Day 2:  6:20 PM - 10:00 PM

Cooked from scratch a reasonably
complicated Cuban black bean stew.  Did dishes.  Left somewhat of a
mess, with the intention of cleaning the kitchen out.  Became daunted
by the scope/size of that task.  Will require communication/sacrifice
from either himself or another persona.  Unpleasant work.  Smoked some
pot, chatted with a friend for 10 minutes about the crazy sleep thing,
started watching house.  House was better than anticipated but it truly
is a nightime weekly soap.  More power to it, I love the show.  I need
to find more television to watch for this persona.  Given the massive
amount of time I can free up with this, I can let out this persona
probably far more than I can really fathom right now.

I'm amazed that it's only 9:00.  And I'll be staying up practically all night.

And I can do this whenever I want.

And I get to take naps.

If
I prayed I would mumble, "please let this be at least some of what I
hope it could be.  And please let me be strong enough, and determined
enough to at least find out"

My oven timer just went off.  Time
to stir the stew.  Breakfast tacos "tomorrow" (at twenty past ten or
two, in the morning).  With red potatoes I'm going to cook with them,
and my black beans, and the light sour cream that I bought last period,
sitting in the refrigerator I'm going to clean next period.  Off to
stir the stew, stop writing lazy ass!



Wow, the stew is actually looking pretty damn good!  When you start the
"day" by mincing bacon and chopping six cloves of garlic and two
onions, you know things are going to be delicious later.  Oh and it's
high in protein, I should eat some before I go to bed in an hour.  Or
perhaps eat it the moment I wake up, for breakfast, screw the tacos? 
At least try it.  If I can get other personas to cook, it'll propagate
a cycle of food paying it forward, each to another version of myself. 
I want to upgrade the stove in there, hell redo most of the awful
kitchen.  Expand it perhaps across the door?  Remove the awful island. 
Hmm.  NOTE NOTE NOTE NOTE



For some reason I wanted to contact Joel.  Ah yes, to talk about this
experience, sadly he's off somewhere.  My friend in the UK will be up
in a few hours, she seems to enjoy listening to these escapades outside
of reason and normalcy.



OK, stop writing and go accomplish something.  Off to cleanup the guest bathroom and relocate Sam's litter box there.



Day 2:  10:20 PM - 2:00 AM



Wow, I swear I just had the most relaxing nap.  Only at a few points do
I think I hit real REM sleep, but I had psychadelic experiences and a
total state of relaxation in there along with a lot of side thinking. 
All in all really wonderful.  My only real issue was wondering (not
dreading, just hating committing myself to another bout of relaxation
if it would just be interupted by the bell).  When the alarm did come
though, I awoke from a state of good relaxation to almost wide awake. 
The only real issue is the tiredness of body.  My eyes hurt a bit and I
forgot to buy it at the store. 



When I woke up, I immediately went downstairs and cooked scrambled
eggs.  Combined with the beans from the prior cycle and some light sour
cream I ended up with a quite excellent, healthy meal.  I then put away
the prior cycle's dishes, and did a new load.  Never a dirty dish in my
house now!



I put the beans away in Tupperware.  I don't make food and store it
with a real intent to use it very soon.  I simply don't do that.  Now
it integrates perfectly into my routine.  Crazy.



I took laundry from the dryer, folded it, and put it away.  It seemed
easy, practically dreamlike, on autopilot.  I started another load. 
Brewed my tea.



It's only 11PM, I've used only 40 minutes of my three and half plus hours for this period.



Now what?



I want to clean the upstairs some more, but I'm tempted to push it to the next period.  Why rush?  I have plenty of time. 



Having all of this time, knowing that I constantly have a
refreshing nap coming and a huge block of time that I know I'll be wide
awake for...it's liberating.  Cleaning this home is going to take me
ten hours, minimum.  It's unpleasant work to me normally, work I never
really do because the task seems insurmountable.  I had planned to
clean the kitchen first, and yet I instead ended up upstairs, cleaning
the guest bath.  Why?  So I could relocate the cat's litter box there,
improving my downstairs and removing a subtask for fully cleaning the
kitchen. 



While up there I cleared the floor (and thus had to clean some things)
of my bedroom.  Why?  Because I was about to vacuum and this way I
would get more value from my time.



