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.

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.

Meh.

Witness the fear of those who enjoyed Transformers.

PBS vs. The FCC?

Animated Heaven.

Art I want.

Weekend, everyone.

So,

I'm not going to post what I was originally going to post. It made me sad... Well, more sad.

I wish I had something to write about, but I don't.

I don't have anything right now.

I know, read this. I liked it a lot.

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.

Damn it!

I'm the responsible one!
I don't want to be the God damned "responsible one"!
Fucking first child syndrome!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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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.

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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.

Dear Brother

I want my DVDs back. I loaned them to you a while ago and I still don't think that you've watched them. If you had, I'd have hoped for some communication. You know an e-mail or a MySpace message saying, "Holy monkey nuts those really sucked. Why'd you lend them to me? What made you think I'd enjoy them? You suck for even liking these. How can we even be related? What's wrong with you?" Or maybe something saying the opposite.

I'm pretty sure you'd like them if you just sat down and gave them a chance, but you haven't in the past months and I don't expect you to anytime soon. It's too bad you haven't, though, they're really good. Just ask the other brother. Oh, wait, during the drive to Easter he did tell you how good they were and suggested you watch them. Huh, who else could convince you? The parents? They enjoyed them, too. So did the last roommate I had and a good friend who now lives down south and all the other people who own them and have watched them more than once.

I want them back. I may not watch them right away, I may not watch them ever again, but they're mine. I just want them back.

When's the next time I'll see you? The end of July? Maybe? I doubt it though. When after that? Thanksgiving? Not if there's a repeat of last year, so I not going to hold my breath for that. Maybe at your birthday? That's five months away. I don't want to wait that long.

Since I know that you're not going to come up here, mail them to me. Once I get them, if you so desire, I'll mail you a check for the postage.

Thanks.

A Moment...

This weekend, I watched the movie French Kiss. My parents bought it in the cheap movie bin at Wal*Mart and after watching it decided that I'd really like it. Why? Because I'm a fool for a good romantic comedy. One for my favorite movies is Sleepless in Seattle. It makes me melt each time I watch it.

Anyway, I watched French Kiss and thought it was alright. (I didn't like the guy the girl was supposed to fall in love with; he was way too arrogant.) But there was this moment that just made me think, "Yeah. That's what I want."

The part is when the girl is dancing with the guy she want's back (who is an ass). They've just finished talking and have been dancing at a distance. The camera cuts to a medium shot so you can see them from mid-calf all the way up, and they move closer together. It's not him pulling her in, but a mutual thing. Then she puts her head on his chest and he lowers his chin to touch her. And the camera lingers for a while, just letting them be the moment. The only thing that matters is the being together. (If the director had been willing to let go of the realism for a moment, everything around the couple would have faded to black leaving the two of them there dancing before the whole scene faded to black.)

I want a moment like that. A simple moment with someone that feels right. A moment where the only thing that matters is that you are there together. A moment where the world doesn't matter.

(That makes me sound like a girl, doesn't it?)

It's a moment that, right now, I don't ever see myself having.

There's no need to reassure me that I will, or anything like that. I'm not so insecure that when I say "negative" things about myself that I want everyone to tell me the opposite of what I say to make me feel better. When I write these "negative" things, I'm only trying to be honest with myself.

For now, I know I won't have this moment because I'm not trying to find a girl to have this moment with. If I was trying, perhaps I'd see a moment like this in my future. But I'm not, so I don't. And that's just fine with me, for now, at least.

But still... Seeing that one bit in the movie, that lasted maybe thirty seconds, just made my whole being ache.

Test!

Your Seduction Style: Au Natural

You rank up there with your seduction skills, though you might not know it. That's because you're a natural at seduction. You don't realize your power! The root of your natural seduction power: your innocence and optimism. You're the type of person who happily plays around and creates a unique little world. Little do you know that your personal paradise is so appealing that it sucks people in. You find joy in everything - so is it any surprise that people find joy in you? You bring back the inner child in everyone you meet with your sincere and spontaneous ways. Your childlike (but not childish) behavior also inspires others to care for you. As a result, those who you befriend and date tend to be incredibly loyal to you.

What Kind of Seducer Are You?

Sounds like something I'd like to be, but I don't think I am. Oh well.

