Brian J.

So my last post about Calliope's descending testicle was kind of in good humor, but it's gotten bigger fairly quickly and I think it may actually be a tumor. It's sad because I don't have the money for rattie surgery. I've read online that it can cost between $50-$150 to remove rat tumors, and I wonder if anyone in San Antonio will actually be able to do it. What we may have to do is euthanize her, which concerns me even more because I've read that the typical euthanization for rats is very inhumane. Rat veins aren't big enough to inject with standard needles and so they typically have to inject them directly in the heart which is very painful for the rat.

The stuff online says that you don't have to consider euthanization on inoperable tumors until the rat stops eating and growing lethargic. Calliope seems pretty active and she's definitely still eating so she may still have some time, yet. I need to start talking to vets, though. See what we can do and whether or not they have a humane way to euthanize her.

We've had nesting birds on our back patio for the past few months, and I was beginning to think that they were infertile, but their eggs hatched about a week ago and their little babies are finally sticking their little heads over the side of the nest. It's cute. Sure, I have 3+ adult birds that get aggrevated whenever I step out on my patio, and there's a mound of birdshit piling up beneath the nest, but it's still kind of nice to be a part of those new birdy lives. They've doubled in size over the past week!

No work today or tomorrow! wOOt! It's kind of odd, though, because Karen is visiting friends in Corpus all weekend, so I'm alone. No friends want to play, either. Bodmann is moving to Chicago in a week, so he's really busy putting his affairs in order, Baxter obviously has plans since he's avoiding my calls/AIMs, even though he knows its is turn to come over and hang out (he missed my birthday party this year, too. The pooper)! Jon's not visiting SA this weekend, since Erin is visiting him in Austin, and besides they have dancing lessons scheduled. My friend Anna, who I don't really see much, works two jobs so she's usually hard to coordinate with, anyway--but no answer from her, either.

I really don't have that many friends to call, I guess. It's usually not a problem, though. I don't mind being alone. When you live with somebody you get less of that "you" time, which I appreciate, but I'm feeling kind of social today (for some odd reason). I suppose I should sieze the opportunity to catch up on some reading and do some more free writing (which I can effectively do in isolation).

I have this fancy journal that has a black leather cover with my initials embroidered on the cover. I got it as a gift about six months ago, and I haven't written anything in it. Whenever I sit down to try, I'm intimidated by it's aesthetics--I think to myself "that's a nice journal, and it seems to follow that I should write something worthwhile in it--not just notes or random thoughts."

I suppose I've felt that I don't have anything worthwhile writing, which kind of irritates me. I should. My 25th birthday has just passed, and I feel like I've squandered a lot of time. In the words of Napoleon Dynamite "I don't even have any skills."

Deep down, I know I possess worthwhile qualities and a perspective that's unique, has potential to influence others. I think the problem is that A) I have really lofty expectations for myself, B) I constantly compare myself to others, and the greatest of my trappings: C) I lack discipline.

There must be a way out of this:

First, I'll consider A). I think it's not so much that I feel bad because I don't meet my expectations, but that I feel like I don't apply myself such that I live up to my potential (very strongly related to problem C). I ought to resolve to make a greater effort to apply myself, specifically in my studies. This is not specific enough, however. I've found that really vague resolutions never work out. It has to be very specific. So I will begin with dedicating at least 1 hour a day to studying philosophy.

In terms of B), the simplist solution would be to surpress the comparison-envying process. However, part of this process is recognizing the qualities in other people that I myself want to possess, so it seems that this particular trapping has a constructive aspect to it, and that surpressing the comparison-envying process altogether would blind me to the virtues I'd like to cultivate. Thus, the solution seems to be that I ought to make a conscious recognition of the specific virtue I find myself admiring, and to 1) recognize that person for it, and 2) set a personal goal to cultivate it myself.

Then there is C). This is not something so easily alleviated. I know because I've resolved to do it many times and always fall back into laziness at the slightest sensation of frustration or boredom. My resolution presented in A) will take a healthy step towards resolving this trapping, but something more is needed...

I'll think about this some more, and also leave it opened for suggestions to anyone who has read this far into my entry. If you cheated and skipped to the end, you're not allowed to comment.

Karen and I were playing with the ratties tonight, and she noticed that Calliope has, what looks like, a descended left testicle. There's really nothing else it could be because cysts aren't that large and are usually higher up, and for those of you who have seen a male rat, their testicles are unmistakable. What's odd (other than the fact that she just has one testicle and doesn't apparently have any male genitals) is that it took so long for it to descend. Maybe we just didn't notice it, but I know it wasn't there--or at least not that obvious--when she was a baby (again, male rats even at around 5 weeks are extremely distinct from the females). This would explain why Calliope is so aggresive and frequently tries to hump Kayla, but damn. How bizarre...

