I dropped my FOT off at the lab on 10:00 Friday. Went to the brewery with a coworker for lunch, since we got off very early. (I have the bestest boss in da world!) I came home and had a nap and at 4:55 p.m. I had a message from my Dr.’s office to please call. I did, but it was too late.
I did pretty good about not letting it bother me too much over the weekend, though I did distract myself by playing A LOT of Candy Crush. (I could have that disorder about playing video games at the expense of your real life…)
First thing Monday, I called and learned that my test results were negative for blood in my stool. Yay! Have I played any less Candy Crush? I did mention I think I may have a disorder….
I dropped my fecal occult test off at the lab at 10:10 a.m. and they left a voicemail on my home phone asking me to call them; time stamped 1:38 p.m.. I called at 4:55 and the switchboard woman told me they’d turned their phones off, but she said they returned calls at the end of the day, so she thought they’d call me with anything urgent. Maybe they just wanted to tell me “Uhhhh, you dropped off a bunch of shit today, and we don’t appreciate it.” Maybe I did the test wrong. Or maybe they’re really on top of things and they did the test and the result was, “Shit!”
I guess I have till Monday to find out for sure. Joy.
I’ve got to run back into town and pick up some food for George’s day here. Some bread and sandwich meat. Some kind of beverage. I really lack imagination in the culinary department lately, but there’s a 9 mile detour in effect started at 8:00 p.m., so I need to get over a few things fast.
Yeah, I “cleaned” the house today. At work, they clean using those wipes and the jet Swiffer. I already had that Swiffer, so I got me some wipes too. It didn’t seem like I was really cleaning anything, but I couldn’t remember how to clean any other way. I’ve been skating by for a long time, either doing the bare minimum or not even that.
It seems like we teach ourselves how to clean by the products we buy. I saw an add on TV for the next product I will try. I wonder how real any of it is. We watched Tom Cruise play Barry Seals in “American Made” and his character acts or doesn’t act in much the same way I feel I move through my life.
I’m pretty sure that was blood in my stool. My bowel habits have changed. I might not have much longer to move through this life. Is that why my trusted solutions are no longer working? Is that why everything has fallen flat, and unreal? I’m going to see about getting a fecol occult blood test tomorrow. The shit will hit the fan soon.
My Mom was able to leave me enough money to pay off my house. A house I feel is worth very little. But there is a nice paved driveway to the home site. In 2007 when we were looking for land here, a lot was described as a tear down, meaning a nice piece of property with some shitty mobile home on it. I think that’s what the kids will try to unload after we’re gone.
I’m going to write in my will that Johnny gets to stay here as long as he wants to. I need to leave it to Shayla if he’s living. If somehow I out live him, then the proceeds need to be split up between the kinds. The shop is what will sell this place. The house is a tear down, but it is livable. We are comfortable here. I piddle around with the landscaping, but it’s crazy, really. If someone wants a real house here, I wonder what they will do with the landscaping.
I’m working toward selection of natives that will crowd out the unruly natives. A fools errand. That’s what my headstone should read.
I can’t decide how I should handle having left a baby shower early after I’d brought in a half wrapped present in an Amazon shipping box. I felt totally out of place and realized I didn’t have to be there, so I left. I was getting too hot in my sweater and the place was getting too loud for my tastes.I thought of giving excuses tomorrow. Saying I suddenly felt ill seems the safest, but a large part of me wants to say, There was no beer and Ty was pinching me. When he started hurling spitballs at me, I was out of there.” But in point of fact, I left because I felt like a loser. but leaving didn’t solve that. I had a beer when I got home, due to the tension it caused. I did feel my time would be better spent out in my garden, but my impulse is to send my blueberries down the hill. I pruned them with abandon. I moved the iris haphazardly. I got rid of the crocosmia mess, and now, I don’t have a clear idea what to do. I think I’m going to work on removing the vinca minor, but it’s just now blooming. What am I going to do with all of it? I think I will chuck it between the stairs and the cliff wall. I’m thinking of transplanting a few things there. There are a lot of mature ferns I’m going to move out of my flower beds. I think I need to move the rose out somewhere. It’s not good where it’s at. There are far too many Pulmonarias, but I’m all about trying to establish them in difficult areas. I want to post all this somewhere, but I don’t think I know any of my passwords to get into any of the blogs I have started and abandoned. I spent a bunch of time tripping out on Luigi Speranza’s facebook page. He is a dues-paying member of the Coos Bay Garden Club, apparently. So I got into my blog, but I’m not sure how. If I post now, do I really want to go into how I have seen such ugliness in myself lately, I can feel it starting to pull at me. I think of going out to dinner last night. I have a bit of an amusing story to tell about it. Johnny was haranguing the waiter because there was an entry of vegetarian something or other with a scampi sauce. I don’t know what he wanted the waiter to do about it. He went to verify there was no meat in the sauce with the chef, but that didn’t make Johnny satisfied. I think he must have wanted the waiter to come back with a sharpie and either black out the word vegetarian, or the word scampi. The waiter stayed bright and chipper, and I think he liked me personally because I looked him in the eye and saw him as a real person who did not need to be bothered by the likes of some hair-splitting asshole, really. Yes, I felt my guy was being an asshole, but my Mom sided with Johnny, saying the waiter did not seem to understand the issue. I think he understood perfectly, but what was he supposed to do beyond what he did? Contact the corporate office and demand they reprint all menus immediately?
