Monday, July 31, 2006
Tickle This!
My day has consisted of pretending to work so I could read the 2002-2003 strips of It's Walky (I'm currently on this one.) and trying not to think of the things that worry me. I think I'll be taking off early on Friday so I'm away from work for a little bit longer.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Blah Blahblahblah Days, Blah Blahblahblah Nights
Yesterday was a very good day. (And that vague-ary all you're getting from me about that.)
Today was not, until I decided to purchase a soft-serve vanilla ice cream cone dipped in chocolate and that made the earlier part of the day fade from my memory and made the rest just seem silly.
Today was not, until I decided to purchase a soft-serve vanilla ice cream cone dipped in chocolate and that made the earlier part of the day fade from my memory and made the rest just seem silly.
Useless Labels:
life
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
Now, Later, Soon
Have you ever been to the beach and been buried in the sand? Do you remember how with each scoop the sand put a little more pressure on your body? Can you remember how, after your siblings or friends were finished burying you, the pressure the sand put on your body felt like it was trying to push you into the earth, to become part of the earth?
That's how I've felt all week. That's how I feel now.
And Q, thanks for quoting my favorite Violent Femmes song.
That's how I've felt all week. That's how I feel now.
And Q, thanks for quoting my favorite Violent Femmes song.
Useless Labels:
meme
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Short Post
Since Friday, I'd rate myself at a steady 4. (To get a better idea of what "4" means, read this post and the link found somewhere in the first paragraph.) The 4 is why I don't feel like posting. I just thought I'd give some explanation why there may not be any posting for the rest of this week and why all comments will be read, but not responded to.
That is all.
That is all.
Useless Labels:
life
Monday, July 17, 2006
I Don't Want To Be Here
Today, I'd like to be curled up in a ball under my covers. That's why I'm just giving three links.
Here's my favorite comic, so far, from Kawaii Not.
The second is for The Ultimate Showdown. Many of you have probably watched this animation, but it's worth looking at again.
Last is a link to the "live" blogging of Michael Ausiello at the Gilmore Girls session at the CW press event.
Here's my favorite comic, so far, from Kawaii Not.
The second is for The Ultimate Showdown. Many of you have probably watched this animation, but it's worth looking at again.
Last is a link to the "live" blogging of Michael Ausiello at the Gilmore Girls session at the CW press event.
Useless Labels:
links
Friday, July 14, 2006
If I were A Rich Man
I'd buy a decent sized ranch near my hometown, but I wouldn't raise any animals. I'd have a garden and use much of it to make my own salsa each year. I'd grow lots of herbs and then dry the extra to give to friends and family. I'd have a cold smoke house so I could make salami, pepperoni, and other hard sausages. My dad could keep his bees on my ranch and we'd build a little work house where he could keep his equipment and spin and bottle honey each autumn. The fence at the roadside would be made of stone and somewhere along it would be a plaque with Robert Frost's "Mending Wall" because I don't think most people think it means what I think it means. The house would be specially built so that it'd truly be mine.
I'd pay the mortgages on my parents' and grandparents' houses so they'd have one less money thing to worry about. I'd help one brother pay for grad school and, if he wanted it, beyond. I'd help the other one with his art in any way I could. My cousins, who want to go to college, would be able to go, on certain conditions, of course. Future nieces and nephews would be buried in books and would have trusts for when they're old enough.
I'd spend my days reading and writing and riding my mower around the place. I'd go to New York City once a year and drown myself in the plays on and off Broadway. Once a year I'd travel out side of the US, starting with England and Tintagel to see where people say Arthur reigned. From there, the whole world until I've at least walked a mile on each continent.
I'd support charities that battle for first amendment rights. I'd support charities that are trying to bring vaccines and other treatments to the world. I'd support people's rights to vote. And I'd rage against the war machine so much of this world has become.
I'd do these things, that is, if I were a rich man.
I'd pay the mortgages on my parents' and grandparents' houses so they'd have one less money thing to worry about. I'd help one brother pay for grad school and, if he wanted it, beyond. I'd help the other one with his art in any way I could. My cousins, who want to go to college, would be able to go, on certain conditions, of course. Future nieces and nephews would be buried in books and would have trusts for when they're old enough.
I'd spend my days reading and writing and riding my mower around the place. I'd go to New York City once a year and drown myself in the plays on and off Broadway. Once a year I'd travel out side of the US, starting with England and Tintagel to see where people say Arthur reigned. From there, the whole world until I've at least walked a mile on each continent.
I'd support charities that battle for first amendment rights. I'd support charities that are trying to bring vaccines and other treatments to the world. I'd support people's rights to vote. And I'd rage against the war machine so much of this world has become.
I'd do these things, that is, if I were a rich man.
Useless Labels:
goals
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Today
I don't think that I've gotten one but of useful work finished today. Busy work seems to be all that The Supervisor wants me to do. Around here, busy work is having me write over the numbers on all the files to make them more readable and having me put the pre-online cases online (even though the files were destroyed years ago and it's impossible to add all the history to the file) and putting things in files for GICS (who isn't a secretary). Then she puts a big pile of work in my basket and tells me to continue with the busy work until it's finished, except that she wants the regular work completed as soon as possible because everything is date stamped.
Right now, I have piles of sorted work by my desk by my computer waiting to go where it needs to go tomorrow. I have pile of folders waiting to be filled on the desk that's usually empty. Also on that desk are piles of yellow file cards to be entered online. And I had to find a new pen because my old one ran out of ink because I had to copy over hundreds of numbers on a couple of hundred files.
Today was going to be the day I turned in my application to try for the Senior Legal Typist position, even though no one has been able to tell me if I'd end up in group A or B, but I didn't turn it in. I spoke with NPWH about how I wanted to move out of this area as soon as possible and I didn't think that the new position would be able to keep me here. She said that if I thought way, I shouldn't bother since, according to the scuttlebutt around here, I'm the first choice, even though I don't have any training.
