Sanguis Opus Mature content No. 264 Published September 25th, 2021 8:02am pdt read ( words) Past entries blood·work \ ˈbləd ˈwərk intransitive verb 'Any activity performed either in reaction to, or in support of, moodiness and rancor which reinforces the same while creating an atmosphere aligned with feelings of separation from society.' "No, not the film title. Nora is still in jeans. A little while ago was a camera angle which caused me to be both frightened and enamored at the same time. Just now was another shot of her from a distance, facing the camera. She is a symbol now, one which encompasses much of how my mind operates these days... Fantasy-driven, fictional, otherworldly, and completely outside real life. Nora stands there with her amazing face and drives home the nail. Everything can be boiled down these days. All the way down to just a few simple truths: I cannot recover or rise above those incidents of the past. The true force behind the obsession is desire. I must remain away from other people for their safety as well as mine. The loss of my heritage combined with no following line will continue to plague me and support the previous sentence, again for self-preservation. My entire existence has narrowed to the sharpest possible point. The only upside is remaining here. I am rather safe. Too often have the little words come across and stabbed me. I know what I am and everything I am not. This show is probably something those who know me would believe not my style. Well, I can see that. The point is the storyline and characters, not the imagery. As much as I have gushed about Nora, the truth is I followed along and love the supernatural aspects and how they continue to turn. The downside is the imagery conjures all manner of problems. That is why I watch alone. No way around it anymore. Too much happens inside. Ok, so this day has moved along. The routine is finished and lunch is out of the way. Unfortunately, nothing else is going to move me any further. I had ideas for little chores to help the house but I can't get my head out of the bad space. The other Jamie again. What a face. Ugh. I will have to open the house soon due to the high temperature. As soon as the number inside reaches that of the outside, windows open. This little box has zero insulation. That means very warm by evening. Thank goodness the ceiling fan is operational as of early this year. Stop. Wednesday morning and the house is cool. Coffee and those people up there. Sure enough, the mercury shot way up yesterday and curtailed my plans. I did very little during the afternoon hours and before heading to the airport. Upon returning, the house was very warm and uncomfortable. I did not even turn on the oven for dinner. This morning is much better. I'll have to keep the inside cool as long as possible today. The forecast is off the mark often due to the ocean being right down the street. 'Engaged in crime I grasp my throat Enraged; my mind starts to smoke Enforce a mental overload Angry again, angry again, angry again And again and again, again.' I believe the time is at hand for once again embracing those ideas from late eleven. That was a bad time, yet also liberating to a point. I freed myself of much and held tight to visions of the 1236 period in which my world was on a hair trigger to make sweeping changes. The problem of late is that I've lost that drive and inspiration to the weight of a dull, plodding existence in which I continue to compromise my ideals in favor of those attached to other people. The silver lining is knowing such a fact. My lifestyle has not changed, only the mechanisms inside which try to keep me comfortable. Losing sight originally took place a mere three years later after leaving the 1236 area and relocating slightly east. Soon after was the comfort I had sought. Late eleven felt as a repeat of the reckless early eleven running around but could not materialize because I burned everything to the ground. My eyes only saw what was possible with massive resources, not just changes from within. This morning I am seeing a simpler path. Unfortunately, no one is going to understand it. This may be the only avenue leading to satisfaction, however. The building blocks are actually in place, meaning only little details remain. Small steps taken in turn. Those two words again... Fortification and preparation -- originally spawned by a diminishing sense of security -- are now flying through me due to the issue of dealing with people, not disasters. This is bloodwork; any effort in favor of saving myself through the expulsion of society. The blood inside me taking priority over any other living fucking soul. Tertiary issues and items will be removed permanently. Obviously, the top of the list is to organize everything before any thicker changes can take place. After the heat yesterday I may have to pause the effort until things cool, though. Working with high temperatures is not exactly my idea of enjoyment. Right now the sky is completely overcast and cool, so we shall see how the day develops before making a decision. I can always lay off and stay inside, if necessary. Otherwise, I will begin right here in the old office. Nora is in a bad way and I do not like it. The mid-1236 era was wondrous at times. We (us) cruised through each day carrying much disdain and dissatisfaction with regard to society and became forced outside the lines of the norm. Everything was completely shadowed, as well. Only one other person was privy to such a mindset, and he will not be described here in detail. We located media related to our feelings and dove in with both feet. Throughout months, all of it deepened and solidified until we had to choose between mainstream or fringe. Mainstream eventually won. Buried within the machine of society and the level of comfort I required, the ideals became lost. No more of that. Ah there was a dream at that time, too. It was veiled, yet somewhat described back in seventeen when I had become completely mired within the above-mentioned machine. Work and standards. That's right... Nothing I had wanted and everything I despised. The feelings of seventeen -- with snippets of fifteen -- have returned to my brain full-force and left me feeling as if I have not held myself up due to focusing upon others, and that is indicative of losing said dream. It went by the wayside and became a part of the roadbed as the train rolled with nary a consideration of losses. I can't have that any longer. Opus. The ideas of the 1236 period were not exclusive to me. There were compromises due to my not wishing to be alone, also seeking those comforts which eventually fogged everything to the point of my losing track of where I could have been. That is not an easy trip by any stretch, but may have been more necessary at that time than I had realized. I let it fall away in favor of societal standards. Not good, but at least I was self-sufficient. Too many pulls on me right now. Some need to be lopped off like dead, annoying branches. Angry again. Thanks Dave. Today will be contingent upon the weather. So far, not bad. The sun is shining but outside the temperature seems much cooler than this time yesterday. Hopefully that means I don't have to sweat it out this afternoon. The inside work comes first, then the new office and shit going into the trash. The new cabinet out there can hold some overflow, I suppose, until a better option is illuminated. Our trash can is very small, too. That means I'll have to compact whatever goes into it. No problem there. I'm used to the process. Angry... Again. The fucking duality is a part of the mood this day. One of the primary sources is on the screen this morning. I believe the optimal path is to consider the duality with subsequent attached bullshit one of the pulls and remove the problem. One word is applicable to this entire situation, and I must admit it is also driven in toto by the bullshit. I can't have that. The word is 'forest'. A while back I mentioned one foot was inside and the other right on the edge, however all that seemed to go away due to the fucking breathing distractions and their inherent need to draw me away from all that has become important. Well, now it is dire. The opus will show the way. Illuminated and hooking me right now. In order for me to enter that void of feelings, I'll have to push back and cool my intentions to the point of forcing those distractions back and in upon themselves. None of it will be easy, though. I still have reservations about the forest, too. The idea that such a mindset can free me from the distractions and provide assistance toward a more satisfying future has to be weighed against possible downsides. In short, care will be necessary while lopping. I can perform all the trimming in such a manner so as to keep those people in the fucking dark. The north may be calling again but I am in no position to fully embrace the idea right now. Too bad, because I am fucking sick of everyone. Pause. Thursday for whatever it is worth. 'Your vanity; your sanctity Your kindless heart Your reverence; your ignorance Your black uncaring eyes No sympathy for humanity; bleak horror The genocide; the parasites The kingdom of the ghost.' Today I need to bring her to the medical offices for a test, after which we will find some lunch somewhere. God damn, some of these characters make me want to send a strongly-worded email to the executive producers and gently tell them off. The situation on the screen leaves a bit to be desired, honestly. Anyway, all imagery aside, this morning is tough. Last night I had been reminiscing about some of the evenings in the goblet from years ago and thinking that entire part of my life may be over. There is a possibility that I can relish the fold of the gaming culture again, yet each day that passes presses the idea of missing it for good. I was speaking of strolling the enormous restaurant row many times. The last was two years ago when we headed into one of my favorites for what I will define as the best restaurant meal and experience in several years. The memory is wonderful, yet memory means it is gone. Another thought is the idea that the more time which passes, the more likely things will change down there, just like the possibility of the pyramid going away in favor of something new and fresh, according to the creators (those with the power to swap one massive resort for another when the receipts don't blow their skirts up). If I don't get there again under the proper circumstances, the remainder of life will be very narrow. And then the bullshit from the previous entry again. I don't fucking need that right now. There are enough draws and pits already. I cannot even walk across the room anymore without nearly stepping into a fucking hole full of problems. Adding to them will piss me off to no end. The more I think about what goes on inside me during certain types of media and the seldom-discussed results, the more I need to destroy whatever may be nearby at the time. Even those I consider close have nary a clue as to the amount of explosives piled up in my head these days. Fuck. I am getting pretty upset this morning. Those memories and the bullshit are really sticking inside and pushing my head in bad directions. I realize, of course, that the lion's share of times I had been led around were nearly all my doing. No denying that. But the manipulative scripting which makes me want to behead those who write television programs is beginning to appear in the real world. That is something I will not deal with very well. Nor this asshole they confounded to place on the show in the final season just to turn heads. There were two, actually, and both characters had little to no impact despite their fucking prominence on the screen. Whatever. Anyway, on my list of important things in life right now, people are somewhere around ninth or so -- just below sweeping the garage floor. The work I must perform is primarily driven by the feelings I hold toward others these days. The bloodwork. I honestly cannot be too angry with people, though, because I tend to look at my upbringing and past life often enough to realize they may also be dealing with difficulties which have no solutions. The only rub is if everything goes to shit and I end up completely alone, I will not mind. There will be loss, just not so much that I would need to be near anyone. If I'm going to wonder about people's heads, I may as well be far enough away that they cannot hear me screaming. Still pretty damned pissy, however. The major issue here is the idea that society can be to blame for having a huge impact upon people's well-being, yet those very same fucking people make up the very same society. One could refer to this as a vicious cycle, but my terms are different. It is a conundrum which some will take to heart and then support without realizing they are the problem(s). Write it down or read some other site. Good thing Bailey was twenty-three when this episode was shot because what goes through my head when she is on the screen may be banned in some cultures. Not