My Strange Life

I keep entering zones of weirdness, and I don't know why.

As we were driving to the train station this morning, I saw a jar. And instantly I wanted to smash it.

Why? Because I've been playing Zelda: The Legend of the Wind Waker on the GameCube a lot lately. And if you were wondering, it's a great game; Teri and Sebastian actually ask me to play it, so they can watch. Anyway, in the game there are a lot of jars, and when Link (the hero) smashes them, good things usually come out.

So I guess I had a Zelda moment.

My Strange Life

I keep entering zones of weirdness, and I don't know why.

As we were driving to the train station this morning, I saw a jar. And instantly I wanted to smash it.

Why? Because I've been playing Zelda: The Legend of the Wind Waker on the GameCube a lot lately. And if you were wondering, it's a great game; Teri and Sebastian actually ask me to play it, so they can watch. Anyway, in the game there are a lot of jars, and when Link (the hero) smashes them, good things usually come out.

So I guess I had a Zelda moment.

Sucks?

Should I start a "Sucks" page on my site?

I've run into a number of things that suck, and I kind of feel like putting my opinion on the record. I've noticed that Google doesn't do a good job of searching LJ, but if I were to start a Sucks page on my site, I'm sure they'd crawl it. It would be separate from my RQ site, of course.

Here's what triggered this: I'm mad at my credit union.

First they took over the credit union at my work. Did they announce that they would close the local office? No, but that's just what they did, within the year. They claim that the next nearest office is conveniently located, and it is - if I care to spend my entire lunch break walking there and back, plus an extra twenty minutes or so.

There aren't any locations anywhere near me in Rhode Island, of course.

They also take much too long to credit direct deposits. For example, bonuses came out last Friday; some people got theirs on Friday. Mine, however, wasn't in until noon on Monday. I realize that that's a minor thing, but it still pisses me off.

And there are other things that I'm annoyed about. I can't find a pair of earphones for my mp3 player that don't either break in a week or suck. Correction: all of them suck, and many break quickly. I thought that Koss was supposed to be a good brand, but now I know better.

I don't know. Maybe it's not worth the grief. I'd be a lot happier if I could adopt a more zen-like attitude, and not let myself get worked up about anything.

Tell me how not to care about things.

Sucks?

Should I start a "Sucks" page on my site?

I've run into a number of things that suck, and I kind of feel like putting my opinion on the record. I've noticed that Google doesn't do a good job of searching LJ, but if I were to start a Sucks page on my site, I'm sure they'd crawl it. It would be separate from my RQ site, of course.

Here's what triggered this: I'm mad at my credit union.

First they took over the credit union at my work. Did they announce that they would close the local office? No, but that's just what they did, within the year. They claim that the next nearest office is conveniently located, and it is - if I care to spend my entire lunch break walking there and back, plus an extra twenty minutes or so.

There aren't any locations anywhere near me in Rhode Island, of course.

They also take much too long to credit direct deposits. For example, bonuses came out last Friday; some people got theirs on Friday. Mine, however, wasn't in until noon on Monday. I realize that that's a minor thing, but it still pisses me off.

And there are other things that I'm annoyed about. I can't find a pair of earphones for my mp3 player that don't either break in a week or suck. Correction: all of them suck, and many break quickly. I thought that Koss was supposed to be a good brand, but now I know better.

I don't know. Maybe it's not worth the grief. I'd be a lot happier if I could adopt a more zen-like attitude, and not let myself get worked up about anything.

Tell me how not to care about things.

Bored

I'm really bored today; none of the people I usually chat with seem to be around.

Really, really, really, really bored.

It's going to be a very long day.

Bored

I'm really bored today; none of the people I usually chat with seem to be around.

Really, really, really, really bored.

It's going to be a very long day.

41° 59' , -71° 31', rising

The cold morning light seeped past my eyelids, and I knew that I was awake.

Sighing, I sat halfway up and peered over at the alarm clock.

Half an hour early? That's too much. But I know I'm not going to be able to get back to sleep. Might as well get an early start on the day, maybe even take an early train to work.

I reached to switch off the alarm, and -

Something's wrong with my wrist.

A stain? Blood? But it doesn't hurt.

I can move it. No pain. But there's a big dark patch on my inner wrist.

Squinting, I turn on the light.

This can't be real.

My skin is...transparent? It is. I can see through it. I hold it right under the light.

Close my eyes. A dream? is this a dream? Breathe. Feel. If this is a dream, it's the realest one I've ever had. And I've had some incredibly realistic ones. Okay, provisionally this is not a dream.

But what IS it?

That's not what a wrist looks like. I'm no doctor, but I've seen medical illustrations and I know that this isn't right. Hell, I'd know this was wrong just from having felt my own wrists before.

I'm not brown and streaky white inside. And I don't have all those weird, rounded bones. With...ugh...ropy strands of brown tendon running through and around them.

Yuck.

