D A L I F . C O M

Playing the Pyramids

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 05:20:46 +0100

You know how you have a weird way of going about things, when you're younger? Not necessarily naive, but just... innocent. It gets better with age, and while, most of the time, things do seem less black and white, as you gain perspective, even in the ripe old age of 19, you make funky blunders when it comes to judging situations. I was going through my grandfathers old hairdryers the other day, when I suddenly remembered this story. And today, my sweet sweet oh so sweet fans, I shall relay said story to you. It was in the year of somebody's Lord, 1998... or 9. Think it was 1999 actually. I was at my final year in high school (my last successfully completed level of education, no less), when somebody figured I should probably get a job. The reason I say somebody is, that I probably wouldn't have thought getting a job would be any more useful, than running really hard into a brick wall. At the time, spending money was easy, but earning money didn't seem to be a proper solution to the problem of always running out of cash. You may call me lazy. I'd like to say I was comfortable. But hey, extra cash is always welcome. The somebody mentioned above was very likely one or both of my parents. Or my girlfriend at the time who, with no intention of her own, had taken on a few too many responsibilities for things in my life, God bless her tiny cotton socks. So.. a job, none the less.

The internet was still young and at least to a degree pure. But jobsites had spawned, and I figured I'd give one of them a shot. So I filled in forms with CV and blah de blah. All the usual crap you need to do at jobsites. Finished that, and figured my part in the hunt for jobs was done. Afterall, how would I go about finding a job besides just asking random sites on the internet. In any case, I filled in the forms, and decided to wait it out. I had basically forgotten about it, when a guy writes me an email, asking me if I was still interested in a job. Happy that my effortless effort had paid off, I eagerly replied that I was, in fact, interested. He replied, telling me he'd pick me up on the upcoming wednesday, at 6pm. And that I should wear a suit. Now, please take a moment and consider the implications in this request. A job interview, at 6pm in a suit. Any normal person would probably think what the hell? Me? I just thought it was all fine and dandy. Wednesday in a suit. Fine with me. I didn't bother asking what it was about either. I don't know why. It just never occured to me.

Wednesday rolled around, and the guy showed up at 6pm, as promised, in a somewhat deranged car. I don't remember the brand. He's a dark skinned fellow. Not that it matters. I think, in hindsight, he was middle eastern of origin. But he had no accent at all, which leads me to believe he was either born here to middle eastern parents, or adopted. I didn't ask, because I didn't care. We got introduced, briefly, and was on our way. Now, I don't honestly remember the conversation that ensued in the car after our initial meeting. He might have explained briefly where we going. I just nodded and followed along. Didn't know quite where he was taking me, but it appeared that where we were driving was not out final destination. It turned out to be correct.

We drove to a train station in the suburbs. There, we parked, and exited the vehicle. I felt somewhat estranged and a little confused, but didn't say anything really. As I've made clear through the writings on this blog, I'm not generally a guy that speaks up when I'm in a situation where I'm confused a lot. I just usually wait things out, and hope for the best, then deal with problems along the way. It may seem careless and even stupid, but it's a habit for me. I'm trying to change it, but in all honesty, it's been like this all my life. It's a bypproduct of being shy or having social anxiety. I was suddenly among strangers. People I didn't know. And many of them. All of which were in suits or evening dresses for the girls, laughing and acting like they were a tightly knit group.

We were going on a bus, apparently. My 'friend' didn't seem that close with the rest either. And I am not the chatty conversationalist, so when we got on the bus, it was mostly in silence. We just kind of sat down next to each other, while a bunch of people were laughing and whooping behind us. I had no idea still what was going on. Sat there in a standard bus, in my suit, and looked out at the dark sky. It was January, afterall, and it had been snowing fairly heavily for the past few days, but was clear tonight. Cold, with snow on the ground, but a clear night. The bus started driving, and I wondered briefly, where exactly we were going. My mind was slowly starting to grasp exactly what I had gotten myself into this time. Not sensing danger or anything like that, but just a situation that was going to get embarassing, and a situation I'd have to get myself out of somehow.

Slowly, the suburbian houses we departed from, got fewer and fewer as got drove further and further away from the city. I've always been fond of the city. May seem oxymoronic, since I don't particularly like a lot of people. But the advantage of the city is, it's easier to be anonymous. Something I've always prized. Slowly the city turned into the countryside, with fields of snow stretching as far as the darkness and lack of streetlights would allow me to see. City signs pointing the other way kept adding miles between me and home. I wasn't worried. More like a little annoyed and confused. My partner in crime, Mr. Darky, sat silently to my right. He was just staring ahead of himself, basically. I tried to ignore the noise from the back. People were getting riled up about something, something I did not share with them, and I had no idea what. Lots of them were young and seemed extremely fancy. Not fancy in the positive way, but fancy in the wannabe way. Designer glasses and suits that more and more told me they were trying to be jetset and smartass, than they really were. Pastywhite colgate smiles and sunbed tanned skin, with greased hairdos. Not my kind of people.

Time passed, and finally, after about 50 minutes of driving, the bus came to a halt. I was both relieved, and worried. At least we could get off the bus, and do something else. But getting off the bus meant more people, and perhaps having to interact with some of them. Rough goings. But what choice did I have? I got off. My buddy went off with me. We spoke only briefly. The happy gang from the back was getting off the bus in the same loud manner as they had gotten on. If I had been anywhere else, I'd've thought it was the annual christmas party with school or a job. Not a 'job interview'. Out destination for the evening was a small house in the middle of nowhere. It belonged to whatever town or village was nearby, and acted as a common house, kind of thing. Most towns have them. A place where everybody can arrange and rent room for events. Apparently, this outfit had rented it for the night, to conduct their introduction seminar kind of deal.

After getting off the bus, we loafed about outside this house for a bit, while people were walking about chatting and going in and out of the house. I just stood around, and waited for further instructions. A guy, who wasn't on the bus with us, was making loud conversation to various people, smiling a broad used car salesman smile, and double hand-shaking people. Clearly, this guy was a guy of importance among these people, as the colgate crew were laughing extra hard at his jokes, and smiling even wider when he spoke. I observed as much as I could, without seeming suspicious. Nobody came up to me, to laugh or greet or smile. The used car salesman was opening the door of his car, and showing off a television he had installed in his car. Everybody was all oohs and aahs, eyes gleaming with pretend admiration and envy. Keep in mind, this was the last 90s. A television in a car wasn't as commonplace as it is today. He smiled out at everybody, and for a moment the only thing I could see inside the car, was teeth.

