Y2kk Update: That twitch...

... that goddam twitch in my eye is back...

It's been haunting me for months, really. It comes and goes and whisks away, only to return at the most goddam forsaken of goddam piece of shit opportunities...

There's this twitch in my eye. Maybe it's because I haven't been getting enough sleep or some shit like that, but either way, it's there. It tugs at the corner of my left socket night and day to the point where all this bullshit, combined with my incessant nose sniffing every morning, really makes me look like a fucking drug addict in the worst goddam way...

... sadly, the only drug I am addicted to is goddam Halls cough drops, so that can't be right...

But seriously, it's been months since my eyes started to twitch in the first place, yet the problem just won't go away. Why is that?...

I wrote about it to some extent yesterday, about my current goddam complete lack of motivation to have a fucking care in the world. I would've thought that having so much happening in my life right now (or around me, at least...) would help change or improve things, but nothing ever does. Life always remains the same for me...

Yes, I knew that this would be the way I would I feel all the way back in high school, I wrote about it all during my time and tinker tenure at university, and now that it all has come true? Now that it all has come to pass as my life passes me by? Did it all become reality because it all actually is true, or was it simply because I actually did wish for it all and caused it to happen? A goddam self-fulfilling prophecy, where I can never be fulfilled, that is...

I've been spending a lot of money lately. When my best friend came over here from Charlotte, I already spent a ton on my credit card on that one weekend alone on movies and dinners and stuff like that. Sure, it was money well spent, but it was a damn lot of money in the end (at least compared to how much was in my bank account at the time), at least for a single weekend. I would've thought my spending habits would've returned to normal after that, even without any goddam movies to go to anymore, but now I find I'm goddam shelling out just as much cash these days when it comes to video games and lunches and dinners and shit like that. Did I ever really spend this much before? Why is that?...

Okay, so a few hundred here and there out of a paycheque of a couple of thousand ain't so bad, if only because I have no other expenses while living at home. It's just that, I find the fact that I'm so damn obsessively compelled to buy even the most nostalgic of things right now, to be more of a symptom of my current shitasstic situation than any other goddam thing. I'm obviously bored as hell with life to some extent, but my adoration of materialism isn't just simply a temporary solution to boredom. It's also a temporary way out of all of life's problems, the lesser equivalent perhaps of alcoholism and goddam gambling. And while I won't quite get to writing and whining about all those goddam meaningless problems of mine right now in this one download update of mine, rest assured that I'm quite familiar with what is fucking going wrong in my mind right now....

... because that twitch...

... that bitch...

... that goddam bitch of a twitch...

Actually, I kind of snapped at someone at work the other day (though she's not quite the bitch that I was talking about here, but still...). I immediately regretted it of course, myself being a bitch to this goddam worker whore of mine, that is. I wanted to apologize, but I kept my mouth shut knowing what the fuck happened after I did apologize to that original fucking, facist worker bee of a bitch at the government over a year ago. Because that sure as hell went well...

Ah, yes. The memories. All the joys I've felt...

The thing is, I was having a technical discussion with someone at my current work at the time, about programming and 3D development and shit like that. One of the designer artists in the area kept staring right at me though for some odd reason, as she was either completely zoned out or was listening in our conversation. I wouldn't have cared either way, but the thing is, I meant to just make a sly joke or some shit like that about whether or not she could actually understand our alternate, abstract use of the English language, but it just didn't come out right (or not at all, really). Afterall, it had been a real frustrating day for me, or week actually, considering all the meetings and goddam headaches I had had with management over the past few goddam days. So when I tried to make a joke to that staring goddam bitch, I actually for some goddam reason gave her a demeaning glance of a pitching blow back, and I really don't know why...

She immediately apologized, and I of course felt horrible the moment I realized that my innocent joke had turned into a wraith of pure bitchiness. The thing is, being the bitch that she is at work, she hasn't talked to me or even said hi to me since. I felt horrible for making that kind of mistake to her that I did at work, office politics and all. But maybe it was all some Freudian slip really, that I gave her that look because I've wanted to shut her the fuck up for ages? She's always loud and obnoxious and "hip" in the office, gloating about her sexual encounters with the third kind and shit like that. I didn't mean or want to be cruel or anything, but on a really frustrating day, it just came out I guess the way my inner self actually wanted it to come out. And while I still feel horrible for potentially hurting her feelings like that, it's good to know that her completely ignoring everything I say or do now just proves that I shouldn't feel bad for hating on the bitch in the first place...