Right now, I have piles of sorted work by my desk by my computer waiting to go where it needs to go tomorrow. I have pile of folders waiting to be filled on the desk that's usually empty. Also on that desk are piles of yellow file cards to be entered online. And I had to find a new pen because my old one ran out of ink because I had to copy over hundreds of numbers on a couple of hundred files.
Today was going to be the day I turned in my application to try for the Senior Legal Typist position, even though no one has been able to tell me if I'd end up in group A or B, but I didn't turn it in. I spoke with NPWH about how I wanted to move out of this area as soon as possible and I didn't think that the new position would be able to keep me here. She said that if I thought way, I shouldn't bother since, according to the scuttlebutt around here, I'm the first choice, even though I don't have any training.
An Inconvenient Truth
Who really wants to go and see a movie like An Inconvenient Truth? It's a documentary about global warming starring Al Gore. Just reading that last sentence makes me want to fall asleep and I was a fan and big supporter of Mr. Gore six years ago. I wasn't going to see this movie until I saw the trailer a couple of months ago. Not only did it make the topic sound interesting, it made the star funny. Could it be sustained for ninety minutes?
The simple answer is yes. It's both informative and very funny.
This is a really hard movie to write about because it's so dependant on the visuals. Gore has all sorts of amazing graphics. He shows the first picture ever taken of the Earth as one of the Apollo missions orbited the moon to see the first ever Earth rise. He has a map of the Earth where every bit is lit to its fullest and there are no clouds. There's a time lapsed clip of the earth rotating taken by one of the many probes sent out to explore our solar system. The last picture he shows of the planet was taking by that same probe from millions of miles away and showed the Earth as a tiny blue dot, no larger than the rest of the stars in the picture. While showing this picture, he says that this little dot is the place where all of human history has happened; all the tragedy and triumph; all the art and war; the tiny blue dot is it for mankind.
Along with the photos of the Earth, there are all sorts of graphs to support his thesis. He has a graph showing the annual rise and fall of CO2 in the atmosphere and how the trend is for the amount of CO2 to go up more an more each year. The most amazing graph, I thought, was one that showed the amount of CO2 in the air compared with the average world temperature for the last 600,000 years and the natural cycle of warming and cooling is very visible. He even points out each ice age and also points out where the CO2 has peaked each time. The graph extends to show where the CO2 levels are now, higher than any other peak. Then the graph extends even farther to show the estimated levels in fifty years, a very scary level. And finally it's asked of us to imagine what's going to happen to the temperature? Another graph showed the mile per gallon standards of other nations compared to the US. When he was talking about solutions to slow the release of CO2, he showed a graph that showed each of the things individually wouldn't make a large impact, but all of them together would be a huge step toward the goal of zero carbon emissions.
He also shows a series of photos of glaciers and snow, from around the world from years, ago compared to now. In each case, there's been drastic melting. The one the effected me the most were the two pictures of Mount Kilimanjaro. I remember reading about the eternal snows of this African peak when I was young and I thought it was amazing because this was, I thought, a continent of heat, of deserts and jungles, but there was one mountain that was eternally covered in snow. Now, the snow has been pushed farther up the mountain and it's estimated that within ten years, the snow won't be there any more.
Then the change in weather is brought up. How there was flooding in one Chinese province, while a neighboring province was suffering a drought. In India, they're used to monsoons, but not one that dumps forty inches of rain in twenty-four hours. And he ends by talking about Hurricane Katrina, which, to me, still feels like a kick to the gut, but a storm that size that grew so powerful after making landfall once already. And the there were the animations showing possible flooding of so many major cities along the coasts. These are the things, he said, we need to expect if the planet continues to warm as quickly as it is.
There's more he show and talks about, so very much more, but I don't want to put it all down and I'm pretty sure that you don't want to read me getting all sciencey and statisticy, but it's there and very important.
Throughout, the film breaks away from the global warming slide show and lets Gore talk about other things and shows him preparing for the lecture and even giving it in China. It also follows him to his family farm where he speaks about some of the things that impacted his life and made him realize that he needs to be pushing the his global warming agenda (my word, not his). While I found these glimpses into Gore the man interesting, I thought they were jarring and interrupted the flow he develops in front of the audience. I'd have rather just seen the slide show from beginning to end, but I can understand why the filmmakers wanted to show why this subject is so important to Mr. Gore; it makes him more human than we, ever saw during his presidential campaigns which, for many, will probably make the message he give easier to listen to.
For me, the movie was informative, frightening, important, and funny. I laughed quite a bit more than I expected to. Others out there will not share my reaction, but I hope they at least see the movie before judging it.
For those who are interested, I'm also mirroring my movie reviews over at Cornerstone Cafe. It seems Blog Dog is wanting to start a 'Zine thing and he asked me to join him. I'll still be posting them all here as well, though.
The simple answer is yes. It's both informative and very funny.
This is a really hard movie to write about because it's so dependant on the visuals. Gore has all sorts of amazing graphics. He shows the first picture ever taken of the Earth as one of the Apollo missions orbited the moon to see the first ever Earth rise. He has a map of the Earth where every bit is lit to its fullest and there are no clouds. There's a time lapsed clip of the earth rotating taken by one of the many probes sent out to explore our solar system. The last picture he shows of the planet was taking by that same probe from millions of miles away and showed the Earth as a tiny blue dot, no larger than the rest of the stars in the picture. While showing this picture, he says that this little dot is the place where all of human history has happened; all the tragedy and triumph; all the art and war; the tiny blue dot is it for mankind.
