"And all I loved, I loved alone"

I keep reading and reading again the first paragraphs from Poe's House of Usher. It seems repetition can't strip this poetry from what Rimbaud called "the alchemy of the word". It doesn't matter whether I understand every word, it's about the music.
I remember when I first read those words. I was struck by how similar they felt to a poem from Baudelaire. I checked Wikipedia, and indeed found a link between both men. Baudelaire appreciated and even translated Poe in french.

DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens (...)

This poem, Baudelaire even used an english word to title it: "Spleen"...

Quand le ciel bas et lourd pèse comme un couvercle
Sur l'esprit gémissant en proie aux longs ennuis, (...)

I feel frustrated. While some of the best sentences can be translated perfectly in French...

the hideous dropping off of the veil
--
la laideur tombant le masque 

...others are just meant to remain powerful only in English. Like this wonderful alliteration :

There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart.

Tonight, I just read a bit further than usual, and was stroke by something new...

It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression;

He knows. He knows what it's like to enter a room whose atmosphere is unbearable until one lights some even very weak lamp or candle in one corner. He knows this one little light that suddenly modifies the whole atmosphere of the room, which thus become livable.
As I grew stronger, I became less sensitive to this... problem. When I was a kid, I couldn't properly explain those feelings. And who would understand anyway?

This is another poem from Poe. It begins like this...

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.

I am not lazy, but it is hard to do something

I am slowly realizing how much I let people not knowing much about me define who I was.

People at school used to make me feel like I was a scrooge. They didn't know, and I didn't either. They didn't know I had had to fight for the right to receive pocket money. They didn't know I was only receiving from my parents like a tenth of what they were receiving from theirs. They didn't know that buying a sandwich outside of the school at noon was just beyond my means.
I wasn't a scrooge, I just didn't have money.

Later, my father didn't allow that I work during the holidays, like a lot of students do. My stupid ex-girlfriend S. found me lazy. She thought life was too easy on me, that I never had to fight, and was wrong to complain. She said I should just work to earn some money. Why didn't I think of that ! That's obvious and I'm so dumb !

I was acutely sensitive, different, probably over-protected, and, among other things denied the right to feel the empowerment of earning money for myself. But I was guilty of being a scrooge and lazy. And I did feel guilty.

From my very first day at school, I had been a bad student. Surely it was another proof of my laziness. I was repeatedly told so, therefore I believed so. Fortunately, my father knew the power of yelling at a kid that cannot focus on his homework at 8pm. I was so much better off feeling anxious on top of feeling dumb and tired.
I did view myself as a lazy kid. I thought high school would give me a fresh start. But things happened the exact same way than in primary school. I was no more able to focus on something else than the world outside the window, and I was still mocked and insulted by the other students.
During my last two years in high school, I found myself in a slightly less hostile environment, and started to play with that image of the lazy student. I played it cool. I acted like I didn't care, that it was some choice, like I was this kind of relatively intelligent guy that just was too lazy to study. I actually couldn't help it. And I suffered a lot. I was extremely anxious all my childhood.

At 23 years old, I was afraid of taking a train. I didn't know my city really. I knew mostly the journey from school to home. I didn't know what to do of my life. I still had never earned any money, I still was a bad student (only at a higher level, college), and of course had a very poor image of myself.

Some day, I decided this situation had to change. I started taking Sipralex (which I'm still taking every day), and I stopped going out. Indeed, for a short period of time, I had sought happiness at parties, among stupid people I used to call "friends". I abruptly stopped seeing them. I stopped going out at parties, I stopped drinking alcohol. My "friends" then, predicted I would "come back to it". They didn't understand. In spite of their prediction, I didn't drink a single beer since then. I lost the count of the years. It has become a religious principle. Wine is alcohol, beer is alcohol. A 2% beer still is alcohol, and I don't drink alcohol.

When I stopped seeing them, my friends thought that I had blown a fuse. I even got rid of my "best friend" for many years. I later heard this had been hard on her. She didn't understand more than anyone else what was happening. I had suddenly become adversarial with her. The fact is I had decided I wouldn't just shut up and listen to her stupid liberal opinions anymore. One day, I carefully explained to her why I found her views utterly stupid. Then I told her I was done with her, and never spoke to her again.
I'm sorry for her pain, I'm not sure she deserved the way I treated her in the end.

