So a little more than a year and a half ago, weird things started happening at my house.
So that’s the third uncanny thing so far these last nine days. The first was when I got locked out of my house even though there’s no way to lock the sliding door from the outside. The second was when I woke up in the middle of the night to the Galaxy S3 whistle tone. I don’t own a Galaxy S3 and I live alone and today I came home and found that a mirror had fallen off the wall. The glass was drenched with water, but nothing else was wet.
So if I disappear all of the sudden, assume that the poltergeist got me.
Yeah, I should probably check the attic.
I told my mom. She stopped by and dropped off a crucifix. And plans to call a priest to get my house blessed. :D
So the fourth uncanny thing that happened was that while I was rinsing my toothbrush, the water turned black then immediately cleared. It’s quite possible I’m going insane, but I can’t really rule out demonic influence.
I think I might really need an exorcist.
Or maybe some Risperdal.
And, no, there’s no way that toothbrush was that dirty.
Weird things stopped happening after I discovered a rotting onion in my kitchen and threw it away. Not that I’ve actually demonstrated causation in any way at all.
It may have taken a few months, but I finally figured out what exactly was rotting in the kitchen. #BachelorLife
It was one of those smells that would come and go. Like, you walk into the house, wrinkle up your nose, and ask “What the hell *is* that?” Fifteen minutes later, you stop smelling it and forget about it. It was definitely in the kitchen.
I threw away everything perishable in the fridge and changed filters and it never went away.
One good thing about this heat: it accelerated the rotting to the point where the smell wouldn’t dissipate.
Turns out there was a puddle of what used to be (I think) an onion in a bag that was sitting hidden in a corner. Mystery solved!
I think it may have been an onion or a clove of garlic. It was essentially a black, gelatinous slush.
Well, we’ll see what happens when the garbage truck takes it away Tuesday morning. If you don’t hear from me after then, call the Ghostbusters, or get an exorcist!
Even though weird things had stopped happening once June was over, my parents didn’t want to take any chances.
So, yeah, my parents asked a priest to bless my house without asking me, and I didn’t want to argue about the fact that I’m agnostic, so I’m just going to drink some beer before he shows up to sprinkle some holy water around.
At the least, maybe the weird inexplicable things will stop happening.
Honestly, has anyone ever heard of someone who was haunted by an undead vegetable? Maybe there’s like a natural gas leak under this place….
Yeah, no inexplicable events since I threw away the onion, but maybe this will make it permanent.
I guess my mom told the priest all about it, because he said a prayer protecting against demonic powers and the netherworld.
Then all of a sudden this happened today:
…woke up this morning to find a large puddle in the middle of the room downstairs. It wasn’t next to a wall and the ceiling above it wasn’t wet. It was enough water to completely saturate two bath towels.
I guess the exorcism—I mean, the blessing—done by a priest in 2013 didn’t take.
So the last (and the first) time I was at Hotel Fig, it was 4½ years ago for a Friendfeed meetup
Syncing Twitter with Timehop is the only way for me to reach really old Friendfeed entries now.
This one involves a dream I had on January 22, 2010:
I had the strangest dream involving people from San Diego I haven’t seen in a while, the World of Warcraft, and Iñigo Montoya…. Most of the dream has evaporated from my mind by now, but I do remember being at a birthday party picnic drinking shots with everyone, when orcs attacked. The latter part of the dream involved Iñigo Montoya sitting at a camp fire with a bunch of guys in plate mail, asking if anyone had seen a six-fingered man.
I’m not going to say that there weren’t a few rough patches or sleepless, existential-angst-fraught nights in 2014, but even then, I have to say, it might have very well been the best year of my life. Hopefully only so far. It’s only a little more than a week in, but 2015 has started off well. Here’s to hoping the rest of 2015 being just as good or even better! *makes hand gestures to ward away misfortune*
I don’t believe in soulmates. You give and get different things to and from different people; each relationship you have—friendship or romantic—is unique and irreproducible.
—something I wrote a long time ago to someone I haven’t spoken/written to in years….
Even still, I can’t rule out that some people were just meant to meet and be together. Time turns random chance into destiny.
While Sam Smith has figured prominently in my personal internal soundtrack this year (“Latch”, ”Good Thing”, his cover of Whitney Houston’s “How Will I Know?”, etc.), other than the generalized vibe of unrequited love, I didn’t really feel any direct personal emotional associations with “Stay with Me” (this despite the fact that I included it on a few playlists, although it has since acquired indirect personal emotional associations….)
In June, it struck me how much “Stay with Me” has the same melodic structure as “I Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and it still cracks me up and even has some vague direct personal meaningfulness to it now.