good. The very peak of issues likely forced by other issues over which I had no control. Now I am whatever I am and very difficult for others to deal with. Today should be fine. I'll be leaving in two hours and out for a while, after which I'll return and care for some business before relaxing. I began some bloodwork yesterday in the garage and can continue this afternoon if nothing else becomes a priority. Forget the frightwork. We are past that. I cannot be those things... Those people or any part of them. It's too late for me to find a different direction in life because I am tired. Weakened by the problem of being the way I am yet not really feeling like any sort of victim. Nothing like that. No pity, no self-anything. I just evolved into this and have become far too unwilling to bend, improvement or otherwise. A choice, if you will. If I resolve everything into a societal image, I will no longer be me, and forgive me for saying so, but something unique could be lost. I may be controlling and unfair, but I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt that each of us is unique. There is no way in the world I can be anything else, expectations or hopes be damned to hell. Paths not taken, plans not made. Working with this computer is like shoveling shit against the tide ever since the operating system upgrade. I may have to do something to help, but I'm not an expert. Fortification has not only been applied to the house, but to me as well. Protection? From what? Myself? I killed the idea of Arina because it was ridiculous from the beginning. A representation need not be created in order for me to organize and attempt working with this crap. It really was a stupid idea, although many of the words here since the outset of the global fucking shit have been equally ridiculous. Machinery dreams due to all the problems I have with people, constant gushing over one face or another, and then the futile attempts at normalizing (metalworking term, that one) my head through some convoluted exploration while I sit here and continue to engage in the same damaging behavior which began the journey. If I am to truly find some way of dealing with everything, it will not come from anything external, not the least of which is my never-ending search for something that does not exist. What was the word? Ridiculous. Almost as bad as this show became during the sixth and seventh seasons. Ugh. I am still watching, sort of. And read this paragraph while seeing that I included another image of a model despite my stating that to do so has not been a good idea. Go ahead and laugh. Sarah has got one hell of a set of teeth. Talk about 'Chiclets'. Geez. Ugh. Weak and desperate. 'I'm always falling down the same hill Bamboo puncturing the skin And nothing comes bleeding out of me just like a waterfall I'm drowning in Two feet below the surface I can still make out your wavy face If I could just reach you, maybe I could leave this place' Said weakness appeared very quickly the other day. Some aspects of me have not improved one iota since trying to learn of why they developed in the first place. I've tried, and just when my thinking heads into productive territory, the desperation takes over and everything is shoved aside due to a vision of beauty somewhere out there in the world. Another example? This paragraph has just been completely derailed by seeing Bailey up there again carrying about as much cute as can be crammed into one woman. Unbelievable. Anyway, the day I went to the market -- actually two, I think -- became very haphazard upon exchanging a few words with the girl behind the register, and for no good reason other than my innate ability to be completely confounded by a vision and losing track of the world in mere seconds. You wanna talk about ridiculous? How does this happen? Is it truly weakness and desperation? Or possibly the endless need to be understood through the words of a beautiful woman? Validated? Why? What the fuck is this? The mirror tells me nothing. And then on the heels of that shit is the other fucking problem... Everything I see which is most decidedly NOT beauty, but something else entirely. Related? Probably. Can I figure it out? Not likely. I am going to cease placing blame on people and leave it to the situations of the past over which no one had any control. One positive still shining above all is that at least I fucking THINK about things rather than simply reacting and turning into a raving asshole. No one currently living is at fault here. I have to leave them the hell alone. Even the topic sentence of this paragraph is not due to anyone living. It is something else entirely. I just don't know the answer. This Polish actor on the television has some amazing features, yet her overall appearance is that of a demon. Shoulders to die for, thighs from the inside of my head, tremendous height and everything stretched as a result, but the bottom line is scary. Stay away from me. I derailed my own paragraph again. Heh. And I just turned off the show due to my inability to deal with some imagery. Go figure. We were discussing this most unbelievable of programs just yesterday, too. The fact that most of the time I need to watch alone out of fear of what others are seeing and possibly thinking. Such fear is one of the biggest problems in this life. It limits so many things and removes even more options that I am beginning to believe it a phobia. That may seem too strong a term, but the more time that passes, the more I honestly believe there can be no recovery at all. I'll put on some science fiction instead. The media is nearly always my choice, anyway. This entire section after Ruslana's lovely appearance may have stemmed entirely from fear. I can engage in all the bloodwork available but I will come out the other side exactly the same. Just like running away on so many occasions with no intention of returning, nothing will be solved. I am probably worse than I believe, anyway. All of the work is peripheral. And rhetoric. Friday after one of the nicest, most relaxing Thursdays in memory. I am the same, however. Something always slices, dices, otherwise cuts me or causes some degree of recoil. It always will, too. There is nothing I can do about any of it now or in the future. My limited options have been reduced to one, and that is to spend as much time as I am able focused upon my needs rather than placing the others before me as I have for the last year-plus. I must keep in mind that if I lose grip they will be affected as well. I care, and cannot have that type of thing. Physician heal thyself? Heh... Sort of. This morning is rather melancholy. I have lots of things arriving today to support the work and some hobbies, very little routing to care for later when I am alone, yet deep down I cannot seem to rise, even with my favorite part of the day just two hours from now. This day may be the type in which I pretty much hibernate and relax, full of thought. I do have some organization to complete in the office, though. That will take lots of time. Plus the little things which seem to annoy me often. I can care for a little at a time. There seems no way to extract the shit from my head, so anything resembling forward motion is necessary right now. All those fears, worries and limiting jabs are present this morning. Every fucking one of them. And the show is back on just so I can complete it before heading in some alternate direction. Yesterday I switched it off due to so much back to back bullshit, and one would think the earlier seasons would have affected me worse than the more 'mellow' sixth and seventh. Well, maybe not. Some media is cumulative. I am accustomed to much of this stuff, but still the problems come along and often catch me off guard even after all these years. Each is present right now. Such a fact means I have to fucking change something... Anything to enable an easing of the daily difficulties. A rise? Eh... Nothing so grandiose. But I have to pick a direction, and soon. The current period is becoming unacceptable. I do not like it. Yesterday I was able to move some things around despite the limited time. Today I will do the same. The weather has been on my side and making everything easier. Switch. More and more lately I find that looking at Anna's face is more off-putting and uncomfortable than seeing some of the unbelievable male characters which can be very discomfiting. That is funny because many people seem to find her irresistible and often use one of the most overused terms to encompass her attractiveness, and that word is 'hot'. Well, I have never felt that way. If you go all the way back to the early nineties when she was still a child and honestly won a fucking academy award for one performance, there was a ton of respect. But this role? Very little about her is easy to stomach. All sorts of traits are apparent which go against the grain of my normalized eyes, and whatever other people seem to gush over is exactly the opposite to me. One day soon I may have to avoid the show just to avoid seeing her. Thank goodness there are several other characters with which I can either identify or understand. Anna is beginning to annoy the shit out of me. In fact, many aspects of the show are ridiculous and manipulative. The latter term is something I do not appreciate or respect. It is unfair to script the material in such a manner. Wow, maybe I'm talking myself out of watching the last two seasons in the future. Heh. Nora makes every other female on the show look like shit anyway. I never call her Lucy. Don't care much for that name. And switch back. The light is coming up. I chipped a little of the shit in the garage two days ago, as well, meaning the free space is beginning to form into a plan. Bringing my old loudspeakers in here was a good idea, although the wood doesn't match the other furniture in the living room. That's ok, this is not a fancy house. The space below my bench in the garage is now available to shift the refrigerator and stack of chairs, meaning more floor space prior to Halloween preparations. That may seem silly, but for me Halloween is a very important night and one which seems to fly by in mere seconds. Scary stuff... You know. So everything can be in order for that night and then I will lead the space into other directions. Very exciting, this crap. Sometimes I feel at a loss for never having children. Other times -- like right fucking now -- I fear for what kind of people may have been produced. Scary. I am not the most balanced, sensible individual in the world and find it difficult to believe I could have been an effective guide for anyone in life, let alone a young and developing person. Did I mention scary? Fucking scary. But I will say that those near me throughout the last two decades who have shouldered the burden of raising their own offspring have my respect. I still believe it is the toughest work in existence. Anyway... The fact remains I will never know. Thanks, guys. This subject is one of the limiting factors in my day-to-day living. The second largest, actually. Like the other one I learned just half a year ago, there is no possibility of a solution. Again... Thanks, and a big, sloppy kiss to all involved. Go die, alone in a muddy ditch you fucking shitheels. The show made me begin that paragraph. Yesterday was a good example of a very necessary snowstorm in the middle of the day, sunshine notwithstanding. I had to do it lest the reality came to the surface, all screams and nightmarish imagery. I can't have that. Not now. The blower left the shed and created quite the mess. By the time the sun melted my snow away, I was safer and a bit more secure. Like right now... Alone. I was not the catalyst this time, either. Nothing came from my mouth to begin such a conversation, but I did put an end to it quickly and without losing my shit. As unfair and unbalanced as my behavior can be, I still have to retain some semblance of humanity when dealing with people. Small steps right now. Perhaps larger advances and a more intimidating stance in the future. When I become uncomfortable, the first reaction is generally one of quiet. My sentences become truncated and the words somewhat cut off. People notice and realize something is amiss. I usually try to stop myself from going completely aslant, however. If that happens I will lose a measure of control and probably ruin the day along with several others. The conversation simply became uncomfortable, brushed against the idea of duality -- and this time there can be no question -- and then was stifled by yours truly out of nothing more than fear. I did not begin the shit. As I said, the reality did not intrude, though. I kept it back and out of sight. That circumstance will only destroy everything. I will destroy everything just to keep someone else's voice from affecting me. In the short term, snow is fine. Any situation can be altered, manipulated, or otherwise transformed into a better, more comfortable conversation by me. Alternatively, it can lead to the most horrendous outpouring of emotion that no person