I didn't fit in, in spite of all my efforts. I was not just sick of the pressure anymore, I was becoming genuinely mad. I craved for a radical change. I didn't want to try to fit in anymore. I wanted to embrace the fact I was different. I barricaded myself and embarked on some kind of inner quest.

At 24 I took a plane for the first time. I had found a way to get some money to pay for my Erasmus trip to Greece. I lived there on my own for four months. When I left my country, I had just enough money on my bank account to barely survive during a bit more than the first month there. I was expecting some money to arrive during my trip.
I had to evade on that Erasmus trip. Among other things, I needed to prove that I could survive on my own. The only way I had found, to earn some money without my father knowing, was to donate sperm. Something for which my ex-girlfriend, A. (Her), hated me.

I cannot win. I'll always be a scrooge, lazy, or simply an awful person to somebody.

At 25, I got my first job, and a few months later, started to rent an apartment. I was finally an independent person.

At 26, I accepted another job offer, and since then my salary is a bit higher than the average wage for my profession at my level of experience.

Today I'm 27. I'm about to buy my first house, and become a landlord.

That's just a brief summary of my path, of course.

I cannot win. I'll always be a scrooge, lazy, or simply an awful person to somebody.

--

It's another Sunday I spent mostly in bed because I'm feeling too weak to really work on my projects. And this is in spite of the ritalin. I'm not lazy, I do push myself, a lot. I always did.

I'm constantly thirsty, but pee crystal clear, for weeks. I think I also often feel weaker when I eat than when I'm starving myself. I'm soon to get the results from the blood test I had yesterday.

Whatever those results, I'll keep going.

Unfair to him

I hated him. I almost fought with him. I pushed him. I threatened him. I broke some of his things.
He was not always right. He made mistakes. I sometimes had good reasons to strongly resent him.

I remember that night that M. had just broken up with me. It was like 11pm, I was at her place, extremely upset, and I had my things to gather and take home. I called him. I asked him whether he'd come and get me. He asked me whether something was wrong. I answered that everything was fine... but couldn't help a sob that I swallowed as quickly as possible. It was late, and he was tired. He took his car and drove to get me.

To buy my house, I'm shy of just 20k. The family won't help, and no friend of mine will. I know he is going to search for a solution. In this project, he is much more supportive than I ever imagined he would.

We never said good morning to each other otherwise than by insulting each other. But for all the serious matters, when I really need to be able to count on somebody, he is there.
At the end of the day, my father is the only person I can really rely on. Not my drunk mother, not my crazy ex-girlfriend, not any friend of mine, just my father.

Mood log

The quaternary sector

This deal must work out. I need that house, and I need to work with my hands.
All the banks will be long gone before my house is down.
There are no "financial products". "Products" are things that grow out of the earth.
There are politicians everywhere, traders, and all those useless fuckers. But eventually, the only ones that win are the farmers.

No time to give me shit

I was standing right in front of those large city stairs, and it wasn't where I was supposed to be.
I used to meet my psychatrist at his house, but for the first time I was supposed to see him at some clinic. The clinic wasn't at all where I ended up searching for it. I don't know why I imagined it was there. My mind was stuck on this wrong belief, and I already was half an hour late when I finally decided to call the clinic to ask what its location actually was.
That's very embarrassing. In the past, I missed a rendez-vous with this psychiatrist because my mind was stuck on a the false souvenir of a wrong date.
This kind of things happens to me on a regular basis. I need to do something about it, because it's a problem. I regularly imagine things that I become so convinced are real, that I would never question them, until I hit the wall.
I also thought this rendez-vous was scheduled for tomorrow. Fortunately, I had scheduled a reminded in my smartphone a month ago.
Tomorrow, I go to meet my mother's counselor at some bank, in order to discuss the possibility of getting the money to buy my house. As I originally thought my rendez-vous with the psychatrist was scheduled to tomorrow as well, I had requested an afternoon off, hoping to take care of both matters the same day. Now had to request a second afternoon off for tomorrow, to be able to attend the rendez-vous with the counselor. This - for some reason I won't explain, just to avoid making this story even more confusing - is going to force me to cancel the afternoon off I needed to meet another counselor from another bank.