Like I said, it's been a long week at work, and I sure as hell haven't made many new friends, or kept the old ones either really. There's a senior developer at work there, and weeks ago I had assumed (I should never assume...) that the upper management had actually told him that he had to do some extra work on the side for me. Well, at least management told me to my face in a scheduled goddam meeting that this senior development guy would help me and my team out, but I guess my managers never actually talked to him in person themselves. Because when I finally did ask for the work that this guy was supposed to have done for me in the past week? He was completely clueless about it all. And since I am a junior developer there, it was of course my fault for not e-mailing him in the first place. Whatever...

I took it on the chin though, considering that's what we guys with absolutely no seniority always have to do. The thing is though, I then asked for the programming functions in the client that I needed him to implement in order for me to complete my own tasks at hand, for him to write it by the end of the coming week that is, but of course nobody likes being told to do extra goddam work. Especially when you don't respect the goddam effort and intelligence of the person you're being forced to help out with, of course...

He really gave me a stern look there, like "what are the fuck are you smokin'?" It wasn't just that he didn't want to help me out or my cause, especially considering management later told him that day that he did have to do the extra work assigned. It's just that, he seemed completely baffled as to why the hell I even needed the helper functions for my project in the first place, since everything that I needed him to do for me seemed like goddam child's play in his eyes. Why the fuck should he do all the easy meanial shit for me, he basically said with those stares and glances of cold indifference...

He looked and talked to me like I was a moron. Sure, I just shook and shrugged it off like I always do. But I guess with all the events of the past week, his comments and not-so-subtlely repressed rage of anger really did take its toll on me. Sure, I've experienced this all before in university too afterall, where the top guys in school just mock and demean me for being too damn inept at goddam algebra and calculus equations to ever goddam understand 3D geometry shit. Because that same insane crap was exactly what I needed from the senior developer, and I kind of had to admit to him that yes, as a junior developer, I wasn't experienced enough to handle all that crap myself (when you factor in all 3D situations with the camera, that is). To him, it was all goddam second nature bullshit, and I guess the combination of him looking down at me as not just a lesser employee but also as lesser programmer as well, really did piss me off in the end and seethe a wound on my insides...

I don't know, but I just haven't felt like myself in a long time. Obviously, all the goddam mornings where I fucking force myself out of bed are killing me softly every damn day, but there's more to it than that. I guess I am starting to feel the effects of age, not just on my body but on my goddam mind. I'm started to worry, that is, worry about my future and whether or not exactly if I'm going to be alone and myself for the rest of my life. I don't want to be, but that's where the road of existence seems to be goddam taking me...

I guess I'm at that point where after university is finally over and done with, I realize that if I never got fucking easy as ass pussy back then? Then I probably never goddam will. Goddammit...

Which is why I wasn't completely adverse to the notion of going out to a fucking dance bar with my cousins and their friends two weekends ago. It was my larger cousin's birthday, and since he's now a single bachelor again (obviously, because he's "larger"...), his teen angsty sister thought it would be good for his soul to go to a fucking underage hick bar over in the boonies area of the Greater Toronto Area for some goddm reason. Sure, that logic completely didn't make sense to me, but what do I know, right? I'm the completely anti-social computer nerd still, afterall...

Still, there was a small part of me that was hoping that maybe, just maybe if I went to a fucking night out of clubbing for once, I'd actually start to enjoy it enough to the point where I'd start to meet new people, and maybe be able to talk to some decently hot chicks as well. But of course, I also knew in the back of mind that if I couldn't even fucking deal with any of those goddam bitches back in university (which quite frankly, were far higher class than any fucking bar of Canadian hicks, don't you know...), then I'd never be able to hack it at the dance bar of Big fucking Bucks...

... and big, fucking ugly booties, indeed...

And that's exactly what happened. Perhaps the complete lack of Chinese FOB bitches there sealed the deal for me, as I really didn't find any of the white or even the latino whores there even remotely hot. But even so, even before I stepped into the goddam whore house in the first place, I just knew that I would end up sitting in the corner for the entirety of the goddam solemn night...

And yes, that's exactly what happened. For four fucking hours of my goddam life that I now desperately want back, that's exactly what happened. I watched my female cousin cuddle with her high school sweetheart the whole time in the most unholy of manners, I witnessed my brother and my larger cousin dance to the goddam Geno beats for hours without end (which I promptly blocked from memory, thank you very much), and I even remember watching myself from the outside in some third person perspective, almost as if I were some mere ghost of a shell, being so goddam bored out of mind that I even left my own goddam body. Why is that?...