A little research on the subject revealed that female hermaphrodite rats are often capable of reproducing with normal females. It's hard to tell if Calliope has a penis, because both male and female rats have separate urethras that look a like penises, and the genitals themselves aren't that obvious besides the huge testicles that males tend to have. I'm totally going to keep them together, though. That'd be cool if Calliope impregnated Kayla (though a bit disturbing since she's not only a hermaphrodite, but also Kayla's sister). Rodent inbreeding isn't that big of a deal, though. In fact, that's probably partly responsible for making Calliope the genetic abnormality she is.

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I'm watching the finale of Gray's Anatomy because I had to work until midnight and DVR it. I wish all shows were this good. Of course, then I probably would have never gone to college.

Does anyone else ever wake up and say "What the hell am I doing?"

Seriously. Reply. I need some sense that I'm not the only one that feels like a completely screw-up.

Karen and I had a great time at the zoo with some friends who got us in for free. We also went to the botanical gardens. It was nice to do something all day and hardly spend any money.

As promised, I took lots of pictures: http://camus.etherwell.com/~bjbell/archive/zoo/

I haven't resized any of them and haven't deleted all the blurry ones, yet. Some of them turned out really good, though.

We're going to the zoo! I will take lots of pictures.


THE ZOO!!

An Excerpt from one of my latest projects, "Everyday Canvas":

My nymph, my could-be goddess--she worries less about how she is powerless, while I struggle for more control. Perhaps it is a privilege of her sex, or perhaps she has all the time been wiser than I. But she sleeps without effort, tonight, as I stir, forcing meaning upon every color, taste, sound and shadow. I stir, to thicken their watery bases into a hardened clay. I stir, though every element, once settled, will separate its self again.

Restless, I ask Night to console me. Her air has become wet, obscuring horizon, stars and moonlight, foiling their ancient guidance with fog, refracting light irregularly or swallowing it whole. These surroundings take every chance to remind me to experience them more deeply; the winds caressing my face amidst the profound tranquility of an oblivious Nature:

Do my own sensibilities lie? My perception perhaps paints the shadows on the faces of those overwhelmed by their mortality. Every morning, as they rise from the unwake--those who seem to be part of the same earth and air as I--what drives them forward? Do they learn to cope, or simply give up? It's a choice of the lesser failures, and as with any riddle or paradox I search for the least obvious solution, waiting for Intuition to whisper hints.

I squint my eyes and see part of the answer penetrating the grayed landscape; it's color radiates from the edges and cracks of the everyday canvas stretched over it; something greater than the unwake--some great fulfillment--lies beneath the surface, but peering directly at it reveals nothing--or perhaps something only a divine eye can observe.

Fatigued by the impossibility of my ambitions, I return to bed to collapse into the open arms of the unwake; there, at least, the mind can have all it has imagined.

It's hard to live hand to mouth the way I have been lately. I'm just barely making ends meet, and really only because Karen is taking on more than her share of the burden. It's driving me kind of nuts living this way, but there isn't much to do about it. What's more disheartening is that I've still got a long way to go.

We're going to try to move to San Marcos, I think. I'll be close to school and work and will save a lot of money on gas. Karen will be starting classes again in the Fall, too. Hopefully she'll find a new job in the area that pays as much as she's making now. Otherwise she'll be commuting back to SA 5 days a week.

I might need to look for another job that pays more, but I don't think I'll find much with the flexability that I have with my current job. I've thought about taking some time off school to get a decent job and just paydown a bunch of bills and get some money saved up, but I don't think that's a good idea. It might be hard to get back into school once I stop, and my student loans will default and put me in an even worse situation.

I suppose everyone kind of struggles with one thing or another at this stage of their life, I just don't know if I can keep it up for another two years. It's depressing that I've been out of high school for 7 years now, and don't have anything to really show for it.

It's been in the news very little since the story broke last year, but when it was discovered that the NSA had been spying on U.S. citizens w/o judicial approval, it was also discovered that, allegedly, AT&T was giving the NSA unrestricted access to their customers' phone and Internet records, as well as the OK to tap central phone and networking hubs. EFF (Electronic Frontier Foundation) filed a class-action lawsuit on behalf of all the customers who had their 4th amendment rights violated (i.e. illegal search w/o probable cause) by this action. Now The Bush Administartion is trying to get the case dismissed and prevent any of the evidence from going public, citing that it will jepordize national security. AT&T has also taken action to keep all evidence under seal, claiming that making these documents and testimony public would reveal trade secrets.

