A Green Lantern Problem

I went back and re-read Green Lantern: Rebirth last night. (I couldn't find issue 1, though. But I remember the important stuff: Coast City reappears, Hal whines, John gets mad at Batman, Guy explodes, Kyle crashes.) While I'm still not a fan of the whole idea that it was a giant bug that infected Hal, that's not what I'm here to write about.

The Yellow Impurity is.

After Rebirth, yellow is the color of fear and green is the color of willpower. The Green Lantern's power is a mixture light and willpower collected from the universe.

Ever since Rebirth, I've read and heard that it's really cool that yellow is fear and that the color yellow is part of the color green because to get to willpower, people have to push through their fears. So, it makes sense to have that color scheme. But it doesn't.

White light, like pigments, is composed of three primary colors: Red, Green, and Blue. From these three primary colors of light, all other colors are derived. The primary pigment colors are made by mixing the primary light colors. Magenta comes from mixing Red and Blue. Cyan comes from Blue and Green. And Yellow, on the RGB scale, comes from Red and Green. (Feel free to learn more from the Wikipedia article.)

Anyone who has done enough editing in HTML to change the colors of a blog page and anyone who has used Photoshop to play with a picture should be familiar with this. They've all seen the hexadecimal scale that shows #000000 for black and #FFFFFF for white... I'm not going to get into the science of RBG color, although I'd like to.

I'll admit, the fear being part of willpower theory is a nice one, but it doesn't hold up. Fans have known for years that the Green Lantern energy is light based. Light doesn't work like the pigments we learned when we were little. It's science, sorry.

And if Geoff Johns came up with the fear/willpower thing thinking it'd be cool for fans to discover, then maybe instead of taking a flight in an F16 he should have looked up some basic color theory.

Discoveries

I've discovered a few things about Beta Blogger:
1. I can greatly skew visits to my blog, and I have been, by accident. I've been going through old posts and adding labels (or tags or whatever they should be called) to them. Afterward, I have to repost. Each time I do it my blog becomes the next in the cue for the "Next Blog" button. I only have around 500 posts left to update.
2. My blog no longer has a "Next Blog" button on it, but I'm sure the good people at Blogger are working on that.
3. So far, I like Beta Blogger a lot. I just hope that the html editor will be back soon. I really miss the Comic Sans font.

Secretary

Yesterday, working as a secretary for a half a day a week was voluntary.

Ten minutes ago, I found out it's mandatory.

I don't get an increase in pay.

I just get skills I don't want and time to waste in another space.

Messin' Around

I'm playing with Beta Blogger today. This may look odd for a while because I'm not allowed to screw with the html, but there are labels. Keep your fingers crossed that it's coming soon.

PS If you know how to create a post like this the one Ragnell created on August 20th and August 23rd, the check the archived week, would you please post a comment about how to do it, or e-mail me? Thanks.

... something.

The day is almost over
and that makes me... something.
All day long I've been
really, really... something.
One of the secretaries
had her last day today.
Pizza was served at noon
and we were supposed to eat
together as if we were all... something.
Now we're down two secretaries
and once again we OTs
are supposed to... something.
On my desk are five bits
of work that I haven't... something.
They've been sitting there
since two-thirty all because
I'm trying to... something.
Wasting six to seven hours
a day at work isn't as
much fun as... something.
Wasting six to seven hours
a day outside of work
and not acheiving anything
is really something.

365 Days Ago At This Time...

I was in Pittsburgh visiting friends. We had left the Warhol Museum (where I watched old people watch porn and take it seriously, even though there was Kleenex for people to clean up with) and were on our way to a baby shower for the expecting parents thrown by people she had worked with at Home Depot before she started working at a coke factory.

Sometimes, it's hard to believe that was a year ago. Sometimes, it feels like it happened yesterday. Sometimes, it feels like it happened a decade ago.

Comic Book Monday

Justice League of America #1

For being 38 pages long, noting happened.

Okay, I'm exaggerating, a bit. Members are introduced, but there weren't any scenes when someone actually said that they'd be a member of the new league. Three mysteries--Who want's Red Tornado's body? Who ambushed Vixen? Who's killing "super villains"?--were introduced, but I'm pretty sure that they will all come together neatly in the end. But there was no action.

When Giffen, DeMatteis, and Maguire started their league, the UN was attacked.

When Morrison started his league, the last league's satellite crashed to earth and Metamorpho died, again.