Finally, we went inside. Drab and dull, the inside wasn't much different from the outside. Main difference was the lack of snow, the presence of chairs and a few plus degrees of heat. We all filed in, and sat down, people as loud as tradition would bid them. Talking and laughing. We were offered a bit of food, and were able to buy a drink. My new friend graciously offered to purchase me a drink. I believe I got a Fanta. I had zero cash on me. Time passed by, while we ate and drank the sparingly distributed food. The neighboring room to where we sat, was closed off, and once in a while, a guy emmerged and informed us, that there were technical difficulties, which meant it was postponed a little longer. Around me people were still chatting boisterously, although to this day, I've no idea what they kept the conversation alive with. Folders were passed around, containing houses in Switzerland. My friend told me some incoherent babble about these being the houses the company sold timeshares in. It was very abstract what exactly was going on. At this point, he could have told me the company sold and manufactured sewing needles, and I'd've thought yeah ok, why the hell not. People were making a good deal out of showing off the stuff their money could by. Cell phones, fancy gadgets, sunglasses etc. etc. I didn't participate.

It was slowly approaching 10pm at this time. 4 hours had passed since my pickup, and still, not a single relevant thing had happened. I was majorly bored, and felt uneasy because I'd gone 4 hours without speaking to anybody, but a few words, and I didn't feel comfortable around all these people, with the weird way they were behaving. Once in a while people went outside to smoke, and I could hear them talk loudly about cars. The moment everybody was waiting for, was holding out on us, and from time to time, we heard a few seconds of loud music play. It wasn't until somewhere near 11pm, that the doors finally opened, and a guy, very much alike Mr Used Car Salesman (only with dark hair instead of blond), told us, that he was sorry for the delay, but that we should all step inside now, and have a seat.

Well at least something happened. I filed in, along with everybody else, and was, against my usual style, seated on the front row, with my friend. Not a good position for me, but I digressed. Didn't have a choice. The room was largish, with about 24 seats on each side of the isle. Seated with our fronts turned against a podium, I noticed another bald darkskinned guy on the right side of the isle (already seated when we got in), and a huge bald dude in a tuxedo, standing near a door at the far end of the room. When I say huge, I mean HUGE. He was massive. Reminded me of the Kingpin from the Spider-Man comics. Mostly, he was wide. Bodybuilder for sure. Looked like the kind of guy that makes people disappear without a trace, at the snap of a finger. Slowly, but surely, the seats were filled, and the show started. And boy, was it a show.

When I told the story in the days after, I usually said of this show, that it was actually pretty fun and pretty cool. They started with the intro from A Space Odyssey 2001, a track I believe to be Also Spracht Zarathustra, only with a hefty technobeat added to it. Dunno what Strauss would've said, but it was engrossing. Even I, a notorious disbeliever and pessimist, started forgetting the weird circumstances, and got into the show. Of course, everytime the showman, Mr Carseller, made a smashing statement, or a joke, the colgate brigade cheered or laughed extra hard. They were getting things more enthusiastically than called for, but I guess it worked. Everybody seemed to be smiling and enjoying themselves somewhat. The gloomy mood that could've been traced earlier on, by having to wait, was lifted. It was all fun and games. Two terms on stage, by our host, had gotten people riled up. Two terms that revealed as much to us about the company's agenda, as a post-it note could have done. We were none the wiser as to what was going on. It was time to lay down the smack, and tell people why this evening could potentially cost them a lot of money. But Mr. Salesman wouldn't be doing this himself. No, his right hand man, would get the honor.

Third leg of the show was the serious talk. The time where we were all bared to the atrocities that is Pyramid Play. Right Hand guy went on stage, and started his own personal show. He wrapped up the bad parts as well as he could, and tried bracing people from what exactly the prospect of forking out a lot of money with virtually no guarantee of getting anything back would mean. It was packaged in a "you'll make X times your initial investment in no time" deal. And I believe some sort of scheme was proposed where one could technically be selling an actual thing. But mostly, it was just about getting people to sign up and pay the cash in a hurry. When the first 10 or so had signed up and paid, you'd start making lots of cash. Basically a get people to sign up or you'll lose all your money, kind of thing. When he mentioned the amount, I really felt uneasy. That's where things suddenly stepped into perspective, and I understood just how far out I really was. My smile went stiff, and only stayed on my face in order to maintain facade. I instantly became aware of everybody around me, and felt out of place. Totally estranged. Right Hand dude finished his show, and we all went out into the foyer again, and sat down. It was 1 in the morning.

They obviously knew just how much 28k was to a layman, otherwise they wouldn't have wrapped it up like they did. And as if that wasn't enough, the 10 new people (this was the first time I became aware of the fact, that I wasn't the only one this show was being held for) came into the main hall, without their new 'friends' (I imagine many of them were there with actual friends, and not just some random dude from the internet. But real friends, who thought it'd be good to bring them into debt for nothing). Car Salesman was there, at a long table. It was time for an informal talk. He gathered us around him, and we all sat down. He was one of us. He knew what it was like. It was rough out there. But he could make it stop. Make us rich. All we had to do, was make a small investment. Easy as that. 28k! It was just a number. He could even talk to our parents and our banks. It was no problem. No problem at all. Everybody sat there. I didn't notice the rest of the group. Their reactions. I just thought no no. Not good. I wanted out. Knew this would be a one way ticket to a really sticky situation. He finished his little pep talk, and we got into the foyer again.

I sad there, with all the rest, amidst murmurs and muffled talking. People were conferring on a more quiet level now, than earlier on. I don't know what they were talking about. I stood up, and went for a stretch. Walked outside, and felt the eyes of Kingpin follow me around. He stood in the front hall, without purpose. Just stood around. He didn't look directly at me, but I felt he was aware of me and where I went. I felt the sudden sting of fear. I don't know what it was a fear of. On a rational level, I felt fairly certain nothing would be done in terms of physical pain. But on an irrational level, I had all kinds of scary scenarios set up. Beatings, knee caps cracked, slappings, threats.. ultimately death. I wasn't prepared to go down without a fight, but clearly, despite my own large frame, that kingpin dude could wrap me around a streetlight with a bat of his eyelids. Outside, the air was getting all the more chilly. January at 1:30 in the am. The little light I had noticed earlier on still shone in the distance. For a brief moment, I imagined myself running through the field, towards it, a group of angry pyramid dudes in pursuit.

