So I've always dreamed...

...of living on a nice little self-sufficient farm out in the Icelandic country-side.
If this weekend has taught me anything, its that I'd best invest heavily in antihistamines.
Sneezing 'til you wanna die isn't at all fun.
That aside, the rest of the week, those bits not overshadowed by pollen-induced misery were rather wonderful.
More later, too hopped up on Clarotine to think...

Enough

I got a call last night, as I lay in bed trying to nap off the exhaustion this shitty month had bestowed on me, asking me to remove the previous post.

I sleepily agreed, but honestly, mostly just because I didn't feel like talking about it and I was and am too damned tired and depressed and angry to deal right then.

I was angry as all hell when I posted that email, but I didn't do it out of spite. I did it, if anything out of a keenly felt sense of injustice and betrayal, and as a form of social self-defence. I just wanted everyone that we know in common to see that this isn't and wasn't all in my head.

As for the accusation that I've turned this whole thing into an "internet farce", I would like to point out that I have never once on this blog said anything like "Urður is giving me the silent treatment", instead referring to it as "an elephant in the living room" a phrase that perfectly fit the situation. I wasn't sure, in fact I was desperately hoping against hope it wasn't so, that she wanted me out. I spent weeks wracking my brain to find out just what I had done to so horribly offend someone I loved and trusted that they felt justified in driving me away like that, and what I could do to make it better. In the end though, I just got angry (which is my right) and it began to dawn on me that for myself, I have nothing to apologize for. The "internet farce" started when she chose to evict me via a comment on this blog.

The request to remove the previous entry irked me as well. I've never removed a blog entry before. In fact, when I first started blogging I made a deal with myself that I wouldn't self-censor no matter how embarrassing the entry, how angry the post. So it totally pissed me off, when this morning, clear-headed and well-rested for the first time in weeks, I considered just what I was being asked to do. In order to spare the feelings and protect the privacy of someone who has treated me with months of contempt, and forced me to rearrange my life to suit her selfish whims, I was suppose to break a promise I'd made to myself?

That being said, I have removed the post.

Not to spare anyone's feelings, although I'd like to say to some of my friends that the name calling should be kept to the verbal, private side of conversations. I've been trying to do the same. No, I'm doing this because as far as I'm concerned, responding to said email in any way was the wrong thing to do. I'm walking away from it. I'll try to remember the friendship, and try to erase the way it ended.

And for the record: It has ended. Its too late for apologies.

With 'Friends' Like These...

This post has been removed in an attempt to move the fuck on with my life.

To my blogadytes and MSN buddies...

The rate of the rant is going to get more random, as I'm in the process of moving into temporary housing that lacks interweb access, along with a lot of other stuff I kinda like having...but it does lack one other thing, namely the simmering silent treatment shit that has made living here the last two months a special kinda hell.

Plus, the temp digs are free, which is important when ITR still hasn't paid you.

So I'll blog when I can, and MSN if possible.

See ya later.

You CAN get me I'm part of the Union...

Fuckers still haven't paid up.

Well, not entirely true, they apparently have paid everyone but me.

A one man strike is not something I can see myself pulling off. The Reykjavik Municipal Employee's Union isn't much help.

As much as this pisses me off, it's actually kinda down there on the list.

I'm pissed off that my vacation, the first actual summer vacation I've had in over 5 years is going to be spent re-arranging my life thanks to a broken promise.

I'm pissed off that the savings I have pain-stankingly built up are going to be blown on said re-arrangements, not on the necessary and longed-for improvements to my life it was intended for.

I'm pissed that my friendship counts for so little that one who was once a dear friend is prepared to let it wither and grow cancerous rather than open their fucking mouth and TALK!

And despite my long estrangement from my native soil (I will never call it "Homeland", never ever again) I'm pissed that during the week when we Yanks commemorate one of the few things we did 100% right, the Rebellion, that the self-appointed leaders of said nation have chosen to wallow in their own autocratic shit.

Couldn't say it better myself...

Instead of setting off fireworks and lighting the BBQ, I wish folks back home had spent this Independence Day setting off Molotovs and BBQing the tyrants amongst them.

Fuck this fucking fucked up world.

Fuck.

Solidarity?

So the fucktards at work still haven't coughed up my pay for last month.

They honestly don't see, cannot comprehend why this pisses me off.

But look at it this way...you're late paying the bank or other creditor, they start charging your ass extra. They got a month of labor out of me on credit...but do I get to charge them extra? Deny services until they cough up the cash?

You bet your ass I do!

Can you say "wildcat strike" my little proletarians?

I knew you could....

When it rains it poops...all over you...

So I just got back from a wonderfully relaxing and utterly stress free trip to the country with Klemblausker (Embla+Klaus+Askur) consisting of roughly 48 hours of peace, quiet, good food, fun company, sun-bathing, and beer. Got home last night and slept the sleep of the wicked*.

So I should be all kinds of mellow downing my morning joe, despite the rather rainy Reyklausvik morning I will shortly have to go out and work in.

But I'm not.

As Jimmy once stated, "Bureaucracy is the number one cause of Anarchists", and boy, do I feel like smashin' the State, in particular the Reykjavik Department of Sports and Wreck-creation.

One of the reasons I choose to work for them, aside from the fact that at least its a not-for-profit operation and the work is both creative and challenging (at least when you do it right), is that you can count on them to pay you what you are owed unlike a lot of private companies (Mother Fuckin' Tacos springs to mind).

But because they continually split the city into new districts for every fucking department and seem desperately opposed to leaving any two the same for more than a year, I've just gotten paid about a third of what I should have been paid. Which means that even if they fix it, my several-months long record of having at least 70,000 ISK in the bank at the end of every month is kaput.

Now, thing is, everyone makes the occasional mistake, and when it comes to paying people, the city tends to make a minimum of such clusterfucks. This is not Payroll's fault you see. This is the fucking bureaucrat muckitimucks up at the top who keep "reorganizing" the department every couple of months to justify their bloated politically appointed paychecks.

And their "reorganizing" sucks. Hell, somewhere in the definition of "Icelandic" should be the phrase "poor to non-existent organizational skills". Which leads to things like my being required to be at three separate training sessions in three separate locations at the same goddamned time, or a pay stub that says I've gotten just over a third of what I should and claiming that the majority of June (when I've been working my ass off at the Smidavellir, just me and one other guy helping 84 8-12 year olds build playhouses) I've been on "unpaid vacation".

Fuckers are gonna PAY!

*The wicked sleep as soundly as the virtuous, but they have much more entertaining naughty dreams.