what's all this about realtime?

whether the letters and numbers and names and symbols and moments and times of life are prophetic or profound numbers or something simple and mostly arbitrary and relatively meaningless (like ages, years alive in the physical form on this planet) or even completely random, RealTime™ can be like that too...

daily life is so repetitious most of the time, it's probably quite boring to read me drone on and on about it... and once again, it put me to sleep... just thinking about life in RealTime™ (this entry started three hours ago when I was much younger and awake... I paused to watch Pan's Labrynth again {cuz Rasputin finally decided to watch it cuz it needs to be returned tomorrow or it will cost more money cuz the rental period is over} and nodded off... so it must have been the repetitious thoughts of the repetitious nature of the repetitions of daily life, right?) and nodded off... the subtitles might have helped... I'd probably nod off even faster if daily life had subtitles...

the irony of this blog is that I am not intentionally trying to babble on the way I used to babble on behind the candoor (which was the ironically titled babbling on blog in which I did most of the babbling on I did when I was intentionally babbling on, by the way, that is not over, really, but simply went to sleep one day and has been hibernating for months now, in case anybody remembers, or wonders, and thank you for that), but it does seem to happen quite unintentionally what I am not looking (or sometimes when I am) because (and this is an educated guess that is a bit more than a hypothesis, but still more theory than proveable fact, I think, probably) I am a babbler...

instead, I attempted to come here to create this blog in order to reduce the babbling and report on the facts, just the facts, of life as I live it in RealTime™, daily, mundane and all... cuz I figured that maybe some of the people who read me over at diaryland (and previously at livejournal and even more previously {and simultaneously}, other places too) might actually want to know me,the me behhind the writer of behind the candoor, if you know what I mean... not that this blog is that, but this is something closer to what I do during the time of this life (in RealTime™, I suppose), which might be a reflection, or at least a clue, as to who I might be if anybody knew...

and if there ever was a clever word, or moment, in any of my previous babbling, or here even, it was mostly unintentional, like a side effect or almost an accident, for the intention was and always is (or is and always was, for that matter) to relate the momentary thoughts dropping (or popping) out of the relatively constant stream of consciousness I loosely call my mind, which is where I live and as close to the me I know as me (which might actually be me, if you know what I mean) in order to record them (the thoughts) in order to understand and perhaps even get to know me (who me?... I thought all this was about you being the given the opportunity to know me, I mean, if you really wanted to {with thanks to Melissa Etheridge, of course}, then, or now, or ever, which brings us to posterity, but that's another time {with thanks to Harry Chapin, of course} and we can explore it when you or I or someone brings it up again {if any of us can figure out just what it might have been, ok?)...

and when I was babbling (which only happens unintentionally here, no matter how often it may happen), there were those (a select few, perhaps) who claimed that the cleverness (or genius, to coin a word that was used once or twice) was woven so deeply into flow of words that 99.774% of the population (which would mean even fewer readers than actually read the blog back then) had not evolved enough to ascertain even a fraction of a percent of the layers of meanings threaded into the weave of words, but the tapestry might have been something beautiful or meaningless or even irritating to look at or experience, much like an intricately woven rug or web, whether approached with ambivalence or fear or reverence (the latter being appreciated)...

of course the babbling might have all be ego flexing it's muscles (or farting) and/or a way to pass the time between actual sharing of flesh and time (in RealTime™, no less) and this RealTime™ blog just might have been a way of attempting to cut through the viel of egocentricity (and insecurity it attempted to disguise, however poorly it may or may not have succeeded) and all the babbling that does occur here (with or without italic emphasis or parenthetic elaborations or asides, for that matter) might be defeating the purpose of this blog (whatever that may actually be, in RealTime™, that is)...

but what is revealed amidst the babble may or may not be a deeper insight into the psyche of the being who wrote the past blogs (or this one, for that matter) and no one will ever know without venturing deeper than the deepest babbling (into the world of the flesh and blood, sweat and tears, laughter and spit, and assorted other bodily fluids) where the truth can (might, could possibly) be found, but the unobstructed view of the daily events of life as I experience it (mundane and all) just might be the best we can do at distance, so this blog was born...

and as fascinating as all this might be (or as sarcastic), this is (once again) not what this blog is meant to be... this is transient time, thought-time, babble-time, dinglebot-time, perhaps, but not RealTime™,,,

so meanwhile, this one time, in RealTime™ (which is so not band-camp-time), the Earth moved at work today as the one-day-a-week staff was called and given the opportunity to move into he cubicle or she'd find her stuff boxed and moved in when she came in next week... so she came in and moved, though still as passive aggressive about it as ever as she did the absolute minimum, she boxed her stuff and put it in the cubicle, but didn't actually move into the cubicle... nor did she take home the personal items that are not safe in the open area of the cubicle, risking loss by theft or worse, danger to a patient who might go into the area (and therein possibly require physical restrain that he/she would not have needed if the area was not full of sharp objects, personal items, and too much non-work stuff)...

but the good news is, with relatively constant nudging, I have an office of my own now... I spent the afternoon cleaning out the drawers as the former PI person was not very organized and left a whole lot that needed sorting and archiving (stuff from 2005 and 2006) and hopefully I will get the office supplies I ordered sometime this week so I can put my own order to the space (to make maximum use of the space) and actually start taking the QA/PI job seriously (though not with my full attention as the data assistant is still so slow that I'll still need to do about 90% of the data job for at least the next couple of months)...

and then I went home, but on the way, I faced the wrath of traffic (well, perhaps I can give the appearance of excitement through words in spite of just how mundane the daily life can be)... there are three exits from the research park that contains the psychiatric hospital in which I work and one of them closed down from three lanes to one, creating a massive traffic backlog at the 5pm quitting time... so exiting the research park, a process that would ordinarily take 5 minutes now takes 20 or longer, more than tripling the time it takes me to get home...

along the way, Precious called... hungry... wanting to know my dinner plans cuz Raspy passed out on the couch and she couldn't get a conherent answer from him about dinner... so we woke Raspy and drove to Macaroni Grill and I plurged on dinner for all of us... I must really feel guilty about something, or simply feel generous because of my promotion, or something, cuz that's a lot of money spent on others ($300+ in the past three days)... and there's my intended dinner, my $1.25 salad in the fridge, for tomorrow and the body laughs as it stores more fat... ah, the folly of socializing with humans, so much food, so little stomach...

in any case, I am amused and the food was scrumptious, so what's a few chubby fat cells amongst friends... just cuz it's the gross national product (as in gress, to me at least), it's at least amusing to play with words and mock myself... and maybe there's some amusement or morbid curiousity in you too, which makes all this translating into words worthwhile in RealTime™ and not< just for the illusion that someone, someday, might care to actually try to get to know me, or for posterity, whichever comes first...

so we watched Pan's Labrynth and I napped and then, which watching Eureka and Flash Gordon and The X-Files I related all these thoughts to you in words as you see them here in RealTime™, or a likely (if not reasonable) facsimile...

for the record, Muldar's apartment was 42, Scully's was 35...

and happy birthday to you too...