The doors to the main hall opened, and we were all welcomed inside. It was time for the moment of action, I guess. I had no choice, really, but to go in with the rest, and sit down. The music started, and people were all cheers and smiles again. I tried to get into it, but the churning feeling in my stomach said otherwise. So I kept my mask up, and played along. Clipboards were handed out to the 10 'guides', and were then directed at is. It had a piece of paper on it, with a line at the bottom, for a signature. The temperature in my heart dropped a few degrees. I knew, that I would not be signing that piece of paper, unless under some pretty serious conditions. My employer friend was looking at me, and he sort of assumed I would just grab it and sign. Around me, people were shuffling and then the first person signed. I know this because when somebody signs, their 'salesman' shouts 'SALESMAN WITH SUCCESS!" and the music starts blasting and people cheer. As the clipboard was shoved my way, backed by a pair of expectant begging doggy eyes, I heard one after the other shout Salesman with success! People were signing the paper all around me, and everytime one did, I felt a little smaller, a little more alone, and a little more helpless.

I told my salesman, that I wouldn't sign it. It wasn't for me. He looked disappointed and looked like he estimated just how much pressure he would be able to add to get me to sign. Afterall, me not signing was basically money slipping between his fingers. I felt more and more uneasy, as the tension in the situation stood out more and more, and one after another of my fellow newbies converted around me. I forgot if my salesman got up and spoke to the others, or if someone sensed that I wasn't playing ball, but either way, the darkskinned bald dude, along with a sidekick, came over to me, kneeled in front of me, put a hand on my knee, and looked at me grimly. "Why won't you sign the paper" the dark skinned guy asked me, in a "it would probably be better for yourself if you just signed it" tone. His face was stern, and I met his eyes, trying not to show my fear or uneasiness. I told him, what I had told my salesman. It wasn't my kind of thing. I wouldn't be able to sign it, because it was not something I could get behind. A few minutes passed, where the darkie tried to convince me, but to no avail. To this day, I don't quite know where I got the inner strength to withstand what appeared to be possible physical pain. But I did. I guess the idea of having to pay some fucktard 28k for virtually nothing but a sucky evening out, just didn't appeal to me.

Finally, the kneeling guy got up, and went back to his seat. I felt a little easier, but still aware of the fact, that I wasn't home free yet. They coul still discuss what kind of bodily harm they would apply to get my signature. I guess I was the last piece missing, because shortly after, we went back into the foyer and sat down. People were still talking sort of muffled, and I had a sneaking suspicion my denial to sign the papers were making its rounds in the rumor mill. Felt eyes seek me out, and linger on me, but tried to ignore it. I sort of faintly apologized to my salesman for having wasted his time dragging me out there. I didn't quite consider, at the time, that he should have apologized to me for wasting my time. But then and there I felt like I had disappointed him, which I'm sure I had. But not really due to any fault of my own. I just really wanted to get home asap. It was like 3am at this time. I went outside again.

My mind was racing faster than before, in the cool air. The Kingpin was still loitering in the lobby area, and watched over me as I left. A few others were outside, smoking and talking merrily. "Sure, you can laugh, you're not the ones getting manhandled in a minute, for your signatures" I thought, bitterly, as I turned my back to them, and tried to search out the only redeeming source of energy I had left. The little light in the distance, I had spotted earlier. I couldn't see it anymore. Bummer. Alone in the world, with a bunch of maniacs with money on their minds. Surely some of the others would try to stop it from happening, I assured myself. But that theory was immediately shot down. Who even noticed me in the crowd. Which one of them would notice me lacking on the trip home in the bus. Who, but my salesman, would ever know how or where. Nobody, that's who. It wasn't a nice thought. But it filled a lot of space inside my mind. Went back inside, hoping for the best, meeting my fate head on.

Apparently, it was about time to call it a night. 03:45 was the time on my watch, when we scurried towards the bus. I wanted to just bolt into it, but I contained myself. Act natural, I thought. We went in, and my salesman and I sad next to each other again. The colgate crew was in the back, merry and joyful as ever. I didn't speak the entire way back to my salesman's car. He informed me, when we got there, that he would take another girl home as well as me. I said that was ok. Whatever had to be done to get me home. I got in the back of his worn out old ride, and she got into the front seat. They talked a little while we drove, while I didn't say anything. After dropping her off, we headed towards my home. As the streets became more and more familiar, I loosened up a bit, and started feeling more relaxed. Looked like I made it through the night alive. Surprised and relieved, I opened the door when we came to a standstill, thanked the guy for the ride, and apologized for the lack of signature once again. He waved it off, like it was an old friend asking to return a small favor. Not until I was in my room, door locked behind me, did I breathe freely for the first time. It was weird. Home and safe, after 12 hours of weirdness. It was 5am. I went to sleep.

Got up at 7 and went to school. My girlfriend came to school as well, and she noticed I had a weird look on my face straight away. I told her, and later everybody else who asked, about the night, and people were shocked, to say the least. Even just 4-5 hours later, the events of the night seemed totally surrealistic and unreal. It wasn't totally far out, but for a really standard guy such as myself, who hadn't done a whole lot to get into the situation (perhaps that was the problem), it was just totally far out. I won't say there were aftershocks or any other side effects. As soon as I was home, it pretty much became an amusing anecdote, so not like I was terminally scared afterwards. But I did count it amongst the few times where I have been genuinely afraid of what could happen.

A few weeks later, somebody showed me a small notice in a newspaper, regarding the Used Car Salesman guy and his company being tax evaders and Pyramid Players. It was but a small notice, and I didn't see anything else about the case later on. Just thought it funny that he was mentioned so soon after I was involved with him and his crew. All in all, I can only pad myself on the back for not signing that damn paper. And feel bad for the 9 other morons who did.

Technical Knock-Out

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 08:24:02 +0100

Once in a while you gotta just lay all the cards out on the table, and speak of those times that are not your proudest. I had one such episode today, while I was trying to follow the doctor's orders. No no, don't worry. It's nothing embarrasing that will leave you confounded and bewildered. No no. It's quite innocent in it's own right, but it did take up a huge chunk of my brain power. And cause me physical as well as mental troubles.