Along with the photos of the Earth, there are all sorts of graphs to support his thesis. He has a graph showing the annual rise and fall of CO2 in the atmosphere and how the trend is for the amount of CO2 to go up more an more each year. The most amazing graph, I thought, was one that showed the amount of CO2 in the air compared with the average world temperature for the last 600,000 years and the natural cycle of warming and cooling is very visible. He even points out each ice age and also points out where the CO2 has peaked each time. The graph extends to show where the CO2 levels are now, higher than any other peak. Then the graph extends even farther to show the estimated levels in fifty years, a very scary level. And finally it's asked of us to imagine what's going to happen to the temperature? Another graph showed the mile per gallon standards of other nations compared to the US. When he was talking about solutions to slow the release of CO2, he showed a graph that showed each of the things individually wouldn't make a large impact, but all of them together would be a huge step toward the goal of zero carbon emissions.
He also shows a series of photos of glaciers and snow, from around the world from years, ago compared to now. In each case, there's been drastic melting. The one the effected me the most were the two pictures of Mount Kilimanjaro. I remember reading about the eternal snows of this African peak when I was young and I thought it was amazing because this was, I thought, a continent of heat, of deserts and jungles, but there was one mountain that was eternally covered in snow. Now, the snow has been pushed farther up the mountain and it's estimated that within ten years, the snow won't be there any more.
Then the change in weather is brought up. How there was flooding in one Chinese province, while a neighboring province was suffering a drought. In India, they're used to monsoons, but not one that dumps forty inches of rain in twenty-four hours. And he ends by talking about Hurricane Katrina, which, to me, still feels like a kick to the gut, but a storm that size that grew so powerful after making landfall once already. And the there were the animations showing possible flooding of so many major cities along the coasts. These are the things, he said, we need to expect if the planet continues to warm as quickly as it is.
There's more he show and talks about, so very much more, but I don't want to put it all down and I'm pretty sure that you don't want to read me getting all sciencey and statisticy, but it's there and very important.
Throughout, the film breaks away from the global warming slide show and lets Gore talk about other things and shows him preparing for the lecture and even giving it in China. It also follows him to his family farm where he speaks about some of the things that impacted his life and made him realize that he needs to be pushing the his global warming agenda (my word, not his). While I found these glimpses into Gore the man interesting, I thought they were jarring and interrupted the flow he develops in front of the audience. I'd have rather just seen the slide show from beginning to end, but I can understand why the filmmakers wanted to show why this subject is so important to Mr. Gore; it makes him more human than we, ever saw during his presidential campaigns which, for many, will probably make the message he give easier to listen to.
For me, the movie was informative, frightening, important, and funny. I laughed quite a bit more than I expected to. Others out there will not share my reaction, but I hope they at least see the movie before judging it.
For those who are interested, I'm also mirroring my movie reviews over at Cornerstone Cafe. It seems Blog Dog is wanting to start a 'Zine thing and he asked me to join him. I'll still be posting them all here as well, though.
Useless Labels:
movies
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Meditation
I've never been able to do it. Ever.
I remember when I was little, my dad used to meditated every morning. He'd sit cross-legged in the living room, close his eyes and just be, or something. Sometimes, I'd sit near him and imitate his posture. After a few minutes, my back would start feeling sore from actually sitting up straight and I get up and leave. I didn't get why he'd did it each morning. Eventually, I asked and I was told that it was a way for his mind and body to relax so they'd be ready for the day ahead.
To this day, that answer satisfies me. I know that meditation done right is more complicated and can lead to an opening of the mind and body, but I think the relaxation is something more immediate.
At on point in college, I was going a little nuts. I thought of meditation and thought that maybe it could help me focus and relax.
I didn't want to join any yoga or Eastern philosophy clubs, so I went to the library and read about meditation. The gist, that I got, was that one should sit in the "power" position and try to concentrate on one thing until that is all your mind is focused on and then let it go so your mind is free.
On a day that I didn't have to go to class and my roommates were gone, I cleared a place on the floor of my room and sat. I closed my eyes and thought of a candle flame. (It was on my mind since I had just re-read The Wheel of Time books.) At first everything seemed to be okay. The flame was all there was. There was nothing else.
Then a question popped into my mind: What's feeding the flame?
Followed quickly by another: Why yellow and not orange?
Soon came even more: Is it the fuel? What kind of fuel could make it blue or green? If there isn't fuel, how’s there a flame? Is the flame just floating in space? Is that how a flame would look without gravity? Is it air pressure that defines "up" for a flame? Would it look more like a ball than a drop in zero g? Would it still look like a ball if there's a wick? How would a flame thrower look? The gas is propelled, but would the actual flame still billow that way or would it look more like a cylinder?
More and more questions came until I wasn't even thinking about the flame any more.
I only lasted a few minutes that time before I realized that it wasn't going to work for me.
The next time I tried to meditate, I fell asleep for an hour. And like every nap I've taken that I could remember, I woke up tired, angry, and with a headache.
Then next time, I tried concentrating on a sound. Just a monotonous hum. Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Hummmmmmmmmm. I had to try hard not to hum a rhythm and not start singing in my head. Eventually, I gave up.
I tried several more times with the results falling into these three categories. Not once did I feel more relaxed or focused afterward.
Occasionally, I still try to meditate. It still doesn't work. I'd like it to work, but my brain just doesn't want to shut down.
I remember when I was little, my dad used to meditated every morning. He'd sit cross-legged in the living room, close his eyes and just be, or something. Sometimes, I'd sit near him and imitate his posture. After a few minutes, my back would start feeling sore from actually sitting up straight and I get up and leave. I didn't get why he'd did it each morning. Eventually, I asked and I was told that it was a way for his mind and body to relax so they'd be ready for the day ahead.
To this day, that answer satisfies me. I know that meditation done right is more complicated and can lead to an opening of the mind and body, but I think the relaxation is something more immediate.
At on point in college, I was going a little nuts. I thought of meditation and thought that maybe it could help me focus and relax.
I didn't want to join any yoga or Eastern philosophy clubs, so I went to the library and read about meditation. The gist, that I got, was that one should sit in the "power" position and try to concentrate on one thing until that is all your mind is focused on and then let it go so your mind is free.
