I feel like all I ever do is work, eat, sleep, and repeat.

I apparently haven't posted in two years, but feel like putting this "on paper" (so to speak), and do not feel like putting it in a google document.

I feel boring.  I feel depressed.  I feel frustrated.  I feel like all I ever do is work, eat, sleep, and repeat.

I need something to do with my time outside of work that I can think about and get excited about and be energized by.

Here are the things I think want to do.

1. Fix up my road bike/ buy a new road bike and begin riding to work at least 3 days a week
I did this quite a bit last year until I fucked up my shoulder.  I was riding my mountain bike, which is very difficult.  I want the road bike because want to glide.  Mountain bike is difficult to pedal ALWAYS. I want to enjoy the natural therapy the exercise and cold morning hours provide.  Riding back home is stressful and hot, but there's no way around not also riding home.  This allows me to have a good excuse to get exercise, leave work on time, and just be by myself.

2. Doodle Therapy?
This is an idea I've been tossing around for a while.  I enjoy the twitch streaming but am becoming less and less interested in wasting my time playing video game after video game.  I enjoy doodling with the fancy liquid gel pens I bought at Sams Club.  Why not turn this into a thing where I doodle for a few hours, listen to music, and hang out with chat (if anyone joins me).

3. Make the house somewhere I want to be
I hate owning a house.  I hate the house we bought.  I feel trapped by it.  I feel suffocated by the stuff we own.  I (apparently) need to take ownership of the house and make it somewhere we want to be.  I don't think Moose cares that much, at least not enough to take action.  Do things like:  making the outside gardens look nice.  Repainting rooms (walls are so scuffed and dirty now).  Replacing the trim/ugly ass 70s woodwork, carpeting, etc in the dining room.  Cleaning.  Decorating.  Decluttering.  Sperging over curtains and couches and pictures to hang on the walls.  Things Moose and I never ever do because we don't really care.  Maybe this would make the house feel like somewhere we want to be...

4. Make music again
This one is daunting.  I can't go here lightly.  I have to go all in and not get discouraged.  Ten years ago, I was a musician.  I could sing, I could play the violin, I had working knowledge of the guitar,  I knew how to read music and knew a lot of music composition and theory...  Now I'm just a boring 30 year old that claims I used to know these things.  I have entirely given up on a huge part of what was my life.  I need to force myself to at least play violin again.  Ideally, actually learn a software program and record/create music.  (I'll need a new midi keyboard as mine doesn't work anymore)  It is something to do on the computer, anyway...

5. Stop spending money on stupid shit
We buy stuff.... and it never even leaves the package.  Stop buying things, you stupid fools!  This just clutters the house and we never even use the stuff.  Don't be afraid to throw things away.

6. Stop thinking about it (the future)
This may sound off.  Stop thinking about the future?  I am 30 years old and I am hitting the panic stage.  I've had my job for 6 years.  I've been married for 2 years.  We've "owned' our house for 3 years.  Nothing interesting has happened/ nothing has changed for a while.  Now what?  Is it time to just keep on keeping on until there is no more keeping on?  What's next?  What do I do now?  When are we going to be comfortable?  Are we going to have children?  How the heck would that even work?  Why do I care so much?  Why can't I just focus on now?

*sigh*

Mo money, mo problems

I've been working really hard to reign in my spending. I've been doing somewhat better, but I still spend too much on silly things.

It has worked fairly well for me in the past to compartmentalize things. This is why I have so many bank accounts. I think I may need to split it up further. Here's how my split sits right now:

Joint bank account (rent, gym, other joint bills): $500/paycheck
US Bank account (remainder): $1000-ish/paycheck

Out of my US Bank account:
$425/paycheck - Car or Student loans
$250/paycheck - Savings
$40/paycheck - Gas
$10/paycheck - MPR Membership

This leaves me with about $400 or so to play around with. I tend to blow through this, especially when things like groceries are purchased.

I'm thinking I need to change up the split a bit more...

Joint bank account (rent, gym, other joint bills): $500/paycheck
TCF Bank account (fun money): $200/paycheck
US Bank account (remainder for bills and stuff): $800-ish/paycheck

Then I can only spend the stuff in my TCF account... I dunno how this will work, but I might want to consider splitting my paycheck up like this automatically and see how it goes for a while.

Hobbies and Goals

I keep writing blog posts about things I need or things I should be doing. I don't know why. Maybe I feel like my life lacks direction right now. Maybe I feel like I'm stuck in a rut working my "9-5" job 5 days a week.

Anyway, the topic of today's brain dump is hobbies and goals. Moose said to me last night "I wish you had goals so that I knew if they coincided or clashed with mine." Now, he's talking about large overarching life/career type goals and I'm talking about smaller things, but regardless... My life has lacked a lot of focus since grad school. Grad school puts on the blinders and says "go forth and research." Real life gives you some time to pursue things, but not enough to pursue them fully.