It'll be no surprise to the avid and dilligent reader (that's you Beverly. You're the best!), that I've been attended a psychologist or, in laymen's terms: a shrink. Yeah. That's right. I'm a nutcase. In reality I'm not. Not in the sense of a guy who's totally off his rocker and wants to marry horses and blow up other planets. Horses are nice and all, but having one around the house would be more trouble than it's worth. And blowing up planets, while certainly good for a festive night sky display, would probably cost a lot, and it'd be over in a few minutes. Also, there's there chance of it affecting earth's cycle, somehow, effectively destroying life as we know it. So, that's not what I'm up to. No, I'm merely a guy who's battling a hardass case of social anxiety, or, in laymen's terms: being scared at the concept of socializing heavily with other people. It sums up nicely to the simple fear of being different or afraid, around other people. Scared to be scared. There's a mindtwister, huh? No? No not really. It's pretty common. Think of it as if you're really shy in a situation. Then multiply it with X and apply it to 95% of the situations you live through in your daily life.

Ye, it's pretty friggin rough goings. I basically have a load of little mechanisms that keep me out of harms way (harm from my own thoughts, wouldn't you know it), that are applied most of the time, so I can live a normal life without the marrying horse and blowing up planets deal. But it doesn't always work, and sometimes I'm in situations where I'm just not able to compensate. So I see a shrink in order to try and get around those roadblocks, and free my mind (yeah, matrix style). Free my mind from the bonds it has put on itself. My shrink wanted me to kill two or more birds with the infamous one stone. Not literally kill birds. Figuratively, you know. It's an old proverb. That doesn't matter. You can study semantics in your own time, I'm trying to tell a story here. She wanted me to deal with a few issues in one fell swoop of my mighty brainhammer. The issues were: would like excercise, would like to get out aggresions and finally, the most important, get out and about, where there are people. So, something I came up with myself, I'd like to start boxing. Something I've been meaning to give a shot for ages. Not like Mike Tyson box, but you know.. box for the fun of it. Just do something with my body, and hit sandbags as well. And if I happened to make a friend or two, well... that wouldn't hurt, I suppose. It's called exposure, folks. And it's meant to expose me to scary situations again and again, in an increasing degree, so I will eventually be so used to them, that I won't have to apply the aforementioned mechanisms.

So I found a boxing club near me, and she called and set things up (calling places is my number 1 pet peeve, and, as she said (my shrink), the phone issue isn't the one we're dealing with here, so she'd do that for me. She called, and ensured me that they were starting on Jan 5th, and that I could just show up and give it a shot. Fine. Christmas came and went, New Years came and went. The weeks from my last session before Christmas, til just after New Years were kind of rough going. I was off work, but there was a lot of shit going on, and it took it's toll on my mental toughness. When the 5th rolled around, I was basically scared shitless. And even though I had packed my gear and was ready to head off, I just couldn't get myself to get. I had work the previous night, and work again that same night, which meant I'd probably be totally busted for work after boxing. Besides that, I just... I couldn't make myself get out the door and go some place foreign with people I didn't know, by myself. Just couldn't. So I told myself, that I'd go the following Thursday (practice is every Tuesday and Thursday). I was working on the Wednesday, and totally bombed out, so I didn't wake up before it was too late to go.

Now, I know some will be thinking "sure, that's a fine excuse". And I would agree with you. It was perfect for me. Made my life a helluva lot easier. Only one small problem: I know what's good for me, and what's not good. Going boxing would be good, if for nothing else, then to tell myself I at least went and had a look. Not going would mean a bad conscience, when I knew I was supposed to. Not for my shrink (even though we all know that was one of the primary reasons I'd be going at all), but for myself. I felt bad about it, but not bad enough for me to go anyway. The following weeks I didn't even try going. Just sort of ignored it. Not cool, but... it's a habit of mine. Ignore the bothering things until they go away.

So, time for shrinks appointment. I knew I was in for an asswhooping. She asked straight away, and while I had considered just telling her what she wanted to hear (that I went and it was awesome), I opted for the truth. I didn't go. Just couldn't. I felt the tension rise, and I had the hardest time meeting her gaze. And boy, did she gaze. Felt her eyes on me at all times. I was nervous and tense, and wanted to get up and leave, and never come back. But I stayed. I know she probably wasn't, in the sense I'm thinking of, but I still say I kind of felt her disappointment. She had wanted me to go. You know. Because she wants me to get better. Annoying as hell. And there I was, not going. Not going at all. I got a small lecture about this and that and blah blah. I hate lectures. I hate being lectured on what I need to do and need not to do. How I should do this and that. It really gets to me. But I kept my mouth shut, and sat through it.

Eventually she asked me now what? Would I go? I should go. Needed to go. It was important. My appointment was on a tuesday, so, she suggested, I could go that very night. I did not like that proposition. First of all, I had just been working the night before. I was off at 7, and had an appointment with her at 9:30. So I was pretty fucking tired at that time. The thought of going home to sleep, only to wake up and have to go boxing did not sit well with my state of mind at all. But she pushed me, because she felt that if I knew I should go, why not just go. Get it over with. See what it feels like. I compromised, and promised I'd go Thursday (today). I know she didn't quite approve of thursday, but she also sensed I wasn't ready to go with her tuesday idea. So she digressed. I left her office in a hurry.

Thursday rolled around, and thankfully I was off work wednesday and thursday alike, so I didn't have that bothering me, when preparing mentally for the boxing session at night. It would be a lot harder going now, since the team had already been practicing for 5 sessions or something. I feared I'd be the new guy who knew nothing, when everybody else knew each other and I'd feel outside and excluded and by myself etc. All those weird thoughts that shouldn't matter at all. More than once during the day, I thought about not going. But facing my shrink again, telling her that I didn't go was more than I'd be able to take. So I went. I went, with a bad feeling inside. But I went.

Made it to the gym in ok time, got changed, and asked the clerk where the boxing training facility was. Of course, before I could get to her... or him, I couldn't tell, I had to wait for a drunk swedish/greenlandish janitor dude to shut the fuck up. He was talking to the clerk about lord knows what. I don't think he even knew, himself. The clerk clearly just humored the janitor to get him to move along. Finally, he did. I was informed of the location, and went on my way, finding it with no problems.