They move. Creepy. I move my wrist, and they move inside it. I touch my wrist...does it feel different? I can't decide.

What am I supposed to do now?

I looked at it for a while. I felt it.

The skin is definitely there, I just can't see it. Can't see any veins or blood, either. Is there an artery in the wrist? I'm pretty sure there is. Of course there is. I can't see it or feel it, though. Maybe this is a dream.

But if it isn't, this is really something. I've got to do something. I - something's happening.

And before I knew it, the skin on my wrist had suddenly swirled into visibility. I froze.

After a long pause, I felt my wrist.

Normal. Pulse? There. But...that was no dream. Was it?

I thought often about that morning during the next few days. Sometimes I felt my wrist, wondering what was inside. But it felt totally normal, just as it always had. I thought about getting an x-ray, but what would I tell the doctor? Ridiculous.

Somehow, I wasn't surprised when it happened again four days later.

It wasn't my wrist that time. It was my mouth. As soon as I opened it, a beam of blue light blasted out, so bright that the rest of the dim room went dark and spots danced in my eyes. For a minute I thought I'd gone Cyclops, and was blasting the room, but the beam was silent and wasn't doing any damage. It was pretty amazing, though; almost intolerably bright, so bright that I couldn't see the inside my mouth with a mirror.

I played with the light for a little while. When it went away, I checked the time: as best as I could figure it, the effect had lasted for about twenty-four to twenty-seven minutes. And then I could have kicked myself; why hadn't I thought to take a picture?

After that, I slept with the camera beside my bed.

A week later I woke with a start in the pale light, an unpleasant echo in my ears. The sound went on, though, a nasty, snarling kind of grumble that I suddenly realized was coming from my stomach. I put my hand on my belly, only to be met with a burning, agonizing pain. Something was slicing into and gripping the base of my thumb. Panicked, I pulled hard - and felt white fire surge up my arm as I ripped my hand free.

The wound was ugly, but not too bad. Pressing it tightly, I headed to the bathroom for a band-aid.

Once I'd doctored it, I turned to the mirror and gingerly pulled up my t-shirt from the sides.

A face. A...huge rat face. On my stomach.

It's snarling, and mumbling, and hairless. Look at those teeth.

I stood there and stared in horror until the sunlight touched my window and the face disappeared.

My t-shirt was still torn and bloody, and so was my hand. But that didn't prove anything. And what would be the point of trying to prove anything, anyway? What could anyone do?

It wasn't until a day later that I remembered where I'd seen the rat face on my stomach before: in my dreams. And with a shock, I realized that the two earlier episodes had been from my dreams, too. In retrospect, it was amazing that I hadn't realized that immediately, the first morning.

And then I had another realization: in the shock and pain of the bite I had completely forgotten to take any pictures!

The bite healed cleanly over the next few days. The fear faded more slowly, but after a week passed I was able to sleep without too much fear.

My eyes flew open; I knew right away that it had happened again. For a moment fear flashed through me. And then I sat up, and it was obvious. My hands, so small. My arms, so slender and hairless. No beard. My clothes hung loosely on me, practically falling off.

I ran to the mirror and saw my nine-year-old self grinning at me.

Just a moment's pause, and then I grabbed the tightest, stretchiest shorts and t-shirt that I owned and scrambled into them. Run down the stairs and out the door. If I was quick enough, I could make it to the playground in time.

My body felt light as air. No stiffness, no aches, just me. I practically flew down the street. I'd been a 50-yard-dash champ, and that morning I broke my record.

It was worth it. I had ten minutes at the playground; ten minutes that I wouldn't have traded for anything else in the world. I was high on the swing when the first gold of dawn touched the trees. My heart broke at that moment...but fortunately I was able to hang on to the chains and make it safely to the ground.

And walked, slowly and heavily along the empty streets, back home to get dressed and go to work.

Nothing happened for the next nine days.

And then - now - it's morning, and I know. I know this feeling. It's what I've been waiting for, all my life.

I float upward, and my heart has never been so full in my life.

No point in wasting time going downstairs to the door. The window - there. Out.

Oh. Oh.

It's so perfect. It's so real. Everything is so clear, and it feels just the way it should. A few minutes to drift over the house-tops, just savoring this cool morning air, the lovely pale light - oh. Of course. The sun will be up soon. There's not much time.

Up, then. I'm going to see just how high I can go.

41° 59' , -71° 31', rising

The cold morning light seeped past my eyelids, and I knew that I was awake.

Sighing, I sat halfway up and peered over at the alarm clock.

Half an hour early? That's too much. But I know I'm not going to be able to get back to sleep. Might as well get an early start on the day, maybe even take an early train to work.

I reached to switch off the alarm, and -

Something's wrong with my wrist.

A stain? Blood? But it doesn't hurt.

I can move it. No pain. But there's a big dark patch on my inner wrist.

Squinting, I turn on the light.

This can't be real.

My skin is...transparent? It is. I can see through it. I hold it right under the light.

