Having Been Human
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Fri May 25 19:08:58 2012
Laborious Times

I had a nice phone conversation today with someone who's managing some volunteerism that I'm doing next week; I thought it was just a good deed but boring trash pickup in Newark, but it turns out it's a scientific/advocacy group that's collecting data about how reliably people sort trash in recycle programmes; we'll be doing autopsy on trash bags. Likely disgusting, sure, but also pretty interesting. Depending on how the first day goes I might head back for the second, and maybe help them with the number-crunching they're planning to do afterwards if they can use my help.

I keep seeing people with MacBook Airs around. Having played around with those at work a bit, I'm kind of hardware-envious; they seem to weigh almost nothing, they're small, and somehow they're not too awful to type on; if only it wern't Apple that made them, I'd consider carrying one around as a backup/lightweight laptop.

Depression is still doing bad things to me. I feel kind of hopeless at building the social ties I need, and the continued patterns of life and thought that are solitary are wearing on me; everything feels pointless; a billion empty adventures in NYC await, adventures I'm bored with before I even leave the house. Everything would be different if I had other people in my life, I think. I'm not really sure on that though, but I feel the hollowness even in my creative efforts; as meaningless as a human alone on some alternate version of our planet; they could produce the greatest works of art or literature (not that I could) and it wouldn't matter if there were nobody to share them with. Living this way is painful. If there were a place where more of the people are like me, that would help, and if I could untangle my twistedness enough to learn to trust other people, those would make a difference. As-is, the fully aware part of me just catches glimpses of my other sides that are pushing people away; I feel the receding edge of that fear and stress-filled self that's whispered into my ear or taken control to make sure anyone who might otherwise be inclined to get close is not inclined to do so. I think that's partly why I had such a weird pre-dating period with KateZ ; she either saw-and-ignored that or didn't see it at all; her aggressive friendliness didn't give me room to panic, and that period was like a vacation from myself. Unfortunately, at the time she was also crazy, and perhaps being manic gave her the boldness or blitheness. It's not like I can hang a sign on myself saying "If you're actually right for me, be super-aggressive and push through my reservations"; none of me would want that if it wern't the right person, yet it'd be hard for someone to tell the difference between the should (want to get close but am restrained by brokenness) and the shouldn't (you're not right) because the signals my layered self would send are probably not different enough for someone who doesn't know me well to read. The moments of connectedness with other humans in my life have generally been brief, super-intense, and pretty scary. That woman in Pgh who somehow had the ability to entirely read my body language and the complications behind it; if only I had actually found her attractive. The woman (Emily?) in DC who I met on OkC with a particularly high match rating who commented that the inside of her head and the inside of mine were probably the same and insisted on a phone call that ended up being about 4 hours long and was much like what she said; otherwise I keep feeling like with my interests and my remaking myself so many times and my pain and composition mean I'm nowhere near many other people. I am so weary of this isolation. Is that most of my depression, or is it just a part of it?

Interviews are going. Not too quickly, but I may have a job in a bit if things go well.

Picnic this Sunday should be nice.