you long ago. I knew then that I had to make you fall in love with me, and then shatter and abandon you in a grandiose public spectacle.
But seriously Karen, by taking me in here and under these circumstances, you have provided me with much stress relief (and keep your mind out of the gutter please). Oh, were it only permissible to joke about guns and weapons on this airplane, the additional fun and frolicking we could have shared.
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.... And it is NOT over! I simply need to start logging off the Internet and in general shutting down my computer -- for hours and maybe days when possible -- for my mental health. Literally. It is THAT Twinkie, and nothing else, which is actually going on here. I have become a mushroom, a thing that lives in the dank dark under rocks, a mere shell of my former self.
I can't describe the extent to which I have taken complete refuge from my life and problems on the Internet (and in computers generally). Additionally, I am an at-home worker who can wildly abuse her flexibility. Oh, how I rue that fateful day when my DSL was connected; and then I started evoking my God-given right to move my laptop with me from room to room; so that no position would ever become too uncomfortable. Karen, have you done much rueing lately?
(Am I fooling any normal people into believing that this is more readable and they should stick with it, by breaking it up into misleading little paragraphs?) I will argue that this DOES qualify as an addiction unto itself until the day there is a neat dx box to put me in. NO, not a dx of addictive paragraph splitting, one of Internet addiction. I kid you not when I say I often wake up with my laptop on my chest, having slept with it there all night (and yes, to answer a recent question of yours, that IS one of the ways I *know* I don't move in my sleep. For I indeed do NOT tie it to myself so that it moves with me all night. The glass of water will also still be on my sternum. Well, ok, not really the latter but really the former. The latter is actually a glass of gin. HA HA HA! Just trying to dry your tears and bring a smile to your uniquely beautiful face, Molly Clea Courtney Melanie.
Yet I am also deadly serious. I am now referring to myself as nothing but cerebral hemispheres languishing on a chair. I have at times signed on and stayed on for three days without sleeping; and at all other times, pause only to visit the water closet or feed my face (Swedish Fish and Sun Chips comprise many of my meals, since I'm in a hurry to get back. And I have the keyboard disabled by embedded crumbs to prove it. Notice how there are some letters I never use? Lately I've had crumbs embedded under my comma key, so that why I have to use so many semi colons).
I used to be an annoyingly dedicated athlete (one who also has little regard for actual health, you'll recall). But only my internal organs knew it, because as long as you look very athletic, people assume you are a disciplined, clean living whirlwind. And you will be perceived as more health conscious and athletic while sprawled on the couch eating Fritos, drinking beer, and chain smoking; than someone who does not look athletic will be as they drink carrot and seaweed juice smoothies, and do pilates in a tee shirt imprinted with protests against all fun things.
But now, from sitting, my normally thin and lovely ankles sometimes swell into cankles, if you know what that is (calf feeding directly into ankle with no graded slope), and my feet look like hams. I think you can get blood clots from that kind of thing. I find myself habitually lying to people to cover my activities, just like any other addict. And worse, I type about 5 wpm, and spend most of my composition time correcting the large percentage of errors facing me whenever I look up at the screen.
Today, as usual, I sat down "JUST FOR A SEC," to "QUICKLY" (insert those irritating finger gestures that represent quotes) check my email and find out what most people in Guam eat for Sunday breakfast; and where that intersects with the breakfast habits of Far Eastern cultures and people on the first six floors of my building. You know, just a quick pass over the really important things. After which I was going to experience some authentic vitamin D and see if my legs still work, using them to creep forth hesitantly into the sunlight like a scared little albino creature ... Or, at least get my exercise skating with no skates required on the explosion of papers and documents on my floor. Also makes a good Slip 'N Slide with no water required.
However, none of those things happened. As a matter of fact, it's after 3 AM and they still aren't, and I got up 8:00 AM. Yesterday. Between my clocks with their delusional and insulting faerie land interpretation of time, and my typing disability, I spent the entire day only on emails, a couple posts, and a few uneventful Internet searches. And I bet you still think I'm exaggerating. But the thing is, I'm not. I'm really really nooooooooot. This has proven to be a perfect and perfectly disastrous refuge for me from things I was *already* very bad at making myself deal with. I'm not sure I'd put it past myself to start buying Depends so I can stay in my chair even longer. So THANK GOD everyone here ignored me! (I am K-I-D-D-I-N-G!!! It's a joke ladies and gentlemen, a joke! I swear!) ;- )
And, think of all the three-D humans that have EXPERIENCED ME IN PERSON and have now had to do without for so long. Could you even *LIVE* through that yourself? would you even *WANT* to???? Besides, Dr. Bob is going to start charging me for bandwidth soon.