Close my eyes. A dream? is this a dream? Breathe. Feel. If this is a dream, it's the realest one I've ever had. And I've had some incredibly realistic ones. Okay, provisionally this is not a dream.

But what IS it?

That's not what a wrist looks like. I'm no doctor, but I've seen medical illustrations and I know that this isn't right. Hell, I'd know this was wrong just from having felt my own wrists before.

I'm not brown and streaky white inside. And I don't have all those weird, rounded bones. With...ugh...ropy strands of brown tendon running through and around them.

Yuck.

They move. Creepy. I move my wrist, and they move inside it. I touch my wrist...does it feel different? I can't decide.

What am I supposed to do now?

I looked at it for a while. I felt it.

The skin is definitely there, I just can't see it. Can't see any veins or blood, either. Is there an artery in the wrist? I'm pretty sure there is. Of course there is. I can't see it or feel it, though. Maybe this is a dream.

But if it isn't, this is really something. I've got to do something. I - something's happening.

And before I knew it, the skin on my wrist had suddenly swirled into visibility. I froze.

After a long pause, I felt my wrist.

Normal. Pulse? There. But...that was no dream. Was it?

I thought often about that morning during the next few days. Sometimes I felt my wrist, wondering what was inside. But it felt totally normal, just as it always had. I thought about getting an x-ray, but what would I tell the doctor? Ridiculous.

Somehow, I wasn't surprised when it happened again four days later.

It wasn't my wrist that time. It was my mouth. As soon as I opened it, a beam of blue light blasted out, so bright that the rest of the dim room went dark and spots danced in my eyes. For a minute I thought I'd gone Cyclops, and was blasting the room, but the beam was silent and wasn't doing any damage. It was pretty amazing, though; almost intolerably bright, so bright that I couldn't see the inside my mouth with a mirror.

I played with the light for a little while. When it went away, I checked the time: as best as I could figure it, the effect had lasted for about twenty-four to twenty-seven minutes. And then I could have kicked myself; why hadn't I thought to take a picture?

After that, I slept with the camera beside my bed.

A week later I woke with a start in the pale light, an unpleasant echo in my ears. The sound went on, though, a nasty, snarling kind of grumble that I suddenly realized was coming from my stomach. I put my hand on my belly, only to be met with a burning, agonizing pain. Something was slicing into and gripping the base of my thumb. Panicked, I pulled hard - and felt white fire surge up my arm as I ripped my hand free.

The wound was ugly, but not too bad. Pressing it tightly, I headed to the bathroom for a band-aid.

Once I'd doctored it, I turned to the mirror and gingerly pulled up my t-shirt from the sides.

A face. A...huge rat face. On my stomach.

It's snarling, and mumbling, and hairless. Look at those teeth.

I stood there and stared in horror until the sunlight touched my window and the face disappeared.

My t-shirt was still torn and bloody, and so was my hand. But that didn't prove anything. And what would be the point of trying to prove anything, anyway? What could anyone do?

It wasn't until a day later that I remembered where I'd seen the rat face on my stomach before: in my dreams. And with a shock, I realized that the two earlier episodes had been from my dreams, too. In retrospect, it was amazing that I hadn't realized that immediately, the first morning.

And then I had another realization: in the shock and pain of the bite I had completely forgotten to take any pictures!

The bite healed cleanly over the next few days. The fear faded more slowly, but after a week passed I was able to sleep without too much fear.

My eyes flew open; I knew right away that it had happened again. For a moment fear flashed through me. And then I sat up, and it was obvious. My hands, so small. My arms, so slender and hairless. No beard. My clothes hung loosely on me, practically falling off.

I ran to the mirror and saw my nine-year-old self grinning at me.

Just a moment's pause, and then I grabbed the tightest, stretchiest shorts and t-shirt that I owned and scrambled into them. Run down the stairs and out the door. If I was quick enough, I could make it to the playground in time.

My body felt light as air. No stiffness, no aches, just me. I practically flew down the street. I'd been a 50-yard-dash champ, and that morning I broke my record.

It was worth it. I had ten minutes at the playground; ten minutes that I wouldn't have traded for anything else in the world. I was high on the swing when the first gold of dawn touched the trees. My heart broke at that moment...but fortunately I was able to hang on to the chains and make it safely to the ground.

And walked, slowly and heavily along the empty streets, back home to get dressed and go to work.

Nothing happened for the next nine days.

And then - now - it's morning, and I know. I know this feeling. It's what I've been waiting for, all my life.

I float upward, and my heart has never been so full in my life.

No point in wasting time going downstairs to the door. The window - there. Out.

Oh. Oh.

It's so perfect. It's so real. Everything is so clear, and it feels just the way it should. A few minutes to drift over the house-tops, just savoring this cool morning air, the lovely pale light - oh. Of course. The sun will be up soon. There's not much time.

Up, then. I'm going to see just how high I can go.