After that I spent nearly forty-five minutes cleaning out my Dyson
vacuum.  Seriously.  I think it may have been an hour even, but time is
very hard for me to instinctively measure right now.  The recepticle of
my vacuum was horrendous, but it's now sparkling clean, making my
further cleaning tasks that more effective.



My one regret of the last cycle was not having the laundry time to
finish at least 15 minutes before the end of the cycle or at least some
time into my next cycle (NOT during the nape).  For instance, being
awoken at the right time by the laundry would provide an instant "thing
for me to do", which (I believe) would improve my jump back to awake.











-----


Many Period Sleep Expiriment

Due to the regimented structure
of the created 6 part "day".   I believe that due to this the normal
"week" concept breaks down, especially in my rather freelance-ish
case.  There are also no real conflicts during workday and
"recreational" activities for the most part.  Some of my days can be
semi-switched with other days.  However, I dislike some of the possible
options when it's light outside.


Period - One
3 hour, 40 minute chunk of wakeful state.  Assume that upon waking, the
person feels like they just woke up wide awake from a restful nap.
Persona - An instance of my personality that interacts or emerges from participation in a scenario.
Scenario -

1.  The workout dude
    Works out (usually weights)
    Watches TV
    Smokes Pot
    Drinks tea
    Reads
    Cleans
    Cooks for other Scenarios(occasionally)
    Snacks (munchies, actually pretty rare)   

Occasionaly:
    Writes (if a particularly interesting idea comes across his mind)
   
Does not:
    Work
    Go out
Pros:
    Workout is good
    It's nice to cook occasionally
    Can clean (but don't count on it, there are better choices in personas for this)
    
    

   

The Man in the Hill

The Man in the Hill
Lies Perfectly Still
Even though he was buried alive

The Man in the Ground
Never makes any Sound
He knows no one would hear his cries

The Man in the Moon
Died far too soon
He never got to see the Earth rise

And the Man in the House
Is quiet as a mouse
Wilting before his wife's cruel, heartless eyes

I know that it's absolute heresy in this country to even discuss the divide between rich and everyone else, but a system where all of the wealth is concentrated in the hands of the few, while the debts run up to give those people that wealth are shared equally by the many, is a system that is headed towards revolt and destitution.  No amount of inflation will save such a system, as inflation is spread equally across the board.  I fear that no amount of progressive taxation will help either, unless we move to start taxing wealth instead of income, and even if that were to happen, we would see all of that concentrated wealth flee the country.  So what can we do?  Is this the inevitable endgame of unregulated capitalism?  Has the unbridled desire to swindle our fellow man to slightly enrich our own lives perhaps ended up not being such a great thing in the long-term?  Could Michael Douglas have been wrong?!

The point is, ladies and gentleman, that greed -- for lack of a better word -- is good.

Greed is right.

Greed works.

Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit.

Greed, in all of its forms -- greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge -- has marked the upward surge of mankind.

And greed -- you mark my words -- will not only save Teldar Paper, but that other malfunctioning corporation called the USA.

I just hope the world I wake up to tomorrow bares a resemblance to the world I know today. 

I think the status quo that's been living it up, here in America these last seventy years, is about to finally kick the bucket. 

I would love nothing more than to write up a long explanation of why I am firmly convinced that we are about to see a very large upset to western society, but I'm much more interested in talking about the aftermaths and causes, then detailing our impending years of sharp decline. 


I don't want to see my fellow friends, coworkers and countrymen fall out amongst themselves.  I can image us each climbing desperately over one another, trying to claw our ways back to memories of a better time. 

Even in this fraudulent menagerie of freedom and prosperity we have long enjoyed, we are at each others throats.  Politically, religiously, socially we have hurt each other.  We swindle, we war, we ignore.  We are not good people.  Good people, great societies, may have one day existed and helped propel us forward.  It didn't stay that way.  There are always the outliers, those who harm and hinder their fellow man.  The greatest tragedy is that what has harmed us the most is our shared complacency.  Instead of jumping in and correcting the downward spiral of our lives.  Loss of freedom, loss of honorable society, loss of equitability has not led us to immediately fix whichever issues were causing their demise.  Instead we stood by, shrugged and rationalized and then went back to our shows.  After all, the commercials were almost done.