Life goals: Work, get married, have children.... (Yeah I'm lame)

Longer-term goals: Buy a house, buy (and pay off) new car (so lame)

Short-term goals: Set up music area in basement, get rid of stuff in boxes, exercise more and eat better

Okay, so I'm cliche. Oh well, writing things down is a good start, right?

I need to pursue music more. I need to pursue art more. I need to get hobbies that at least somewhat coincide with my employment. Maybe its time to take up android development. Something that got me very excited the other day is the Meta Watch. Looking into something like that might be fun.

Oh well. I need to do SOMETHING. Maybe I should start with cleaning my house!

Well... September is Over

Well... September is over. That means there are 3 months left of the year of 2011. I can't believe it has gone by so quickly. I don't think I've gotten anything concrete accomplished this month. Heck, I haven't even fully unpacked from moving a month and a half ago.

I need a project. I need something to occupy my time at home other than cooking, cleaning, and video games. I know I have posted about setting up a music room in my basement, but I have serious doubts that that will ever happen. Especially considering that all of my weekends for October are already spoken for. How does this happen? Is this normal? Is this how lives are lived? I feel like I'm in a constant state of disarray. The only real downtime I get is sleep time. I certainly did not feel this way in college, even with the never-ending stream of homework hanging over my head.

Maybe it's time to just set aside time every night for myself. I don't know. I need to learn how to run on less sleep. I wake up at 6, 6:30am. Depending on when I actually get up and out of bed, I'm usually at work by 7:30 or so. I stay at work til 5:30pm. I'm usually home by 6 at the latest. Moose and I have been pretty good about cooking dinner at home since we moved, so by the time dinner is done, it's usually about 6:30 or 7pm. Then, in order to get up by 6, I try to be in bed by 10:30 or 11pm. What can I do with those 4 hours? Why can't I live on 4-5 hours of sleep like everyone else?!

Oh well. I need to do something. Otherwise, Moose is going to get tired of my pestering. I should at least set up my instruments in the basement. It might be fun to just sit down there and goof around.

Maybe I'll get it done in October...

5 months until Year of Music

I saw this on reddit. Made me think of my project I have only spoken of on this blog of mine that nobody reads. I don't want to be disappointed in myself, but chances are I will be. Hell, my performance at work still disappoints me, even though I've been promoted and given a raise. I have high expectations. With "Year of Music" (as I have so dubbed it), I will probably have unrealistically high expectations. I see friends and old classmates write their own music and perform it on youtube or at coffee shops. I say, I can do that. Can I? How long will my "gap" be? Will I ever come to grips with my very lacking musical prowess?

I've got 5 months until my self-imposed start date of January 1st. What can I do in that time to prepare myself? Once I move, I want to get stuff set up in my new house. Then I can start playing around with software and instruments and hopefully learn how everything works in a month or two. That puts me at October 1st. 3 months. Can I successfully write and record a few songs in 3 months? We'll see. Maybe I need to start the Year of Music on my birthday instead of January 1st. Hopefully, the next 5 months don't discourage me enough to not move forward. A delay might be necessary.

More updates to come.

Year of Music

Seeing Tally Hall in concert inspired me. I want to make music again. It's been far too long since I've participated in a recital, concert, or any organized music making of any kind. Singing in the car just doesn't cut it for me anymore. I need to make music.

I've been daydreaming about using the space in the basement of our new house. The space that is slightly dank and is practically unusable for anyone taller than me due to the retrofitted air conditioning system in the house. I need to carve out a corner of that space and make an area for recording music.

Now, this might be a lofty goal, but here goes: For a year, I want to make a song a month, each month in the style of a band of my choosing. It'll be a musical dissertation of sorts. I will choose bands/composers and study what makes their style unique, then try to copy it. Of course, I do not know how to play every instrument there is, but that's where a program like FL Studio will come into play. I've got a violin, a midi controller keyboard, an electric guitar, 2 acoustic guitars (currently at my mother's house), an electric drum set, and my vocal chords at my disposal. If this ends up becoming a lot of fun for me/actually happening, maybe I'll pick up a cheap electric bass. I've also got microphones and the box needed to hook everything up to my computer. I might be able to use my old laptop for this project. Otherwise, I may need to build a spare part machine.

I figure I'll start trying to get this set up (I should have all the equipment) after moving and learn FL studio, etc. Make 2012 the Year of Music.