Superman Returns

Superman Returns

Before I start in with the feature presentation, I wish to write about the Spider-Man 3 trailer.

Okay, actually the trailer is pretty awesome. My problem, and it may just be a nit I'm picking at here, is the black costume. In the comic, (I swear I just heard the world groan.) the black costume was created to give Spider-Man a new look. He went from, mainly, red and blue to just black and white. It was solid black with two white Spider-Man eyes, white patches on the back of each hand where the costume spun his webbing, and the giant white spiders on his front and back. It is, simply, one of the most stunning, elegant, and beautifully designed costumes in comics. (To see it for yourself click on these links to some covers: Spectacular Spider-Man 101, Web of Spider-Man 1, and Amazing Spider-Man 252.) Also, the black costume was able to shift between normal clothes and the costume, so there was no need to worry about wearing it under another set of clothes.

Now, I understand that the costume from the comics may not have been able to translate to the movie screen very well, but just coloring the regular costume black doesn't work for me. It should be more different from the original. Fans of the comic, or the cartoon that was on in the 90s, know what the black costume is and how it effects Peter, which I think should be shown on screen by changing the look of his costume more than by just changing the color. Also, the trailer shows that he has to wear it under his clothes. That's no fun. And finally, what's Venom going to look like? In the comic, he wears the black costume with some minor alterations, which really makes him an anti-Spider-Man. What's he going to do, have Spider-Man's costume, but in black? That'd be really lame, and confusing. Film is a very visual medium; his look should be completely distinct when fighting Spider-Man, which is why in the comics Spider-Man has never worn a black costume again.

Okay, I'm done with bitching about Spider-Man 3

(One more trailer related thing before I move on, what's with the drastic change in the marketing for Lady in the Water? The teaser called it a bed time story, but the new trailer turned it into a horror. So, which film will it be? One? Both? Neither? I was more interested in the story from the teaser.)

Now for Superman:

I want you to imagine that you have found the one true love of your life. The more time you spend with this person, the more you love him or her. And then one day, your person gets some news and leaves you with out saying good-bye. You're strong, though. You go on living your life. You even meet someone. Sure, this new person isn't perfect, but she or he is someone you can love, not with the same deep and intense passion as the other, but it's love none the less. Then your true love comes back to town. He or she doesn't push into your life, but you know that she or he is near and just waiting for you. How would you react? What would you do?

Now I want you to imagine that you have found the one true love of your life. The more time you spend with this person, the more you love him or her. And then one day, you get some news and you have to leave, now. You don't want to say good-bye because it'd hurt too much and you may not be able to leave at all, but it's very important that you do. So, you go and there's no way to contact the one you love. You're gone for a long time, but each day you think about the person you left. You think about how she or he made you feel. You use that memory to get through each day. Eventually, you make it back and before you have a chance to see the one you love, you learn that he or she has moved on. This person has even fallen in love. How would you react? What would you do?

These, to me, are what Superman Returns is about, at it's heart.

When the movie opens, Superman has been gone for five years (he left sometime after the end of Superman II); he went to explore what he thought were the remains of Krypton. During that time, Lois has had a son, got engaged, and was nominated for a Pulitzer for an editorial called "Why the World Doesn't Need Superman." And Lex Luthor got out of prison because Superman couldn't show up to a trial. The world has moved on with out Superman and has survived.

But he's back. He flies around the world saving as many people as he can. Lois wants to ignore him. And Lex has come up with a way to create his own continent, but will probably kill a couple billion people in the process.

In the end, Superman saves the world. Lex is stuck on an island. And Lois is trying to write an editorial called "Why the World Needs Superman."

For the first half, or two thirds of the movie, I had a grin on my face. From the moment the Superman fanfare started and I saw the original Superman font on the screen, I was giddy. When the words soared toward me, I got chills. This was Superman, the original brought back. This was what my inner fanboy wanted, and I was totally immersed in the action. Then something happened that knocked me right out the movie. It was so jarring that I couldn't get it out of my head for the rest of the film and it made it hard for me to watch the rest. I couldn't settle back into the film because what happened was always on my mind. (I'll describe what it was that shook me out of the movie next week because it's a pretty big spoiler and I don't want to ruin the movie for everyone until a week has gone by. I figure that in that time most of those who were going to see the film in the theater will have seen it. I've actually already written about it so I'd be better able to write this and it's sitting, dated for July 5th.)