When Meltzer starts his league, Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman sit around a table and talk, Vixen goes to a bar, Green Lantern and Arsenal go to a boxing match, and Black Lightening talks to a junkie.

I know that this is all setup for what's going to happen in the rest of Meltzer's run, but it doesn't help. The first issue of any superhero comic should jump out and pull the readers in. We shouldn't sit there full of exposition and be expected to buy the next issue because the guys writing and drawing it have done some good stuff in the past. The first issue should show why the second issue is worth buying, not sort of hint at some things that might, possibly, happen.

I am only going to pick at three nits (knits?) for this comic:

• The first is the cover. Why wasn't this a wrap-around or folded cover so all of us out there could get the full picture on one book? Even if (probably when) I buy the other cover, there's still going to be that annoying line down the center of the picture, and I always have trouble lining these things up well. If DC wanted to do two covers, they could have done one book with the wrap-around with this artwork and one with the awesome promotional artwork.
• The second is the fact that Kathy Sutton knows who Hal and Bruce are. She's a civilian, the wife of Red Tornado. It should be unlikely that she'd know the secret identity of Green Lantern and there's no way she should know Batman's secret identity. Meltzer started this with Identity Crisis, the having all the heroes and their families know all the identities, and I don't like it. The best thing to come out of Dan Jurgens run on his version of the JLA was that no one knew Superman's secret identity. I thought that added a nice bit of tension. Obviously, Mr. Meltzer disagrees.
• And third, when someone decides to do the retro dot coloring, make sure the colorist has actually seen a comic with that sort of coloring. That means, when it comes to back-in-the-day flesh tones, there is no cyan, only magenta, yellow, and white. That's why all the white heroes were the same color. Cyan was used only when they were in shadows. There was no shading in the 70s. Also, don't do the dots over modern day coloring. Do not dot blonde hair that fades to white to show highlights. Do not dot a face that has obvious shading. It just looks bad.

Will I be back for the second issue? Yes, I will.

Why? Because the first comic I ever bought was a Justice League comic and I'm hoping that this one will get better. Even if it doesn't, Meltzer is gone after issue twelve and the roster and the tone of the book will probably change with the next writer, hopefully for the better.

Jeez, I hope Geoff Johns is going to be on the new JSoA for the long run. Comics are so much better when the writing is consistent.

More Than Doubled

I was doing my daily perusal of my Site Meter statistics and I noticed that there's been a huge (for me) jump in readership.

I'm sure it won't last, but it's nice to feel like a big blog for a short time.

So, I am going to thank kalinara (I've read several of her posts that ragnell has linked to in her posts. kalinara is really good, too.) for linking this post at When Fan Girls Attack.

Thank you.

Oh, and for those of you who left my praise post and found the last post more offensive than funny, sorry.

I had to get it out of my system, though. It's been stuck in my head since I was shaving this morning and it made me think of the episode of Leave It To Beaver where Wally dulls Ward's razor blades by shaving off nothing at all and that led me to wondering what Ward was like beneath his "father knows best" exterrior and what it would be like if he showed it on accident.

I think it's funny.

A Leave It To Beaver We Never Got To See

And perhaps, never should see.
Written by me.

Wally: Dad, can I ask you for some advice?

Ward: Certainly, son.

Wally: Well, there a dance coming up at school and I don't know who to ask.

Ward: Who were you thinking of asking?

Wally: There's Cindy. She's really neat. She's a member of the pep squad. And then there's Sarah. She pretty and she gave me a plate of cookies she made in her Home Economics class.

Ward: I see.

Wally: I just don't know which one to ask. What should I do?

Ward: Son, have you considered asking both of them to the dance?

Wally: Gee, dad, I couldn't do a thing like that. What if they both said yes?

Ward: (wistfully) What if...?

Wally: I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

Ward: Wally, the way I see it is there are three possibilities: First, they both say no and you need to find someone else to take. Second, one says yes and the other says n" and that solves your problem. Third, they both say yes and that opens up a whole world of possibilities.

Wally: What do I do if they both say yes?

Ward: You tell them, separately, that you'll meet them at the dance.

Wally: But won't they get mad when they see each other?

Ward: Maybe, but what if they don't, son? What if they're into it? What if, after the dance, they want to see more of you and they take you to that seedy motel out by the highway? Think of the possibilities?

Wally: Dad...