It's ridiculous. The case against AT&T for violating *our* privacy is being smacked-down because it potentially violates the privacy of AT&T and our government's activities? The message here is clear, the victimizer is being made the victim, and the courts are buying into it. Why don't more people see something really wrong here?

It's scary that this kind of thing is allowed to happen, and even more scary that so many citizens aren't too concerned about it. What will we allow the government to do in the name of "safety and security?" Privacy and communication laws are blatantly ignored, huge companies serve our personal information up on a silver platter to whomever they want, and politicians are saying "Trust us, it's for your own good..."

A survey published in money magazine says that the #2 top job in America is "College Professor," averaging at about 80k/year. The #1 is "Software Engineer" which also averages at about 80k/year.

I wonder where "Lawyer" ranks in there. I'm still trying to decide whether I want to be a "Lawyer" or a "Professor." On one hand the more lax academic lifestyle appeals to me. On the other, I'm a material boy living in a material world--and there's plenty of fun stuff to do w/ a law degree.


Anywho, work was slow today. I spent most of my time working on one of my writing projects, and got to go home 2 hours early because it was so slow. Now I'm enjoying screwdrivers and continuing work on my writing project. I've got 15 pages written on this particular project. I also have another one (example was posted in previous LJ entry) which is at about 15 pages, as well. The two are related projects. I wonder if I could successfully join them. It would be a weird fucking novel if I did.

Nobody is going to want to read this stuff, but for some reason that doesn't bother me. It needs to be written.

Sometimes I feel like William H. Macy in "The Cooler." Or, actually, a lot of times--I guess it could be William H. Macy in any movie, since he plays a lot of losers. I had a "boys day out" w/ my dad and my brother. We had breakfast, saw my parent's new house which is almost finished, and then we went bowling and had some beers. I lost every game. I hit the sweet spot a lot--that strike spot between the 1 and 2 or 1 and 3 pin--and there was always one pin remaining. I swear I have the worst luck. And when I think of it, I can't think of any single competative game/sport that I've ever excelled at. I'm always the loser. It also put shit into perspective, because my brother makes more money than I do, has a better job and a better car with a better stereo--and in general has a lot more fun than I do. What's up with that? I make better decisions, never ended up in prison, and I make less money, have more debt and have a lot less fun. WHY? Either I'm in store for a really badass life one day, or there's no sense of justice in the world. Of course I don't have a baby on the way and don't live with my parents, anymore. But still... my life really blows.

Sand in my nostrils, eyes, ears and mouth—down my throat. My insides are so parched that I choke and dry-heave, spewing sand, saliva and blood. My stomach aches and I am nearly paralyzed by thirst. Momentarily these pains are dulled with the panicked realization that I'm blind.

I'm disoriented, of course—it’s an absolute blackness I’ve never experienced—no moon, no stars; there is only cold, wind and the suffocating grit of sand caked into every orifice of my body. Frenzied and confused, frantic; I struggle to recall who I am, where I am and what has happened. Suddenly jarred by the pains of cold, hunger and thirst, I care less about answering those questions and more about survival. I crawl forward through the sand—lacking the strength to pull myself upright and walk. My legs go dead, almost numb. Whatever feeling left in them is swollen, throbbing pain. I try to ignore it.

My arms still have some strength left in them, and I drag my failing body forward, screaming help. The wind and sand rob me of my voice—my throat is swollen and sore, I swallow more sand. Again, I choke and dry-heave. I want to cry but my tear-ducts are dry, my body unable to spare any moisture. Despair sets in as I deeply understand how alone I am in this desolate nowhere and—with half disbelief—that I am about to die. Even in the absence of all identity and purpose, I still want to live. I feel myself drifting out of consciousness, but as I do I cannot enjoy the unconscious state one expects. I only re-awaken in the same blind, desolate nowhere.

Every second is excruciating. I cannot tell how much time has passed, nor do I care. I fear that I may be in some kind of hell. If I am unable to pass into the unconscious world of the unwake, then I am unable to sleep or even to die. I can only suffer, and so I continue to drag my half-dead self forward in search of something to quench the maddening thirst I feel.

Days seem to pass. The wind storms slow and I am able to wipe some of the grit from my eyes and mouth. Suddenly there is light—the brilliance of it overwhelms me, burning my pupils which seemed to have atrophied in days of absolute darkness.