Brandon Routh plays a pretty good Superman, but I simply adored his bumbling Clark Kent. From his first walk through the Daily Planet running into people with his suit cases, to his stolen glances at Lois, to his goofy grin and wave, his Clark was wonderful. It's just too bad Clark wasn't in the film that much.

Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane was okay. Sure, she's cute, but I've never thought of her as a great actress. She did the protective mother bit well, although she doesn't look old enough to be the mother of a 5-year old and to have been nominated for a Pulitzer, but that's movie casting for you. Also, I'd have liked to see Lois try and kick some ass. In every incarnation of Lois that I've seen, she at least tries to fight back for a while, but this one didn't. Maybe she thought getting her head smashed in would save her son's life, as opposed to kicking the guy in the knee or balls, I don't know.

Kevin Spacey, as expected, was excellent. His Lex Luthor is darker and less funny than Gene Hackman’s, but they both have that obsession about getting land and aren't worried about who may have to die to get it. Spacey's Lex also seems more intelligent because he goes out of his way (the Arctic is pretty much out of everyone’s way) to learn the secrets of Superman. And I thought what he did to protect himself from Superman on his new bit of land was really clever.

The rest of the cast was really good, too. Although I thought that too often the guy playing Jimmy Olson would speak a bit too loud, but other than that he's the best Jimmy I've seen.

Some of the things that I really liked follow, in no particular order:

• The homage to John Bryne's Man of Steel mini series in the form of the first rescue Superman performs after returning to Earth.
• The reveal of Lex's hobby in the basement.
• Parker Posey's performance as Kitty.
• Seeing the guy who played Cyclops actually get to be a hero in a superhero movie this summer.
• The Fortress of Solitude
• Young Clark enjoying his powers
• The recycled lines from the first movie. (I started laughing at one of them by the third word. The rest of the theater waited until the end. I wondered if they were just being polite or did they not recognize it.)

The one thing that I didn't enjoy that didn't ruin the movie for me was how Kitty was basically Miss Teschmacher, again. Yeah, Parker Posey was excellent as the ditz who's attracted to the bad boy but ends up wanting to do some good, but I'd have liked to see Lex's new girl be smarter and maybe a little evil. What does it say about Lex that he only wants stupid women? Still, she's better than Otis or his nephew Lenny.

It's a good movie. It really is. If it weren't for the one thing that really bugged me, but didn't seem to bother anyone else, I'd be headed into the city this weekend to see it on IMAX in 3D. But there was that one thing. However, I'm looking forward to its release on DVD so I can see it again and I think that most people who enjoyed the original movies will like this one, too.

E-Mailin'

Today has been, besides the little work I had in my box, about catching up on some e-mail. I'm still answering one right now, but thought I should put something here just because. Tomorrow should, although I'm not promising, bring my thoughts about Superman Returns.

Until then, I suggest you read about file sharing.

Short

Yeah, so, I had this post planned out in my head after reading Blog Dog's Red Finger. I had these stories about people being confused about my (non existent) religious preference because I'm such a nice fellow, but I'm not all together sure about whether or not God (or gods) may or may not exist. From there I was going to write about how those people treated me differently after they found out a decent person can also be (practically) a godless heathen. I was also going to write about being cornered by a PE teacher (He probably coached something, but I don't care about sports, so I didn't care what he actually did.) at an Earth Day festival and how he tried to convince me to find my way to God through Jesus, even though that didn't promise me a place in Heaven.

Then I looked at the time and realized that I only have another tenish minutes left until work is over. I've actually been busy today. (That's what happens when you're handed work that other people couldn't, or didn't, do.) That also means that I only answered a couple of e-mails. One with only two sentences. The other didn't have many more sentences than that. No more e-mailing for me today.

I'm torn. I like having enough time to write a long post, but the more work I have, the faster the day goes by.

Oh well, at least I have my ticket to see Superman on Tuesday. That'll be cool. I hope.

Venting

Today, The Supervisor is not at work. I think it's her regular day off. She does the whole work nine hours a day four days a week to get every other Friday off, thing. (I'm not allowed to do it, though, just in case someone is needed at the front counter.) Which is why I was okay with fooling around with the look of my blog for so long while I was supposed to be working. It's like taking a day off of work, but being at work. Although, I finished all my work before I started fiddling around with the thing, so I guess it's not.