wishes to see or hear. The power to end something permanently is always available, but a last resort. Again... I did not begin that shit. Out of the clear, blue sky. Hours to myself... Which direction? Pissy? Cunty? Bitchy? Or perhaps... Productive? Who is to know? I suppose the operative phrase this morning is 'whatever seems best'. Or maybe 'whatever is most pressing'. I don't fucking know. God damn does Deborah have some front teeth. Anyway, I suppose one part of the day will be cunty and another will be productive. More stuff out the door. More organization. More comfortable thoughts. That will suffice for this day. I also have some material being delivered this afternoon, but I mentioned it already. I don't understand how I have become so weak and introverted as to sit here and fucking describe the housework each day. I used to be strong, forthright, and vital. Now I've been reduced like last week's fucking sauce left on the burner overnight. A little, frightened bird drained of strength. How did this happen? Moved nearly to tears by what seemed a magical encounter at the race? Who does such a thing? Maybe my focus should be shifted from chores to dealing with feeling disappointed with myself. Almost ashamed. Back to our regularly scheduled cunty... I need to dress and move around a bit this morning. I don't want to sit here too long because I'll end up rather lazy, and I can't have that shit these days. The anger and crappy moods will have to lift me today. All sorts of stuff can change. I just have to force the issue. Bailey is a really cute name for a female. The bloodwork is a reaction to external stimuli. There can be no controlling other people, so the only defense against any stabs is to alter my behavior to follow suit. No, that does not mean being cold toward them, only adjusting my reaction in order to better protect myself and let just enough disdain through to leverage what comes at me and change it. Those two situations which have angered me the most have nothing to do with anyone now living, only those of the past who are gone. Seven seasons later and Arlene is still goofy. Sweet, but very goofy. Anyway, I need to maintain perspective and only lash in directions which are appropriate to the stabs. People have to know I am not the individual to be trifled, nor will I simply lie down and accept the shoe prints on my back. Ahh... There is a part of the problem up on the big screen. Well, I can deal with the fiction just fine. When the subject moves from the television and into actual conversation, that is where the shit begins. Two opposites up there right now... Two. One on the left and the other on the right. Writing such scenes is not a big deal, yet it can affect the well-being of reality when too much is taken away and related to real life. That is all wrong. Believe me, I know, because I've made a career of it. On the opposite side of the fence is a different type of storm, and one I am finding more and more difficult to discuss. The opposing characters are vastly different, too. When my internal issues are inflamed by the media, my brain immediately heads into angry territory, meaning bloodwork and the forest mindset along with similar shitty feelings. Right now I need to be mindful, though. No matter what I may experience as a result of such manipulation, those around me must be taken into hand as people and not problems. This is tough, to say the least. I've railroaded the subject so many times that even I am tired of the wording. Not funny. My reaction may be all that is left in the world. I have control over it. I am not explaining this very well at all. Here we are at the cusp of nine in the morning and still sitting here wondering what can be said without either revealing too much or shading everything so dramatically that the entire works is nothing more than a mess. Ah... Just like all the entries for sixteen months, right? Is any of it clear? Does it mean anything? Hmm... 'You would know, wouldn't you You extend a hand to those who suffer To those who know what it really feels like To those who've had a taste, like that means something And oh so sick I am, And maybe I don't have a choice, And maybe that is all I have, And maybe this is a cry for help.' Today something has to change, methinks. As of this moment I have not clue one as to what can be altered, yet I feel very strongly that I simply must do something very differently from the last many months. Something. The comfort of heading into the new office and opening for business may help me think. We go. Well, that didn't work. I ended up going through the motions just as nearly any other weekday alone. I should have known that rising or turning left or right was going to require more of me. Maybe the time is not yet at hand for such visions. Now that Saturday has arrived, I am looking back to the past days this week and not seeing much. The lumber arrived, and likely one of the most important steps came to pass -- the influx of resources from the state which helped me to stand up a bit -- and I still have plenty of time to do whatever is necessary for peace of mind and physical comfort. The real problems rather came to mind last night and left me quite angry before dropping my head to the pillow. Fortunately, that was the end of my day and nothing came of it. I know sometimes such a turn will take place. Care must be taken to avoid blowing up completely. The little segments of time and enjoyable moments have to be embraced more than ever. Option 'B' is to just let it out. I'll truly be alone if that happens. Ugh. Yesterday was rather all over the place with regard to my thinking, although the vampires came to an end and I decided to watch something different in favor of repeating again. This program is from the same network, meaning harsh and much to see just like the others, yet the ancient setting helps with elements of fantasy. Some aspects will always be there due to the network's reputation for attempting to either surprise or shock their viewers. After all these years, I am used to it. I will admit that the feelings dredged up watching some other series' are repeated here, though. I can't help it. The sheer images they create which build up characters from the very dirt to the sky are sharp and unrelenting. The rest of us cannot live up to such standards. Realistic? Not very, yet the world will take those characters in hand and embrace the core ideals, leaving people flattened by the differences. Everything will remain in mind, no matter the realism. I need to separate myself from those who would be so influenced. Nothing changed yesterday aside from the lumber arriving. I didn't do any of the office organization, either. Just the model on the dining table for a while, the usual stuff and a visit to watch a program on the television. Today I am heading over there for a while and then back home for whatever. Perhaps some bloodwork, but if so it will not be much. I need to think about this shit for a while. Blame, blame, blame. The wrong road. It is not productive to continue looking to the rear and finding sources of pain and truth. Lateral is fine. I already know, anyway. I need not keep my eyes affixed to the mirror of life in order to see from where I came. The road is known. Just a moment ago was a prime example of all that is broken inside. I cannot describe it, but rest assured it was a strong feeling born of something most others would not blink an eye, nor recall even minutes later. The same strike in my eyes causes all manner of analyses for days. Right now I am alone, so none of it can be read from my face, but soon enough I'll be in the eyes of other people and required to raise the facade and avoid entanglements. Tiring. No more blame because I know after these last several entries. I know, good or bad as such a fact may be. Now all I have to do is learn why my brain is keeping me tied to an immovable object, and the process has to take place without destroying others. Today again. Some stuff done, a visit in less than two hours, and then more stuff done. The wood will await more free time. Lots of anger this morning. Lots. I will keep it in check. No one is going to understand the reasoning behind such a harsh mindset, so the mouth remains closed. There are levels to the work. I will take the steps one at a time and arrive on the doorstep of the bloodwork soon enough. The trees are just beyond." Copyright ©2002-2024 comainterrupted.com All rights reserved All other trademarks, logos and graphics are the property of their respective owners Created by Brandywine Engineering using Microsoft Visual Studio 2022 and .NET Framework 4.8 Questions? Comments? Anything? Gather your thoughts and compose a message to the psychos in charge
Sanguis Opus Mature content No. 264 Published September 25th, 2021 8:02am pdt read ( words) Past entries blood·work \ ˈbləd ˈwərk intransitive verb 'Any activity performed either in reaction to, or in support of, moodiness and rancor which reinforces the same while creating an atmosphere aligned with feelings of separation from society.' "No, not the film title. Nora is still in jeans. A little while ago was a camera angle which caused me to be both frightened and enamored at the same time. Just now was another shot of her from a distance, facing the camera. She is a symbol now, one which encompasses much of how my mind operates these days... Fantasy-driven, fictional, otherworldly, and completely outside real life. Nora stands there with her amazing face and drives home the nail. Everything can be boiled down these days. All the way down to just a few simple truths: I cannot recover or rise above those incidents of the past. The true force behind the obsession is desire. I must remain away from other people for their safety as well as mine. The loss of my heritage combined with no following line will continue to plague me and support the previous sentence, again for self-preservation. My entire existence has narrowed to the sharpest possible point. The only upside is remaining here. I am rather safe. Too often have the little words come across and stabbed me. I know what I am and everything I am not. This show is probably something those who know me would believe not my style. Well, I can see that. The point is the storyline and characters, not the imagery. As much as I have gushed about Nora, the truth is I followed along and love the supernatural aspects and how they continue to turn. The downside is the imagery conjures all manner of problems. That is why I watch alone. No way around it anymore. Too much happens inside. Ok, so this day has moved along. The routine is finished and lunch is out of the way. Unfortunately, nothing else is going to move me any further. I had ideas for little chores to help the house but I can't get my head out of the bad space. The other Jamie again. What a face. Ugh. I will have to open the house soon due to the high temperature. As soon as the number inside reaches that of the outside, windows open. This little box has zero insulation. That means very warm by evening. Thank goodness the ceiling fan is operational as of early this year. Stop. Wednesday morning and the house is cool. Coffee and those people up there. Sure enough, the mercury shot way up yesterday and curtailed my plans. I did very little during the afternoon hours and before heading to the airport. Upon returning, the house was very warm and uncomfortable. I did not even turn on the oven for dinner. This morning is much better. I'll have to keep the inside cool as long as possible today. The forecast is off the mark often due to the ocean being right down the street. 