Art by MeddygonThere is a fine line \ Between genius and madness. \ It is called timing.

Two images, related (contain one same character). Originally posted on LJ May 20, 2002 @ 0:41. Secret AGENT Schroe, secret AGENT Schroe . . . Arg, more contractions. Woke up a bunch of times with painless ones, but they still woke me up. I didn’t bother timing them at all last night. Now I’m tweeting them to timestamp them. Gosh, this current one hurts a big more than the others.
BELOW, A CITY NAME THAT AMUSES ME.

Some russian loser is adding just about everyone he/she can find onto her friends list. She’s at 750 now, up from 643 yesterday. She shares no friends or interests with me, yet she added me. She keeps posting replies to people’s comments in a “spooky” and “mysterious” manner, like a 12 year old in a role-play chat trying to be the cloaked figure in the corner with the dark past.

Watch out for diethylamide, and block her if she ever comments on your journal. If you post a comment on one of her many entries of how much she loves her new friends, you’ll be met with posts from people who’ll whine that it’s not your right to ask to be removed.

This is the third time I’ve had a dream where Jorenko is Neo.

Neo was sent back in time to help something in the 1970s, but he was having trouble. Upon entry into the 1970s, he landed in some telephone wires. He struggled in them, but didn’t die from crossed wires. (I remember saying in the dream how stupid the director was for letting that pass final edit.)

He landed between two old cars as one drove off. The car that drove off contained Mel Gibson and Danny Glover. He was supposed to help them, and he just missed them. He chased after them across the parking lot, but didn’t catch up. He stood at the end of the lot, next to a brick building, and looked shamed.
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Maria isn’t here, and her bed is made.
Since she is always home when it’s this late, and she never makes her bed unless she’s going home, it’s safe to assume I most likely won’t see her until next week.

Thank god.

28K on Maria*hatey, 216K on Dreams.

Anyway, this is the second time I had a dream about another school, wherin it was both IADT and “The school I was supposed to go to.”

It started with us walking into the offices to discuss financial issues. The offices looked like that of a CEO’s penthouse office – we expected everyone to be rude, but they were very nice.

I don’t know the significance, but Rebecca Sanford was in the dream, and I was complaining that she got to go to this school, and that she wasn’t even an artist. (Rebecca Sanford was the girl I was constantly stuck next to in alphabetical order in school)
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A half hour ago, Maria came into the room to start getting ready.

Of course, I woke, but I did not get up. I sat in my bed and watched through half-closed eyes as she opened and slammed the closet door without going in.
She left the room.
I turned. If I was going to be forced up because of sound, I didn’t want to be forced because of light.
I listened as she went through some bag, possibly a makeup bag, and rattled the contents.
I listened as she moved the bottles on her desk without hearing her use one.
I then listened for a full thirty seconds or more the crinkling of a plastic water bottle.
She was either trying to wake me up, or she just decided to not care that I was sleeping.

Ashley and I realised that Maria never takes showers. Ever.

She doesn’t even take baths.

She washes her hair in the sink. I don’t know if she washes anything else or not.

I just got off the phone with Kurt, the landlord of our nice little shithell apartment.

I had called because of Maria.

Just under a week ago, Maria accidentally broke Ashley’s baking stone, an expensive piece of cookware. An honest mistake made while she was cleaning, and a replacement was to be ordered right away. Maria was directed to the website, where it was assumed she’d order it from. She didn’t do it that night, and she left for the weekend, so we don’t even know if she actually ordered it.
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I hate this class

Interpersonal Communications – Monday 3:15 – Amanda Schroeder

I. What Are Interpersonal Skills?
A. Definition of Interpersonal Skills – The knowledge to successfully conduct interpersonal relations
B. What that means – Being able to get along with and knowing what to say to people, no matter what their personality, background, or culture.

II. Why are Interpersonal Skills important to have? Read the rest of this entry »

Five minute presentation
“Why is it important to apply interpersonal skills in the workplace?
Outline typed
Presentation on Notecards
Visual Aids

I. What Are Interpersonal Skills?
A. Definition of Interpersonal Skills – The knowledge to successfully conduct interpersonal relations
B. What that means – Being able to get along with and knowing what to say to people, no matter what their personality or culture

II. Why are Interpersonal Skills important to have?
A. Keeps a calm and enjoyable home, school, or work environment
B.

III. How can

This is all I’ve gotten done in the past hour and a half, along with a lot of bitching about it –

[13:29] schroe> “Human Relations – Interpersonal Job-Oriented Skills – Seventh Edition”
[13:29] schroe> By Andrew J DuBrin
[13:31] schroe> The only example under “Confrontation and Problem Solving”
[13:31] schroe> You: Mary, there is something bothering me that I would like to discuss with you.
[13:31] schroe> She: Go ahead, I don’t mind listening to other people’s problems.
[13:32] schroe> You: My problem concerns something you are doing that makes it difficult for me to concentrate on my work. When you chew gum you make loud cracking noises that grate on my nerves. It may be my problem, but the noise does bother me.
[13:32] schroe> She: I guess I could stop chewing gum when you’re working next to me. It’s probably just a nervous habit.