Anyway, SHTK has been out all this week, but came in today. She has walking pneumonia. So, she was sick all of last week, too, but kept coming into work because all it feels like is a cold or mild flu. (I had walking pneumonia when I was in ninth grade. I know what it's like.) The first thing she did, since she's not much of a web crawler, was peruse her e-mail. When she was almost finished, I heard her say, "Oh, my god." and sigh a huge sigh.

I knew what got her. Yesterday, right before five, The Supervisor sent out an e-mail detailing new duties, which the secretaries came up with, that we clerks have to do. One of them involves SHTK doing all of a certain type of calendaring. While she may have the password to get to do this, she's not supposed to. When this office was short staffed she did all the calendaring, now that we have more people than we need, she's not supposed to do any unless The Supervisor isn't here. Now, since the secretaries don't want to do it anymore, she's supposed to set certain thing, of which we usually get two or three a day. The oddest thing about making SHTK set this is that The Supervisor and JSIC have interviews about 15 people to take the calendaring position and to become The New Supervisor. (When that happens, The Supervisor will either become Uber Supervisor or some acronym, I haven't decided yet.)

SHTK leaned my way and we talked about her new job. And then we talked about the other new things that we clerks are going to do. Basically, we're going to be doing all the things that the secretaries don't like to do. Mostly, this means that there will be a lot more to potentially blame on us peons.

Eventually, the talk turned into venting. We were the only two in the area, so we could speak pretty freely about the stupid things that the higher-ups are doing. It was a pretty long conversation and I think we exhausted most of the subjects in stupidity. Unfortunately, I didn't feel better when it was over. I felt worse. I realized that there's nothing I can do.

I swear, if I pass one of the tests to get a promotion, I will only do it in another office. If I don't get that promotion, but find a transfer opportunity close by, I'm going there. If there isn't a transfer opportunity close by, once I save enough money for a first and last month's rent plus deposit, I'm leaving this town and I'm not planning on looking back.

Scheme Finally Changed

I think the last time I changed the way this blog looked was early 2004. It was time. I'm happy with the way it looks now, but I'm sure I'll be doing some tweaking in the next week or so.

What a way to spend ninety minutes here at work, eh?

A Little Night Music

I've been moving old post from an old blog that isn't used anymore over to this blog. (For those who need to know the Idiot is dead.) During the course of the moving the ones worth saving, I've also been reading the posts. I discuss my addiction to Sondheim's Into The Woods in one of them.

Reading that got me thinking about my most recent musical addiction, Sondheim's (with a book by Hugh Wheeler) A Little Night Music. (For a while it was Avenue Q, but not anymore.) My biggest problem when trying to talk about most of these plays is that I haven't seen them performed. I've only listened to the soundtrack. There are very few soundtracks which print out the entire book of the play (The Phantom of the Opera soundtrack spoiled me.), so I'm stuck just listening to the lyrics of the song and reading the few notes included to set the scene in which the song takes place.

That written, I'm gonna do my best to write about my new favorite musical.

A Little Night Music is based on an Ingmar Bergman movie (Smiles of a Summer Night according to the Wikipedia entry on the play.) and is about a bunch of rich Europeans trying not to be bored, for the most part.

There's Frederik and his new wife Anne, who's younger than Fredrick's son, who have yet to consummate their marriage, which is exquisitely laid out in the songs "Now" and "Soon" (which are grouped onto the same track with "Later" in between). Frederik wants to have sex. Anne doesn't, but she wants to keep the "good" life she has with him. The odd thing is when she finds out that Fredrick was visiting (and probably screwing) his old girlfriend, Desiree, she get's jealous, but she still doesn't sleep with him. While Frederik is visiting with Desiree, he sings of his wife and how wonderful she is, she even "gives [him] funny names-- / Like? / 'Old Dry-as-Dust.'"

There's Fredrick's grown son, Henrik, who's as sad as he can be because his father has married someone younger than he is and because he feel like he's foreshadowed by his father's accomplishment. In "Later," Henrik sings, as if he were someone else, "'Henrik? Who is Henrik? / Oh, the lawyer's son, the one who mumbles. / Short and boring, / Yes, he's hardly worth ignoring...'" Oh, he's also in love with his stepmother.