'Engaged in crime I grasp my throat Enraged; my mind starts to smoke Enforce a mental overload Angry again, angry again, angry again And again and again, again.' I believe the time is at hand for once again embracing those ideas from late eleven. That was a bad time, yet also liberating to a point. I freed myself of much and held tight to visions of the 1236 period in which my world was on a hair trigger to make sweeping changes. The problem of late is that I've lost that drive and inspiration to the weight of a dull, plodding existence in which I continue to compromise my ideals in favor of those attached to other people. The silver lining is knowing such a fact. My lifestyle has not changed, only the mechanisms inside which try to keep me comfortable. Losing sight originally took place a mere three years later after leaving the 1236 area and relocating slightly east. Soon after was the comfort I had sought. Late eleven felt as a repeat of the reckless early eleven running around but could not materialize because I burned everything to the ground. My eyes only saw what was possible with massive resources, not just changes from within. This morning I am seeing a simpler path. Unfortunately, no one is going to understand it. This may be the only avenue leading to satisfaction, however. The building blocks are actually in place, meaning only little details remain. Small steps taken in turn. Those two words again... Fortification and preparation -- originally spawned by a diminishing sense of security -- are now flying through me due to the issue of dealing with people, not disasters. This is bloodwork; any effort in favor of saving myself through the expulsion of society. The blood inside me taking priority over any other living fucking soul. Tertiary issues and items will be removed permanently. Obviously, the top of the list is to organize everything before any thicker changes can take place. After the heat yesterday I may have to pause the effort until things cool, though. Working with high temperatures is not exactly my idea of enjoyment. Right now the sky is completely overcast and cool, so we shall see how the day develops before making a decision. I can always lay off and stay inside, if necessary. Otherwise, I will begin right here in the old office. Nora is in a bad way and I do not like it. The mid-1236 era was wondrous at times. We (us) cruised through each day carrying much disdain and dissatisfaction with regard to society and became forced outside the lines of the norm. Everything was completely shadowed, as well. Only one other person was privy to such a mindset, and he will not be described here in detail. We located media related to our feelings and dove in with both feet. Throughout months, all of it deepened and solidified until we had to choose between mainstream or fringe. Mainstream eventually won. Buried within the machine of society and the level of comfort I required, the ideals became lost. No more of that. Ah there was a dream at that time, too. It was veiled, yet somewhat described back in seventeen when I had become completely mired within the above-mentioned machine. Work and standards. That's right... Nothing I had wanted and everything I despised. The feelings of seventeen -- with snippets of fifteen -- have returned to my brain full-force and left me feeling as if I have not held myself up due to focusing upon others, and that is indicative of losing said dream. It went by the wayside and became a part of the roadbed as the train rolled with nary a consideration of losses. I can't have that any longer. Opus. The ideas of the 1236 period were not exclusive to me. There were compromises due to my not wishing to be alone, also seeking those comforts which eventually fogged everything to the point of my losing track of where I could have been. That is not an easy trip by any stretch, but may have been more necessary at that time than I had realized. I let it fall away in favor of societal standards. Not good, but at least I was self-sufficient. Too many pulls on me right now. Some need to be lopped off like dead, annoying branches. Angry again. Thanks Dave. Today will be contingent upon the weather. So far, not bad. The sun is shining but outside the temperature seems much cooler than this time yesterday. Hopefully that means I don't have to sweat it out this afternoon. The inside work comes first, then the new office and shit going into the trash. The new cabinet out there can hold some overflow, I suppose, until a better option is illuminated. Our trash can is very small, too. That means I'll have to compact whatever goes into it. No problem there. I'm used to the process. Angry... Again. The fucking duality is a part of the mood this day. One of the primary sources is on the screen this morning. I believe the optimal path is to consider the duality with subsequent attached bullshit one of the pulls and remove the problem. One word is applicable to this entire situation, and I must admit it is also driven in toto by the bullshit. I can't have that. The word is 'forest'. A while back I mentioned one foot was inside and the other right on the edge, however all that seemed to go away due to the fucking breathing distractions and their inherent need to draw me away from all that has become important. Well, now it is dire. The opus will show the way. Illuminated and hooking me right now. In order for me to enter that void of feelings, I'll have to push back and cool my intentions to the point of forcing those distractions back and in upon themselves. None of it will be easy, though. I still have reservations about the forest, too. The idea that such a mindset can free me from the distractions and provide assistance toward a more satisfying future has to be weighed against possible downsides. In short, care will be necessary while lopping. I can perform all the trimming in such a manner so as to keep those people in the fucking dark. The north may be calling again but I am in no position to fully embrace the idea right now. Too bad, because I am fucking sick of everyone. Pause. Thursday for whatever it is worth. 'Your vanity; your sanctity Your kindless heart Your reverence; your ignorance Your black uncaring eyes No sympathy for humanity; bleak horror The genocide; the parasites The kingdom of the ghost.' Today I need to bring her to the medical offices for a test, after which we will find some lunch somewhere. God damn, some of these characters make me want to send a strongly-worded email to the executive producers and gently tell them off. The situation on the screen leaves a bit to be desired, honestly. Anyway, all imagery aside, this morning is tough. Last night I had been reminiscing about some of the evenings in the goblet from years ago and thinking that entire part of my life may be over. There is a possibility that I can relish the fold of the gaming culture again, yet each day that passes presses the idea of missing it for good. I was speaking of strolling the enormous restaurant row many times. The last was two years ago when we headed into one of my favorites for what I will define as the best restaurant meal and experience in several years. The memory is wonderful, yet memory means it is gone. Another thought is the idea that the more time which passes, the more likely things will change down there, just like the possibility of the pyramid going away in favor of something new and fresh, according to the creators (those with the power to swap one massive resort for another when the receipts don't blow their skirts up). If I don't get there again under the proper circumstances, the remainder of life will be very narrow. And then the bullshit from the previous entry again. I don't fucking need that right now. There are enough draws and pits already. I cannot even walk across the room anymore without nearly stepping into a fucking hole full of problems. Adding to them will piss me off to no end. The more I think about what goes on inside me during certain types of media and the seldom-discussed results, the more I need to destroy whatever may be nearby at the time. Even those I consider close have nary a clue as to the amount of explosives piled up in my head these days. Fuck. I am getting pretty upset this morning. Those memories and the bullshit are really sticking inside and pushing my head in bad directions. I realize, of course, that the lion's share of times I had been led around were nearly all my doing. No denying that. But the manipulative scripting which makes me want to behead those who write television programs is beginning to appear in the real world. That is something I will not deal with very well. Nor this asshole they confounded to place on the show in the final season just to turn heads. There were two, actually, and both characters had little to no impact despite their fucking prominence on the screen. Whatever. Anyway, on my list of important things in life right now, people are somewhere around ninth or so -- just below sweeping the garage floor. The work I must perform is primarily driven by the feelings I hold toward others these days. The bloodwork. I honestly cannot be too angry with people, though, because I tend to look at my upbringing and past life often enough to realize they may also be dealing with difficulties which have no solutions. The only rub is if everything goes to shit and I end up completely alone, I will not mind. There will be loss, just not so much that I would need to be near anyone. If I'm going to wonder about people's heads, I may as well be far enough away that they cannot hear me screaming. Still pretty damned pissy, however. The major issue here is the idea that society can be to blame for having a huge impact upon people's well-being, yet those very same fucking people make up the very same society. One could refer to this as a vicious cycle, but my terms are different. It is a conundrum which some will take to heart and then support without realizing they are the problem(s). Write it down or read some other site. Good thing Bailey was twenty-three when this episode was shot because what goes through my head when she is on the screen may be banned in some cultures. Not good. The very peak of issues likely forced by other issues over which I had no control. Now I am whatever I am and very difficult for others to deal with. Today should be fine. I'll be leaving in two hours and out for a while, after which I'll return and care for some business before relaxing. I began some bloodwork yesterday in the garage and can continue this afternoon if nothing else becomes a priority. Forget the frightwork. We are past that. I cannot be those things... Those people or any part of them. It's too late for me to find a different direction in life because I am tired. Weakened by the problem of being the way I am yet not really feeling like any sort of victim. Nothing like that. No pity, no self-anything. I just evolved into this and have become far too unwilling to bend, improvement or otherwise. A choice, if you will. If I resolve everything into a societal image, I will no longer be me, and forgive me for saying so, but something unique could be lost. I may be controlling and unfair, but I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt that each of us is unique. There is no way in the world I can be anything else, expectations or hopes be damned to hell. Paths not taken, plans not made. Working with this computer is like shoveling shit against the tide ever since the operating system upgrade. I may have to do something to help, but I'm not an expert. Fortification has not only been applied to the house, but to me as well. Protection? From what? Myself? I killed the idea of Arina because it was ridiculous from the beginning. A representation need not be created in order for me to organize and attempt working with this crap. It really was a stupid idea, although many of the words here since the outset of the global fucking shit have been equally ridiculous. Machinery dreams due to all the problems I have with people, constant gushing over one face or another, and then the futile attempts at normalizing (metalworking term, that one) my head through some convoluted exploration while I sit here and continue to engage in the same damaging behavior which began the journey. If I am to truly find some way of dealing with everything, it will not come from anything external, not the least of which is my never-ending search for something that does not exist. What was the word? Ridiculous. Almost as bad as this show became during the sixth and seventh seasons. Ugh. I am still watching, sort of. And read this paragraph while seeing that I included another image of a model despite my stating that to do so has not been a good idea. Go ahead and laugh. Sarah has got one hell of a set of teeth. Talk about 'Chiclets'. Geez. Ugh. Weak and desperate. 