On a day that I didn't have to go to class and my roommates were gone, I cleared a place on the floor of my room and sat. I closed my eyes and thought of a candle flame. (It was on my mind since I had just re-read The Wheel of Time books.) At first everything seemed to be okay. The flame was all there was. There was nothing else.
Then a question popped into my mind: What's feeding the flame?
Followed quickly by another: Why yellow and not orange?
Soon came even more: Is it the fuel? What kind of fuel could make it blue or green? If there isn't fuel, how’s there a flame? Is the flame just floating in space? Is that how a flame would look without gravity? Is it air pressure that defines "up" for a flame? Would it look more like a ball than a drop in zero g? Would it still look like a ball if there's a wick? How would a flame thrower look? The gas is propelled, but would the actual flame still billow that way or would it look more like a cylinder?
More and more questions came until I wasn't even thinking about the flame any more.
I only lasted a few minutes that time before I realized that it wasn't going to work for me.
The next time I tried to meditate, I fell asleep for an hour. And like every nap I've taken that I could remember, I woke up tired, angry, and with a headache.
Then next time, I tried concentrating on a sound. Just a monotonous hum. Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Hummmmmmmmmm. I had to try hard not to hum a rhythm and not start singing in my head. Eventually, I gave up.
I tried several more times with the results falling into these three categories. Not once did I feel more relaxed or focused afterward.
Occasionally, I still try to meditate. It still doesn't work. I'd like it to work, but my brain just doesn't want to shut down.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Once Upon A Time...
My alarm buzzed at 1:30 AM. I hit the snooze, flipped the switch to turn the alarm off, rolled out of bed, and stumbled across my room to the light switch. My ride would be there at two. I flipped the switch and my squinting eyes stung when the light hit them. I squinted at the messy floor searching for a cleanish pair or shorts to wear. I found a pair then thought that maybe long pants would be better; after all it was going to be much cooler where we were going. Pants seemed the best way to go.
I walked to my dresser being careful not to step on the comics, the books, the Transformers, and other assorted things on the floor. I pulled the pants out of the drawer and they smelled musty, unused. They'd been in the drawer for nearly six months waiting for the cooler weather to come back. I slid them on then proceeded to search for clean socks, my sweatshirt, and a flashlight that worked.
It was the August after I had graduated from high school. All my friends were still friends, or at least they were still friendly, with each other. In less than two weeks, those who were going away to semester schools would be gone. A week after that, those still in high school would be returning for their senior year. I still had about six weeks since my school was on the quarter system. These were some of the best friends that I had. They were the ones who had made high school bearable. Even this late in the summer, it was still odd for me to not see them at least five days a week.
August, for some reason, seems to be the best time to watch for shooting stars and someone, I'm not sure who, had suggest the weekend before that we should all head up the hill and watch the skies. A date was decided on, calls were made, rides were secured, and a place for all the cars to meet was arranged.
By 1:50, I was dressed and had triple checked that all the pillows and blankets I had promised to bring were by the front door. I carefully paced around my room, the flash light in the kangaroo pouch of my sweatshirt bouncing against me, looking at my alarm clock every few seconds wondering when my ride would be there.
At 1:58, the phone rang.
"Shit," I said as I threw open my door and charged toward the phone in the living room hoping that my parents and brothers weren't woken up. I picked it up and said, "Hello?"
"Are you awake?" I heard the sleepy voice of my best friend ask.
"Yeah I'm awake. I said I'd be awake."
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yeah, I've been ready for a while."
"Okay," she said, "I'm comin' then. 'Bye."
"'Bye," I said and heard her hang up.
Three long minutes later, headlights shone through my window. I hurried out of my room to the front door hoping that she wouldn't honk the horn, which she had been known to do when she was impatient. I opened the front door, waved to her, and picked up all the pillows and blankets at once. There were so many, my hands didn't meet even though I pulled them as close to my body as I could. I stumbled off the porch onto the step/rock and teetered my way to her car. I tried to squat and keep the pillows and blankets pressed against her car with one hand wrapped around them as the other fumbled for the handle. The door was locked. I could hear her laughter.
"Open the trunk," I screamed into the pillow pressing into my face. I turned my head and yelled, "Get out of the car and open the god damned trunk."
I heard the locks pop and she opened her door.
"You look like such an ass," she said between fits of laughter.
"Just open the trunk so we can get going."
She did and after I stowed the pillows and blankets, I rushed back to the house to lock it up then climbed in her car.
At a little after two, we met the others cars at what I think is an old weigh station, now it's where the people from up the hill park to car pool to their jobs in The Valley and The Bay. All together, there were three cars and, I think, ten to twelve of us. People changed cars and I was forced from my front seat to the back.
Up the hill we drove for nearly an hour. The elevation was around 5500 feet. We pulled off the highway onto a single lane CDF road. There were no other people for miles. The moon had set, so the only light out, once all the cars were off, were the stars.
I pulled out my pile of blankets and so did someone else. We spread them on the road, double layered so it didn't hurt to lie down. Everyone who wanted a pillow got one and we all settled in.
At first, I remember it being very quiet, as if talking would stop the shooting stars.
Finally, someone said, "Whoa! Did you see that one?"
"It was huge," someone replied.
"That's what she says to me every night," said another.
And we settled into our usual bizarre patter filled with innuendo but occasionally veering off into topics about the schools some of us were going away to and college at the local JC and the stupidity of everyone and on and on, occasionally punctuated by excitement over the stars falling above us.
I walked to my dresser being careful not to step on the comics, the books, the Transformers, and other assorted things on the floor. I pulled the pants out of the drawer and they smelled musty, unused. They'd been in the drawer for nearly six months waiting for the cooler weather to come back. I slid them on then proceeded to search for clean socks, my sweatshirt, and a flashlight that worked.