Ward: And what if they both get angry. Cindy may run to her big, mean, football playing friends and have them rough you up. They might throw you to the ground and give it to you until they're too exhausted and have to fall asleep.

Wally: Dad?

Ward: Either way, son, I want you to tell me all about it when you’re done. What's the point of having a son in high school if you can't live your life through him?

An Astronomical Week

On Monday, NASA put out a press release saying it found proof that dark matter exists. Today, the San Francisco Chronicle reports that the International Astronomical Union voted that Pluto is not a planet. (Scroll to the bottom to find out what a planet is.)

*sigh*

I guess "My Very Eager Mother Just Us Served Nine," now.

Holy Fucking Jealousy, Batman

I was walking to the comic book shop on my lunch (The new Wonder Woman is the only thing I've read so far. The last page was hilarious, especially after the third issue of All Star Superman.) when I heard a guy and a gal talking behind me.

She was, sort of, talking about enjoying a Suicide Girls show that was near here last October. She said, "We really liked that band that was with them. Who were they? Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi?"

"Tsu Shi Ma Mi Re," he said. "Go back and read the interview I did with them. None of them could speak any English. The could only say things like, 'Having very much fun.' and 'We make many new friends.'" He laughed. "And then I'd tell them to put the next girl on."

He laughed again and they continued to chat.

We walked past the newspaper building and they both went in the employee only door. He may sound like a jerk, but I totally want his job.

In other jealousy news, my mom is posting stories and pictures from her (along with my dad) trip to Baja California.

Dream

Early this morning, I dreamed that two friends, who are already married, asked me to be in their wedding party.

I also found out that, even in my dreams, my fat feet won't fit into All*Star shoes.

New Readin'

The woman formerly known as "The Supervisor" is "training" the woman who's supposed to become The Supervisor. That means I don't have to watch over my shoulder as much as I waste time reading stuff on the 'net. Which is a great thing because I found a blog that I really enjoy.

Basically, it's a woman who likes comics and likes to talk about comics and she does it with a bit of a feminist slant. On my own, I rarely think of comics in anyway except as a form of escapist entertainment and I like the way she, on her own, looks deeper into the stories and art.

I think I should explain what happens to me when I find a blog with a front page I like. I start reading the archives. From the beginning. I see how the blog started. Usually the first post is a generic this-is-my-blog post, but her fist one is called This is My Sister's Fault. Wonderful. I'm now up to the 25th week of her archives.

An early post compares members of the Green Lantern Corps to the Knights of the Round Table. That was when I knew I'd be checking back daily.

My favorite post, so far is Where's My Adolescent Power Fantasy?

People like her make me wish I participated in more discussion groups. It's unfortunate that most discussion groups quickly devolve into insult-the-poster time rather than actually discussing the topic.

Oh well, at least I have this blog to read.

What?

My sort of/somewhat/perhaps future sister-in-law wrote in her blog that she's "been in this sorta family mode....like wanting to have a kid, get married, be a stay at home mama...you know, all that cheesy shit." Then she goes on and gives a glossing over of some of the weirdness she's gone through with a certain member of her family and other family things. To me, it seems like she misses having a family that she doesn't have to take care of, that she doesn't have to be the one trying all the time.

I wish that I felt comfortable enough to yell at her that being a sort of/somewhat/perhaps future sister-in-law of mine, she does have a family, mine/my brothers/possibly hers. There are two problems with that though. The first is that the majority of the family is about 150 miles to the east. The second is that parts of the family did try to get to know her a while ago, but something horrible happened in her life and it stunted whatever sort of relationship may have developed between them and any steps the family tried to make at that time were rebuffed, but steps tried more recently have also been rebuffed (mostly by my brother, though). That means to start new a getting-to-know-you period she'd have to take the first step. I doubt she will.

I wish she would, though. I really like her, even if she does admit to enjoying Brittany Spears for the music and not the cleavage. She's smart and funny and has a wonderfully insane amount of pop culture trapped in her brain and has a lot of energy. I'm waiting for the day when she finds something that interests her enough that she really focuses her entire being on it. Nothing will stop her when she finds that thing.

Anyway, my day has been spent thinking about that, and looking busy... and trying to remember the Thundercats's theme song.

TEST!

How evil are you?