There was absolutely nothing in that bar of any intrinsic interest or value to me. All the women either already had dates, were gritting and grinding with other goddam women as goddam attention whores on stage, or were just too goddam underage and bloody hell fat. Or actually, in most cases, all of the above at once...

Why the bloody fuck should I care? Sure, maybe I would've at least enjoyed the scene in a multiculteral downtown Toronto bar a hell of a lot more, but that's not saying much. This just isn't me. That kind of shit ass life just isn't for me, and it depressed me like hell realizing that this was what I had wanted to experience for how many goddam years of my life and running? How the fuck could I have been so fucking stupid? WTF?...

Goddammit, Powell...

Sure, I can ask myself, what if I had walked into that bar with an open mind and an open heart, looking for two goddam open legs? Would things have been different? Would things have changed for the better? Or is my eternal bitterness just the way I really want things to be. The self-fulfilling prophecy, of never being fulfilled on goddam, bloody hell birthdays?...

... bloody hell, ever goddam depressing birthdays...

... and bloody hell, goddam work...

Is there really no reprieve? Is there really no rest for the wicked?...

Why the fuck can't I just close my eyes and wish it all away?...

... there's really no place like home...

But I guess wishes just don't come true... not until, well?...

... that goddam twitch in my eye...

... that twitch...

... that bitch...

... that goddam, fucking bitch...

Because it all sounds like so much goddam fun, now doesn't it?...

And ay, there lies the rub...

... but alas, that's a story for another day...

... for when I am haunted no more...

Y2kk Update: It's been ages since my last download update...

Why is that?...

I used to love raving and ranting and venting my ass off online.

Now, I find that I care more for those novelty motivational posters in the office than anything else...

... ahem...

"Kirk, Spock, McCoy and a red shirt all beam down to a planet.

One of these men is not coming back.

Don't be that man."

Sound advice for the office, eh? I've been meaning to get me one of those goddam Trekkie posters...

But is that really all I care for now? Is that all my life has really become? Seriously, WTF?...

Yes, the entire past two months of my life have been a complete goddam blur. Except for when my best friend flew up north for a weekend. And except for that god-awful time I went to the actual golfing course, and got embarrassed as hell when I was beaten by a fucking rookie five year old even when it came to goddam Tee shots, but alas, that's a story for another day...

But with recent events, shouldn't I be decently happy right now? Shouldn't I have at least some sort of motivation in life?...

My sister just got engaged to her boyfriend tonight. After six or seven long fucking years together, half of them living together in goddam Toronto as a couple, they finally got engaged. Her boyfriend popped the question in California on Leguna beach at fucking sunset, the most cliche proposal I've ever heard but a heart-warming one at the very least. Or at least, it should've been heart-warming to me, considering my sister was simply so damn overjoyed and overwhelmed that she even instinctively said yes, and she was screaming and squealing about it all on the phone just now...

Her boyfriend had come to my parents' house earlier in the week before leaving to California, to ask for my entire family's barometer approval and blessing for the marriage. The thing is, I guess I was excited for my sister at first when I realized just why this guy was coming over to our house for absolutely no reason whatsoever in the middle of the night, but the feeling just passed away long before he even got to our place. I talked with him for about two hours, hoping to rekindle that feeling I had lost just an hour before, but I just couldn't give a shit. I was too damn tired to give a shit. Now sure, I guess I was happy that my sister was gonna get married (it wasn't like she would ever say no...), but I just couldn't muster up any other emotion but the MTV "meh" in the end...

WTF is this? Teen goddam angst? WTF?...

Did I even write on this website of mine about how my mother got baptized just a couple of months ago, after almost a year long of preparation? She had her heart so damn much into the whole religious thing, that she even cried when the water was poured on her head. You'd think that'd be the kind of shit I'd want to remember by actually etching it in proverbial online stone through this download site of mine, yet even for that, I couldn't really give a shit. Why is that?...

Tomorrow is actually my brother's birthday. Now, I do love my brother and all that shit, but I oddly just find some sort of complete inconvenience whenever it comes to these birthday things these days. He's out at a bar as we speak, getting drunk as only a birthday boy can, and somehow that just always seems to ruin the feeling of a family event to me. He cares about friends and being social and shit like that, crap that I just can't be bothered to ever put up with...

I wish I could be happy for him, that he's with all his buddies right now, considering he's been going through one of those goddam faddish quarter-life crises of what to do with his life after university and all that shit,. But to be honest, deep in my heart? I guess I'm still just kinda pissed off at him for wasting away my birthday a couple of years back on a goddam frickin' party at my goddam house while my parents were away in China. Even though I did give my approval for that shit, I was still goddam hurt as hell that he would reduce my birthday to that goddam meaningless bullshit. And the purpose of a goddam birthday just hasn't seemed the same to me since...

