Glue My Door Shut
2005-10-06, 09:20

I don't think I really slept last night. I'm sure that's not true, but that's the way I felt this morning when I 'woke up'. I must've slept some, because the alarm went off this morning, which is becoming something of a rarity lately. I've been waking up before my alarm about 75 percent of the time over the last three weeks or so. I have no idea why, though it seems to be coinciding with moving into the new room. Not that I'm uncomfortable in there; it's still the same bed and all, and the temperature's not all that different, though it's definitely more humid down there right now. Time to get that dehumidifier, I think. Or maybe we'll wait until spring, since cold is coming and with it dryer air.

The lack of quality sleep has left me once again emotionally frazzled. On Monday, I was reading this article on an educational robot that a school was using with some early elementary level kids, an when I got to the part where it started freaking out and the kids were trying to give it hugs to make it feel better, I started getting teary, thinking of how the kids must feel, watching this teacher-thing they've been attaching themselves to and anthropomorphizing into an actual teacher, freaking out and shutting down on them. It probably gave some of them nightmares, I imagine. Anyway, it got me upset, a stupid article on a stupid robot. Then yesterday I'm listening to The World on NPR, and there's an interview with a photographer who recently toured the orphanages of China, making a picture book of girls who still live in these institutions and will most likely never be adopted. Though the tack the interviewee was taking was somewhat positive (in the human spirit sense), I couldn't help but be saddened. It made me want to be wealthy enough to adopt again. It made me wonder about whether Laurana had any siblings, either living with family or in an orphanage. If she was sent there, chances are she has at least one older sister, since she would have been given up for another chance for her mother to have a son. It hurts me so much, even though she will have this loving family here that will treat her as on of their own, that she will never know her birth family. I still believe that she was meant for us, but that doesn't change or lighten the loss.

So that's where my brain's been this week. That, and worrying about keeping up with my job and keeping status quo. Even though I keep getting positive feedback on my job performance, nothing seems to be able to plug the hole that was torn open from the lay off from the steel plant and the firing from the insurance company. Almost every is one where I wonder if that'll be the day where something goes wrong enough that it sends into the work spiral that leads out the door and into financial straits again.

Life is fun to ponder sometimes.

Speaking of work, I'm considering gluing my door shut to keep out the music. There's only so many times a day/week/month/lifetime one needs to hear "Chantilly Lace (You Know What I Like)", "Boogie Wonderland" or "Maniac". He keeps saying that she's dancing like she's never danced before, but I'm pretty sure she danced that way yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that. Etc. Besides, if I were to open my front door and discover a Dancing Maniac doing her thing, the last thing I'd be prone to do is sing about it. My first thought would probably be something in the realm of 'get the video camera'.

Other things I have to say in response to my music inundation:

I do not need your permission to Roam if I want to, thankverymuch.

You are not my Venus, or my Fire. And yes, it is my desire, so back off, sister.

Your Blue Suede Shoes are fair game. It's not my fault your feet are so big.

The President has called on the citizens of the United States to limit their gas consumption in order to conserve our supply strained due to dual hurricane attacks, so no, I will not take you to Funkytown. If I did, I'd only be emboldening the trrissts (translated from Bushese: terrorists).

As much as I like ELO, I do not, in fact, want their love. Not even from Mister Blue Skies.

Yes, she is going out with him. Get over it already, little dude.

Saturday is not all right, especially when you say it 15 million times in one song.

Speaking of robots, it seems that I'm that much closer to my promised 'robot and aircar'. See said robot and said aircar.

And while I'm pointing out some links, here's one of the more frightening and sad things I've come across on the Disinformation Highway: PraiseMoves. Instead of reaching a state of enlightenment while you strive to perfect your body, why not fill your head with religious dogma instead? Besides, you don't want to subject yourself to demonic influence, do you? Of course you don't. Unless you're into that kind of thing.

-- End Transmission --