The fight team was just finishing up, and the excercise team was getting ready. I didn't have a clue what I should do at this time. I put my bag in a corner, and looked around. Everybody seemed to be busy doing something or other, if nothing else, then just walking around. And still it felt like they were sneaking peaks at me at every given chance (paranoia). I finally made eye contact with an old guy. One I assumed was the guy running the club. My assumption turned out to be right. I approached him, asking about membership and trial runs etc. Thankfully I didn't have to repeat myself. He was elderly, but not that old. Spoke with an accent of some sort, but I couldn't quite place it. I went ahead with him, and signed my name, and paid the cash for the first trial hour. He asked me my age, and, when told, suggested I start out on the proper boxing fight team straight away. "Can always use a guy like you. Just what we're looking for". I declined. He had no idea how little I'd want to do that.

Back in the gym, I was again sort of stranded. I made eye contact with another guy, who, apparently, was the coach. He indicated that I should just fall in with the rest of the gang, who were running laps. I complied. The gang consisted of about 12 others, of various sizes and shapes. Mostly they seemed pretty fit. Something, I was soon to realize, I was far from. Running laps, while doing all kinds of movements and leaps and skips was hard enough. Not only physical, but I felt awkward doing it. Felt like everybody was still staring at me. Not sweet. Finally, we were distributed around the room, and did all kinds of warm up moves. I felt thirsty as hell, and my mouth was so dry, my tongue stuck to the inside of my cheeks. I had forgotten a water bottle, of course. But I was only 10 minutes in, and already totally dried up. I had to go on.

We went out, two and two, for the next part. Always rough goings, the two and two switcharoo. I opted for my usual routine. Just stand firm and hope somebody offers to be your partner. It's a gamble, seeing as if nobody offers it, you're left out as the last turkey in the shop. And that's the gym social faux pas over them all. Being the last guy without a partner. Thankfully a dude asked if we should team up. I agreed. What were we going to do? Sit ups and pushups and all kinds of ups. At this point, I was starting to really feel the need to NOT be doing these things. I was feeling queasy from the physical aspect, and my stomach was churning from the mental aspect. Not a good combination.

Now keep in mind, it's been quite a while since I've last used my body actively. Too long, in fact. And this boxing thing was probably starting out, shooting too high. I needed to get away from it. Couldn't bear a moment more. We were done with the pairing thing, luckily. People got up, and grabbed their own skipping ropes. Their own. That they had brought from home. I did not have a jump rope. Nor, had I had one, would I have had the energy to use it. This was the last drop. I went to the dressing room, and got into the lavatory, locked the door, and just vomited violently (into the toilet, mind you). I sat down on the floor, and did my best to fight off the massive head ache that was urging it's way forward. My arms and legs were shaking hard, and it felt as if I couldn't support my own head. I wasn't about to pass out as such, but I just felt exceptionally tired, and my eyes sort of forced moments of apparent sleep on me. Like when you're nodding off, while sitting. I thanked whatever benevolent deity watches over toilets, that it was really clean and nice. No smell or anything.

I was on the floor, trying to compose myself. I didn't feel able to get up on my feet, so I stayed on the floor. My head was spinning slightly, and I kept my eyes closed to ward off the flurescent light. I did not have on my watch, so I had no idea how much time was passing. I sensed people coming and going through the dressing room outside the door I was behind, but it meant nothing to me. As I started getting my body under control again, I began freaking out over the situation I was in. I had been gone for a good chunk of time. How the hell was I supposed to return to group and just join in now. What wouldn't they all think? Guy comes in, does some stuff, leaves, is gone for 30 minutes, then come back, and just fall back in? Welcome to Weird Town, Population: You. No, that wouldn't do. I would not be able to face that situation. Not by a longshot. But alas, my things were in there. In that room. And I didn't see any other way out but through that room. What the hell was I to do? What could I do? There was only one thing to do...

I stayed. Stayed in the little 1x2 meter room, with a sink and a toilet. Not even a mirror. I stayed there. Stood around, and let my mind wander. As I said, I did not have my watch on, and as such, I had no idea how much time was passing by. I kept hearing people in and out of the changing room, talking about this and that. Only once did somebody grab the handle to the toilet, only to find it locked. On the outside I remained calm, but on the inside, my mind was racing little a formula 1 car. Cursing myself, cursing the situation, cursing everybody and his/her uncle. And most of all, furiously looking for a solution to the problem, that wouldn't cause me serious mental harm. I stayed. Until I hadn't heard anything in the longest time. Then I went outside, slowly. Acted calm, while my senses were alert. I found that the changing room had two doors. One leading into the gym room, and one leading... where? I didn't know. But I dared not try the other door, so I snuck the second one open, and found it led out to the hallway.

Quickly I sped out. Somewhat free, at last. But not quite. I still had on sweatpants and a tshirt. And it was soaked with sweat. Starting to cool down, and become more unpleasant. I walked around the hallways, trying to look casual. Got into the main hall of the gym, where people were playing badmington, basketball, tennis and indoor football. Also, the big hall had a clock. I studied it. A brief calculation showed me, that I had remained in the confines of that small bathroom for 2 full hours, Even I was surprised at that. Two hours of just standing around doing nothing but avoid something. I amaze myself sometimes.

I also found the door leading into the boxing room, and it was closed. I seemed to remember it being open when I arrived, and during the 30 minutes of boxing warm up I actually did manage to overcome. I dared not grab the handle to see if it was locked, so I walked back into the changing room, and went to the second door. It was 20 minutes after the training session should've ended, but I didn't know if everybody had left, or somebody was hanging back. I finally gathered enough courage to open the door slightly, ready to bail at the sign of movement. It was pitch black in there. I sighed. At least I could get my stuff without having to get androgynous clerk for assistance with keys and whatnot. I changed quickly, and get the fuck outta dodge. Scared I'd run into somebody who'd recognize me from my 30 minutes of boxing glory, I exited the building as fast as Elvis would enter a McDonald's, had he still been alive.

