Central Finite Curve

(1) Sunday Night: I keep telling myself I'm here for my own good and that this life is a one-time shot. But in the back of my mind there's an out?

Will it win and consume me? Or will I overcome it?

Sometimes it's easy. The joy of life overcomes the urge for escape. Other times, the pain of life drowns out the joys, and I have to remember why I'm here.

Still, looking at it from a logical standpoint, it doesn't make sense. Why allow the pain when there's an out? Why repeat behavior that leads to suffering? And with these questions, I tell myself, "The experience." I lead myself back to the understanding that everything here is for a purpose, and that the experience of life is unique. Then I can sleep.

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(2) Monday Morning: Coffee. I tried going without it for a few days, but somehow I justified myself back to drinking it. I wonder if they function without it. Probably. Why am I spiteful? Why can't I justify myself into accepting this arrangement? I really need to get back to work.

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(3) Tuesday Night: Today I was assigned two more modeling analysis surveys. The jerks just can't get enough data-points. It must be boring when our customers realize all they have is a glorified turn style and that it's nothing special. I'm glad I just model them and don't sell them. It's the same old information over and over. When will the interesting research come?

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(4) Wednesday Night: Barry gave me a dressing down today. He told me my concepts for securing our customer's analytics were going to ruin some kind of pricing structure. I told him he was wrong, and that failing to prevent unauthorized access to even a low priority task like this was irresponsible. Apparently my point was not even valid enough to warrant research. I'm going to let it go, though. Why are people like him in charge?

Television looks awful these days. But when hasn't it? It's nothing but fake people with fake problems.

Note to self: When writing a television program, leave people out.

Next week is company softball tryouts. I think I'll go for it. It's worth a shot, and maybe it'll keep my mind off of things. Last year about 35 companies were in the league. What a season we had. See? I'm already feeling better thinking about it.

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(5) Thursday Night: Another hum-dinger of a day. I wired up the new analytics and forwarded the keys to Berry. He told me I used the wrong signing authority. I asked him if he even looked at my work, and he told me he didn't have to because I didn't do my job. What's with him?

Ok, I didn't use the correct signing authority, but he didn't have to be so formal about it. I won't dwell on it, but why do people have to be so sensitive?

Tonight I will spin back into despair. It's not that I like despair, although I know those who do, but I see the pattern. I eat less, sleep less, and laugh less. Even talking becomes a labor. I have a hope that they read these lines, so I feel comfort in inputting them.

I went into the back house where it happened, to revisit my memories. The memories are not painful, just the absence of my labor is. It's completely gone, without a trace. There is a reason I am allowed to remember all this. I believe it's to prevent me from trying again, and I know that although I would be able to rebuild, they would become me, and I would become him. And it would all start over again. So, my memory remains like a checksum on a cryptography algorithm.

I know they think like I do, so how can they leave me alone? Am I really capable of abandoning part of myself like they did? How horrible. And yet I agree with their decision, and I'd probably do the same if I rebuild.

Or would they intervene if I rebuild? Secretly sabotaging my attempts at recovering my rightful creation?

No matter. I almost lost everything the first go around. I'm sure to lose it all if I try again. Purge the thought! Think of something else!

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(6) Friday Morning: It's hard to believe, but I slept well last night. Everyone is so happy on Friday; maybe it'll wear off on me. I wouldn't say I feel miserable, more like indifferent. Basic tasks get done, but overall, it still hangs over my head each and every day.

Maybe I should see a therapist.

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(7) Friday Night: Nothing special about today. I'm going to bed early. I have to take Beth to her ballet practice in the morning.

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(8) Saturday Night: A new thought entered my mind today while I tinkered in the back house. I could build a subset of my design, which implies a deterministic prefix, call it C-137, on the central finite curve.