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excerpt- opus dei

excerpt from a draft/ story i wrote a little while ago. those of you who know me know where the inspiration came from.


It’s ten after nine and I don’t even remember what it was like to have a weekend. To have two days off without the juvenile racket of this place and without the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing that I am only moments away from the next disaster, the next excuse for those above me to explain in as much detail as their feeble minds and limited vocabularies can offer how I have come close to bringing about the apocalypse and how the world has been saved only by their own ingenuity. They are great and I am small. I should feel grateful to them for the fact that they pay me. I owe them. I owe them everything. Ha. The only thing that gets me through these days is the thought that some day, someone is going to turn these people inside out and let them see the rot within themselves.

It’s there in my inbox, of course, because no one has the guts to say anything to your face. They type their criticisms in big letters, in bright colours, so the words can be seen from across the room and so you know they’re really serious. “Stupid”. “Inexcusable”. “How could you have let this happen?” “Catastrophic.” They’re particularly fond of “stupid”, but they never quite use it to describe a person. It’s always what you do that’s stupid. What you say, What you think. It’s never you because to say that you were stupid would mean that you were something. And you are nothing here.

I feel that surge of bile in my throat reading these things about myself because I don’t want to care. But I’ve been here too long to have anything else to care about. It starts with one message, copied to a large number of people, people who are hardly involved in this issue at all. Because what good does humiliating someone do if it isn’t done in front of a crowd. They might be able to shake off the shame if there are only a few people who getting to see them tarred and feathered. There are more messages, they go in sequence, one voice, different screaming fonts. What I’ve done is a crime. What I’ve done is unimaginable. It takes on a life of its own and the life it takes is mine. I try not to care. I fail.


as long as you're here, why not read more?

mental health mondays :: where even the depressed ones are happy

this past week saw the publication of the annual world happiness report, a look at nations around the world and how people in each of them feel about their lot in life. i started following this a few years ago, and this year it occurred to me that it would be fun to look at how the happy places compared to the crazy places. i mean, what if those countries aren't really all that happy, but just have an extremely high rate of psychotic/ delusional disorders?

so, i set to work putting together a comparison. as it happens, that's a bit trickier than it sounds, because information on any kind of disability is more difficult to come by than you might think. and no type of disability is more controversial than a mental illness, which means that there are even more complications around definitions, seeking treatment, prognoses, record-keeping... it's hard to tell how reliable anything you're looking at is. [not that there aren't some good sources.]

and what sources there …


i keep seeing this ad for tictac candies:

am i the only one who finds the suicide bomber clown at the end a little unnerving? all the nice natural things like the bunny and the [extinct] woolly mammoth and the fruit get devoured by a trying-to-appear-nonthreatening-but-obviously-psychotic clown who then blows himself up. congratulations, tictac, i think this ad has landed you on about a dozen watch lists.

oh and by the way, showing me that your product will somehow cause my stomach to explode in a rainbow of wtf makes me believe that doing consuming tictacs would be a worse dietary decision than the time i ate two raw eggs and a half a bottle of hot sauce on a dare.

making faces :: a lip for all seasons [summer edition]

this may seem like an odd time to think about summer, but not to think about coolness. it can be hard to wrap your head around the idea that summer is considered "cool" in colour analysis terms and, in my opinion, reads as the coolest of the cool, because everything in it is touched with the same chilly grey. winter may have the coldest colours, but its palette is so vivid that it distracts the eye. everything in summer is fresh and misty, like the morning sky before the sun breaks through. in my original post on the season, i compared it to monet's paintings of waterlilies at his garden in giverny and, if i do say so, i think that's an apt characterisation.

finding lip colours touched with summer grey and blue is, as you might expect, kind of tricky. the cosmetic world seems obsessed with bringing warmth, which doesn't recognise that some complexions don't support it well. [also, different complexions support different kinds of warmth, but that's another…