So YES, at the risk of disillusioning you, I am flawed, I am obsessive compulsive and I am desperate! Mercy, how is expression of my true potential and capacity for happiness -- already in somewhat short supply throughout my lifetime -- ever going to break through at this rate??? But take heart, I only meant that my heretofore continuous daily posting to this site must slow down and even skip days. I did NOT mean that I won't be back. Or necessarily that I'll even get far. I have briefly seen the lights of a promising town glowing at the edges of these woods, but I have not yet succeeded in walking towards them.
Today, however, I was seriously wrestling with a decision on whether to set up an automatic "Away" message on my email account, which would be very drastic for me but may show signs of intelligent and salvageable life over here. If that succeeds, I may -- horrors, one day at a time, I can't even think about it yet -- lock my DSL modem away where I can't get to it at all easily. Note that I didn't say "Have my DSL disconnected." I don't want to throw myself into delirium tremens and seizures or anything.
And about that heretofore continuous daily posting. I must forewarn you that romps such as those we've shared will not be available in the archives. I had disembarked here fairly recently, and hadn't yet identified other crass, whimsical, irreverent playmates. No one took that ball but Fallen and you Karen, and let's be honest, anyone can tell I've got GREAT balls (got you wondering again, haven't I?). But even so, please, to quote a very wise woman who has left an indelible mark on my life, DON'T *READ* MY OLD STUFF! DO PEOPLE REALLY *READ* MY STUFF?? EVEN MY *NEW* STUFF??? Well, you may locate a couple slight snickers and possibly one guffaw, but most of it will be dry, Spock-like (with a 'k'), repressed, purportedly logical Vulcan tomes. That's how my collective deposits on this site can be referred to, as The Vulcan Tomes (and doesn't 'depositing' on this site sound like a naughty thing to get away with?).
Ok Karen, have I lost your fancy yet by speaking exclusively of myself in tonight's word count? Do we both prefer it when we *pretend* we are not speaking only of ourselves? Alright then, I'll leave you with this question, and I really do want to know the answer:
Has anyone ever played that joke on you where they say it is a coordination test or something, and you put your hands on the table palms down, and they put glasses of liquids on top of both of them and then one on your head? And only then do you realize what has happened; but you can't even redeem yourself by being a good sport and laughing, for fear of vibrating? How did this make you feel and how has it impacted your life?
No, I NEVER fell for that and here is ANOTHER one I NEVER fell for, and I resent you even thinking it. Stop me if you've heard it. Tell the victim you have a coordination test that will show that it is IMPOSSIBLE to keep all five of one's fingers within small circles drawn on a piece of paper (or in your case, a cocktail napkin) while running an object down the exact middle of one's nose. Then take out a quarter (or other grooved monetary increment, although quarters are commonly available and easy to saturate with lead) and draw circles around it with a pencil, pressing firmly against it...You get the rest. And no, they never ask why you need a quarter to guide your drawing of the circles. They are too busy being excited that they will be the one to defy natural laws.
Now, I HAVE heard about a girl who DID fall for that. It's not a pretty tale. She had just gotten back from a family beach vacation in winter and was supremely proud of her tan as she joined in some underage drinking at a basement gathering. She beamed as she entered the room, suspecting that she looked rather pretty; and was planning to sponge bathe only for about two weeks. This heartless coordination test was perpetrated on her, but after the damage had been done, nobody had any moisturizer to rectify all the scrubbing necessary to remove the lead tracks from her face. She was plunged from princess to sucker in an instant, wept in the bathroom, and has long suspected that all of her mental health problems radiate from that evening. Sorry to leave this on such a tragic note, but we can't hide behind jokes forever Karen.
poster:spoc
thread:340747
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20040430/msgs/342687.html