Some mashups on YouTube:
Well, I won’t back down
No, I won’t back down
You can stand me up at the gates of hell
But I won’t back down
Hey baby, there ain’t no easy way out
Hey, I will stand my ground and I won’t back down
It’s been a while since I was this happy and content. I’m kind of afraid to jinx it.
“Note to self: Remember once that you were happy.” • Everything Must Change • Responding to Internal Stimuli • 2003 Oct 23
“While, at present, everything seems mundane and not-a-little boring, I just got this feeling that someday, I’d look back on these relatively stress-free days and think to myself, ‘Wow, I was happy then. Those were pretty good times.’” • The Beauty of Being in Between • Responding to Internal Stimuli • 2004 Mar 16
do you miss those days when I strove to win your heart
with awkward attempts at making bold gestures?
screwing up all my courage to ask you out
to walk around these city streets
teeming with crowds
but I only had eyes for you
the whole world could’ve been empty for all I cared
even as I blundered
trying to be near you
even as my words failed
I knew I wanted to know you
to walk beside you at least for a short while
while our paths cross on this long journey
trying not to question
why you would bother spending time with me
trying not to worry
that your heart might belong elsewhere
after minor sorrows, small heartaches
you are still with me
as we listen to the rain patter against the windows
flowing into these city streets
we lie warm in each others’ embrace
the storm rages around us
as we while away our time with simple things
you are home with me
where you are is home to me
still thinking back to those lonely nights
lying in bed by myself, staring at the shadows
listening to the still silence
sick to my stomach with liquor and dread
this dull, drear exercise
like picking at scabs, probing open wounds
still oozing with ichor and blood
but against all odds, I still have faith that these wounds will heal
some are long-standing, some are fresh
be patient and give it time, I tell myself
no other balm will ease this discomfort
nothing else will suffice
and I wait for that time when I can touch the space where the wounds once were
and I will feel nothing except the wholeness of knit flesh
the echoes of betrayal (though no vows were spoken),
of failure (though no trials were assayed)
still wake me at night
I remember knowing with aching desire that this is what I want
and I remember knowing with cold certainty that wanting is not enough
and I remember preparing myself for the bleak truths that must follow
what is done cannot be undone
we build the future with the past that we’ve already wrought
though I’d been here before, time and again, trod these broken paths
these shattered streets
nothing new under the sun
except for new cuts and scrapes and bruises
dawn soon comes, though it brings no surcease to these minor sorrows
(for there are far worse things than being alone)
somehow the course of the river of time turned differently this time
though I try not to be a superstitious man
endeavoring to approach the universe with
cold logic and hard reason
but sometimes it seems that miracles occur
only when all hope is lost
I listen to you breathing softly as you lie asleep beside me
and feel your warmth
and I wonder and marvel at how you could love someone as wounded as I
and maybe I just shouldn’t question it
and just accept things as they come
one day, one hour, one minute, one second at a time
to live in the present
knowing in the very moment
that you love me and I love you
It has been more than 14 years since I started writing down my thoughts and posting them. It has only really been in the last year or so that I’ve chanced to look back and trawl through the vast tracts of ephemera and melodrama. And it occurs to me that I only write here when I am sad and anguished. I rarely write when I am happy and joyful, or if I do, usually it’s tempered by melancholy. So these blog posts provide a skewed picture. (Although I haven’t really chronicled the grimmest moments, either.)
Although one of the things that surprised me was how optimistic even some of the more painful entries are. There’s a reason why I’m still around, I guess.
A lot has happened this year. Travel. Celebrations. Mourning. But there’s been more.
About three months ago, I met someone wonderful, someone who has changed my life in a drastic, positive way. I wasn’t quite able to convince her of my virtues at first, but in the end, she chose to be with me.
I try not to question it too much. :D
Three months ago, coming back from Hawaii after burying my uncle, I would never have imagined the joy and wonder and happiness I have been experiencing. My life has expanded in ways I would have never have foreseen. For once in a very long time, I look forward to the future with hope.
Everything that happened had to have happened, because I wasn’t enough. Some lessons are hard and painful, but live and learn.
Only in silence the word,
only in dark the light,
only in dying life:
bright the hawk’s flight
on the empty sky
—Ursula K. Le Guin The Wizard of Earthsea
Hyperbolically speaking, it does seem like things have a tendency to end up working out for me once I’ve lost all hope #LetItGo
Interestingly, today’s top target for spambots is a (long meandering) post about (ultimately) The Art of Not Wanting.
“This weekend left me thinking about the nature of courage: To stay in the fight, even without any hope of winning, and let yourself be destroyed ingloriously? Or to look at the darkness with both eyes wide open, and realize, it’s time to let go, there’s no point in hanging on and tearing the whole thing down with me? Each to their own, I guess.”
from November 16, 2009