This past week, it also was my mother's second birthday of the year. Yeah, well, for some goddam reason, anyone born in the month of July actually has two Chinese birthdays thanks to the goddam old skool calendar being based on moon cycles or some shit like that. For my mom's first birthday a month ago, we siblings all got her flowers and we took her out to dinner and shit like that. The only thing we're doing for the second birthday I guess, is taking her out to dinner yet again tomorrow. Even though that's not much to do for her (and yes, I know it's a second birthday, which makes no sense whatsoever), I still can't find the decency to goddam care...

Actually, the dinner tomorrow is for my brother's birthday, my mother's birthday, and for my father all at the same time. I finally got my first "real" paycheque from work (not that the amount of money I got today has goddam fucking changed since summer... but that's a story for another day), and it's my duty as the first born son to treat my parents to dinner every first paycheque I get as a thank you for all that they've done for me. So yeah, I'll be paying for a dinner not just for my brother's birthday, not just for my mom's redundant second birthday, but also because it's my first goddam payday. Just fucking great...

Three in one...

The Three...

The Holy Trinity of just not giving a shit...

Everything is just a blur now. Everything just goddam blends together...

... like a really, really, ridiculously bad mosaic of shitasstic art...

... why is that?...

My sister and her boyfriend are coming back on Monday, and have already scheduled a celebration dinner with both sides of their new family for Tuesday. I guess I should care, but meh, I just can't give a real shit...

And that's why I haven't been raving and ranting and goddam venting on the goddam internet as of late.

Because it's not that I haven't had anything to complain about...

... and God knows it's not like I haven't had anything to actually cheer about either...

It's not that I'm going through a goddam, teen angst, quarter-life crisis of my own or any shit like that. But life definitely does feel different to me than it ever goddam felt before...

It's just that, I have no motivation at all to even goddam remember what has happened to me over the past two months. Really, I just have no goddam real purpose or edge to write...

"Kirk, Spock, McCoy and a red shirt all beam down to a planet.

One of these men is not coming back."

Well, at least there's one damn thing I still care about...

... the other man...

I am that other man.

Star Trek rocks.

Y2kk Update: What a wild and wacky world it has been in terms of goddam weather...

So much to the point, that I'm literally delirious. Just not with joy, that's all...

Mother nature truly has been a great big motherfucker this past week, at least when it came to fucking over me...

Here in Canada, the only times that we get temperatures in the range of 35-40C is when we're literally talking about the goddam minuses in winter. And yet for the first three or four days of this week here in Toronto, it was literally hot as hell as fucking Phoenix Arizona. The temperatures themselves reached as high as 38C in the Greater Toronto Area on Tuesday, and when you factored in the humidity? We're talking about almost 50C weather here, in fucking frozen Canada of all places...

Of course, that was the day I was actually dumbass enough to decide to walk all across the downtown core from my workplace to the cheapest damn movie theatre there is in the city. It was bargain basement Tuesday afterall, and in the searing hot weather, I thought that maybe a film of Miami Vice could actually cool me down with just how shitty ass it would turn out to be...

But of course, as mother nature would have it, after I made the fucking half hour or more trek in the goddam scorching Sun across the entire goddam downtown core? When I got to the theatre, when it was almost my fucking time to finally pay for my ticket at the cashier, of course that's when the motherfucking bitch behind the counter stepped out. And instead of giving me a fucking blowjob to relieve me of the goddam pressure of the heat like prescribed, she immediately told every one of us in line that Miami Vice had just been fucking sold out...

Mother-goddam-fucker...

Now, if I really had a brain or if I had really wanted to salvage something from that day, I would've just stayed at the theatre and watched something even shittier than Miami Vice, like Clerks 2 or some crap like that. Instead though, in the fucking fogness of the fever of the Sun, I opted to go shopping instead, and ended up at Eaton's Centre in Toronto before heading home...

Now, at that mall, I noticed that the golf bag that I should've bought last week while lugging home all my new goddam $99 golf clubs was still there. It was a Golf Pak brand or some crap like that, reduced from $99 to $39 or so the ticket pricer claimed. It would've made a hell of a lot of sense for me to have just bought that cheap piece of shit a week ago instead of dragging this massive box of golf clubs home with me all the way to the suburbs. But I wasn't smart enough to actually think of that at the time, even though it was obvious that I needed a goddam golf bag to take to the course with me eventually in the end...