I got Grammarly because my typing is shit lately. I’m suspicious of it being some sort of data grab which is apparently what runs the world nowadays. I realize I’m not in the blog I thought I was. this is the one I had decided to promote my audiobook business with, but I’ve given up on that avenue. Will I give up on the gardening, as well? that is a big part of my overwhelm. If I give up gardening, what will become of this place??? The brambles will shortly take over. Johnny would probably cut back the brush around the blacktop so we could get back and forth with our cars.
This has wasted enough time. I’m putting it out there in the universe, knowing that no one will care at all. If there is ever any response to this, it will be from a bot or a spammer. I don’t fucking care.
I’ve been reluctant to work on my latest audiobook, because the sound quality is so much worse. I had to replace my mic, and I was really happy with it, because it seemed to reduce my mouth noise, but it did record with less gain, and once amplified for industry standards all manner of shite floated to the top of the bowl. This is an example of a peculiar and particularly upsetting distortion. Somehow, a fart inserted itself into my word. You’ll hear it in context, then separated, twice, then hear it in context again. It goes by fast, but this is the sort of shite that when piled on top of other flavors of shite appearing in my sound files, makes me regret spending so much time to record this, spending money to get it mastered, then spending hour upon hour cleaning up this crap. I think I need to go pull some weeds out in the garden…
The fix, I’ve found is to find the fart noise, which is shown selected in the pic and hit mute. Yes, mute, right there in the middle of a word. Seems counter intuitive, but it works a charm. I’m a little worried now though, that I may be going crazy with the mute.
I’m using it a lot because the new mic recorded so noisy, my engineer was forced to use a noise gate, which leaves distortion in the places where the sound is softer than the noise, but, seems to me, if I just get rid of that soft sound, it’s not missed. I could be wrong though.
It could be none of it matters because the whole thing sounds like shite anyhow…
I sure am glad I switched to Punch and Roll myself. I make a ton of mistakes, and this technique is a lifesaver. It’s really nice for those few of us who make MULTIPLE mistakes over the same bit of dialog. Once you set it up to punch in, you can repeatedly screw up and all you have to do is his space bar to stop the record, and control space bar to take another whack at it. Those are the shortcut keys for Pro Tools, but as Don and Amanda point out, there are other programs than Pro Tools to use for punch and record.
I wasn’t sure at first, but I’ve got to say, I love my new mic, the Shure SM7B. I think my refrigerator does, too.
See, I went from a Condenser mic to a Dynamic mic. That condenser mic was bothered by the refrigerator, the furnace, the mbox having electricity to it, maybe even the buzzy light in the next room. It was quite a production getting ready to record. I turned out the light, unplugged the laptop, switched off the furnace and threw the breaker for the fridge. I always felt bad doing that last because invariably, when I restored the power to the fridge, usually some hours after, it would begin to wail. My determined little fridge must have been working like the devil to get the temps back where they should be, no break. When it was just about there, it sounded like a low key banshee.
But now, I don’t have to mess with any of those things. I just set up my recording gear and go. I’m starting to feel like a pro…
Here’s a sample from the new mic, though, I mastered it myself, and my skill is not as great as Jared, my engineer. Still, it don’t sound too bad…