F---ing Cars

I left my parent's house a little after noon, last Sunday the 13th, for those who maybe confused),thinking that it’d be a good way to beat the crazy traffic heading out of Cowtown. And it was. There were people on the road, but it wasn’t insane, and I figured that I’d beat the most horrible traffic. I was probably right, too.

I was singing along to the music (I don't remember what it was) when I saw a CHP car behind me with its lights spinning and its headlights doing that bizarre alternating flash thing. There wasn't a siren, but I figured that I'd better follow the law and pull off to the right. The CHP car passed about ten more cars when it turned to block the lane at an intersection. The officer got out of his car and started to drop orange cones in the road. I knew what that meant: a grass fire along the highway. Some jackass probably threw a cigarette out the window into the dry grass.

That sort of thing has happened to me before, so I cut my engine. The last time it happened it delayed me over an hour and I was stuck behind a full garbage truck in 100+ degree weather. Misery. That sort of a time delay was not to be, however, and I knew it from the get go because we were right at an intersection and with a left then one right and then one more left, I'd be back on the correct highway. Of course, it took fifteen minutes before the CHP officer let us make that first left. Ah, well, it was time basking in the rising temperature of my car as the sun caressed me through the windshield. I finally started when I saw the officer stand and, as usual, my car started with a groan and a growl.

The left, the right, and the other left later, and I was back on the highway cruising toward, in a roundabout way, The Northbay.

At the point where they highway goes from two lanes to four and then the opposite directions split apart all together, I noticed that my battery was at a lower number than it usually is when I’m driving. Then I heard this strange sound; I even rolled up the windows to hear it better. Then I looked at the gauges again and noticed that the temperature had climbed to near the red. (Whenever the temperature gets that high, I get a little freaked out, since I have killed an engine through overheating. The guy who drove the car before me put the damn hose on backward, so the reinforced end was in air and the regular end was up against the hot, hot, so very hot engine.) I immediately pulled over and hoped that, even though I added some before I left, the water was low. As I was moving on to the shoulder, I turned on the hazard lights. This was just over the top of the first real hill after the highway split, miles from any pay phone.

I popped the hood and stepped out of my car, after checking to make sure there was no traffic whizzing by that could rip the door off my car. Immediately, I heard the hissing of steam trying to blow the cap off the radiator. I started to curse at my car. Then I realized that, even though I doubt it, if my car could hear me, it probably wouldn't like the cursing, so I turned my back to my car and started cursing at the landscape. I raised the hood and looked at the water reservoir, empty. I looked at the engine and noticed that one of the belts was loose. I looked closer. Sure enough, one belt was loose, and so was the other. The other, in fact was shredded. I was going no where.

See, my dad and I replaced the belts in my car once before. It's not easy. A six year old would have trouble getting his arm to fit in there and a crowbar is needed to apply tension to the belts. We decided that the easiest way, but not the cheapest way, to put belts on my car would be to pull the entire engine out, slip new belts on, tighten it, and put the engine back. I think it took us about five hours to get the belts on last time. There was no way I was going to be able to do that on the side of the road. Plus, I don't have any tools in my car to do it with.

For the next twenty minutes, I tried to wave down a car, or truck, or whatever so I could use a phone and call a tow truck. No luck. So I decided to walk back the way I came because, even though it was far away, I knew there was a pay phone in that direction. I put some water in my bag and started walking. I passed two ranches on my walk, both had locked gates. A CHP car drove by, but didn't stop. After an hour of walking, I came across a stranded mobile home (Which ironically had shredded a belt, too. But for them, to replace a belt, all they needed was a new belt, a ratchet, and a person willing to do the work. They were waiting for one of the people's mother to bring a new belt.) and borrowed a phone.

I called a tow truck.

Twenty minutes later, it picked me up at the mobile home. Five minutes later, my car was loaded up. Thirty minutes later, my car was being dropped off at my grandparent's house (about 10 miles away from my parent's house) and I was using my credit card to pay $155 for the tow. Fifteen minutes later, my uncle was driving me back to my parent's, who were in Baja California, house. After I arrived, I started looking for keys to their cars so I could "borrow" one of them so I could get back to The Northbay. I did.

Nine and a half hours after my first one, I was in the shower washing the dust and sweat from my walk off of me.

Finished

Last night, I finished reading To Kill a Mockingbird. I have one question: Why wasn't I handed this book fifteen years ago?

Subjects

The movie was funny, like the TV show it was based on. The food was not had because the movie an hour later than I thought. Didn't want to hang around for an extra hour after eating. Brie on croissants and zapped in the microwave was enjoyed instead.