It was the August after I had graduated from high school. All my friends were still friends, or at least they were still friendly, with each other. In less than two weeks, those who were going away to semester schools would be gone. A week after that, those still in high school would be returning for their senior year. I still had about six weeks since my school was on the quarter system. These were some of the best friends that I had. They were the ones who had made high school bearable. Even this late in the summer, it was still odd for me to not see them at least five days a week.
August, for some reason, seems to be the best time to watch for shooting stars and someone, I'm not sure who, had suggest the weekend before that we should all head up the hill and watch the skies. A date was decided on, calls were made, rides were secured, and a place for all the cars to meet was arranged.
By 1:50, I was dressed and had triple checked that all the pillows and blankets I had promised to bring were by the front door. I carefully paced around my room, the flash light in the kangaroo pouch of my sweatshirt bouncing against me, looking at my alarm clock every few seconds wondering when my ride would be there.
At 1:58, the phone rang.
"Shit," I said as I threw open my door and charged toward the phone in the living room hoping that my parents and brothers weren't woken up. I picked it up and said, "Hello?"
"Are you awake?" I heard the sleepy voice of my best friend ask.
"Yeah I'm awake. I said I'd be awake."
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yeah, I've been ready for a while."
"Okay," she said, "I'm comin' then. 'Bye."
"'Bye," I said and heard her hang up.
Three long minutes later, headlights shone through my window. I hurried out of my room to the front door hoping that she wouldn't honk the horn, which she had been known to do when she was impatient. I opened the front door, waved to her, and picked up all the pillows and blankets at once. There were so many, my hands didn't meet even though I pulled them as close to my body as I could. I stumbled off the porch onto the step/rock and teetered my way to her car. I tried to squat and keep the pillows and blankets pressed against her car with one hand wrapped around them as the other fumbled for the handle. The door was locked. I could hear her laughter.
"Open the trunk," I screamed into the pillow pressing into my face. I turned my head and yelled, "Get out of the car and open the god damned trunk."
I heard the locks pop and she opened her door.
"You look like such an ass," she said between fits of laughter.
"Just open the trunk so we can get going."
She did and after I stowed the pillows and blankets, I rushed back to the house to lock it up then climbed in her car.
At a little after two, we met the others cars at what I think is an old weigh station, now it's where the people from up the hill park to car pool to their jobs in The Valley and The Bay. All together, there were three cars and, I think, ten to twelve of us. People changed cars and I was forced from my front seat to the back.
Up the hill we drove for nearly an hour. The elevation was around 5500 feet. We pulled off the highway onto a single lane CDF road. There were no other people for miles. The moon had set, so the only light out, once all the cars were off, were the stars.
I pulled out my pile of blankets and so did someone else. We spread them on the road, double layered so it didn't hurt to lie down. Everyone who wanted a pillow got one and we all settled in.
At first, I remember it being very quiet, as if talking would stop the shooting stars.
Finally, someone said, "Whoa! Did you see that one?"
"It was huge," someone replied.
"That's what she says to me every night," said another.
And we settled into our usual bizarre patter filled with innuendo but occasionally veering off into topics about the schools some of us were going away to and college at the local JC and the stupidity of everyone and on and on, occasionally punctuated by excitement over the stars falling above us.
Useless Labels:
memory
What's in a Name?
One thing that I actually like about my job is getting to see all sorts of different names. Today, a name that jumped out at me is Hemraj. How often, in the US, do you get to see a first name like Hemraj?
Monday, July 10, 2006
Thinking Positive of Power
I'm having a hard time thinking positively today. A very hard time. The only thing that I can think of that's changed since yesterday is that I've come to work. Work didn't affect me like that last week. Why now? Is it work at all?
Also, I have no reason to be thinking the way I'm thinking. I'm relatively healthy. I have a place to live and food to eat. My life is fairly comfortable. Why doesn't it seem to fit?
For some reason, the Barenaked Ladies song "In the Car" is running through my head. It's been a while since I heard the song. I wonder why it's rattling around my head now. I wonder what that means about me?
The first Barenaked Ladies album I bought was Stunt, like so many other people out there. I heard the peppy and silly "One Week" on the radio and figured what the hell, I enjoy peppy and silly. I remember the first time I listened to it because I was shocked. There's a lot of sadness and longing in some of the songs, not in a depressing way, but more in a speculative way. I don't think many people understand this about the Barenaked Ladies.
Also, I have no reason to be thinking the way I'm thinking. I'm relatively healthy. I have a place to live and food to eat. My life is fairly comfortable. Why doesn't it seem to fit?
For some reason, the Barenaked Ladies song "In the Car" is running through my head. It's been a while since I heard the song. I wonder why it's rattling around my head now. I wonder what that means about me?
The first Barenaked Ladies album I bought was Stunt, like so many other people out there. I heard the peppy and silly "One Week" on the radio and figured what the hell, I enjoy peppy and silly. I remember the first time I listened to it because I was shocked. There's a lot of sadness and longing in some of the songs, not in a depressing way, but more in a speculative way. I don't think many people understand this about the Barenaked Ladies.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Link Dump
Today, I don't really feel like talking too much, so I'm going to throw up three links from a link folder with several things that I've been saving for a day like today.
The first is Got Booze?, which is a fake commercial for booze using Meredith from the US version of The Office.
The second is a comic from A Softer World that I'm going to call Squid Cuddling.
The third is an interview with Bill Watterson with questions from fans around the world.
The first is Got Booze?, which is a fake commercial for booze using Meredith from the US version of The Office.
The second is a comic from A Softer World that I'm going to call Squid Cuddling.
The third is an interview with Bill Watterson with questions from fans around the world.
Useless Labels:
links
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Under Pressure
Many people here at work are trying to pressure me into submitting an application so I can become a Senior Legal Typist, also known as a secretary. I wrote about my attempt to get into the testing and the inevitable let down when I didn't a couple of months ago. Back then, I really wanted the job. Today, not so much.
