love

How do you have a girl fall in love with you?

You buy her boots.

friday
Friday, September 17 had to go down in history as being one of the worse days in mankind. Well, at least in my personal history line.

I woke up early Friday morning to take Justin to work when I noticed something odd about my car. It didn’t look “right.” I found a note attached to what used to be my drivers side mirror. It was from Cathleen. It seems that during the night she was pulling into our driveway, tried to miss one of the cats and ran into my car instead.

All of Pleasant St. heard me screaming “FUCK!” at 5am. What a way to start the day.

This is the story she’s sticking to, but, I’ve conceded that to an extent it can’t be true. See, not only is the drivers side mirror fucked up (and hanging by a few wires) but there is also a 6 foot long scratch going from tire well to tire well. ugh.

I played show and tell all day at work with dragging people out to look at this mess. I wouldn’t have been so pissed if it were not for the fact she a. left me a note and b. i had spent nearly a grand within the last month getting my car out of impound and getting it ready for the trip in a few weeks. I forgot to mention this didn’t i? My car got impounded for being parked in a “commuter” zone on 3rd street in san francisco. I had a nice little anxiety attack at the corner of 2nd and Stillman, Justin slapped me and I was back to normal again.

The other fucked up part is that while both my roommate and I go through the same insurance company, they are notoriously slow with getting their act together. Last October I had rolled into a car while waiting at the toll booth to get onto the Bay Bridge. No biggie really, my foot slipped off the break when i had leaned down to grab my cd-holder. But the woman whom I had hit claimed that she got a neck injury! Ugh, I wasn’t going any faster than less than 1 mile per hour. You heard that right. 1 mile per hour. And she’s claiming neck injury?

Lisha twitches.

Anyway, that started off this past glorious friday. Got into work and found that we had a power outage at 6am with no UPS back up. Though power was restored fairly shortly, NIS+ had taken a dump which meant that people couldn’t get logged into the network and route. And if they were logged in, they couldn’t route. I was logged in at 6am and had gotten dumped (I was in fact, writing this column). I went to log back in and got these lovely funky errors. I tried dialing into several other providers and couldn’t route for the life of me. I figured something had gotten fucked up along the way so I did some maintenance and found that my disk had errors. No biggie. Went to reinstall Windows (which overwrote LILO) and then it started crashing back to hell and forth. I couldn’t even just BOOT into windows without getting a ton of errors.
bah.

So Friday.

Car got sideswipped.

Windows partition died (I’m now exclusively in linux or mac)

network goes down.

I’m sure I can think of a few things or ten that also went wrong. I kept claiming I was going to go home and buy a fifth of vodka (750 MIL for you non-us folks) and drink it down and fix my machine. I did neither. I haven’t even ATTEMPTED to get into windows to fix it. I should, my firewall is so airtight that I can’t even freaking do DCCs on IRC. I can’t ftp (ftpd is broked — jesus) and mah stupid fucking quickcam sucks ass in linux. *growls* However, GNOME is quite pretty. I like it much better than KDE or windowmaker. I should say, Enlightenment with Gnome on top. Whatever. It’s pretty. If you want to see my KDE desktop?

obsess
The strange man lurking on all my desktops is Paul.

You wanna see something really sick? Go here.

I had conceded in my head that I was ready to talk about this. I’m not yet. Don’t ask. I’ll tell you in a few weeks.

moving right along
I’m so fucking bored at work, it’s not even funny.

A little over a month or so ago, someone had asked me to send out an email for them to the staff mailing list. I had done these requests before. This time, the letter was not (supposedly) appropriate. Both me and the letter-writer got “in trouble”. The thing is, that they couldn’t fire me and since I’m leaving anyways, they haven’t done jack. All I do everyday (and all day) is fuck around. I try to get involved with projects but they don’t give me responsibilities because they know I’m leaving. Many people wanted to see me fired — but if they fired me they would have had to fire the letter-writer which they were not going to do.

They also gave my counterpart Matt a raise so that now I AM the lowest paid person in the company (at least in our SF office) — and I am also one of the most senior people there.

Fucked eh?