'I'm always falling down the same hill Bamboo puncturing the skin And nothing comes bleeding out of me just like a waterfall I'm drowning in Two feet below the surface I can still make out your wavy face If I could just reach you, maybe I could leave this place' Said weakness appeared very quickly the other day. Some aspects of me have not improved one iota since trying to learn of why they developed in the first place. I've tried, and just when my thinking heads into productive territory, the desperation takes over and everything is shoved aside due to a vision of beauty somewhere out there in the world. Another example? This paragraph has just been completely derailed by seeing Bailey up there again carrying about as much cute as can be crammed into one woman. Unbelievable. Anyway, the day I went to the market -- actually two, I think -- became very haphazard upon exchanging a few words with the girl behind the register, and for no good reason other than my innate ability to be completely confounded by a vision and losing track of the world in mere seconds. You wanna talk about ridiculous? How does this happen? Is it truly weakness and desperation? Or possibly the endless need to be understood through the words of a beautiful woman? Validated? Why? What the fuck is this? The mirror tells me nothing. And then on the heels of that shit is the other fucking problem... Everything I see which is most decidedly NOT beauty, but something else entirely. Related? Probably. Can I figure it out? Not likely. I am going to cease placing blame on people and leave it to the situations of the past over which no one had any control. One positive still shining above all is that at least I fucking THINK about things rather than simply reacting and turning into a raving asshole. No one currently living is at fault here. I have to leave them the hell alone. Even the topic sentence of this paragraph is not due to anyone living. It is something else entirely. I just don't know the answer. This Polish actor on the television has some amazing features, yet her overall appearance is that of a demon. Shoulders to die for, thighs from the inside of my head, tremendous height and everything stretched as a result, but the bottom line is scary. Stay away from me. I derailed my own paragraph again. Heh. And I just turned off the show due to my inability to deal with some imagery. Go figure. We were discussing this most unbelievable of programs just yesterday, too. The fact that most of the time I need to watch alone out of fear of what others are seeing and possibly thinking. Such fear is one of the biggest problems in this life. It limits so many things and removes even more options that I am beginning to believe it a phobia. That may seem too strong a term, but the more time that passes, the more I honestly believe there can be no recovery at all. I'll put on some science fiction instead. The media is nearly always my choice, anyway. This entire section after Ruslana's lovely appearance may have stemmed entirely from fear. I can engage in all the bloodwork available but I will come out the other side exactly the same. Just like running away on so many occasions with no intention of returning, nothing will be solved. I am probably worse than I believe, anyway. All of the work is peripheral. And rhetoric. Friday after one of the nicest, most relaxing Thursdays in memory. I am the same, however. Something always slices, dices, otherwise cuts me or causes some degree of recoil. It always will, too. There is nothing I can do about any of it now or in the future. My limited options have been reduced to one, and that is to spend as much time as I am able focused upon my needs rather than placing the others before me as I have for the last year-plus. I must keep in mind that if I lose grip they will be affected as well. I care, and cannot have that type of thing. Physician heal thyself? Heh... Sort of. This morning is rather melancholy. I have lots of things arriving today to support the work and some hobbies, very little routing to care for later when I am alone, yet deep down I cannot seem to rise, even with my favorite part of the day just two hours from now. This day may be the type in which I pretty much hibernate and relax, full of thought. I do have some organization to complete in the office, though. That will take lots of time. Plus the little things which seem to annoy me often. I can care for a little at a time. There seems no way to extract the shit from my head, so anything resembling forward motion is necessary right now. All those fears, worries and limiting jabs are present this morning. Every fucking one of them. And the show is back on just so I can complete it before heading in some alternate direction. Yesterday I switched it off due to so much back to back bullshit, and one would think the earlier seasons would have affected me worse than the more 'mellow' sixth and seventh. Well, maybe not. Some media is cumulative. I am accustomed to much of this stuff, but still the problems come along and often catch me off guard even after all these years. Each is present right now. Such a fact means I have to fucking change something... Anything to enable an easing of the daily difficulties. A rise? Eh... Nothing so grandiose. But I have to pick a direction, and soon. The current period is becoming unacceptable. I do not like it. Yesterday I was able to move some things around despite the limited time. Today I will do the same. The weather has been on my side and making everything easier. Switch. More and more lately I find that looking at Anna's face is more off-putting and uncomfortable than seeing some of the unbelievable male characters which can be very discomfiting. That is funny because many people seem to find her irresistible and often use one of the most overused terms to encompass her attractiveness, and that word is 'hot'. Well, I have never felt that way. If you go all the way back to the early nineties when she was still a child and honestly won a fucking academy award for one performance, there was a ton of respect. But this role? Very little about her is easy to stomach. All sorts of traits are apparent which go against the grain of my normalized eyes, and whatever other people seem to gush over is exactly the opposite to me. One day soon I may have to avoid the show just to avoid seeing her. Thank goodness there are several other characters with which I can either identify or understand. Anna is beginning to annoy the shit out of me. In fact, many aspects of the show are ridiculous and manipulative. The latter term is something I do not appreciate or respect. It is unfair to script the material in such a manner. Wow, maybe I'm talking myself out of watching the last two seasons in the future. Heh. Nora makes every other female on the show look like shit anyway. I never call her Lucy. Don't care much for that name. And switch back. The light is coming up. I chipped a little of the shit in the garage two days ago, as well, meaning the free space is beginning to form into a plan. Bringing my old loudspeakers in here was a good idea, although the wood doesn't match the other furniture in the living room. That's ok, this is not a fancy house. The space below my bench in the garage is now available to shift the refrigerator and stack of chairs, meaning more floor space prior to Halloween preparations. That may seem silly, but for me Halloween is a very important night and one which seems to fly by in mere seconds. Scary stuff... You know. So everything can be in order for that night and then I will lead the space into other directions. Very exciting, this crap. Sometimes I feel at a loss for never having children. Other times -- like right fucking now -- I fear for what kind of people may have been produced. Scary. I am not the most balanced, sensible individual in the world and find it difficult to believe I could have been an effective guide for anyone in life, let alone a young and developing person. Did I mention scary? Fucking scary. But I will say that those near me throughout the last two decades who have shouldered the burden of raising their own offspring have my respect. I still believe it is the toughest work in existence. Anyway... The fact remains I will never know. Thanks, guys. This subject is one of the limiting factors in my day-to-day living. The second largest, actually. Like the other one I learned just half a year ago, there is no possibility of a solution. Again... Thanks, and a big, sloppy kiss to all involved. Go die, alone in a muddy ditch you fucking shitheels. The show made me begin that paragraph. Yesterday was a good example of a very necessary snowstorm in the middle of the day, sunshine notwithstanding. I had to do it lest the reality came to the surface, all screams and nightmarish imagery. I can't have that. Not now. The blower left the shed and created quite the mess. By the time the sun melted my snow away, I was safer and a bit more secure. Like right now... Alone. I was not the catalyst this time, either. Nothing came from my mouth to begin such a conversation, but I did put an end to it quickly and without losing my shit. As unfair and unbalanced as my behavior can be, I still have to retain some semblance of humanity when dealing with people. Small steps right now. Perhaps larger advances and a more intimidating stance in the future. When I become uncomfortable, the first reaction is generally one of quiet. My sentences become truncated and the words somewhat cut off. People notice and realize something is amiss. I usually try to stop myself from going completely aslant, however. If that happens I will lose a measure of control and probably ruin the day along with several others. The conversation simply became uncomfortable, brushed against the idea of duality -- and this time there can be no question -- and then was stifled by yours truly out of nothing more than fear. I did not begin the shit. As I said, the reality did not intrude, though. I kept it back and out of sight. That circumstance will only destroy everything. I will destroy everything just to keep someone else's voice from affecting me. In the short term, snow is fine. Any situation can be altered, manipulated, or otherwise transformed into a better, more comfortable conversation by me. Alternatively, it can lead to the most horrendous outpouring of emotion that no person wishes to see or hear. The power to end something permanently is always available, but a last resort. Again... I did not begin that shit. Out of the clear, blue sky. Hours to myself... Which direction? Pissy? Cunty? Bitchy? Or perhaps... Productive? Who is to know? I suppose the operative phrase this morning is 'whatever seems best'. Or maybe 'whatever is most pressing'. I don't fucking know. God damn does Deborah have some front teeth. Anyway, I suppose one part of the day will be cunty and another will be productive. More stuff out the door. More organization. More comfortable thoughts. That will suffice for this day. I also have some material being delivered this afternoon, but I mentioned it already. I don't understand how I have become so weak and introverted as to sit here and fucking describe the housework each day. I used to be strong, forthright, and vital. Now I've been reduced like last week's fucking sauce left on the burner overnight. A little, frightened bird drained of strength. How did this happen? Moved nearly to tears by what seemed a magical encounter at the race? Who does such a thing? Maybe my focus should be shifted from chores to dealing with feeling disappointed with myself. Almost ashamed. Back to our regularly scheduled cunty... I need to dress and move around a bit this morning. I don't want to sit here too long because I'll end up rather lazy, and I can't have that shit these days. The anger and crappy moods will have to lift me today. All sorts of stuff can change. I just have to force the issue. Bailey is a really cute name for a female. The bloodwork is a reaction to external stimuli. There can be no controlling other people, so the only defense against any stabs is to alter my behavior to follow suit. No, that does not mean being cold toward them, only adjusting my reaction in order to better protect myself and let just enough disdain through to leverage what comes at me and change it. Those two situations which have angered me the most have nothing to do with anyone now living, only those of the past who are gone. Seven seasons later and Arlene is still goofy. Sweet, but very goofy. Anyway, I need to maintain perspective and only lash in directions which are appropriate to the stabs. People have to know I am not the individual to be trifled, nor will I simply lie down and accept the shoe prints on my back. Ahh... There is a part of the problem up on the big screen. Well, I can deal with the fiction just fine. When the subject moves from the television and into actual conversation, that is where the shit begins. Two opposites up there right now... Two. One on the left and the other on the right. Writing such scenes is not a big deal, yet it can affect the well-being of reality when too much is taken away and related to real life. That is all wrong. Believe me, I know, because I've made a career of it. On the opposite side of the fence is a different type of storm, and one I am finding more and more difficult to discuss. The opposing characters are vastly different, too. When my internal issues are inflamed by the media, my brain immediately heads into angry territory, meaning bloodwork and the forest mindset along with similar shitty feelings. Right now I need to be mindful, though. No matter what I may experience as a result of such manipulation, those around me must be taken into hand as people and not problems. This is tough, to say the least. I've railroaded the subject so many times that even I am tired of the wording. Not funny. My reaction may be all that is left in the world. I have control over it. I am not explaining this very well at all. Here we are at the cusp of nine in the morning and still sitting here wondering what can be said without either revealing too much or shading everything so dramatically that the entire works is nothing more than a mess. Ah... Just like all the entries for sixteen months, right? Is any of it clear? Does it mean anything? Hmm... 