My thinking is that if I go for it and get it (which seems very possible, based on the fact that The Supervisor told me that she really wants to see me go for the position and she'd be on of the people doing the interview) and take the job, I'd be stuck. Right now, there is only one position open for a Senior Legal Typist within the state. Guess where it is?
I don't want to be stuck here. In a week, I'll have been here for ten months. I've almost been here for a year. I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to be somewhere else. In my current class, there are several hundred transfer possibilities. That's good.
Now all I need to do is get enough money for a deposit and first and last. I guess that means December at the earliest.
That leave a question of where to.
Right now, there are lots of open positions in Cowtown, at the prison where my aunt and two uncles work. I think I'd be okay living there again. The biggest problem would be the drive to and from work. The prison isn't very close to anywhere. But it's my hometown. It's where I grew up. I know most of the crannies there. I like that there are three theaters there to see plays at and I like that the movie theater shows a different independent film each week during the fall, winter, and spring. Also there's family and friends there, which is always a good thing.
The place that seems like the best choice is Cowcity, though. There are over a thousand openings for people to transfer to. It's the state's capital. Right now there are more than twenty positions available for transfers in my class. There's also the possibility for actual advancement or at least latching onto the coattails of some rising politician who'll pull me along. Or not. At least there are lots of jobs to be had in lots of places so there's more of a chance for me to settle into something that won't make me want to jump out a window each day.
For any who are wondering, I could take the job and then, when I have enough money saved, I could transfer elsewhere in my current class, essentially demoting myself, but how would it look if I go through the interview at the end of this month and then three or four weeks later, since that seems to be how long it takes these people to make any kind of decision, I take the job and then three or four months later, I try and transfer out into a lower position? Would it be better to stick with my current class and transfer? Should I bother turning in an application? Is it worth it since I don't want to work in this office any longer than I have to?
I'm not sure.
My thinking is that if I go for it and get it (which seems very possible, based on the fact that The Supervisor told me that she really wants to see me go for the position and she'd be on of the people doing the interview) and take the job, I'd be stuck. Right now, there is only one position open for a Senior Legal Typist within the state. Guess where it is?
I don't want to be stuck here. In a week, I'll have been here for ten months. I've almost been here for a year. I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to be somewhere else. In my current class, there are several hundred transfer possibilities. That's good.
Now all I need to do is get enough money for a deposit and first and last. I guess that means December at the earliest.
That leave a question of where to.
Right now, there are lots of open positions in Cowtown, at the prison where my aunt and two uncles work. I think I'd be okay living there again. The biggest problem would be the drive to and from work. The prison isn't very close to anywhere. But it's my hometown. It's where I grew up. I know most of the crannies there. I like that there are three theaters there to see plays at and I like that the movie theater shows a different independent film each week during the fall, winter, and spring. Also there's family and friends there, which is always a good thing.
The place that seems like the best choice is Cowcity, though. There are over a thousand openings for people to transfer to. It's the state's capital. Right now there are more than twenty positions available for transfers in my class. There's also the possibility for actual advancement or at least latching onto the coattails of some rising politician who'll pull me along. Or not. At least there are lots of jobs to be had in lots of places so there's more of a chance for me to settle into something that won't make me want to jump out a window each day.
For any who are wondering, I could take the job and then, when I have enough money saved, I could transfer elsewhere in my current class, essentially demoting myself, but how would it look if I go through the interview at the end of this month and then three or four weeks later, since that seems to be how long it takes these people to make any kind of decision, I take the job and then three or four months later, I try and transfer out into a lower position? Would it be better to stick with my current class and transfer? Should I bother turning in an application? Is it worth it since I don't want to work in this office any longer than I have to?
I'm not sure.
It's Back!
My mom's website is back up after some... difficulties. She'd appreciate it if you'd head over there and vote for her so she can get back to the front page of the top 50.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Strip About Superman Returns
This comic, from Scott Kurtz, describes how I felt until the damn piano scene.
My Problem With Superman Returns
Last week, I wrote about the new Superman movie but decided not to spoil anything, particularly the one thing that kicked me out of the magic of the film and simply wouldn't allow me to get lost in the last part.
What was my problem? Superman has a kid.
Yeah, I can accept that Superman and Lois had sex. (Remember that this movie takes place five or six year after Superman II and in that movie Superman gave up his powers to be with her and there was that scene where they're under covers in the Fortress. I think there's a good chance that sex was had.) My problem is with the sex producing super spawn.
First, there's that whole he's an alien thing and what are the odds that his alien sperm can combine with human ova? Not good. But I've come to accept human/alien crossbreeds. I'm a Star Trek fan and the second best character on the original series was a hybrid. So, the half human, half Kryptonian thing doesn't bug me that much.
What does bug me is how a super kid takes away from Superman being special. (I have this problem with the whole Superboy, Supergirl, super dog thing that's going on in the comics right now. And don't even let me get started on the super crap they pulled in the seventies. Yuck.)
To me, Superman is an outsider. No matter how alone one of us humans may feel we are still surrounded by other humans who, in the most basic ways, are just like us. Superman, on the other hand, is completely isolated because he's an alien, which would be isolating enough, but he also has powers far beyond those of mortal men, which sets he even farther apart from everyone else. No matter what, he's not one of us. Even when he pretends to be, by being Clark, he's not that successful. Clark's not a popular guy with most humans. He's just a guy trying to make live his life day to day. Sure, Clark has some friends (hell, in this movie Jimmy has a man-crush on him), but even they look at him and roll their eyes in and it's-just-Clark-being-Clark kind or way. This makes Superman the ultimate outsider who tries to do good and actually does good. That's why he's Superman
Giving him a son takes that away. He's no longer the only one of his kind. He's no longer unique. Now he isn't doing the right thing because he knows it's the right thing to do, he'll be doing the right thing because he wants to teach his kid responsibility. And the teaching his kid thing isn't noble, it's mundane. Every parent teaches (or at least should teach) their kids the difference between right and wrong and try to teach them responsibility; it happens every minute of every day all around the world. And while I do think it's really important, it's not super.