To Kill a Mockingbird was started yesterday and I am enjoying it far more than I thought I would. Hope I'll be finishing it tonight, but that depends on how phone call goes.

Been seriously considering buying Alan Moore's (along with Melinda Gebbie) new book. It's expensive, though. Bet a lot of people will be talking about it without having read it. Want to be one who talks about it because he's read it.

Was asked about my passion a few weeks ago. Was asked about my hobby on Sunday. The two different people asked about the same thing. Hobby or passion? Bliss? Wrote these two comics about bliss over a year ago. They're still true.

Need something outside of work to make work worth it. Something besides TV and Mario Kart and Fresh Air.

Would I Be Able To Bring My Toothpaste On A Plane?

Ever wonder "What If 9/11 Never Happened?" I know I do. The best in the series is the one written as a blog. The most accurate one is the one with the picture.

---

In other news, I'm taking myself to the Chinese buffet place tonight and then I'm going to see Strangers With Candy for the low price of only $4.50. I think I deserve it after my car went kaput on my way back to The North Bay (A story I won't be telling here until Thursday, I'll explain then.), don't you?

BOOKS!

Today, I visited my favorite used bookstore (I've been to bigger, but not better.) and the shop that mails (most of) my comics to me, which also sells used books. I didn't go to the third used bookstore I planned on hitting because I thought that I had spent enough money for the day. It's amazing how a pile of books can make me so happy.

Here's the novels I bought and why:
The Wild Shore by Kim Stanley Robinson
Sure, the last two books he wrote about Mars were pretty bad, but the first two were good and his one off science fiction books are pretty incredible. I highly recommend, if you can find them, Icehenge and The Memory of Whiteness, excellent books. I've been in search of his California trilogy, where he imagines the future of the state in a different way in each book, for a couple of years. I guess I'll just have to give in and buy them new.

Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson
Johnny Logic has told me several times that I should read this book and I also really enjoyed the other two Stephenson books I've read, The Diamond Age: or A Young Lady's Illustrated Primer (I always include the other title, because it should have been the name of the book.) and Zodiac (A book paced like a summer blockbuster, but better. It's the most fun movie that isn't a movie that I've ever read.). This book is huge! If it's as well written as his others, though, it'll be a quick read for it's size.

1984 by George Orwell
I've never read this book, which is probably as much a surprise to me as it is to some of you, and I've never seen a movie based on it. I know some of the language from it--newspeak, "War is Peace," doublespeak, thoughtcrime--but only in passing. There are so many allusions to this novel in modern films and TV shows--Who didn't think of Big Brother when they saw the High Chancellor appear on that giant TV in V for Vendetta? And how many of those people have actually read 1984?--that I sometimes thing I already know the whole book. It is in the public conscious and I want to know how accurate that conscious is.

The main reason I finally picked this book up is because I just finished re-reading Brave New World (at least my fifth time reading the book) and I wanted to compare its version of the future (which, in many ways, is more a utopia than a distopia) to the future in 1984. I'm pretty excited about that.

As I Lay Dying (The Corrected Text) by William Faulkner
I really wanted Absalom, Absalom! because I really dig that exclamation point at the end. Who, at almost any point in history, puts an exclamation point in the title of a novel? William Faulkner, that's who. The bookstore didn't have Absalom, Absalom!, though, and as I was perusing his novels I came across this one and it seemed more like short stories as opposed to a novel. I like the Faulkner short stories I've read and figure it's time for me to move into something bigger, but not too big.

Wizard's First Rule by Terry Goodkind
I need a new fantasy series. Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series is supposed to end in one or two books (I'm hoping for two more because 13 is an important number in the series). Terry Brooks keeps putting out Shannara books, but the last two trilogies have seemed liked cheats to me (They cheat in the same way Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy cheats.) and that bugs me. I'd rather Brooks wrote another Magic Kingdom of Landover or Word/Void book than another Shannara book. I can only hope that his pre-Shannara/post-Word/Void novel, that comes out later this month, is better than the last two Shannara trilogies.

Anyway, there are, I think, ten Sword of Truth books out there, so if this first one is any good I'll soon be at another used bookstore looking for the rest of the series.

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Like 1984 I've never read this book and I've never seen the movie, but know a lot about it. I had a creative writing teacher who thought this book was the greatest piece of writing... ever. I didn't like that teacher, but he did tend to make good suggestions when it came to short stories and novels.