I scream, half-laughing. The hope that I may see again is so overwhelming that my heart nearly bursts. I try to cry, but my tear ducts are still crusted, dried, and depleted. My hand rubs against something slimy and wet just beneath the surface of the sand. I stuff it into my mouth greedily, not caring whether it's poisonous or living—only that it has moisture—and swallow it hole. Immediately there is blackness again—but it is not the blackness of blindness, but that of the unwake.

Seemingly I slip into nothingness for a matter of moments before returning—but now the thirst has lessoned slightly, the world is brighter and takes the form of blurry, colored shapes. My legs have also regained some strength, and I can crawl. Desperately, I try not to sob so as to retain every bit of moisture I manage to consume from the slimy thing in the sand. As I move forward, I comb through the sand hoping to find more of the plants or creatures in order to regain more of my senses and faculties.

The slimy things are few and far between, black and pungent, but there are more, and I swallow them whole just as I did the first, gaining more strength and slipping further into the black void of the unwake for longer. I do this for several days—maybe weeks—through more sand storms, blindness, extreme heat and cold, until I find myself delivered from the suffering, face-up, gazing at the contrast between a cloudless blue sky and an endless purple desert. All that remains is the question of who I am and how I've become so unfortunate—and of course the thirst, which never seems to subsides. Even if I gorge myself on the slimy things—which seem to be the watery excretion of some bizarre desert creatures—the thirst remains constant. I've come to believe that it does not belong to my body, but somehow to my spirit.

Looking back at my past half-dozen LJ's, it's pretty damn lame. 90% of them are about hardware/computer-related stuff--and not even interesting things. It's just "hey I want to buy this" and "hey I want to sell this." I think I'll stop writing about that stuff, else I look back on my LJ archive one day and declare that I'm a shallow asshole.

Wow. My SKII sold for $255 on ebay. That's insane. You can get a brand new SKII for $249.99 + tax. Of course, mine did have extras and was unlocked for development and custom rings.

I'm waiting for the money to hit my account, because I have $3 in checking right now. I really want to go tubing with Baxter tomorrow, too. Getting a gallon of OJ, a bottle of vodka and floating down the river piss-drunk for a few hours sounds devine. Unless my money hits my account, though, I don't think that'll happen.

My backup plan will probably involve lounging on my patio, mostly naked, with the rest of my jug-o-wine and my laptop. Yeah, that doesn't sound so bad either. It's just nice to have a Saturday off with nothing to do.

Nobody seems to want to bid on my sidekick II:

http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=9708808159

The only reason I can think of is because my account on ebay is new and I don't have any seller feedback so people are weary of me. How are you supposed to get good seller feedback if nobody ever buys from you, though? I really need to sell that fucker, too. It's stupid--I have a return policy and it's a fucking steal at $99.99, especially because it's unlocked for custom ringers and java developer and comes with all the extras. There's plain ol non-returnable SKIIs going for almost $200 on there. What gives?

I think most people have really stopped reading LJ in general. I myself rarely read, anymore. Most people who still do the blog/social stuff, I think, have migrated to myspace. I have no idea why. Myspace sucks--it's laggy and stuff breaks all the time. You can't escape the crappy ads, either.

Anywho, regardless of whether or not people are reading, it's still theraputic to write knowing that there's potential for somebody to be reading:

( I've been feeling kind of odd, lately. )

My PC (which was like 5-6 years old) got a virus, and in the process of trying to fix it the thing crapped out. I went out that evening and purchased a shiny new laptop:

http://www.toshibadirect.com/td/b2c/pdet.to?poid=318715&seg=HHO

But then I was able to get the other PC back up and working again. The above PC is advertised everywhere for like $900+ and I got it for $790 on sale at BestBuy. It's a great deal for a lappy with those specs.

My conscious is kind of getting to me, though. Since I'm not really out of a computer, and it's not a neccesity purchase, I wonder if I shouldn't return it. I still got a $1200 truck repair bill to pay off w/ my normal bills. I can't really afford a laptop... even a bargain one--then again this PC may be on its last legs, anyway.

Should I keep it? I have 14 days to decide...

***EDIT***

I ended up returning my original laptop because the battary barely lasted an hour, which is pretty ridiculous for a computer that's supposed to be relatively mobile. I discovered that Best Buy charges a "restocking fee" for opened and returned merchandise. I would have lost around $115 if I would have returned the laptop for a refund, so instead I returned it for a model I'm more happy with--it's more powerful and more compact and the battary lasts 2.5 hours which is *MUCH* better. I probably shouldn't have bought a laptop at all (since I can't afford it), but I'm very happy with the purchase and it ought to last me for a long time.