Right now, the bands/genres I think I'd try to copy:
- The Beatles
- Tally Hall
- Captain Beefheart (might need to borrow Moose's clarinet)
- The Strokes
- Andrew Bird
- Deadmau5
- Lemon Demon
- Something classical, violin solo Mozart, maybe?
- Something almost purely a capella
- Nintendo/Gameboy bit tunes
- Blues or Jazz ... would need to pick someone
- RANDOM! (or something else awesome if I make it this far)

2010

January brought me my first real job.
February took my father.
March... lost.
April made me pushed through my schoolwork.
May brought me a Master's and the burial of my father's ashes.
June gave me a home with Moose.
July was another blur with a lonely holiday.
August burned me on a boat in the sun, listening to Dr. John.
September moved me again, this time to the suburbs.
October was chilly and made me realize nothing is static except love.
November told me things are still changing; people are moving and trading places.
December will bring me woe as the holidays are spent without my father.

The next one should be better, the next one should be better....

I'm tired

I'm tired.
I'm so tired I nearly fall asleep when I make my 20-30 minute commute to work at 7am.
Ugh.

Dolla dolla billz, ya'll.

An Unfinished Poem found on my Laptop

I never finished this. I like it though.
------

I make the drive home.
Alone.
Trying to pay attention to the road,
to the music on the radio.
Dismissing the ache behind my eyes,
the emptiness in my heart,
the tingling urgency in my body.

I arrive ahead of schedule.
The dimly lit room reeks of cancer and piss.
My strong stable grandfather
Sits slumped in an old creaky wheel chair
with his bloated arm on a pillow.
His mouth mindlessly hangs open.
His eyes half shut and staring nowhere in particular.
I say hello and he says my name.
He knows me. He is happy to see me.
He gives me that little hello wink
I have grown accustomed to over the years.
He knows who I am and knows the relationship we have.
I smile at him.

His blank stare indicates his mind has again wondered somewhere.
In to the past,
into unconsciousness?
His mumblings sometimes indicate where he is.
He told us to make sure that taxi driver gets out of there.
We say yes and make no motion to fix anything.
He doesn't know where he is anymore.
He asks my mother where *she* is staying.
She tells him she's staying at home.
And he responds with a simple oh
and returns to his wide mouthed, droopy eyed stare into oblivion.
Something bothers him and he fidgits with his blankets
with the pillow under his arm,
with the rag in front of him.
He asks my mother what the button attached to his smock is for.
He doesn't know where he is.

I know where I am.
I'm at the nursing home where his mother,
my great-grandmother, lived the last years of her life
after Alzheimers at 80.
Ten years later, she died in this very nursing home.
Eight years later, we are back again.
The nurse says she knows my mothers face.
She explains.
Uncomfortable eyes shift to the floor,
and we are shushed to the hallway.
They must put my grandpa to bed
and change his cancer-soaked dressings.
The room again fills with the odor.

Once in bed,
my grandfather immediately falls asleep.
It is one of those wide-mouthed snoring sleeps.
He mumbles and twitches, but is essentially asleep.
His face bears the grimace of pain,
I pray he feels nothing.
He shouldn't have pain.
He's lived 78 full years.
He has spent the last 10 years golfing
bowling,
dancing,
enjoying himself to the fullest.
Who would think that what he loved most in life,
spending time outdoors with friends on the golf course,
would be his demise.
The sunshine...
The cancer...

Late-night Campus Walkin'

I walked through campus last night by myself at 1am. Generally, there are people out and about. On a Tuesday night at 1am during the second-to-last week before finals, it was deserted.

I walked in the glow of familiar lights, past buildings I have never explored completely, on sidewalks with cracks and bumps my soles know like friends... I've spent all of my time on this campus for five years. I came here a single, physically ill 18 year old. I'm still here as a single 23 year old with more aches and ailments to list, many of them seemingly in my mind.

The campus has changed significantly in five years. Most recently, a building disappeared! The jolly, cracked-paint, broken-windowed exterior of the science classroom building has been replaced by a large gaping hole. I'm not entirely sure what they're building.... The sidewalk that connected directly to the top story of that ancient temporary place of learning has been sawed off and a simple chain-link fence protects the passers by from the gaping hole of the construction site. I stood there last night for a good 15 minutes...Staring at the abyss where my favorite building once stood.

It wasn't a fancy building, but it had comfortable classrooms deep underground. They had ancient chemistry posters on the walls. The Science Classroom Building was built in 1940 and was never meant to be permanent... it made it all the way to 2009. The University is generally a temporary place for its residents. People spend 4, 5, sometimes 8 or 9 years here, but never much more. Teachers stay longer, but they too come and go. People pass through the halls of Walter and Coffman... they call this place home. They pay little attention to the place that grows and evolves around them. They walk through Northrop for what is possibly the first time since the first day of classes on the night they receive their diploma (holder). Then they leave. They rarely come back. 60,000 students here at the University, all destined to leave.

Colleges are like home towns. People have fond memories here... stories to tell, you name it. But if there aren't relatives or reunions pulling them back, there is no reason to let the idyllic vision in your head become tainted. Polish it. Make it sparkle.