Platitudes by Trey Ellis
The cover caught my attention and when I read the back it seemed like it could be funny. Plus, it was cheap. The last book I bought in this way, Hey Nostradamus! (ECLAIMATION MARK IN THE TITLE!) by Douglas Coupland, was an excellent find and an introduction to an excellent writer. I hope this one will work out in the same way.

Worlds of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Volume One: Cardassia and Andor by Una McCormack (Cardassia) and Heather Jarman (Andor)
Worlds of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Volume Two: Trill and Bajor by Andy Mangles & Michael A. Martin (Trill) and J. Noah Kym (Bajor)
Worlds of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Volume Three: The Dominion and Ferenginar by David R. George III (The Dominion) and Keath R.A DeCandido (Ferenginar)
All the DS9 books that were written after the show ended actually take place after the series. Things change. Characters grow. Worlds expand. And these books will help to give me the Star Trek fix I need to function in life. The only thing that would have made finding these books more exciting is if Andrew Robinson had written the Cardassia section.

Things I wanted, but didn't find:
Anything by Douglas Coupland that I haven't read.
Another copy of A Confederacy of Dunces because when I went to re-read it, it fell apart. It's now in three pieces and the tape I put on it didn't hold.
The Neon Bible, John Kennedy Toole's other novel.
Anything by Michael Chabon I haven't read.
A Long Way Down.
The DS9 novels The Lives of Dax, Mission Gamma: Cathedral, Mission Gamma: Lesser Evil, The Left Hand of Destiny Book 1, The Left Hand of Destiny Book 2, and Warpath. I'm a DS9 junkie, I know it.

I like books.
Books, books, books.
I like owning them.
I like reading them.
I like smelling them; especially the old, musty ones, but I also like the used ones that smell a little smokey because then I know a little about the previous owner.
I like talking about them.
I like writing about them.
I like holding them.
I like piling them on the floor because I can't find room on a shelf.
And if I knew a good song about books, I'd like singing about them.
I like books.
Books, books, books.

Can't Sleep

"Do I know where hell is?
Hell is in 'hello.'
Heaven is 'Good-bye forever,
It's time for me to go.'"
--Ben Rumson

It's almost 11:30 and I can't sleep. I'm sure, to most people out there, 11:30 is nothing. For many of the internet savvy 11:30 means things are just getting started. For me, it means I should have been in bed at least a half hour ago because I know that even without an alarm clock I'll be awake around seven. I can't help it. I like getting around eight hours of sleep, but I doubt I'll be getting it tonight.

So, here I am typing, listening to music and hoping that I'll eventually get tired and climb into bed. My brain just won't shut up, though. I doubt that when I feel really tired my brain will have quieted at all.

One of the things I'm thinking about is a blog post that I read earlier today. I really hate reading things like this. (The first time I really came across lists like this was my sophomore year of high school when I went on a trip with the marching band. We took a bus up to Seattle and I only brought one book which I had already read half of. When I finished my book I started to read the magazines the girls had brought with them.) When I do, I immediately start ticking off the things I am, or at least the things that I think I am, but doubt that I'm very objective when it comes to me. Anyway, I usually (think I) fit a reasonable portion of the list which is good, right? My problem is either the parts of the list that aren't written down or the ones that I don't fit are not equally weighted against the ones that I do fit.

I've lived my life knowing that I'm not really anyone's type. (Or for the people whose type I am I'm either a fetish, which isn't really like being a human in any way, or those people are as much of a coward as I am or likes to live by the idea that it should always be the guy asking.) Most of the time, I'm okay with that. Tonight, apparently, I'm not. I wonder why? Why do I suddenly feel lonely. Why do I feel like my life will forever be empty? What purpose does it serve?

On Saturday, I was visiting with some friends, Heels and Johnny Logic, and at one point Johnny Logic had stepped out of the room and Heels and I were talking about working at places we don't particularly like to work. She told me, to the best of my remembering, that she'd really love to quit her job and just spend the day with her son, but, she said, she has to go to work.

"You do it for him?" I asked, looking down at her son, who was getting very interested in my big toe.

"Yep," she said.

"That's what I need," I said, sighing a little. "Something outside of work that makes work worth it."

"It's the only way to do it," she said.