How will we treat each other when the world we know comes crashing down?

I've become too good at my job and it has become a vicious cycle.

I work from my home.  To most people this sounds like a great thing.  No annoying boss?  No dress code?  Start working when you feel like it?  Take breaks whenver you want, without anyone ever to watch you?  You could sit there and watch TV and surf the web all day!

Here's the catch though:  Your job is hard.  It's specialized, complicated work.  You can't find anyone to help you, you've interviewed four or five people in person and none of them were even terrible, much less mediocre, good, or god-forbid someone amazing who you could learn just as much from as they could from you.  There's barely time to get the work required done, much less take time to watch TV or surf the internet in your semi-mythical "free" time. 

The line between work and home blurs.  The lack of structured hours bleeds home into work into career into the last thing you think about before falling asleep.  There's always another demo, another glowing recommendation, another product that never lives up to your dreams, understaffed as your team always was.  Another mediocre raise, and finally another new job, shiny and new.

Maybe the next one will have a great team, maybe I'll grow and learn.  This time from an experienced colleague instead of googling blindly in the dark for answers.

After years of lazy complacency I finally decided to shell out some money to actually improve my quality of living.  I suppose the hardest part of paying people to clean your home and yard is admitting to yourself that perhaps, just maybe you really are incapable -- or simply too lazy, or too occupied with other, more important things -- of cleaning up after yourself.  When I sat down and did the math, paying $300 or so a month in exchange for a consistently clean home seems like a complete no-brainer given my living situation.

So why then, did it take me 6 years living here before finally getting off my ass and hiring people to do this?  Was it the money?  Definitely not.  Was it some fear of letting strangers into my home?  Not really, although I was embarrassed in many ways of how cluttered it had become.  Was it because my now ex-wife hated the idea of admitting that we were doing a piss-poor job of cleaning our house?  That was certainly part of it, but I should have pushed harder, taken more initiative.  Once the house is first cleaned, it now becomes just habit to keep it that way, along with hired help doing actual cleanings a few times a month.

All I know is, it is so nice after all these years to be able to use my ping-pong table again!  My house is finally starting to feel like a home.

Watermelon + Apple.  I want to bite into the crisp, firm skin of an apple -- good fiber didjaknow? - and taste the sweet, cloying taste of cool, refreshing watermelon.

What if I told you that I'm a genius, a brilliant, oftentimes crazy certified genius (IQ 140+ - Stanford-Binet)?

Sometimes I get bored, and it usually results in me writing some sort of long, embarrassing journal entry!

So, who the hell am I?

I'm a 28 year old, who can't keep my house really clean without paying someone else to do it for me  Even though I work form home, I have a real job, a real title, and employment out of a business software company in New York writing complex, interesting software.  It's a highly skilled job, far from the "programming" attributed to anyone who can whip up some HTML.  I make a great salary, I work out, I try my best to live a full, grand life.  I'm in great shape, but I'm hard on myself, I demand more hypertrophy, more muscle gains.  I've always been outside the group, weak, malnourished with a caustic wit and a habit of complex sentences.   As I sit here, drinking my third protein shake of the night, after a long workout, I still feel small, weak, unable to blend with the world around me.  Confined to my home in Austin, TX, with the capability to throw great parties but never the contacts or the motivation. 

So back to intelligence, like I said my job is tough, finding a replacement would cost a fortune, be incredibly difficult, and would most likely result in a stupider person.  That's job security.  I bet you think I went to Harvard or MIT or some other crazy thing right?  I mean this guy probably has a masters or something.  Truth is, I was a lousy student, didn't go to college.  I was a smart kid, but I was a bit too smart for my own good.  When you combined the creative, humoristic tendencies (I was the class clown, but sitll...the humor was too detailed, too advanced, but still funny) I ended up ostracizing myself.  Calling attention to myself.  Perhaps I should have become a scriptwriter (I often write mock ones in my spare time, for no one's eyes then my own, sadly), perhaps a writer. 