There's also Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm who is cheating on his wife, Charlotte, with Desiree. He finds Frederik with Desiree, who's an actress, in her dressing room when he comes for a "visit" and starts to worry about Desiree's fidelity toward him. He sings about how everyone should be honest and should have "fidelity like [his] to Desiree, / and Charlotte [his] devoted wife." He says the last part in a sort of aside, as if his wife's an after thought.

Charlotte and Anne are friends and talk about nearly everything. Charlotte knows her husband is cheating on her and laments it in the song "Everyday a Little Death."

The first act ends with Frederik and Anne being invited to Desiree's mother's, Madame Armfeldt, villa in the country. Anne doesn't want to go, but Charlotte insists she should go to show how much more beautiful she is than Desiree, and Charlotte figures it's a way to get her husband to herself for a weekend. When the Count learns of the weekend, he insists that he and his wife go because his wife "hasn't been getting out nearly enough." Charlotte's not happy.

The second act has some wonderful songs and some wonderful ideas, but I don't have time to discuss them right now. There are also more wonderful songs in the first act, but since I haven't seen the play, I'm not quite sure how they fit into the play overall. It's almost time for me to be away from work, and I've decided that's more important than finishing this.

I doubt I ever will.

I hope that one day, soon, I'll actually be able to see this play being performed. Until then, I'll be singing along with the soundtrack.

Of Watching

I got rid of my cable TV after the series finale of Everwood earlier this month. I feel ashamed to admit this, but I miss it.

When I got rid of it, I never tried to lie to myself and tell myself that now I'll start writing stories or practicing drawing or (HA) exercising. I knew that when I got rid of the cable that, instead of watching the stuff I'd record with the DVR feature, I'd be watching one of my DVDs. It's just the way I am. If I could filter feed, I'd plant myself down and never move again.

Anyway, I still have my good, old DVD player (It's six years old now.), but I lost the remote when I moved from Cowcity to Cowtown, so it's really only good for watching movies or TV shows that have a "play all" feature. It's not so good for watching the special features, on anything, or TV shows that make you select the episode name and then select "play episode." (All the Star Trek discs are like that. Sure, the menus look really great, but... DAMNIT, I want to watch more episodes on the discs!) This problem was solved not by me buying a "universal" control and hoping it'd work with my old machine, but by my mother giving me a DVD recorder that my grandpa had given to my parents.

This was right after I had gotten cable. I thought it was cool; I'd be able to record shows while I was at work (I hadn't upgraded to the DVR capability yet and didn't have a VCR. (I still don't have a VCR. That means no Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead for me.)) and drown myself in reruns of Buffy. The first day I tried it, though, there was a marathon of the first half of the second season of Battlestar Galactica. The disc told me that I could capture 8 hours worth of TV. Almost the whole first half of the marathon, awesome. So, I set the recorder up and I set the cable box to flick over to the correct channel the night before. The next morning, all seemed well, so I left for work. When I got back, the thing was still trying to record. The numbers on the recorder said four hours and some minutes and seconds. Counting my slow walking speed two and from work, I had been out of my apartment for over nine hours. And the recording was supposed to have happened about 90 minutes before I woke up.

I thought that maybe the thing was stuck, but it had probably recorded the first four hours, that'd be cool. I tried to stop it. It wouldn't stop. I hit the power button. It wouldn't power down. I tried to eject the disc. No luck. I knelt down at power strip to pull the plug and briefly wondered what I'd do if the thing stayed powered up. If it didn't power down, I figured as long as it hadn't grown sharp teeth or claws, it was going to be tossed out the door onto the driveway, hopefully shattering it into a million pieces. I pulled the plug and the numbers faded away. I let it cool off for a bit before plugging it back in and letting it read the disc. It said there was no data on the disc.

The next day, I tried again, same problem. So, it was either the wrong type of writable disc being put in, or the machine was broken. According to the book, it should have been able to use the disc. It was broken.

However, it read and played my regular DVDs just fine. And it had a control, so I could select the special features and watch all the episodes on those discs without a "play all." I unplugged my old DVD player from the back of the TV and plugged in the recorder.

