I forget what it was initially about, really.

But she came into my room after, yelling, and I pushed her out.  Yes, hard.  No, I don’t think it was a hit, but I can see where someone would differ.

So the assessment made was that everyone in my life would be subject to the same sort of violence, including my daughter.

I’ve been so offended since, that I’d been deciding to leave these people out of my life.

Now that I’ve moved out, and I’ve had time away from these reminders, I try to talk about it.  Give it one last chance.

“You can see the logic behind what she said.”

Well, I guess.  But it’s wrong, still.  It’s taking one incident and applying it globally.  Which would mean that the person saying it has to apply all of their indiscretions in the same way, and there’s just as much bad in anyone’s history to make that deadly for those in their inner circle.

I know I’m wrong.  I know what anger is like, and that’s why I stop or leave.  If that option is gone, then what must the antagonist be at that point?  What is their fault?  What is mine?

I still make the distinction that my daughter is paramount, and treated differently.  That’s partially because I’ve raised her, I’ve talked to her, I deal with her.  Bad or good.  Not 24 hours a day, admittedly, but I have and can and sometimes do – as in now, when I’m there when she wakes up, to school and to home and all the activities between.

I’ve been hit in that very personal aspect.

I hate to think about it, but I’m always the one to back down and admit to fault, but nobody else does.

I want to be the charismastic bastard that can get away with hurting people, perhaps.

I just don’t have the personality for that.

I’d rather make amends.

But what sort can I?

Will anyone ever meet me halfway?

Even so.

I can see where I’m wrong, and I was.

But I think that, if someone can think that of me, regardless, what sort of relationship could I retain with them?  Knowing that I’m just an outburst away from being labeled a child-beater?

What do you do with those people?

Does this always exist?  Or do I need a new direction, and new friends?

This is sadness.  I can hardly see.

Paris is now in two weeks.  Got a book specifically on the Louvre, as, by the look of it, we’ll be there for a fricken’ day in and of itself.

I should know more, but I don’t.

Upgraded Wordpress to 2.5.  Strangely much snappier on first impressions.

Still can’t tell why network stuff seems slow – starting to think bottleneck may be my computer, as the load on the server is negligible; it doesn’t seem to sweat anything, really.  I’d like to graph it eventually just to see if it spikes, but never when I look.

I should probably make up something for the left roommate on what to do if I get an alert about one of the hard drives when I’m away.  Hm.

Dinner and opera (La Traviata) on the 19th, last season ticket play on the 21st, then to bed, early up and to the airport.

Butterflies are a-wingin’ their way twixt my ‘testines.

…of being what?

Well, first, I sit here drinking. An unenviable habit, perhaps. I am compelling myself to seek it out and wash in it for a while, contemplative. At what point do I begin to say ‘problem’, rather? I am almost to the point of budgeting for it with each paycheque. It is not any rotgut, yet is any better than the other?

This, the lagavulin 16yr Scotch, may not be the choice of every, yet I finish it alone. I’ve found it somewhat harsher in taste than expected – definitely ’smoky’. I attempt to discern hints of… anything, really, in the amber aromatic, yet cannot find a single clue. Intoxicating, certainly. I think I will go further afield for the next bottle.

The fluid in the glass, at close examination, is more viscous than thought; the eddies are positively immobile. Trapped eddies around a cube; forlorn.

If I thus plan out my alcoholic purchases, am I sane? Broke? Admitting to a casual defeat at the hands of that which is meant to bring my faculties low?

For – let’s be serious here – this is seen by few, and fewer still of these can distill my thought as easily as can this rather maudlin purchase of expensive spirits. To hold it in hand and ramble at length on its qualities and effects is, quite admittedly, self-serving, neurotic, and sublime.

-break here-

-a sip or two-

I think of home, and where that may be. What, of my many residences over the years, would I most call ‘home’? I can’t really name one – all having been sullied by some idea along the way. I feel that, with that in mind, I shall make my stamp upon the next most indelibly. I shall scar it and make it mine.

Someone at work, said that hydrogen peroxide, was lately found to help cause scars. It may heal, but at the cost of some surface appearance. And I think – it was one of the favourite tools of my mother, long ago. How many of my own surface abstractions do I owe to this? Small yet permanent affectations upon my skin that never heal. For all that I never had any major contusions, I had myriad scars, in various places. Shin. Groin. Belly. Arm. The back of my hands. Forehead. What have I surrendered? Nothing, perhaps… they are areas of tiny contemplation that leave only my imagination ground fecund.

… wow.  I just spent an hour or two going through my old high school yearbook, and looking up names I slightly recognized in Facebook.

It’s *strange*.  For the most part, I only vaguely recall all but a handful of names.  It’s really a forgettable experience once you’re out of that, isn’t it?

… or so I’d think, if most of them didn’t have other people whose names were familiar there.

It’s been, what, 14+ years?  Mein gott.  I can’t even keep up on my actual friends from then – but maybe this is my shortcoming instead.  This has occurred to me, yes.

That’s probably an appropriate non-epiphany.

“The End Of The Affair” by Graham Greene.

First half of book, I could identify with to a… depressingly annoying degree. I think it would have made a poignant story at that. The second half attempted some sort of resolution, and fell short of any actual expression, I think.

Still.

Should probably read more. It’s so unusual for me to take a week or two to finish a book, especially one as small and simple.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=15bwhVxw-Bg

Now, I’m just saying… cats are nasty and they need to be punished.

(What? It’s supposed to be a benign and beneficial experience for them? Riiiiiight.)

There are so many phrases that ‘ring true’ as it were, that I’ve never heard before… I think I could go out and hear one from every new person I met, every day, and never be exhausted…

Today, simple, but I’ve never put it together like that… ‘binary gender system’.

… Huh. Yeah.