My body was aching, and the cool air did me really good. I rushed home, in the safety of my own apartment, and felt relaxed again. At least I can say I went. I might not have had the best time. Or a good time. Or even a passable time. I had a pretty shitty time, but I went. I went and had a look. And I will be able to tell my shrink that, along with selected passages from the above text. I'm sure she'll try and convince me to go again. I don't know if I will be able to. Feel pretty scared from today (mentally). I really just don't want to have to go through anything like it again. So I've devised another plan, with which I might throw her off. I've decided to join a homeless shelter as a volunteer. It's something I've toyed with for years (one of the many projects I have, that just never gets done), and I've a friend who's doing it already. It'd take care of the social aspect, which is the most important, according to my treatment. Also, I'd get out of the house. I've got other plans, when it comes to excercise, which I hope I might be able to carry out. First and foremost, I guess I'll have to acquire a bicycle. So I can ride that to and from work and other places. It's an idea anyway. Oh well, that's another bedtime story.

If you've made it this far through my tale, I just want to take a moment to tell you, that this sentence, along with the following sentence, has been brought to you by Quakers - A breakfast serial even your doctor can't deny! Good luck, and god bless!

Dangerous Exposure

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 04:38:01 +0100

Sounds like I'm starring in my own psychological thriller. I'm not. Well.. not quite anyway. It's all part of my own little thrill - therapy. Going at it full blast now, with exposure, as it's called in cognitive behavioral therapy. In laymen's terms, that's me going out and doing all those things that terrifies me to near death. Sounds bad? I think so. But I trust my therapist... for now.

We've spent 4 sessions are so, covering me, some of my past, some of my relations, and mostly, of course, my fears. We've plotted out a way to approach things. And while she seems a little tight in her manners, she's not completely devoid of humanity or compassion. Yeah, it might sound like a harsh thing to determine, but I've had a therapist once that seemed to lack those two qualities. I spent many an hour, not to mention many a fuckload of cash, with her, and while it seemed ok at first, I gradually began to wonder just where in the hell it was all leading. I asked her one day, and her reply was that she'd like me to come in more often. Ironically it had the complete opposite effect: I never set foot in her office again.

So far I've been, and felt, reassured with this new style. I've been consulted for my opinion on what my goals are, and what, of several, paths I felt would be cool. I've been told that I will never be tossed into a situation that would frighten me, without a lot of talking and going through it first. In other words, I WILL be put in situations that would normally frighten me, but I will get a set of tools (metaphorical tools, you morons) that will help me deal with my thoughts and feelings.

My main problem, I guess, can be summed up in quite few words; Common sense > Perceived reality. I need to listen more to my common sense, instead of giving in to those thoughts that tell me things are fucked. Deep down, I always know that what my common sense is telling me is real. But it's a lot easier to let the bad and negative thoughts reign supreme, because it only confirms what I already think I know: it's me against the world. I'm by myself, everybody else are morons who are just using me because 1) they pity me, or 2) they want to gain advantage through me. I know it's not true (for the most part, there are always bad seeds out there), but I need to believe that I know it as well. Otherwise it will become a self-realising prophecy, and I will end up alone and in despair. Lord knows I've driven away a friend or two in my time.

So, how to achieve these things? Well, as I mentioned, exposure is one way. It's basically, as I've also said, exposing myself to anxiety-triggering situations. I made a list of trigger situations, that we looked through. And finally, last session, I numbered them from 1 to 7, according to severity. We're going to start dealing with number 1 on my list, next session. That's the easiest of them, or the one I feel the least anxiety doing. I'm not going to tell you what it is yet. I probably will in the future, but I want to deal with this myself at first, and then relate it afterwards. It's quite interesting, even from an outsiders viewpoint, and I'm really looking forward to experiencing the effect of this cognitive psychiatry.

Anyway, I'm going at it full force. Considering my future, the future after this, is weird at the moment. As in, I can't really imagine living without it. The constant fear of fear and anxiety. The fear of it is almost the worst. Or anxiety. But I hope that when I do get rid of it, I'll be able to start doing some of the things that I've kept myself from doing. I want to try and get a proper education. I've done the 3D thing, and besides me learning some things, it never was what I had hoped it to be. Waste of time, and more importantly money. An education would be proper. I need to school myself more in math, which I don't particularly like, but I think I can do it, if I get a little help from people in the know. It's a plan anyway. Or an idea. Or a hope. Gotta have hopes, don't you?

Hallo! Ween!

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 05:54:16 +0100

Note from author: this entry was actually written on the eve of Hallow. In other words, when I wrote this, the party had not taken place yet. It has now, hence the fact that a photo from the party is posted with this article.

Yeah, it's that time of year again. Spooky time. Not that we usually celebrate it around these parts. Well, not since the very early days, when the actual meaning behind Halloween was still honored and revered. And indeed even known by the layman. But with globalization in full effect, it's something we're beginning to consider across the proverbial pond. I...? I planned this big bash with a friend. And while it's going to be funsies, I'm sure, it sure is stressing me the hell out.

We talked about it in August already, when in Berlin. "Wouldn't it be fun to have a dress-up party?" somebody (possibly me) remarked one evening, when relaxing in the apartment down there. The others agreed. And all of a sudden we were discussing options and ideas for costumes and decoration. Since I have the largest apartment, and I've always fancied throwing a party, we agreed it should be held at my place. Back in August, Halloween seemed extremely far out in the obscure future. Now, however, it's nigh, and even though we've got most of it ready and waiting, it still has me worried sick that I won't be able to come through or something.

The happy couple display their welcoming postures.

It's my inate fear of... well.. the unknown, I guess. Fear of what might happen. I don't trust my luck, and I'm sure something will be wacked up. Also, I've a problem with working stuff up in my imagination, only to disappoint myself. I'm trying not to, but it's prone to happen anyway. Getting things corddinated seems easy when you're working with other people. But when it's my own time, I have the hardest time making stuff fit in. Also, I feel like I'm disappointing others involved if I can't meet what I assume to be their demands.

But the party is going to happen, whether I'm ready or not. So I'll just have to come to terms with that, and then have it be a while before I throw another bash. We've got booze and beer and stuff ready to go, snacks and decor. I'm going to the tricks and fun store now, to see if I can find canned spider web. I don't even know if it exists, but if it does, I'm getting some. Spray it everywhere, just to mood things up. Bat and witch cutouts. Pumpkins. Et cetera et cetera. It's the whole shebang.

I'm going as Pennywise the Clown. From IT.. the Stephen King novel turned film, remember? Yeah, most people do. And besides the white facepaint, I've got a pretty cool costume. My mom made it for me (yeah, I'm 30 years old, and I still have my mom sowing stuff for my dress up parties). It's cool, and I'm looking forward to seeing it with full make-up. Anywho, he's well scary, as the old coupling of clowns, who are inherently fun and laugh inducing, with batshit evil just seems to take evil to a new level. Tim Curry sure did a splendid thing for people already slightly frightened by clowns.