To be honest, I care and I don’t care. I haven’t give a shit about my job in a few months seeing how fucked over Matt and I were getting. We were promised raises back in April and July only to never see them follow through (well, now at least for me). I spend all day doing documentation because they want what’s in my brain but yet I didn’t “qualify” for a raise.

BAH.

I’m so stressed out these days, it’s not even funny. As my leave date approaches it seems more and more shit is being thrown in my face. Carolyn, Cathleens sister moves in (making five people living in our 2 bdr house instead of the original 2). Justin is moping around because I’m leaving, we have nine cats that Cathleen promised to take to the SPCA months ago and never did (I’m so leaving that up to her). Our house looks white trashy enough to make me gag, I’m sick of my job. I hate the area (is there any real reason why it takes me 1.5 hours to drive a 20 minute drive?) and the list goes on and on. The only bright thing is that I’m leaving, but with the added expense (car stuff + misc crap that keeps popping up), I’m finding myself frightened enough to start just freaking out.

I have no idea.

You know, I told Shelly on the phone last night that I was afraid of things working out. I have NEVER been happy — at least I know not for the last four years or more. I can’t remember when I was just freaking content with my life. Many people have said that my cross country odyssey makes them slightly jealous. you know, me doing a thelma and louise bit (minus louise, minus brad pitt, minus going off a cliff) as I will be alone for four days in my car. alone. with a carton of ciggies and 260 cd’s and a trunk full of computer equipment.

And I can’t get through peoples heads how frightened I am of packing up and just MOVING my shit cross country. I do so well with impromptu things but since this is planned and this has been dragging on for months now, the closer i get to my leave date, the more I find myself falling apart.

I’ve never ever told the story of how I came to California or why I came. I think maybe less than a 1/2 dozen people know the truth, and even then it’s hard for me to swallow. The last four years of my life have been this period i like to call the dark period because so much has happened to me in such a short amount of time it’s ridiculous. I find that, when I go to tell the story, my mouth drys up and I block out events. I knew what I was doing to get me here and I manipulated my way across the west. I can’t forgive myself for doing that but I also am having a hard time forgiving the person that I was involved with.

To many of you, my life starts when you read this and for majority of the world I’ve always lived in Oakland and I’ve always worked at slip.net. To be honest, it’s always felt like i have. Like there is no time and space before this. But there is. I’m NOT a california girl and I’m not happy here.

Justin has said he is afraid that I’m running away (again) to something that doesn’t exist. That my move to Virginia will just make things worse. I know he’s being selfish. If he could, he’d live with me forever, work at PBI and watch the Hitler, I mean History, channel is his off times. But I’m such a shell of a person I used to be — that it disgusts me. I can’t deal with it much longer.

I’ve got everything lined up in a row. Prospective boyfriend obsessing over me. New job at a kick ass company (making phat bank), new place. My own place. New things to do. Education. Everything. It’s like, God finally knocked some sense into his head and said “Yanno, Lisa has been having a rough life as of late, I think I will finally put things in perspective for her and give her what she wants” and the thing is, I’m so fucking intent on destroying it because I can’t handle being happy. But see, I can’t believe in a god or a god when I can barely have faith in myself.

I know, this much is true. There has never been a righter time in my life to move on then now. I know, that despite my grumblings, this is the best thing for me. I know that the trip will be fabulous and that I will fall in love on the way and that everything will work out for the best.

Because to be honest, I really have nothing left to lose.

Except myself.

Or maybe I’ll find myself out there in the wilds of Texas and join my mom in a convent.

I’m just kidding.

x0x0x0x0x
moi

i don’t need yours because i have one of my own

I don’t know if this was covered yet (you think you can swallow it), but sometime ago, my friend Jessica wrote me this email in regards to my website. She liked the idea of doing an on-line journal, but had some trepidations about doing it. Namely, do I censor myself and how do those closest to me feel about what i write?

the question is a good one, and thankfully i thought i had all the answers. justin supports me in everything that I do, primarily with my writing so what i have to say, really doesn’t bother him. but do i censor myself?

yes, i do.