---

So, the speakers crapped out last night a little after midnight and I decided to go and read rather than write without music. I fell asleep, eventually, which probably means writing this actually made me feel a little better. That's a nice change.

Harvey!

My brother found this receipt in the bottom of a bag and sent it to me because, well, I had (have?) an obsession with the person who signed it.

Today vs. Tomorrow

Once (Well, really several times, but that's just not a great way to start anything, is it?), someone told me not to worry about tomorrow, only think about today because today is really all there is.

I immediately went on the defensive and pointed out that eventually tomorrow would eventually become today, so isn't thinking and worry about tomorrow actually thinking and worrying about today, just in advanced.

He just smiled at me and the conversation ended right there. He knew I was just being argumentative because I didn't want to actually talk about what was wrong with me.

The reason I worry about tomorrow so much is because at least I can pretend that tomorrow will be better than today. Today is more or less stuck the way it is. There's very little I can do to change today, but I can lie to myself and convince myself that I'm going to do something, anything, to make tomorrow better. Unfortunately, doing that is sometimes very reassuring, even though I'm pretty damn sure I'm not actually going to do anything to make tomorrow any better than today.

But, then again, maybe I will. There's no way to know until tomorrow actually becomes today. Is there?

Evil?

The Supervisor is going to a training thing next week and tomorrow is her Friday off. She told SHTK that SHTK would have to do all the calendaring, including all the requests that come in.

The Supervisor slacked off on setting the requests. I don't think she only set three yesterday and, the last time I looked, three today. The cart with new requests is quite full.

SHTK didn't want to have to do all the calendaring and she went to The Supervisor to express her concerns. The Supervisor then went to JSIN to find out what, if anything should be done. JSIN told The Supervisor that he didn't want SHTK to set new requests because she's worked out of her class too much recently and shouldn't do it anymore.

That means when The Supervisor gets back on the 14th, there will be at least two carts full of hearing requests!

SHTK told me about this nearly an hour ago. I've had a little smile on my face ever since.

Run-Off

You ever worry that you're being to angst-y and people will start to think that it's all just being faked to earn sympathy and then you decided not to post something you wrote because you'd rather not worry people but you really want to post it even though it'd do no good because you didn't want sympathy you just wanted to vent and you planned to turn the comments off to make sure you won't have to read the oh-you'll-be-okay and I'm-there-for-you comments since those sorts of things just make you feel worse and then you end up posting something that makes you seem both angry and even more angst-y?

Yeah.

Anyway, here's a Shortpacked! and a How To Be Happy and a PVP... nuts.

BURN!

I got a little sunburned this weekend. Just enough of a burn to turn my take my face from its normal pasty color past a healthy flush to a bit too much red in the pink. It doesn't hurt at all, unless I poke it with a fingernail or crinkle my forehead. In fact, there are only two ways that I can even tell I'm burned.

The first is if I look in a mirror, or some other reflective surface, and see how my face is now the color of a pink Necco wafer.

The second way is when SLFC says, "You're sunburned." of "You got some sun this weekend." or "You sure are red." or "Doesn't that hurt?"

She. Does. This. Every. Time. She. Sees. Me.

All. Day. Long.

Yesterday. And. Today.

It's a little irksome.

Each time she points out my sunburn to me, I tell her that it doesn't hurt; that I don't even notice it; that I've had so many sunburns in my life time, what's one more.

What I'd like to say (and do) is much more cruel.

Tomorrow the burn will start to peel. Two days later, my face will be its usual color. I'll probably be burned again soon enough and I'll have to put up with her pointing it out to me too many times a day again, though.

California Hills in August

By Dana Gioia

I can imagine someone who found
these fields unbearable, who climbed
the hillside in the heat, cursing the dust,
cracking the brittle weeds underfoot,
wishing a few more trees for shade.

An Easterner especially, who would scorn
the meagerness of summer, the dry
twisted shapes of black elm,
scrub oak, and chaparral, a landscape
August has already drained of green.

One who would hurry over the clinging
thistle, foxtail, golden poppy,
knowing everything was just a weed,
unable to conceive that these trees
and sparse brown bushes were alive.

And hate the bright stillness of the noon
without wind, without motion,
the only other living thing
a hawk, hungry for prey, suspended
in the blinding, sunlit blue.

And yet how gentle it seems to someone
raised in a landscape short of rain –
the skyline of a hill broken by no more
trees than one can count, the grass,
the empty sky, the wish for water.