How do you integrate?  How do you go from a too-smart, too abnormal young adult to a vibrant, happy person with a loving circle of friends?  How do you penetrate that wall that is your front door?  How do you rejoin the world?  When towns were smaller, people closer together, economies far more local, people were friends.  People met each other, great loves were forged and lost, life was lived.  Now, this is my chief form of interaction with the world around me, writing posts to the anonymous, sometimes unwashed (you know who you are!), masses.  Is this really what social interaction has come to?


Note:
  If you live in Ausitn, TX and want to meet someone new, feel free to friend me or IM me, workdays are boring and I'm chained to a computer.  Lighten my mood, introduce yourself, have some fun!

I hope to post more of these types of things...please bear with me as this is really the first time I've ever attempted to blog.

Perhaps some schemes for next round?

Drank way, way, way, way too much last night.  First couple of hours was a lot of fun, but dear lord, the rest of the night was not.  I haven't felt that terrible from drinking in something like 10 years.  It was so bad I couldn't drink water without feeling immediately sick.  I tried four times to pass out on the couch and evertime I reached it I immediately felt sick again and had to stumble my way back to the bathroom.  Someone remind me again how it is that alcohol is a perfectly legal substance?  I felt like if I had had another few glasses (I drank somewhere on the order of 10-15 shots of vodka in a one hour period, after eating only one meal that day, not the brightest move on my part) I would have been really, really violently ill or in some actual danger.  I'm remembering now why I don't particularly like to drink enough to get drunk, it takes so much to do so, and the effects usually turn my stomach after a bit.  The drunken state is fun for a while though :(

They say a million monkeys typing away randomly will eventually end up with Shakespeare.  Well, Speed Racer is what you end up with if you lock a couple dozen kindergartners up with a truckload of Mountain Dew and some Ritalin thrown in for good measure.  Speed Racer is not so much a movie as it is a racehorse's carcass, Bedazzled in rhinestone, coated in confetti, deep fried to a crispy brown, and then dusted with confectioners’ sugar.  It is a garish, inane, seizure inducing technological tour-de-force. 

Nostalgia is a powerful thing.  When I think back to The Amazing Spider-Man, or X-Men, or yes, even Duck Tales, they were awesome!  However, if I actually rewatch any of that old Saturday morning fare, they are terrible.  So the trick when optioning old cartoons, especially ones with a paper thin plotline such as Speed Racer, is to pay homage to the series, but still provide a moving plot and real characters.  Speed Racer goes the other direction.  It seems to revel in its wooden acting, dislikable, incredibly predictable characters, and haphazard “plot”.  The breathtaking race sequences are incredible, but the time between them (especially when the god-awful little brother and requisite monkey are onscreen) are interminably plodding and schlocky in comparison.  Wednesday Adams, er sorry, Christina Ricci has all the screen presence of a cardboard cutout, with none of the depth.  I will give her credit, though.  If she was trying to perfectly emulate the monotone, Japanimantastic delivery of the original cartoon’s Trixie voiceover, then she did a great job.  If you were to cut every single scene with her in the movie, I doubt anyone would notice.

As much as I hate to say it, Speed Racer honestly deserves an Oscar nomination for visual effects.  The blending of live action and CGI really is that impressive.  In order to balance the scales in exchange for the Oscar nod, I feel that the Wachovski Brothers should be forced to watch the damn thing until they choke on their own tongues when the inevitable grand mal takes place.  It's only fair.

I guess my real problem with Speed Racer is how it just seems to revel in its awfulness.  It’s a movie about racing destruction, opulence, a monkey throwing feces (SPOILER ALERT!), and how bad Matthew Fox is at choosing scripts.  I can’t help but wonder that if the day comes when the American empire falls we won’t view movies like this in a very different light.  As a sign of our…dare I say decadence.  In a way, Speed Racer is a lot like Las Vegas.  It’s fake, it’s wasteful (pumping millions of gallons of water into the desert to create a false paradise), it’s complete cinematic crap, but it’s really, really proud and technologically impressive cinematic crap!  Some day, when America is a distant memory, I hope that our great-great grandchildren have the privilege of viewing the unearthed footage of Speed Racer.  If the Library of Alexandria had not been destroyed by fire, would we have found something similar?

Rating:  1.5/5
Final Thoughts:  If the person next to you starts convulsing, this is not a drill, please try to keep them from swallowing their own tongue.