Metablog

OMG! Someone actually started a conversation with me on a dating site! Someone interesting and attractive? Yes! This is surely a first. Since she could read this, I will say no more about her directly. Besides, I don’t really know that much yet, having had only one short conversation with her. I am anxiously waiting continued conversation. And anxiously dreading the possibility that she, having lost her interest, due to our conversation (or worse yet, due to reading my blog) has stopped correspondence between us.

I have limited my emotional investment in the possibility from the beginning with this scenario and others in mind, but it’s not possible to limit it enough to obviate the pain of rejection entirely. (Even rejection still floating off in the land of possibility.) But it’s not really the pain, so much as it is the possibility and tension and fear in the situation—the anxiety of it all—that really gets to me, drives me crazy, and drives me to distraction.

This has really preoccupied me. It’s driven me to feel more suicidal. I’ve already been feeling pretty goddamn suicidal. I’m at the stage now where I’m seriously getting close. I haven’t yet purchased the tools I’ll use, but I’ve gotten close a couple days to going out and buying the stuff.

So what’s my point here? I guess that, even with all this stress and drama, I think it’s worth it. The possibilities, the hope, the potential, make it worth it. Because nothing in life is worth quite as much as a good relationship, I think.

Hello, world. I’m learning Scala. It’s a pretty neat language, despite my initial negative reaction based on the name, logo, and color scheme of the site. I think I’ve finally gotten over liking Lisp especially. F# doesn’t seem especially impressive to me compared to Scala. Or even SML, to be honest.

Still single, and miserable. There’s no one out there like me. Well, close enough to no one that I haven’t been able to find them after three years of looking, off and on, through dating sites. Only a couple people that even come close, and those ones don’t respond.

They say that suicide is a disease in itself. Aside from depression, it takes a life of its own, and eats away at you even when you’d otherwise be happy. I’m not quite happy, but I’m close to it. Closer than I was a year ago. I still have plenty to justify suicide. I just wonder if I will ever run out of things to justify it. I clearly have a will to live. Just not a very strong one.

I’m learning Isabelle. I want to write a new user interface for it. Something awesome. I have a good idea of how to make it awesome, but I haven’t yet decided how to approach it. Or how to spend my free time working on it. Or how to deal with the stress of my job. Or the lack of a desire to live. Anyway, I’ve thought that I might take a bottom-up approach, reading the source code in order of how the compiler compiles it, which is guaranteed to be the most linear bottom-up approach available. (Unlike in languages like C# where source files can have circular dependencies up to the assembly (dll) level, which makes bottom-up reading potentially impossible.) But I’m not sure I’ll do that.

Due to an unfortunate incident, I’m required to attend AA meetings. It’s a shame, since I’m not an alcoholic, that I’m being forced to intrude on these meetings, but seeing the camaraderie between these people makes me want to attend something more appropriate for me. A bipolar meeting, perhaps? I don’t see anything in my city. Shame. I should call some hotlines that have better resources than google on this issue.

No real progress on lucid dreaming, despite the post title. I remember bits of dreams every few days. That’s about it. I promise not to subject you to any of my dreams. I may post here of some revelation I’ve had as a result of some dream. But that’ll be it. So far, the most significance any dream has had is that I needed to pee while I slept.

You know, I’m not even sure why I do this type of post. It’s not like there’s anyone who enjoys them. Now, my last post. That was one with popular appeal.

This.