'You would know, wouldn't you You extend a hand to those who suffer To those who know what it really feels like To those who've had a taste, like that means something And oh so sick I am, And maybe I don't have a choice, And maybe that is all I have, And maybe this is a cry for help.' Today something has to change, methinks. As of this moment I have not clue one as to what can be altered, yet I feel very strongly that I simply must do something very differently from the last many months. Something. The comfort of heading into the new office and opening for business may help me think. We go. Well, that didn't work. I ended up going through the motions just as nearly any other weekday alone. I should have known that rising or turning left or right was going to require more of me. Maybe the time is not yet at hand for such visions. Now that Saturday has arrived, I am looking back to the past days this week and not seeing much. The lumber arrived, and likely one of the most important steps came to pass -- the influx of resources from the state which helped me to stand up a bit -- and I still have plenty of time to do whatever is necessary for peace of mind and physical comfort. The real problems rather came to mind last night and left me quite angry before dropping my head to the pillow. Fortunately, that was the end of my day and nothing came of it. I know sometimes such a turn will take place. Care must be taken to avoid blowing up completely. The little segments of time and enjoyable moments have to be embraced more than ever. Option 'B' is to just let it out. I'll truly be alone if that happens. Ugh. Yesterday was rather all over the place with regard to my thinking, although the vampires came to an end and I decided to watch something different in favor of repeating again. This program is from the same network, meaning harsh and much to see just like the others, yet the ancient setting helps with elements of fantasy. Some aspects will always be there due to the network's reputation for attempting to either surprise or shock their viewers. After all these years, I am used to it. I will admit that the feelings dredged up watching some other series' are repeated here, though. I can't help it. The sheer images they create which build up characters from the very dirt to the sky are sharp and unrelenting. The rest of us cannot live up to such standards. Realistic? Not very, yet the world will take those characters in hand and embrace the core ideals, leaving people flattened by the differences. Everything will remain in mind, no matter the realism. I need to separate myself from those who would be so influenced. Nothing changed yesterday aside from the lumber arriving. I didn't do any of the office organization, either. Just the model on the dining table for a while, the usual stuff and a visit to watch a program on the television. Today I am heading over there for a while and then back home for whatever. Perhaps some bloodwork, but if so it will not be much. I need to think about this shit for a while. Blame, blame, blame. The wrong road. It is not productive to continue looking to the rear and finding sources of pain and truth. Lateral is fine. I already know, anyway. I need not keep my eyes affixed to the mirror of life in order to see from where I came. The road is known. Just a moment ago was a prime example of all that is broken inside. I cannot describe it, but rest assured it was a strong feeling born of something most others would not blink an eye, nor recall even minutes later. The same strike in my eyes causes all manner of analyses for days. Right now I am alone, so none of it can be read from my face, but soon enough I'll be in the eyes of other people and required to raise the facade and avoid entanglements. Tiring. No more blame because I know after these last several entries. I know, good or bad as such a fact may be. Now all I have to do is learn why my brain is keeping me tied to an immovable object, and the process has to take place without destroying others. Today again. Some stuff done, a visit in less than two hours, and then more stuff done. The wood will await more free time. Lots of anger this morning. Lots. I will keep it in check. No one is going to understand the reasoning behind such a harsh mindset, so the mouth remains closed. There are levels to the work. I will take the steps one at a time and arrive on the doorstep of the bloodwork soon enough. The trees are just beyond."
Sanguis Opus
Mature content No. 264 Published September 25th, 2021 8:02am pdt read ( words) Past entries
blood·work \ ˈbləd ˈwərk intransitive verb 'Any activity performed either in reaction to, or in support of, moodiness and rancor which reinforces the same while creating an atmosphere aligned with feelings of separation from society.'
"No, not the film title. Nora is still in jeans. A little while ago was a camera angle which caused me to be both frightened and enamored at the same time. Just now was another shot of her from a distance, facing the camera. She is a symbol now, one which encompasses much of how my mind operates these days... Fantasy-driven, fictional, otherworldly, and completely outside real life. Nora stands there with her amazing face and drives home the nail. Everything can be boiled down these days. All the way down to just a few simple truths: I cannot recover or rise above those incidents of the past. The true force behind the obsession is desire. I must remain away from other people for their safety as well as mine. The loss of my heritage combined with no following line will continue to plague me and support the previous sentence, again for self-preservation. My entire existence has narrowed to the sharpest possible point. The only upside is remaining here. I am rather safe. Too often have the little words come across and stabbed me. I know what I am and everything I am not. This show is probably something those who know me would believe not my style. Well, I can see that. The point is the storyline and characters, not the imagery. As much as I have gushed about Nora, the truth is I followed along and love the supernatural aspects and how they continue to turn. The downside is the imagery conjures all manner of problems. That is why I watch alone. No way around it anymore. Too much happens inside. Ok, so this day has moved along. The routine is finished and lunch is out of the way. Unfortunately, nothing else is going to move me any further. I had ideas for little chores to help the house but I can't get my head out of the bad space. The other Jamie again. What a face. Ugh. I will have to open the house soon due to the high temperature. As soon as the number inside reaches that of the outside, windows open. This little box has zero insulation. That means very warm by evening. Thank goodness the ceiling fan is operational as of early this year. Stop. Wednesday morning and the house is cool. Coffee and those people up there. Sure enough, the mercury shot way up yesterday and curtailed my plans. I did very little during the afternoon hours and before heading to the airport. Upon returning, the house was very warm and uncomfortable. I did not even turn on the oven for dinner. This morning is much better. I'll have to keep the inside cool as long as possible today. The forecast is off the mark often due to the ocean being right down the street.
'Engaged in crime I grasp my throat Enraged; my mind starts to smoke Enforce a mental overload Angry again, angry again, angry again And again and again, again.'
I believe the time is at hand for once again embracing those ideas from late eleven. That was a bad time, yet also liberating to a point. I freed myself of much and held tight to visions of the 1236 period in which my world was on a hair trigger to make sweeping changes. The problem of late is that I've lost that drive and inspiration to the weight of a dull, plodding existence in which I continue to compromise my ideals in favor of those attached to other people. The silver lining is knowing such a fact. My lifestyle has not changed, only the mechanisms inside which try to keep me comfortable. Losing sight originally took place a mere three years later after leaving the 1236 area and relocating slightly east. Soon after was the comfort I had sought. Late eleven felt as a repeat of the reckless early eleven running around but could not materialize because I burned everything to the ground. My eyes only saw what was possible with massive resources, not just changes from within. This morning I am seeing a simpler path. Unfortunately, no one is going to understand it. This may be the only avenue leading to satisfaction, however. The building blocks are actually in place, meaning only little details remain. Small steps taken in turn. Those two words again... Fortification and preparation -- originally spawned by a diminishing sense of security -- are now flying through me due to the issue of dealing with people, not disasters. This is bloodwork; any effort in favor of saving myself through the expulsion of society. The blood inside me taking priority over any other living fucking soul. Tertiary issues and items will be removed permanently. Obviously, the top of the list is to organize everything before any thicker changes can take place. After the heat yesterday I may have to pause the effort until things cool, though. Working with high temperatures is not exactly my idea of enjoyment. Right now the sky is completely overcast and cool, so we shall see how the day develops before making a decision. I can always lay off and stay inside, if necessary. Otherwise, I will begin right here in the old office. Nora is in a bad way and I do not like it. The mid-1236 era was wondrous at times. We (us) cruised through each day carrying much disdain and dissatisfaction with regard to society and became forced outside the lines of the norm. Everything was completely shadowed, as well. Only one other person was privy to such a mindset, and he will not be described here in detail. We located media related to our feelings and dove in with both feet. Throughout months, all of it deepened and solidified until we had to choose between mainstream or fringe. Mainstream eventually won. Buried within the machine of society and the level of comfort I required, the ideals became lost. No more of that. Ah there was a dream at that time, too. It was veiled, yet somewhat described back in seventeen when I had become completely mired within the above-mentioned machine. Work and standards. That's right... Nothing I had wanted and everything I despised. The feelings of seventeen -- with snippets of fifteen -- have returned to my brain full-force and left me feeling as if I have not held myself up due to focusing upon others, and that is indicative of losing said dream. It went by the wayside and became a part of the roadbed as the train rolled with nary a consideration of losses. I can't have that any longer. Opus. The ideas of the 1236 period were not exclusive to me. There were compromises due to my not wishing to be alone, also seeking those comforts which eventually fogged everything to the point of my losing track of where I could have been. That is not an easy trip by any stretch, but may have been more necessary at that time than I had realized. I let it fall away in favor of societal standards. Not good, but at least I was self-sufficient.
Too many pulls on me right now. Some need to be lopped off like dead, annoying branches. Angry again. Thanks Dave. Today will be contingent upon the weather. So far, not bad. The sun is shining but outside the temperature seems much cooler than this time yesterday. Hopefully that means I don't have to sweat it out this afternoon. The inside work comes first, then the new office and shit going into the trash. The new cabinet out there can hold some overflow, I suppose, until a better option is illuminated. Our trash can is very small, too. That means I'll have to compact whatever goes into it. No problem there. I'm used to the process. Angry... Again. The fucking duality is a part of the mood this day. One of the primary sources is on the screen this morning. I believe the optimal path is to consider the duality with subsequent attached bullshit one of the pulls and remove the problem. One word is applicable to this entire situation, and I must admit it is also driven in toto by the bullshit. I can't have that. The word is 'forest'. A while back I mentioned one foot was inside and the other right on the edge, however all that seemed to go away due to the fucking breathing distractions and their inherent need to draw me away from all that has become important. Well, now it is dire. The opus will show the way. Illuminated and hooking me right now. In order for me to enter that void of feelings, I'll have to push back and cool my intentions to the point of forcing those distractions back and in upon themselves. None of it will be easy, though. I still have reservations about the forest, too. The idea that such a mindset can free me from the distractions and provide assistance toward a more satisfying future has to be weighed against possible downsides. In short, care will be necessary while lopping. I can perform all the trimming in such a manner so as to keep those people in the fucking dark. The north may be calling again but I am in no position to fully embrace the idea right now. Too bad, because I am fucking sick of everyone. Pause. Thursday for whatever it is worth.