Besides that, I think we'll see a good array of costumes, ranging from the "murdered on the way to the party" to the "been dead since before America was discovered" variation. I hope so anyway. Lots of fake blood, vampire teeth, cowls and perhaps even a fake eyeball. Who knows. We've invited a largish list of selected folks, hoping that a lot of them turn up. The more the merrier, I suppose.

With a decent night of sleep, I hope I can clear these thoughts out, and get into party mood. I'm planning on getting insanely drunk anyway, so I can spent my entire Sunday just fucked up on the couch. It's been a while. Oh well. I'll let you guys know how it went. Those of you invited, see you. Those of you not invited, perhaps you should start being nicer to me (provided you even want to go). Start by giving me money or gifts next time we meet. Toodles.

Susie New-Shrink

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 06:24:00 +0100

Well, I have begun my preliminary shrinkage program thingy. It's not really a program, I just said that to be witty. In any case, I had my first session, which I think I've spoken about, and she recently texted me, asking me if I could come in on friday. Sadly, I was unable to, but I still have my regular appointment on next monday.

The point is, that she's in contact with me, and I sense an interest garnered. She even wrote 'dear' and 'much love' in the text, which I found a bit funny. Doesn't disturb me, I don't really care. But it's just a weird thing to write to a person you've only met once. I digress. Doesn't really matter. I look forward to seeing her again, and hearing what she has to say about me and my situation. I'm going to fill in the papers tomorrow or something. The questionaires. It's very exciting.

Had some splendid days the past few. Tired, as I've explained, but lots of good feelings. Also, my home theater setup is coming together, and it's a fucking doozy! Loving every second of it. I'll write a few seperate posts about it, with pictures and diagrams and shit.

Have dosage, need sleep

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 06:23:12 +0100

A while back, when I worked as a weekend nightshift at another hotel, I remember having the hardest time staying awake during the shifts. I worked 5 a month, besides my regular 8-4 job. The first was the worst, even if I managed to sleep during the afternoon. But every shift had me fighting hard to stay awake. Now, I don't experience that anymore. Well, except for the past few days. I always attributed my drowsiness at this other hotel, to the dark and crowded interior of the building. It was old and crooked. Charming in it's own right, but I guess you could call it old fashioned, if doing stuff like that took your fancy. It was just really hard, keeping my eyes open. Lets of time spent pacind around the lobby area, in order to stay awake. I didn't like it particularly much. Eventually I quit that job, and focused on my dayjob. Having al my weekends to myself was gold. But even that grew boring.

When I started working here, at night, I had worried that I'd get into the same deal, where I'd have the hardest time staying awake. But thankfully I found, that it wasn't the case. This place is spacy, large and has a decent air circulation. Also, when you only work nights, you get a different frame to operate within. It can be hard sometimes, but often enough, it won't be a problem.

Lately, I've had my dose of medicine doubled. First I had to take another 75mg. And then another 75, hitting the grand total of 300mg. And it's making me sleepy as hell. I could just sleep and sleep and you know what. Sleep! It's annoying. The last two working days, however, I also lacked sleep due to getting yoinked out of bed way too early. Once by a friend, and once because I just couldn't sleep any longer (at the time). Mind you, both days were absolutely worth the hassle I had with staying awake at night. Splendid days. But damn, the nights are rough. I walk around, watch a bit of TV, blah blah.. whatever I can, basically. Time crawls... absolutely crawls.

The funniest thing, though, is the fact, that when I get home, I'll be wide awake, and not really want to go to bed. It's pretty aggravating. I think tonight, however, I'll get home, and then pass out on the bed, immediately. Just imagining that comfy bed right now, makes me want to strip down and jump in. I won't do any of those things, though. Firstly, I think my colleague would protest. Secondly, diving into an imaginary bed, when it's really a marble floor, won't end well. So I'll keep dreaming for another hour and a half. Then it's off to pixieland with me.

They day I remembered the stone

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 03:55:19 +0200

"I remember this stone!" I exclaimed, excitedly, picking up a small rock from the forest floor.

"What stone?" my father asked, puzzled. We were out walking in the woods, close to our house. I don't recall why we were out walking. We never just walked, for the sake of walking. But the reason for us being there, I don't remember.

"This one!", I cried, beaming with joy. I held it out for him to see. He studied it, with mounting interest. He usually didn't let on, but I could sense his curiosity this time. A few moments of silence passed, while we both stared at the rock in the palm of my hand. Then the obvious follow-up question from my father arrived;

"What do you mean you remember it?".

He looked around, somewhat bewildered, clearly trying to remember if he had ever been here before. I don't know if he had. I don't remember him ever being outside the house, besides going to and from the car. He wasn't excactly what you'd call an outside man. But then again, the woods didn't offer much to go outside for. Dense and thick, with who knows how many creepy-crawlies and rodents scouring the ground. All the more weird that he and I were out there that day.

"I've seen it before. I've seen it many times before"

It wasn't a lie. I was sure I had seen it before. I couldn't tell him where or in what context. But I knew that stone in my heart.

Dad seemed to accept this, albeit reluctantly. I could tell from his frown, that he wasn't quite sure what to make of it all. His son, remembering stones in the middle of the woods. It made no sense. No sense at all. He hadn't got the faintest idea about the origins of that stone. Looked like a regular old stone, akin to the hundreds of similar stones scattered in the near vicinity. Why that stone. And why his son.

I wasn't sure about the stone either, but I know it had to be the same stone, and that I felt a weird joy in having found it. Kind of like the same joy you feel when you meet an old friend after years of being apart. A friend you liked when you used to know each other, but just didn't have a chance to get better acquianted with. Obviously, I didn't draw that parallel at the time, being only 7, I had no idea of the feeling induced in me, when meeting old friends. But later on in life, when looking back, I realized it was that exact feeling.

"Come on, we need to move", dad said. He startled me out of my unbridled enthusiasm induced stasis, idly staring the rock. It fascinated me to no end. But he was right. We needed to move. What were we doing out there? It eludes me to this day. I clenched the rock in my fist, and paused only another moment, before I grabbed my dad's hand in my other fist, and let him drag me off.