in a way, i was disgusted with that answer. and with how i felt about everything else, that made sense as to why i would feel disgusted. people often see me as being this raw sort of person and i feel that i am. but i started to notice that when i would write da’ chronicles, that i was blocking things that i would never admit or revel to the public at large.
for what reason, i can’t be too sure. but some include that many people that i would probably bitch about and complain about DO read my pages and suddenly i’m taking their feelings into consideration. they would probably ask me “why can’t you talk to me about this to my face?” and i wouldn’t have a very good answer other than “i dunno.” and as i write this, i realize that i have covered this before. *shrug* i’m old at 26. shoot me. 😉

anyway, there is a lot of stuff i think about, that i have never even thought about including in da’ chronicles. my relationship with justin, how i really feel about him. people that i work with, play with and socialize with. my relationship with my parents. stuff that would be considered really personal and stuff i probably wouldn’t feel too comfortable sharing.

but today a productive day. i finally got my cd’s in order and pulled out the crappy ones i have never listened to (a rob-ism: if you don’t use it for 6 months you don’t need it). sonya took some of them home. i’m either going to pitch them to a few mailing lists i’m on or else just take them to a place that purchases used cd’s. and while i was making notes of additions and subtractions from the collection, i started using an old journal that i had.

i have this thing for buying notebooks (whether softbound or hardcover) that are blank pages so that i can jot something down in it daily. daily ruminations about crap that bothered me, but i knew in my heart that i was censoring myself even then. not as badly as i was here on the web, but i still wouldn’t admit even privately to myself what i really felt. how fucked up is that when you actually carry two journals: one for public and one for private showing?

to me, it’s extremely fucked up. fucked up enough to have me analyze it. well just kidding, but i think part of who i am is found is this simple analogy. i have a public and private side to me, both which are equal to each other. sometimes it may be more dark and other times it may be more complex and other times it’s fluffy like cotton candy.

i liked the idea of keeping a private journal.

the reasoning has to do more with getting rid of my depression than anything else. oh be sure i’ll still be as scintillating as ever, but perhaps keeping two journals i can reach down and write about stuff that really matters (to me) and really bothers me.

the bright side is that i won’t sit here and debate on whether or not i will be mentioning the fact i bought new nail polish called cherrywood.
(but you already did that lisa…)
it’s called allegory! or something. so kindly stop walking across my freshly washed kitchen floor!

great big nature hunt

i am the queen of white socks.

for someone who distastes socks with a passion, a pile of white socks sits on my bedroom floor. i remember having a box (now long since unpacked) that was packed up while i was living at our old place. not remembering that it contain sexy under things, socks and basic junk, i went out and purchased more socks.

which simply doesn’t make sense because i don’t wear socks. ever. okay, tights and maybe the knee socks i found i would wear once in a while, but white socks? and dozens upon dozens of them to boot?

um, okay.

some strange little fetish i was not aware i had.

I’ve got a caffeine headache. cathleen went out and purchased a case of mocha frappichino’s for me. i had three within 15 minutes. these things are like liquid caffeine. driving home from dropping my brother off, i started twitching and freaking out on 80/580 due to the caffeine intake. i felt like some drug user who was itching for a fix. i was so scared while driving, that something was going to happen. i kept floating into other lanes because i couldn’t concentrate on what i was doing. the fact i was able to park my car was a luxury.

next time, i won’t drink three frapp’s within a short time. nor will i do it later on in the day, since it is now going on midnight and i don’t think i am going to go to bed just yet.

so I’m currently having issues. lots of issues. mainly having to deal with who and what i am. i find it absolutely amazing that now we have found a pretty cool place (albeit in Fruit-Fucking-Vale) and I got my new (w00h00) car, that new issues arise.

so how do i fix these problems?
I open up and start reading a book by Jean-Paul Sartre, and think I’m the fucking coolest person on the face of the planet. I still have my Nietzsche books to go through, however, I can only handle so much intellectual discourse in a short period of time.

See, I’m tangenting from my issues, matters and concerns.

let me be frank.

first off, these aren’t “new” issues to begin with. they are the same old schtick that i keep re-hashing over and over again. I’m looking for a resolution to these idea’s and i don’t know quite how to resolve them.

education
this has been the big debate for so long. it’s getting annoying to me.

shit.
time for bed!