Of course, if I had half a fucking brain, I would've just picked up the golf bag that Tuesday when I was already at the mall. But since I wasn't obviously thinking straight, I decided to wait until goddam Thursday to return and make the purchase, for whatever goddam forsaken reason I had in mind. I still have no idea what in my mind caused the delay, as it wasn't like the price of the golf bag would be getting any goddam cheaper. But for some damn reason, I just shrugged my shoulders and was on my merry way, destined and determined to return two days later for God knows what reason...

When Thursday finally rolled around, the weather outside was no longer burning hot like a goddam furnace. In earlier days, the moment you stepped outside, you would feel this giant wave of searing flesh as if a giant, overloaded heater with some massive fan had just been shoved in your goddam face. But on Thursday, thanks to the thunder storms the night before, everything was back down to regular Toronto summer temperatures of 25 C or whatnot...

... the only thing was, why did I feel freezing?...

Half way through the day, I noticed my nose was running. Had no clue why, but just assumed that the air conditioning in my building had been turned up to the max after the earlier parts of the week, and somebody forgot to turn off the Canadian freezer setting that morning...

But still, it wasn't long until I started getting the sniffles...

... and for my throat to get scratchy and dry...

And, umm... what?...

Mother-goddam-fucker...

... I was getting sick? Why the fuck was I getting sick?...

It's just my fucking luck, that with a three day weekend where it's my grandpa's 89th fucking birthday, that I would get fucking sick like I used to before every single fucking three day weekend. Why the fuck does my body hate me so?...

Something tells me that the fact that I roasted myself in the oven of the Sun on Tuesday for almost a fucking hour straight while walking my ass off, has just something to do with the fact that yeah, I do have a fucking fever right now. Because right now, as I type this, my body is fucking burning up. It's only about room temperature in my goddam room, but I'm sweating like a pig as the fever consumes my skin, I can barely see straight at my goddam monitor, and I can't even seem to walk a goddam crooked line...

Yesterday was kind of the opposite, where instead of feeling like I was cooking in the goddam microwave, I was freezing my fucking legs off. Yet still, for some goddam reason, I decided to keep to my promise and actually returned to Eaton's Centre for the goddam golf bag that I should've bought over a week ago with my golf clubs, and that I should've bought when I was already at the place on fucking bloody hell Tuesday. What the fuck was the matter with me?...

So yeah, once again, I made the solitary trek across the Toronto downtown core to Eaton's Centre, this time with a body so ravaged and weakened by the coming onslaught of a goddam fever, that my legs literally felt like they were going to fall off from exhaustion. I almost collapsed halfway to the fucking mall, but I just never gave up. Never surrendered, as apparently I'm too damn dumb to ever just give up and go home...

I got to Eaton's Centre, and lo and behold, thank God my trip wasn't a complete waste as they had just one of the fucking golf bags left on sale. I promptly picked it up and paid for it by the cashier, a little too promptly perhaps, considering they forgot to demagnetize the fucking security marker on the goddam price tag. I didn't even notice until I tried stepping in another part of the mall on the way back to Union Station, only for alarms to start blaring everywhere, starting up that fucking clanging migraine of mine from the fucking fever that I still have now...

And then and there, I was left feeling like the same kind of goddam fool as I felt like last week. Here I was, with a fucking cheapass golf bag with a big bloody hell yellow price tag on the side (with no way for me to cut it off). And here I was, first lugging and dragging this thing all the way from Eaton's Centre down to Union Station, then having to ferry this thing on the fucking GO train all the way back to the suburbs an hour away, making me look like a fucking idiot holding this giant thing up to all commuting onlookers...

Mother-goddam-fucker...

Thank God at least I missed that bus with my acquaintance who had the $1600 "mortgage" on his golf clubs (as my other friend called it), otherwise I never would've lived down the embarrassment and shame of dragging this cheap piece of shit all the way home for over a goddam hour on public transit, for the second straight goddam week...

And to think, I did it all this time with a fucking fever. How the fuck did I even make it without dying?...

Did I even manage to get it home at all? Am I just dreaming all of this shit? The fever is making me delirious afterall...

... and if it ain't the fever, then it's the goddam bloody hell temperatures here in Canada for the first ever time in goddam decades...

Because it all sounds like so much goddam fun, now doesn't it?...

... except for the fact I felt like I was going to keel over and hurl out my entrails all fucking day long at work, that is....

No, wait. Sadly, that was the fun part of my day.

Mother-goddam-fucker...