'Your vanity; your sanctity Your kindless heart Your reverence; your ignorance Your black uncaring eyes No sympathy for humanity; bleak horror The genocide; the parasites The kingdom of the ghost.'
Today I need to bring her to the medical offices for a test, after which we will find some lunch somewhere. God damn, some of these characters make me want to send a strongly-worded email to the executive producers and gently tell them off. The situation on the screen leaves a bit to be desired, honestly. Anyway, all imagery aside, this morning is tough. Last night I had been reminiscing about some of the evenings in the goblet from years ago and thinking that entire part of my life may be over. There is a possibility that I can relish the fold of the gaming culture again, yet each day that passes presses the idea of missing it for good. I was speaking of strolling the enormous restaurant row many times. The last was two years ago when we headed into one of my favorites for what I will define as the best restaurant meal and experience in several years. The memory is wonderful, yet memory means it is gone. Another thought is the idea that the more time which passes, the more likely things will change down there, just like the possibility of the pyramid going away in favor of something new and fresh, according to the creators (those with the power to swap one massive resort for another when the receipts don't blow their skirts up). If I don't get there again under the proper circumstances, the remainder of life will be very narrow. And then the bullshit from the previous entry again. I don't fucking need that right now. There are enough draws and pits already. I cannot even walk across the room anymore without nearly stepping into a fucking hole full of problems. Adding to them will piss me off to no end. The more I think about what goes on inside me during certain types of media and the seldom-discussed results, the more I need to destroy whatever may be nearby at the time. Even those I consider close have nary a clue as to the amount of explosives piled up in my head these days. Fuck. I am getting pretty upset this morning. Those memories and the bullshit are really sticking inside and pushing my head in bad directions. I realize, of course, that the lion's share of times I had been led around were nearly all my doing. No denying that. But the manipulative scripting which makes me want to behead those who write television programs is beginning to appear in the real world. That is something I will not deal with very well. Nor this asshole they confounded to place on the show in the final season just to turn heads. There were two, actually, and both characters had little to no impact despite their fucking prominence on the screen. Whatever. Anyway, on my list of important things in life right now, people are somewhere around ninth or so -- just below sweeping the garage floor. The work I must perform is primarily driven by the feelings I hold toward others these days. The bloodwork. I honestly cannot be too angry with people, though, because I tend to look at my upbringing and past life often enough to realize they may also be dealing with difficulties which have no solutions. The only rub is if everything goes to shit and I end up completely alone, I will not mind. There will be loss, just not so much that I would need to be near anyone. If I'm going to wonder about people's heads, I may as well be far enough away that they cannot hear me screaming. Still pretty damned pissy, however. The major issue here is the idea that society can be to blame for having a huge impact upon people's well-being, yet those very same fucking people make up the very same society. One could refer to this as a vicious cycle, but my terms are different. It is a conundrum which some will take to heart and then support without realizing they are the problem(s). Write it down or read some other site. Good thing Bailey was twenty-three when this episode was shot because what goes through my head when she is on the screen may be banned in some cultures. Not good. The very peak of issues likely forced by other issues over which I had no control. Now I am whatever I am and very difficult for others to deal with. Today should be fine. I'll be leaving in two hours and out for a while, after which I'll return and care for some business before relaxing. I began some bloodwork yesterday in the garage and can continue this afternoon if nothing else becomes a priority. Forget the frightwork. We are past that.
I cannot be those things... Those people or any part of them. It's too late for me to find a different direction in life because I am tired. Weakened by the problem of being the way I am yet not really feeling like any sort of victim. Nothing like that. No pity, no self-anything. I just evolved into this and have become far too unwilling to bend, improvement or otherwise. A choice, if you will. If I resolve everything into a societal image, I will no longer be me, and forgive me for saying so, but something unique could be lost. I may be controlling and unfair, but I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt that each of us is unique. There is no way in the world I can be anything else, expectations or hopes be damned to hell. Paths not taken, plans not made. Working with this computer is like shoveling shit against the tide ever since the operating system upgrade. I may have to do something to help, but I'm not an expert. Fortification has not only been applied to the house, but to me as well. Protection? From what? Myself? I killed the idea of Arina because it was ridiculous from the beginning. A representation need not be created in order for me to organize and attempt working with this crap. It really was a stupid idea, although many of the words here since the outset of the global fucking shit have been equally ridiculous. Machinery dreams due to all the problems I have with people, constant gushing over one face or another, and then the futile attempts at normalizing (metalworking term, that one) my head through some convoluted exploration while I sit here and continue to engage in the same damaging behavior which began the journey. If I am to truly find some way of dealing with everything, it will not come from anything external, not the least of which is my never-ending search for something that does not exist. What was the word? Ridiculous. Almost as bad as this show became during the sixth and seventh seasons. Ugh. I am still watching, sort of. And read this paragraph while seeing that I included another image of a model despite my stating that to do so has not been a good idea. Go ahead and laugh. Sarah has got one hell of a set of teeth. Talk about 'Chiclets'. Geez. Ugh. Weak and desperate.
'I'm always falling down the same hill Bamboo puncturing the skin And nothing comes bleeding out of me just like a waterfall I'm drowning in Two feet below the surface I can still make out your wavy face If I could just reach you, maybe I could leave this place'
Said weakness appeared very quickly the other day. Some aspects of me have not improved one iota since trying to learn of why they developed in the first place. I've tried, and just when my thinking heads into productive territory, the desperation takes over and everything is shoved aside due to a vision of beauty somewhere out there in the world. Another example? This paragraph has just been completely derailed by seeing Bailey up there again carrying about as much cute as can be crammed into one woman. Unbelievable. Anyway, the day I went to the market -- actually two, I think -- became very haphazard upon exchanging a few words with the girl behind the register, and for no good reason other than my innate ability to be completely confounded by a vision and losing track of the world in mere seconds. You wanna talk about ridiculous? How does this happen? Is it truly weakness and desperation? Or possibly the endless need to be understood through the words of a beautiful woman? Validated? Why? What the fuck is this? The mirror tells me nothing. And then on the heels of that shit is the other fucking problem... Everything I see which is most decidedly NOT beauty, but something else entirely. Related? Probably. Can I figure it out? Not likely. I am going to cease placing blame on people and leave it to the situations of the past over which no one had any control. One positive still shining above all is that at least I fucking THINK about things rather than simply reacting and turning into a raving asshole. No one currently living is at fault here. I have to leave them the hell alone. Even the topic sentence of this paragraph is not due to anyone living. It is something else entirely. I just don't know the answer. This Polish actor on the television has some amazing features, yet her overall appearance is that of a demon. Shoulders to die for, thighs from the inside of my head, tremendous height and everything stretched as a result, but the bottom line is scary. Stay away from me. I derailed my own paragraph again. Heh. And I just turned off the show due to my inability to deal with some imagery. Go figure. We were discussing this most unbelievable of programs just yesterday, too. The fact that most of the time I need to watch alone out of fear of what others are seeing and possibly thinking. Such fear is one of the biggest problems in this life. It limits so many things and removes even more options that I am beginning to believe it a phobia. That may seem too strong a term, but the more time that passes, the more I honestly believe there can be no recovery at all. I'll put on some science fiction instead. The media is nearly always my choice, anyway. This entire section after Ruslana's lovely appearance may have stemmed entirely from fear. I can engage in all the bloodwork available but I will come out the other side exactly the same. Just like running away on so many occasions with no intention of returning, nothing will be solved. I am probably worse than I believe, anyway. All of the work is peripheral. And rhetoric. Friday after one of the nicest, most relaxing Thursdays in memory. I am the same, however. Something always slices, dices, otherwise cuts me or causes some degree of recoil. It always will, too. There is nothing I can do about any of it now or in the future. My limited options have been reduced to one, and that is to spend as much time as I am able focused upon my needs rather than placing the others before me as I have for the last year-plus. I must keep in mind that if I lose grip they will be affected as well. I care, and cannot have that type of thing. Physician heal thyself? Heh... Sort of. This morning is rather melancholy. I have lots of things arriving today to support the work and some hobbies, very little routing to care for later when I am alone, yet deep down I cannot seem to rise, even with my favorite part of the day just two hours from now. This day may be the type in which I pretty much hibernate and relax, full of thought. I do have some organization to complete in the office, though. That will take lots of time. Plus the little things which seem to annoy me often. I can care for a little at a time. There seems no way to extract the shit from my head, so anything resembling forward motion is necessary right now. All those fears, worries and limiting jabs are present this morning. Every fucking one of them. And the show is back on just so I can complete it before heading in some alternate direction. Yesterday I switched it off due to so much back to back bullshit, and one would think the earlier seasons would have affected me worse than the more 'mellow' sixth and seventh. Well, maybe not. Some media is cumulative. I am accustomed to much of this stuff, but still the problems come along and often catch me off guard even after all these years. Each is present right now. Such a fact means I have to fucking change something... Anything to enable an easing of the daily difficulties. A rise? Eh... Nothing so grandiose. But I have to pick a direction, and soon. The current period is becoming unacceptable. I do not like it.