Picture unrelated

Decades later, now a grown man, I returned to the house of my childhood. I brought along with me, my only son. The house was in a state of decay. My parents had moved out years earlier, and the tenants who bought the house from them, had died shortly after. With nobody else to look after the house, nature slowly did it's thing. The woods surrounding the house was slowly assimilating it into the density. Scary business, if you stopped and thought about it. Thankfully, none of us did.

I wanted to show my son the house I grew up in, which is why we were there to begin with. He suggested a walk in the backcountry, which I found odd, since he's never been much of a naturist. But I guess, since we were there anyway, he figred why not do something so as to not waste the long drive. We couldn't have walked far, before I heard him say the words, that instantly transported my mind back 30 odd years. I was trying to watch the pattern of flight, of a small bird circling the low branches, when my attention was fiercely yanked away by the shrill voice of my young son, when he exclaimed;

"I remember this stone!"

Upping the dose equals hard times

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 05:49:46 +0200

Yeah. This entry won't be too long. It's pretty much what it says on the tin. My dose was upped from 150mg til 225mg, and that is really wearing me out. I'm so tired all the time. And it gets harder and harder to conceal my distaste when people around me do stuff that triggers my anxiety. I get to annoyed, I just want to tell folks to go away. Hard, really, when you're in a job where you need to be all smiles and helpfulness.

I manage, I think. But it's wearing me out. Sleep, get up, be sleapy, go to work, be sleapy, come home, sleep... rinse and repeat. Not fun, really. Just want to sleep all the time. Even the smallest things will get me down. I hope this new shrink can work magic soon. I need it.

The depression didn't do it!

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 05:29:17 +0200

Been a while since I last decided to actually type up a bit for this place. Thought about doing it for the longest while, but never really got around to it. Almost daily, a thing or two appealed to my story telling instincts. But then, I just didn't get around to sit down and do something about it. Well, that's no more as of now.

What I wanted to convey with the title for this post is, that it wasn't due to my problems with depression, that I didn't write anything for the past 22 days. Sure, I've had a couple of rough spots in September, after a long while of almost nothing. And that bothered me a great deal, but I've also had positives. And I've had indifferents. As in, things that didn't concern the condition really, but were just sort of there.

Not going to do a whole list of stuff, because they aren't that exciting. But I will tell you about the ones pertaining to my personal mental disorder. You see, after 6 months of exile from my psychiatrist, riddled with a visit to the mental emergency room, and an uppage of my medication, I finally managed to get a hold of my psychiatrist, and make an appointment. I kind of lost faith in him some time back, since none of the medication has worked so far, and then he was gone for a while, and I felt abandoned. But a friend of mine, who's also a patient of his, brought me up, while she had a session with him. Unorthodox, I'm sure. And it could've been misinterpreted by me, seeing as I'm usually not fond of people messing around in my affairs without me asking first.

But it didn't bother me. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. She discussed things with him, and took it upon herself to bring him to the understanding, that things weren't going well with me at all. Apparently he realized she was right. So when I did get a session with him, not only was I prepared to say it like it was, that I wasn't affected by the meds at all, and that things weren't going well at all. I have ok times, and I have times where ok is a distant dot on the horizon. I want the status quo to be ok, and then only go above and beyond that. I said that, in other words. But I said it. And he was clear on it as well. He said, that I had been sick for long enough, and that it was a waste of life. It was time to get better. I agreed.

So he had spoken to a woman psychologist, specializing in this cognitive psychology. She works at a clinic with 4 other women, and they all do pretty much the same sort of thing, only with different approaches, I think. He (my psychiatrist) had used them in the past, and he was able to make a special arrangement for me, so most of the bill would be payed by the healthcare. And I'd only have to pay a smaller amount by myself. Still a decent amount of money, but nothing close to what I'd have to pay, had I not gotten the support by health care. He also upped my dosage, and I left with the feeling of change in my body. It felt good. Something was being done!

If this guy could talk, he'd be your therapist...

When I got home, I gave her a call, and she told me there'd normally be a longer waiting period for her sessions, but that she had actually just had a cancellation the day after. I immediately leapt at the chance, and told her anytime, anywhere, I'll be in. So I went. And the first thing I noticed was, I wasn't really scared. I had imagined myself being really scared of going. New person, me telling her about my thoughts, me having to do something about my own condition. But first and foremost, me being scared of not being sick. I know it probably doesn't make sense. But when something is all you know, not having it by you, is scary. Even if it's a bad thing you have around. But I'm determined to toss that anxiety aside, and fight whatever it is I need to fight.

So she called me in, and we had a talk. First about who I was. Not the usual "What's wrong with you then?" talk. That does nobody any good. No, she just wanted to know a bit about who I am, and what I do when I'm not scared. As in, what I do for fun. I told her about my job, and the stuff I do. And in turn, she told me about her job, and her methods, and what cognitive psychology is, and how it applies best. It was interesting, and provoked thoughts too. I mean, I had read a lot about it, and heard friends talk about it. But hearing her say that things could get better, and that social phobia is the "easiest" to apply this sort of therapy on, just felt good. It was like, somebody told you, after years of dragging a ball and chain around, that as long as you worked a little on it everyday, you could have it off by the end of the year.

I got some forms I need to fill out. Questionnaires about myself, really. And I've got a notebook for keeping track of stuff. Also, I've got a paper where I will write down situations that bother me, why they bother me, how I felt, and what I did. It's interesting, and I'm keen to 1) get better of course, but also 2) see how it progresses, from a scientific point of view. I'm fascinated by this ability to make people think differently about how they perceive the world, and how other people affect them. Without forcing anything upon them, that is. But merely by helping them to help themselves.

Anyway, when I left, I felt like I had taken the first step down a new path. Might be a few weeks before my next session, due to the amount of clients. But she said she'd call me again, if they got cancellations, and if not, then I'd be going regularly from October at the latest. Ideally, she said, she'd want me there once a week. It will cut into my budget, but I think it's worth it. More than worth it, to be honest.

So there. That's pretty much it. Lots of other stuff has been going on, mostly my purchasing and installing of a surround sound system. I'll outline that in a later thread. I'll also need to finish up my writing on the Berlin trip. I'll get it all done. In good time. I just wanted to let you know, I'm still out there, circling the drain!

Dalif 3.0

vondalif@gmail.com (Dalif) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 15:44:55 +0200

Yup. Birthday for me. 30 years. That's all.