This explanation is messy. Nevermind.

Fuck.

I could easily justify why I am confused. This is the first house I buy, so of course it's a lot of things to manage, legal stuff I'm not accustomed to at all. I also have a lot on my mind at work, plus She is still displaying a passive-aggressive behavior, plus the fact that I'm a bit sick for 3 days, plus the fact one of my guinea pigs has some health issue, ... But it doesn't matter. I should grow strong enough to handle all this. I need to gather my shit and handle all this, like a serious man. I need to get more organized.

Today, I had awkward interactions with the pharmacist, with the psychiatrist's secretary, and my psychiatrist himself. I kind of felt he found me awkward. My own psychiatrist finds me awkward. But what does he expect? I don't see him just because I have too much money and I'm bored. Of course I'm not "well".
He clearly is not a genius. But he rather easily consents to give me the prescriptions I need. I don't really need anything more from him. And I really should start studying some chemistry. Who knows, with enough work I might be able to learn how to synthesize the molecules I need to function properly. I would then still use my legal prescriptions, because it's easier and legal, but knowing my life doesn't depend on the opinion of any stupid doctor anymore.

I don't even know why She is mad at me. Talking to my mother, last Saturday, I mentioned the fact I had a fight with Her, and that we were kind of broken up (I try to pretend it's serious, but I just incremented our counter...). My mother asked me "why" of course. I answered that I didn't even really know anymore. That's no joke. There surely is some kind of "reason". Or maybe she is just a woman that wanted to have an argument over nothing. The usual way women behave with men. I shouldn't worry, but it's still upsetting.
I'm not sure but it had something to do with the fact that I said I wouldn't marry her at the present time... which is easy to understand for any rational person. We only know each-other for three years, and met only once ! If we were actually living together, for four or five years, maybe it would not seem that crazy. I'm trying to do things right, here. I'm buying a house, trying to secure my future, improve my career perspectives, and build a serious relationship with a serious woman.

I love Her, and I miss Her.

I just wish she was a bit more sensible.

The Insider : of moral integrity

While you've been dickin' around at fucking company golf tournaments, I been out in the world, giving my word and backing it up with action.

A great movie I discovered lately, based on a true story. It's about moral integrity, and an awful stupid wife. But mostly about moral integrity. About serious men.

The extra mile

I'm doing it. I found the house, and I'm about to sign an agreement.
It's 9pm. I had a harsh day at work, with 32°C in the office. My head hurts, but I did eveything I had to do.
I called my father, I called the current owner to tell her my decision to buy this house. I came back from work. I met my father to get further information. I ate, and finally I just called the owner again like 15 minutes ago, with the new information. Now is the time to care about the mortgage.

In the middle of this, I was called by one more recruitment consultant. I cannot get rid of them since I updated my resume online. It was always online, but it's like it triggered some alarm as soon as I updated it a couples of days ago. Doesn't matter. I gave those people the phone number of my former colleague, S., that needs and deserves a better job. He thanked me a lot.
Today, I was called by like the manager of some recruitment consultant I talked to yesterday. This manager gave me the name of the woman consultant from yesterday, but I confused her with another one, and pretended I gave this one the name and phone number of S. Then I got a message from the woman consultant, apologizing for loosing the contact information I supposedly gave her, and asking me to send it again. At that moment I realized my mistake, apologized, and sent a message to her manager to make sure he would not hold her responsible for anything. I didn't blame her, talking to her manager, I was just confused. But I believe she might have had some word with him. That's very embarrassing. But I tried to make the things right.

Of course, beside all this, I had to do my job, sweating on my keyboard.

Now, I should work at least a bit on one of my personal programming projects.
A few months ago, to the list of "keywords" describing my attitude on my resume, I added "always willing to go the extra mile". This must not be a lie. I'm exhausted, but I have to work at least a bit on my project. I do believe that this extra mile will make the difference.

I am short on Xanax. But I'm going to be fine.