Yesterday I was able to move some things around despite the limited time. Today I will do the same. The weather has been on my side and making everything easier. Switch. More and more lately I find that looking at Anna's face is more off-putting and uncomfortable than seeing some of the unbelievable male characters which can be very discomfiting. That is funny because many people seem to find her irresistible and often use one of the most overused terms to encompass her attractiveness, and that word is 'hot'. Well, I have never felt that way. If you go all the way back to the early nineties when she was still a child and honestly won a fucking academy award for one performance, there was a ton of respect. But this role? Very little about her is easy to stomach. All sorts of traits are apparent which go against the grain of my normalized eyes, and whatever other people seem to gush over is exactly the opposite to me. One day soon I may have to avoid the show just to avoid seeing her. Thank goodness there are several other characters with which I can either identify or understand. Anna is beginning to annoy the shit out of me. In fact, many aspects of the show are ridiculous and manipulative. The latter term is something I do not appreciate or respect. It is unfair to script the material in such a manner. Wow, maybe I'm talking myself out of watching the last two seasons in the future. Heh. Nora makes every other female on the show look like shit anyway. I never call her Lucy. Don't care much for that name. And switch back. The light is coming up. I chipped a little of the shit in the garage two days ago, as well, meaning the free space is beginning to form into a plan. Bringing my old loudspeakers in here was a good idea, although the wood doesn't match the other furniture in the living room. That's ok, this is not a fancy house. The space below my bench in the garage is now available to shift the refrigerator and stack of chairs, meaning more floor space prior to Halloween preparations. That may seem silly, but for me Halloween is a very important night and one which seems to fly by in mere seconds. Scary stuff... You know. So everything can be in order for that night and then I will lead the space into other directions. Very exciting, this crap. Sometimes I feel at a loss for never having children. Other times -- like right fucking now -- I fear for what kind of people may have been produced. Scary. I am not the most balanced, sensible individual in the world and find it difficult to believe I could have been an effective guide for anyone in life, let alone a young and developing person. Did I mention scary? Fucking scary. But I will say that those near me throughout the last two decades who have shouldered the burden of raising their own offspring have my respect. I still believe it is the toughest work in existence. Anyway... The fact remains I will never know. Thanks, guys. This subject is one of the limiting factors in my day-to-day living. The second largest, actually. Like the other one I learned just half a year ago, there is no possibility of a solution. Again... Thanks, and a big, sloppy kiss to all involved. Go die, alone in a muddy ditch you fucking shitheels. The show made me begin that paragraph. Yesterday was a good example of a very necessary snowstorm in the middle of the day, sunshine notwithstanding. I had to do it lest the reality came to the surface, all screams and nightmarish imagery. I can't have that. Not now. The blower left the shed and created quite the mess. By the time the sun melted my snow away, I was safer and a bit more secure. Like right now... Alone. I was not the catalyst this time, either. Nothing came from my mouth to begin such a conversation, but I did put an end to it quickly and without losing my shit. As unfair and unbalanced as my behavior can be, I still have to retain some semblance of humanity when dealing with people. Small steps right now. Perhaps larger advances and a more intimidating stance in the future. When I become uncomfortable, the first reaction is generally one of quiet. My sentences become truncated and the words somewhat cut off. People notice and realize something is amiss. I usually try to stop myself from going completely aslant, however. If that happens I will lose a measure of control and probably ruin the day along with several others. The conversation simply became uncomfortable, brushed against the idea of duality -- and this time there can be no question -- and then was stifled by yours truly out of nothing more than fear. I did not begin the shit. As I said, the reality did not intrude, though. I kept it back and out of sight. That circumstance will only destroy everything. I will destroy everything just to keep someone else's voice from affecting me. In the short term, snow is fine. Any situation can be altered, manipulated, or otherwise transformed into a better, more comfortable conversation by me. Alternatively, it can lead to the most horrendous outpouring of emotion that no person wishes to see or hear. The power to end something permanently is always available, but a last resort. Again... I did not begin that shit. Out of the clear, blue sky. Hours to myself... Which direction? Pissy? Cunty? Bitchy? Or perhaps... Productive? Who is to know? I suppose the operative phrase this morning is 'whatever seems best'. Or maybe 'whatever is most pressing'. I don't fucking know. God damn does Deborah have some front teeth. Anyway, I suppose one part of the day will be cunty and another will be productive. More stuff out the door. More organization. More comfortable thoughts. That will suffice for this day. I also have some material being delivered this afternoon, but I mentioned it already. I don't understand how I have become so weak and introverted as to sit here and fucking describe the housework each day. I used to be strong, forthright, and vital. Now I've been reduced like last week's fucking sauce left on the burner overnight. A little, frightened bird drained of strength. How did this happen? Moved nearly to tears by what seemed a magical encounter at the race? Who does such a thing? Maybe my focus should be shifted from chores to dealing with feeling disappointed with myself. Almost ashamed. Back to our regularly scheduled cunty... I need to dress and move around a bit this morning. I don't want to sit here too long because I'll end up rather lazy, and I can't have that shit these days. The anger and crappy moods will have to lift me today. All sorts of stuff can change. I just have to force the issue. Bailey is a really cute name for a female. The bloodwork is a reaction to external stimuli. There can be no controlling other people, so the only defense against any stabs is to alter my behavior to follow suit. No, that does not mean being cold toward them, only adjusting my reaction in order to better protect myself and let just enough disdain through to leverage what comes at me and change it. Those two situations which have angered me the most have nothing to do with anyone now living, only those of the past who are gone. Seven seasons later and Arlene is still goofy. Sweet, but very goofy. Anyway, I need to maintain perspective and only lash in directions which are appropriate to the stabs. People have to know I am not the individual to be trifled, nor will I simply lie down and accept the shoe prints on my back. Ahh... There is a part of the problem up on the big screen. Well, I can deal with the fiction just fine. When the subject moves from the television and into actual conversation, that is where the shit begins. Two opposites up there right now... Two. One on the left and the other on the right. Writing such scenes is not a big deal, yet it can affect the well-being of reality when too much is taken away and related to real life. That is all wrong. Believe me, I know, because I've made a career of it. On the opposite side of the fence is a different type of storm, and one I am finding more and more difficult to discuss. The opposing characters are vastly different, too. When my internal issues are inflamed by the media, my brain immediately heads into angry territory, meaning bloodwork and the forest mindset along with similar shitty feelings. Right now I need to be mindful, though. No matter what I may experience as a result of such manipulation, those around me must be taken into hand as people and not problems. This is tough, to say the least. I've railroaded the subject so many times that even I am tired of the wording. Not funny. My reaction may be all that is left in the world. I have control over it. I am not explaining this very well at all.
Here we are at the cusp of nine in the morning and still sitting here wondering what can be said without either revealing too much or shading everything so dramatically that the entire works is nothing more than a mess. Ah... Just like all the entries for sixteen months, right? Is any of it clear? Does it mean anything? Hmm...
'You would know, wouldn't you You extend a hand to those who suffer To those who know what it really feels like To those who've had a taste, like that means something And oh so sick I am, And maybe I don't have a choice, And maybe that is all I have, And maybe this is a cry for help.'
Today something has to change, methinks. As of this moment I have not clue one as to what can be altered, yet I feel very strongly that I simply must do something very differently from the last many months. Something. The comfort of heading into the new office and opening for business may help me think. We go. Well, that didn't work. I ended up going through the motions just as nearly any other weekday alone. I should have known that rising or turning left or right was going to require more of me. Maybe the time is not yet at hand for such visions. Now that Saturday has arrived, I am looking back to the past days this week and not seeing much. The lumber arrived, and likely one of the most important steps came to pass -- the influx of resources from the state which helped me to stand up a bit -- and I still have plenty of time to do whatever is necessary for peace of mind and physical comfort. The real problems rather came to mind last night and left me quite angry before dropping my head to the pillow. Fortunately, that was the end of my day and nothing came of it. I know sometimes such a turn will take place. Care must be taken to avoid blowing up completely. The little segments of time and enjoyable moments have to be embraced more than ever. Option 'B' is to just let it out. I'll truly be alone if that happens. Ugh. Yesterday was rather all over the place with regard to my thinking, although the vampires came to an end and I decided to watch something different in favor of repeating again. This program is from the same network, meaning harsh and much to see just like the others, yet the ancient setting helps with elements of fantasy. Some aspects will always be there due to the network's reputation for attempting to either surprise or shock their viewers. After all these years, I am used to it. I will admit that the feelings dredged up watching some other series' are repeated here, though. I can't help it. The sheer images they create which build up characters from the very dirt to the sky are sharp and unrelenting. The rest of us cannot live up to such standards. Realistic? Not very, yet the world will take those characters in hand and embrace the core ideals, leaving people flattened by the differences. Everything will remain in mind, no matter the realism. I need to separate myself from those who would be so influenced. Nothing changed yesterday aside from the lumber arriving. I didn't do any of the office organization, either. Just the model on the dining table for a while, the usual stuff and a visit to watch a program on the television. Today I am heading over there for a while and then back home for whatever. Perhaps some bloodwork, but if so it will not be much. I need to think about this shit for a while. Blame, blame, blame. The wrong road. It is not productive to continue looking to the rear and finding sources of pain and truth. Lateral is fine. I already know, anyway. I need not keep my eyes affixed to the mirror of life in order to see from where I came. The road is known. Just a moment ago was a prime example of all that is broken inside. I cannot describe it, but rest assured it was a strong feeling born of something most others would not blink an eye, nor recall even minutes later. The same strike in my eyes causes all manner of analyses for days. Right now I am alone, so none of it can be read from my face, but soon enough I'll be in the eyes of other people and required to raise the facade and avoid entanglements. Tiring. No more blame because I know after these last several entries. I know, good or bad as such a fact may be. Now all I have to do is learn why my brain is keeping me tied to an immovable object, and the process has to take place without destroying others. Today again. Some stuff done, a visit in less than two hours, and then more stuff done. The wood will await more free time. Lots of anger this morning. Lots. I will keep it in check. No one is going to understand the reasoning behind such a harsh mindset, so the mouth remains closed. There are levels to the work. I will take the steps one at a time and arrive on the doorstep of the bloodwork soon enough. The trees are just beyond."
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