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By the chaos surrounding me, one might assume that I'm moving (in or out: no way to tell and it really doesn't matter). The most recent disruption in my apartment is the result of a comedy of errors stretching back a couple of weeks. A comedy, except the fact that I'm not laughing.

Everything rebels, everything breaks, with a synchronicity that's damn near alarming. The old PC at the office which houses the church database and financial records gave up the ghost, refusing to start (backed up those systems last week, seemingly by chance, but that's one of the only things that's kept me from being curled up in the fetal position under my desk). Can't find a stereo remote control in the boxes containing the evacuation from my career in higher education, stored largely untouched for two years in a locker which costs me just over fifty dollars a month (so far, it has been worth the cost to avoid looking at the wreckage of that life day after day). Trying to install too-wide replacement blinds provided by my apartment manager resulted in broken furniture and shattered crystal. My docket at work seems largely comprised of finding ways to cover things people haven't thought through— serving on mop-up duty for what appears to be others' inability to think. My skin constantly erupts into blotches of red itchiness and pain. Time with people almost inevitably turns to work, yet some question why I am not more social. Even my first draft of this entry was lost to a program crash.

These are only worldly things. Let's not talk about my heart, my soul. I don't even know how to inventory those anymore.

Crisis is my natural habitat. Bring me Armageddon and I can navigate— it may be the one thing I'm prepared for. But bombard me with a steady flow of small annoyances, minor irritants, and tiny inconveniences and I will begin to break down. My defenses cannot screen them all out; they build to an overwhelming cacophony of noise that won't let me think, won't let me breathe, won't leave me alone, won't go away. I want it to all go away.


i pray you have great night to make up for a crappy day.
and whoa . . neat to what you did with your journal!
I don't know that this will serve as any kind of comfort to you, but I feel I've been going through much the same in the past few days, right down to the computer nightmares and the wanting to evict others from my personal space (I could tell you tales of the Norton v. Macafee pissing contest that would curl your hair and make you hug your mac). I know it's no comfort, but perhaps it's nice to know that you're not alone in this? :/

Any way, I was going to surprise you, but you should be receiving something in the mail soon. It's very small (just a piece of crap really), but I thought you might want to know that others are thinking of you.
it's all true. esspecially the last paragraph. yeah.