Gash: If you want to get down to it, our perception of reality is only a series of electrical impressions interpreted by our brain, so how do you know what you are seeing, smelling, tasting, feeling and hearing is actually what is there? Kind of mind-boggling, don’t you think?

Yengwa: No, not really. All of your arguments always come down to that same damn line from the Matrix. It’s not like you suddenly had a revelation and came up with it yourself. Besides, if what is real is defined by our brains, then how do we know our brains are real?

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Five minutes after she and I were discussing something, she goes on about it again. After about two minutes of listening to her talk rather loudly about the girl in the next room, I say to her, “Okay, we stopped talking about this five minutes ago.”

“There’s not need to be so rude, you brought it up!” (which it did, now seven minutes prior.)

“And we’ve already said all we’re going to say on the matter.”

“It’s not big deal” blah, blah, etc.

*shush noises*

“Oh don’t you shush me, you brought it up.”

“And now I’m trying to END it.”

I am promised by the school to get my financial aid reimbursement check tomorrow. I can’t be 100% certain on this, even if they did put up a sign outside their door about it, because they were 100% certain I’d get it the second week of school. This is the 6th week.

On the off chance I do not get my money, I finally got my PIN for my Visa to use it as a cash card. I must use this sparingly, though, as my parents are the ones who pay off the card.

fight of the century

Grand. Someone just called for Lametria Scott.

“She doesn’t live here anymore.”

Which is true. So no one should be calling her here, ever. Right?

Well, she’s been using my phone without me knowing, as Maria told me a while ago. I really didn’t care, because it very easily could have just been Maria trying to get me to take sides. Now I have a little bit of proof.

Ashley’s already told me that she doesn’t use the phone at all, as she has her own cell phone. Good. Then she won’t mind me taking the phone with me to school. Maria doesn’t use the phone, either, except when she NEEDS to talk to her mother. She’s going to her mother’s house later today, so she won’t be needing the phone.

I said to Ashley a while ago: “Your friends do not live here, they should not be using the phone.” That didn’t mean anything to her other than she has to hide it from me now.

Lametria’s got her own cell phone, she doesn’t need to be using my house-line. She doesn’t even need to be coming to my apartment. I swear, next time she is at the door, wanting to bitch at me about something, I’m just shutting it in her face.

She often feels the need to come and complain about something. Apparently, placing her junk mail (100% third class mail) in front of her mailbox is wrong, and she would “ah-PREE-shate” it if I didn’t do that. She’d also prefer that, instead of telling her friends to stop calling here, I instead pass the messages on to her.

She moved out a month ago, folks. She also agreed to not give out my phone number to her friends, because she had a cell phone.

Then she has the nerve to call my friends ghetto when she can’t even spell it.

It’s funny how, whenever I say something to Maria along the lines of, “You shouldn’t skip school,” or “You shouldn’t waste your money on taxis,” she always says, “Hahha, you sound just like my mother.” Mom’s can’t possibly have good advice, can they now.

I really fucking hate it when someone tells me “news” that they heard, and they heard it from me last week.

And they pass it off as they’re the ones who told me.

I really hate Maria’s use of the term “chinky” to describe Asians.

She said she was going to bed twelve minutes ago.

She talked for ten. She’s finally turned off the light.

Now she’s muttering to herself VERY LOUDLY. “oh gawd, it’s so hawt” etc.

Maria just came into our room to tell me that she heard Ashely making noises, and assumes she was masturbating. Maria described it first at “choking and gagging noises” so I assumed Ashley was puking. Then Maria said, “No, it was moaning! She was on the phone, too!”
WHO THE FUCK CARES?!

She went on to explain how stupid she felt because, here she was, worried that Ashley might be choking, and she was just “doing her own thing.” Repeat this three times in different ways, and you’ve got the “conversation.” Then she decides to tell me that she doesn’t masturbate anymore.

No sex, no masturbation, no brain. Poor girl.