So, when that piano went flying across the room to squish the bad guy, I wasn't cheering along with the rest of the crowd (who then started whispering, "Superboy"); I sat there wondering why this had to happen. I was so disappointed that I considered walking out (and I've never walked out on a movie, not even for Battle Field Earth) because I knew I wouldn't be able to really immerse myself into the movie again and enjoy it the way I had before. (I'm willing to admit that the scene where Superman visited Jason and spoke the words of Jor-El, passing words of wisdom from one generation to the next, was touching, but it didn't redeem the kid.) I didn't leave though. I had to stay and see how the movie turned out, but I couldn't become as invested in the film as I was before the damn piano went flying.
What was my problem? Superman has a kid.
Yeah, I can accept that Superman and Lois had sex. (Remember that this movie takes place five or six year after Superman II and in that movie Superman gave up his powers to be with her and there was that scene where they're under covers in the Fortress. I think there's a good chance that sex was had.) My problem is with the sex producing super spawn.
First, there's that whole he's an alien thing and what are the odds that his alien sperm can combine with human ova? Not good. But I've come to accept human/alien crossbreeds. I'm a Star Trek fan and the second best character on the original series was a hybrid. So, the half human, half Kryptonian thing doesn't bug me that much.
What does bug me is how a super kid takes away from Superman being special. (I have this problem with the whole Superboy, Supergirl, super dog thing that's going on in the comics right now. And don't even let me get started on the super crap they pulled in the seventies. Yuck.)
To me, Superman is an outsider. No matter how alone one of us humans may feel we are still surrounded by other humans who, in the most basic ways, are just like us. Superman, on the other hand, is completely isolated because he's an alien, which would be isolating enough, but he also has powers far beyond those of mortal men, which sets he even farther apart from everyone else. No matter what, he's not one of us. Even when he pretends to be, by being Clark, he's not that successful. Clark's not a popular guy with most humans. He's just a guy trying to make live his life day to day. Sure, Clark has some friends (hell, in this movie Jimmy has a man-crush on him), but even they look at him and roll their eyes in and it's-just-Clark-being-Clark kind or way. This makes Superman the ultimate outsider who tries to do good and actually does good. That's why he's Superman
Giving him a son takes that away. He's no longer the only one of his kind. He's no longer unique. Now he isn't doing the right thing because he knows it's the right thing to do, he'll be doing the right thing because he wants to teach his kid responsibility. And the teaching his kid thing isn't noble, it's mundane. Every parent teaches (or at least should teach) their kids the difference between right and wrong and try to teach them responsibility; it happens every minute of every day all around the world. And while I do think it's really important, it's not super.
So, when that piano went flying across the room to squish the bad guy, I wasn't cheering along with the rest of the crowd (who then started whispering, "Superboy"); I sat there wondering why this had to happen. I was so disappointed that I considered walking out (and I've never walked out on a movie, not even for Battle Field Earth) because I knew I wouldn't be able to really immerse myself into the movie again and enjoy it the way I had before. (I'm willing to admit that the scene where Superman visited Jason and spoke the words of Jor-El, passing words of wisdom from one generation to the next, was touching, but it didn't redeem the kid.) I didn't leave though. I had to stay and see how the movie turned out, but I couldn't become as invested in the film as I was before the damn piano went flying.
Useless Labels:
movies
Monday, July 03, 2006
Splitting Hairs?
I had the hairs on my head cut on Saturday. The last time I got them cut was last November, a week or two before Thanksgiving. So, it's been a while since I've seen my entire ear without having to brush my hair back.
I waited this long because I can't find a barber in this town that doesn't charge less than fifteen dollars. Let's see, I only want my hair cut. I don't want any sort of styling. I don't want any "product" put in my hair. I just want the clippers to buzz away some of the excess on the sides and in the back and the scissors to trim down the top and front. Oh, I'd also like it to be fairly even so I don't look anymore lopsided than I normally do. (Most of the time, I don't care what the hair looks like because in a week, it'll look totally different.) Usually, if the person cutting my hair doesn't try to hard to chat with me, the hair cut takes between fifteen and twenty minutes from the time I sit my butt in the seat to when I'm through paying for the cut and my time is usually on the lower side of that scale. That means, if people take that amount of time on average, these barbers are expecting to be paid between $45-$60 dollars an hour, plus tip. It seems like too much money for me to spend.
Recently, my hair's been driving me nuts. The weather has been warmer and that leads to misery. Especially during nights when there's no breeze through the window and the oscillating fan only blows warm air at me. The worst thing, and the weirdest, that happens to me with long hair is getting it caught in the magnets when I snap on my sunglasses without realizing it and I push up my glasses and my hair gets pulled. Long hair is just annoying to me.
I think that this is the longest I've ever had it, too. If I pulled the front part down, it came to my chin. The side part covered my whole ear, including the lobe. And I have pretty big ears. I don't really know how long it got in the back because once my hair gets long enough it starts to do this weird curl thing, like it's trying to grow toward the sun.
In the end, mostly because of my growing frustration, I went to the SuperCuts. Yeah, I know the jokes, but it's close to where I live, just a walk away. The rest of the barber shops, the places that aren't full of "stylists," are all a drive away. Plus, on weekends at least, they have a very small window to go in. From 11-2? How many people do you really expect to get through in 3 hours?
An odd thing happened during my hair cut, the woman doing it decided to keep a chunk my hair for a project she had to do for work, or whatever. She said it was the perfect color. Then she kept a second chunk. And she took a third after a little more buzzing. I felt flattered at first. Then I felt confused. And finally, I felt a little creeped out. Well, once it's off my head, it's not my concern, but she paused in her trimming a few times to finger the hair she had set aside or to take a long look at the hair on the floor. Part of me want's to know what she was thinking when she did that. Most of me is glad that I got out of there with my head firmly planted on my shoulders.