I decided to stay here. Year 5 ticked off on the prison wall in my head. I love Minneapolis, and I love the university. Soon this place will no longer be my home. Will I leave and let my memories flourish? Will I stay and let things like the destruction of the Science Classroom Building taint the map in my mind?

I walked the rest of the way home. Alone... looking for the stars overhead. There weren't any.

Found in a file on my phone

Once upon a time, I sat on the warm pavement of my parents' driveway on a summer evening. The sun was setting, and for some reason I couldn't stop typing horrible metaphors and other nondescript descriptions. These entries got saved in my phone. I will share them with you now:

Melon colored twilight
Somebody else's pillow
Cat created blindness
Still except for the airconditioner
Downtown blues flow
Pay parking forever
Concrete train car
Fluffy white panther
Smile on your back
Bruised earth knee
Polka in stripes

---

That is all.

You are obviously very intelligent...

It have come to realize that people tend to tell me:

You are obviously very intelligent...

What does this mean?

Do I appear unintelligent but because people know I have completed a bachelors degree and am in a graduate program, I must be intelligent and they are just reassuring themselves that this is the case?

Or do I actually appear intelligent and people are so in awe of my brainpower they must say it out loud as some sort of compliment?

I vote for the first one.

Vineland by Thomas Pynchon excerpt

I've been reading Vineland by Thomas Pynchon. I'm about 2/3 of the way done. One particular passage struck me as poignant and interesting. I will share it with you.

" If patterns of ones and zeros were 'like' patterns of human lives and deaths, if everything about an individual could be represented in a computer record by a long string of ones and zeros, then what kind of creature would be represented by a long string of lives and deaths? It would have to be up one level at least -- an angel, a minor god, something in a UFO. It would take eight human lives and deaths just to form one character in this being's name -- its complete dossier might take up a considerable piece of the history of the world. We are digits in God's computer, she not so much hummed to herself to a sort of standard gospel tune, And the only thing we're good for, to be dead or to be living, is the only thing He sees. What we cry, what we contend for, in our world of toil and blood, it all lies beneath the notice of the hacker we call God. "

Thoughts on Gradschool (Part 4 of Many)

Events of late have made me ponder my existence as a graduate student at the University of Minnesota. In my opinion, I have been failing most splendidly at adopting the life of a grad student. Granted, the flooding in my office and other events in my life have not helped, but I can't use that as an excuse. I must be willing to devote myself entirely to my research. I must be willing to spend all day, every day, in my office, at my computer, working. Thinking about new ideas... developing new software... forgetting about friends and fun and food.

For the first month or so of this semester, I have rarely spent a full day in my office. A full day to me involves coming in during the morning, before a first class, and staying until at least dinner time. Last semester, I was in my office (not including class time) from approximately 9 or 10 am to 9 or 10 pm. Full day, me working... not necessarily enjoyable, but that was mostly because I'd forget to bring food.

I dunno. Is this a sign? Do I really not feel attached to my work? Do I even belong in graduate school? My classes frustrate me, my adviser pisses me off, my research is going nowhere... *sigh*

I apologize to blog readers for this rant.

I need to get my head on straight and decide what the fuck I am doing. And soon...

Thoughts on Grad School (Part 3 of Many)

*drum roll*

Introducing....

THE INVISIBLE ADVISER!

*symbol crash*

...ABLE TO ADVISE GRAD STUDENTS WITHOUT THEM EVER SETTING FOOT INSIDE HIS OFFICE!

*symbol crash*

...DROPPING DOUGLAS ADAMS REFERENCES WITHOUT BATTING AN EYE!

*begins kicking drums*

...CAPABLE ONLY OF COMMENTING ON FULL LaTeX DOCUMENTS WITH ENOUGH MERIT TO BE PUBLISHED!

*a foot goes through the bass drum*

...AGREEING TO GROUP MEETINGS ONLY WHEN AN ADVISEE HAS PROVEN TO HAVE IDEAS OF INTELLECTUAL MERIT AND IS WILLING TO PRESENT THEM!

*symbols crash to the floor*

...FAILING TO ADVISE. PERIOD!

"To paraphrase Douglas Adams, you are not merely "professional thinkers"; you are research assistants -- paid to
think, yes, but also to translate these thoughts into publishable pages of LaTeX."

the last instant message

(2:31:55 PM)
you took everything you wanted,
a roommate,
the circle of friends of a pervert you previously hated,
and you refused to even explain what was going on
for months
after you told me you hated me
and didn't want to talk,
and now you are the one with issues?

---

I gave you everything you wanted,
a best friend,
a confidant,
a whipping post,
I took it all in stride for as long as I could
and then I snapped.
For years, I tried to reconcile my feelings
I tried to convince myself that you were a good boyfriend
and somehow I was the bad one.
I don't want to talk.
We both have a lot of healing to do.

---

you have no conscience
I am proud

---

I don't love you anymore
I am happy.