I had a dream we were moving. Mom, Dad, and I only, though. Tony wasn’t there, but my parents were insisting on getting everything packed up right away. We had just locked up several things in a mausoleum, and my parents had taken special care to place traps with those things. Returning to packing, I threw my mother’s clothes with her stuff, and mine with mine. After everything as packed, I decided to make backups of everything on my HDD, so that I wouldn’t loose everything again. I copied everything to an external HDD and shoved it in my pocket.

Later …

I was returning home from a trip of some sort. As we pulled into “Greystone” where we were to switch to another bus, I called my mother. I was worried about getting on the other bus because it would be taking me further from home, making the drive to pick me up longer. Mother told me my father was already there, so I got in his truck and he drove off.

The direction we went wasn’t too the main road. The road we were on had a bridge ahead of us, and my father said he was worried about the darkness at the base of the bridge, because he couldn’t see if there were holes or anything. “I’m more worried about the whiteness at the top – I mean, does the bridge just end there?” I said.

Damned clipping. More of the bridge appeared as we went up it, but, sure enough, it ended. The truck makes a mighty leap into the air, and we watch down from the clouds for the place we’re supposed to land. We land, and start going downhill. After a while, we come to a visible edge.

We exit the truck, and, for whatever reason, Harry Potter is there, too. When the truck was shooting off the end, there was a far-view of it, and I could see the shape of the road-maze we were on. It looked a bit Sonicish: curly roads with red railing.

Harry Potter explains to us that this is a magical roadway, and we just need to walk over the edge, and we’ll be upside down, like David Bowie in Labyrinth.

Harry does it. It works. Dad does it. He falls. I cling to the edges and crawl over the edge. Harry Potter laughs at me as I’m about to fall.

Later …

It was RPGish, and one of the characters was an angel. Every time she said, “JESUS H. CHRIST!” when things weren’t going her way in a battle, Jesus came in, whipped the shit out of the enemy, and went away. This happened three times in the dream.

Later …

Tony Soprano and his crew were helping me get some money out of a guy. Prior to them showing up, I was at a bar, realized I needed something to finish a quest, ran over to this guy’s place. I wanted to purchase a woman, and he made me pay in advance. Later, he gave me a doll instead of a woman. I wanted my money back and he refused.

Jet Grind Radio rules.

So she eats a donut without asking. I ask her to not—I wish she’d shut up so I can fucking concentrate on what I’m typing—I ask her to not do it again. She says I’m overreacting, it’s just a donut.

If she’d asked, I’d have no problem. But she took it the moment I left the apartment to go outside with Troy while he smoked a cigarette. We were gone three minutes.

“I took part of the long john, is that all right?”
I sighed, and said, “Just don’t do it again.”

She took half the long john. She broke off half the donut, and left the other half in there. I asked her if she wanted to finish it, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to. She says no, she’s stuffed.

Then she asks Troy if he’s married.

I’m only up right now because Maria doesn’t know how to quietly open and close doors.

I had a dream I went to Dennis’ Place for Games, only it didn’t look like the ones out here. It was larger, less crowded, and brighter. Pump It Up was in the middle, but it was compact. The single stage was pushed under the cabinet, and I had to pull it out. Then I had to boot the thing. Then I had to level the stage. All this, and I didn’t even work there.

Not yet, anyway. Josh was reviewing my application. He asked me about someone I listed as a reference – “Jack Crawford.” He wanted to inform me as well that the address I listed for Jack was wrong, and his correct address was [insert screen name]. I told him to watch out, because his live-in girlfriend will answer and throw a fit.

I returned to the PIU machine. The damned thing was one player. No doubles allowed. I messed with the internal settings, and found that the machine was running on Windows 3.1. I started messing with it with a keyboard, though I don’t know how I got the keyboard.

I added a name entry screen, you picked by pressing the arrows to get to a letter, then hitting the center to confirm. Finally the game started.

The man in the artwork of “Unforgettable Memory” was positioned over the Pump logo. Hit center to play, start up a song on easy.

That’s when I noticed a lot more steps than I was used to – I look down, this isn’t PIU anymore, it’s Technomotion.

People start watching me frantically play, and then they clap and all that. Later, I return home.

Home is supposedly 802, though it looked like an inverse of the trailer I lived in mixed with Tim’s condo. My brother, mother, and father all lived there, but everything paralleled my current situation.

Father was not there; There are only three of us in 802 right now. Mother retained her personality, though she took the part of Maria. Tony used dial-up internet access while I had high-speed; that’s the same as Ashley’s setup.

The cat was there. I can’t remember what all Eddie did in the dream, but it somehow mattered.