recarded

It's unusual I start my day in the AM. I work a night shift two days a week at a local television station. It's part-time work, and I am supplemented by the government in exchange for maintaining the remission of a mental illness. I live a socialist lifestyle of rootbeer and cigarettes for the greater part of the week, and assume high responsibility, low impact work, making sure some of the public is entertained for twenty hours. It's a refreshing change to speak with you in this public form. My most recent composition needed be "dumbed down" to a sixth grade level; "dumbed" for lack of better vocabulary. This day, today, that started, for me, in the AM, was a full day. Because of the mental illness, two vials of blood needed be taken from my arm today. I'm unsure if this is more to make sure I am taking my medications as prescribed, or if it's important medically. In any case, I'm unsure which I am supposed to think, and i'm made to think moreso that it's important for me to take my medications.

I received an unexpected visit from a friend today. Really, I should've been expecting it from this spritely lass. For a spell, I would show myself unannounced at her door. She called me on it in an entry such as this, but in the light of a warm memory. Still, it prevented me from doing so again. Today, I printed several short stories of mine that her boyfriend had requested. Even from just the light touches of text I read while collating and stapling the papers, I became infused with the idea to begin writing again. I've been neglecting the pen, down in the dirty of my music artistry, work, and the waste of video game play. During these, I narrate to myself for the day I can record it all. Experience, for me, is made bearable when thought of in the literary sense. Never will I have the time to document enough to purge all traumas I've undergone, but I have to chase that idea.

It's been said, it was a full day. It was full of hypodermic needles, hugs, and some huge expenditures. I won't say how much I dropped, but the average reader could estimate from the description of two gigabytes of random access memory (that's two trillion bytes), a 256 megabyte video card, and nine months back child support. I'll get to the juicy bit about rectifying a child support debt in a moment. But first, I must document the nerd I unleashed in myself at Best Buy.

My previous video card had 32 megabytes of random access memory. If I'm in danger of losing you there, I'll "dumb it down" for you some. The more RAM, and the higher the model number, the better those games that inspire school shootings look to real life. At least, that's my greatest understanding, technically, with a background in electrical engineering no less. From a RAM count of 32 to 256, and from model 200 to 6200, I'm noticing bullet shells flying, expressions of horror on the enemies' faces, less squarish breasts on my female sidekick. Definitely an improvement. Shopping alone at Best Buy, requiring assistance or just a Best Buy experience with one of the experienced staff, is a mixed bag. The man whose practiced raised brow-"Can I help you" who took my side in selecting the optimum components, was honestly jockitch__ish. It's great when you can land a nerdcore employee to help you in a place like Best Buy. I confess, I know a bit more about computer hardware than I let on. Getting in an excited conversation, rather than the obvious issues on expiration 'til obsolete, is the Best Buy experience. I tend not to elbow my nerd cousins too much, so perhaps I'd not have chosen to write of a stellar Best Buy experience. But the guidance was cold. I offered a memory of my first 3D accelerator card as we proceeded to the checkout. He said he'd had the same kind of memory, but it's hard to believe he was sincere; kind of the final blow. I'm happy to say that the card has no defects and the detail is amazing. However, between trips from the computer to the bathroom, I cannot begin to tell you how I appreciate the 3D effect of the cardboard box it came in, as I pass by.

On the forefront of my budget is nine months of back child support. Before judgments are made in the minds of readers unfamiliar with me, please believe me... The family I have mixed with is not one to reckon with. In my defense, there were factors preventing payment to, and even contact with the mother for what now seem like ages. My fervor for computer gaming accrues less damage than my apparent fervor for unprotected sex, but I am much happier to provide this. I feel it is an unwritten sin to regret a child. Sinning is not my only deterent. It was kind of hard to squeeze all of those digits onto the blank on the check. My daughter will be eleven months old on the ninth of November. I made sure to append "11" cents to the rounded-even amount of the check.

I can and will take responsibility for my child. I cannot, however, take full responsibility for indulging in violent video games. I'm remissively ill, mentally, but I think I'm balanced enough to avoid urges to kill real people. Do games waste time? Oh, yes they do; perhaps building small muscle motor skills; but mostly a waste. I can't take full responsibility. My boss, who recently left the company, asked if I played games. At the time, I hadn't set eyes on one in what seemed like ages. He figured that's what I did with all my time. He seemed to think I should be studying the science of television. He'd rant at me about it, making me feel small, every day. But he left, leaving me with the idea to get back into gaming, perhaps somewhat for spite. I thought he was alright, but I thought he hated me. It was Boss' day the day after he left. One of the ladies in the office baked a cake for everyone... Raspberry cake.