This morning, I walked into work with my hair way shorter than it's been in a long time. The first thing I heard after I said good morning to the two ladies was, "You got your hair cut?" "Yeah," I said. "It looks good." I rolled my eyes and sat down. (I've complained about your-hair-looks-good compliments in this post.) I think I've heard "Your hair looks good." or some variation of the sentence twenty times today. It's driving me nuts.
I don't take compliments well. I never have. I don't require my ego to be stroked by people. I especially have a hard time accepting compliments that have to do with the way I look. See, I exactly have a positive view of the way I look. It's not so negative that I'm working toward surgery; it's just that I know that I don't fall into any kind definition of handsome at all. I look the way I look. I'm fat and wear glasses. I'm not so vain that I think I looked any better before I got my glasses and therefore should be looking into contact lenses. And then there's the fact that, quite often, people notice something about the way you look and without even thinking they tell you that you look good with the change and that makes the compliment meaningless.
How do I know the compliments are usually meaningless? Well, at least today and in the story in that link, one person says the haircut looks good and without even looking someone else says, "Yeah it does." Obviously, I'm supposed to be so caught up in the first compliment that I'm not supposed to notice that the second person hasn't even looked at me. At least look and pretend to take a second to decide whether or not you like it. I'd rather hear nothing at all about some change I made in my appearance than just have meaningless compliments thrown my way.
At least, when someone on writes a compliment about a blog post, I can expect that the person has actually read the post and thought about what to say before writing a comment and that actually makes the compliment meaningful.
In other news, last Friday was the fifth, I think, anniversary since Johnny Logic and Heels were married at her parents house. Congratulations you two.
I think it's funny that it's so recognized that tomorrow is the birthday of the United States. Personally, I think the real birthday of the United States is September 17, but that's just me.
I waited this long because I can't find a barber in this town that doesn't charge less than fifteen dollars. Let's see, I only want my hair cut. I don't want any sort of styling. I don't want any "product" put in my hair. I just want the clippers to buzz away some of the excess on the sides and in the back and the scissors to trim down the top and front. Oh, I'd also like it to be fairly even so I don't look anymore lopsided than I normally do. (Most of the time, I don't care what the hair looks like because in a week, it'll look totally different.) Usually, if the person cutting my hair doesn't try to hard to chat with me, the hair cut takes between fifteen and twenty minutes from the time I sit my butt in the seat to when I'm through paying for the cut and my time is usually on the lower side of that scale. That means, if people take that amount of time on average, these barbers are expecting to be paid between $45-$60 dollars an hour, plus tip. It seems like too much money for me to spend.
Recently, my hair's been driving me nuts. The weather has been warmer and that leads to misery. Especially during nights when there's no breeze through the window and the oscillating fan only blows warm air at me. The worst thing, and the weirdest, that happens to me with long hair is getting it caught in the magnets when I snap on my sunglasses without realizing it and I push up my glasses and my hair gets pulled. Long hair is just annoying to me.
I think that this is the longest I've ever had it, too. If I pulled the front part down, it came to my chin. The side part covered my whole ear, including the lobe. And I have pretty big ears. I don't really know how long it got in the back because once my hair gets long enough it starts to do this weird curl thing, like it's trying to grow toward the sun.
In the end, mostly because of my growing frustration, I went to the SuperCuts. Yeah, I know the jokes, but it's close to where I live, just a walk away. The rest of the barber shops, the places that aren't full of "stylists," are all a drive away. Plus, on weekends at least, they have a very small window to go in. From 11-2? How many people do you really expect to get through in 3 hours?
An odd thing happened during my hair cut, the woman doing it decided to keep a chunk my hair for a project she had to do for work, or whatever. She said it was the perfect color. Then she kept a second chunk. And she took a third after a little more buzzing. I felt flattered at first. Then I felt confused. And finally, I felt a little creeped out. Well, once it's off my head, it's not my concern, but she paused in her trimming a few times to finger the hair she had set aside or to take a long look at the hair on the floor. Part of me want's to know what she was thinking when she did that. Most of me is glad that I got out of there with my head firmly planted on my shoulders.
This morning, I walked into work with my hair way shorter than it's been in a long time. The first thing I heard after I said good morning to the two ladies was, "You got your hair cut?" "Yeah," I said. "It looks good." I rolled my eyes and sat down. (I've complained about your-hair-looks-good compliments in this post.) I think I've heard "Your hair looks good." or some variation of the sentence twenty times today. It's driving me nuts.
I don't take compliments well. I never have. I don't require my ego to be stroked by people. I especially have a hard time accepting compliments that have to do with the way I look. See, I exactly have a positive view of the way I look. It's not so negative that I'm working toward surgery; it's just that I know that I don't fall into any kind definition of handsome at all. I look the way I look. I'm fat and wear glasses. I'm not so vain that I think I looked any better before I got my glasses and therefore should be looking into contact lenses. And then there's the fact that, quite often, people notice something about the way you look and without even thinking they tell you that you look good with the change and that makes the compliment meaningless.
How do I know the compliments are usually meaningless? Well, at least today and in the story in that link, one person says the haircut looks good and without even looking someone else says, "Yeah it does." Obviously, I'm supposed to be so caught up in the first compliment that I'm not supposed to notice that the second person hasn't even looked at me. At least look and pretend to take a second to decide whether or not you like it. I'd rather hear nothing at all about some change I made in my appearance than just have meaningless compliments thrown my way.
At least, when someone on writes a compliment about a blog post, I can expect that the person has actually read the post and thought about what to say before writing a comment and that actually makes the compliment meaningful.
In other news, last Friday was the fifth, I think, anniversary since Johnny Logic and Heels were married at her parents house. Congratulations you two.
I think it's funny that it's so recognized that tomorrow is the birthday of the United States. Personally, I think the real birthday of the United States is September 17, but that's just me.
Useless Labels:
annoying people,
idiots,
life,
me,
work
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