I've been using it as my primary DVD player ever since. Before this month, though, I haven't used it too much. When you have cable, there's always something worth watching on TV. (It may be crap, but if you're willing to leave it on, it must be worth watching.) Especially with all movie channels. I think over 50% of my view time was due to movie channels. I know that over half of my movie viewing was done on TCM. Who needs to watch the movies they've collected when there are so many great, and not-so-great, movies out there to watch on cable. So, the DVD recorder was used maybe once a week for a couple of hours.

Now that the only TV I can watch is what's carefully shelved, the little DVD recorder is on much more than it used to be. Probably a couple of hours a day, more on the weekend. Yesterday, as I was watching Popular, the screen started twitching. At first I though maybe it was me. Maybe I could get the DTs even though I don't drink. I stood and walked around and sat down again. The screen twitched again. I took off my glasses, rubbed my eyes, put my glasses back on, and looked again.

Twitch, went the picture.

Twitch, went my eyelid.

Off, went the TV.

This morning, same problem.

I guess I'll be plugging in my old reliable player. Maybe I should try a "universal" remote. Anyone have one, that you got for a reasonable price, that you like?

Nothing to report today.

Move along.

No Strike

That's the way it looks, at least. The union members still have to ratify the new contract and then the state has to pass the budget. Fortunately, since it is an election year, the budget should be passed by the end of the month, which is close enough to on time for most politicians (especially since their constituents don't have a clue when the budget is actually supposed to be passed). It's only fifteen days late, who cares? Right?

Basically, the new contract give all the workers a pay increase (The increase isn't retroactive; instead they're paying the workers off with a one time lump sum. If I get the lump, I'll be getting more money than I would have gotten in the past nine months. For most workers it's probably a few hundred dollars less. Of course, for the most part, they don't realize that, they're just happy to suddenly have extra money in time for summer.), health care costs will stay the same (My employer pays a percentage of any health care premium, they wanted to make it a flat rate, which would have screwed us as health costs went up.), retirement contributions stay the same (They would have been cut in half if the contract presented to us had gone through.), the unpaid "furlough" days are gone, and a raise in pay, based on the consumer price, index but not lower than 2%, next year at the same time. The contract expires on June 30, 2008, which is three years from the date the last contract expired.

I'm relieved that there's not going to be a strike. I would have been out there holding up a stupid sign, but not chanting the stupid slogans, to support getting a real contract, but I'm glad I don't have to.

In other news, my allergies decided to go psycho yesterday. (They probably would have on Saturday as well, but I was else where.) I asked around the office this morning if maybe there was something sprayed on the fields this weekend, but was told no.

Here's what I was told and my internal response to each:

I was told that it was due to the heat.
Two weeks ago it was just as hot, maybe even hotter, and my allergies didn't go nuts. And on Thursday it was about 95 out there and my nose was fine.

I was told it was the wind.
It's been crazy windy for the past month (with the exception of the hot day), why was it only on Sunday when I couldn't stop sneezing?

I was told that we didn't have a spring, so everything is coming in now.
No. Spring started a while ago. The massive amount of rain stopped at least six weeks ago, probably more, and plenty of things were blooming before and during the rain and in the last six weeks.

I was told that it's just because this is the worst place in the world for allergies.
I can believe that, but it's not a reasonable answer for why Sunday was total an utter misery when before that I was doing okay.

Today, I am leaky, but not as leaky as I was yesterday.

Strike?

On either Monday morning or Monday night the strike votes were counted. 85% of the people, who voted, voted in favor of the strike. The rest of this week has, according to the union's website, been full of "around the clock negotiations continue under news black out." Apparently negotiations have also been "intense."

What does this mean to me? I have no fucking clue.

What will I be doing this weekend? Worrying about how the negotiating team is doing whether or not a rolling strike will begin next week.

If I knew one way or another this weekend, I think I'd feel a lot better.

Streaming

I'm sure if I just start doing a stream of consciousness thing here I'll find something interesting to write about. Well, maybe not "interesting," but I'll at least write about something.

Was it just yesterday when I complained about baby gifts? It seems like I did that so much longer ago. It's only been a day. Is it just me, or has this week just crawled slower than a baby that's taken a Valium? At least sleeping lets me know another day has passed because if I didn't have that to break-up the week I wouldn't be able to tell the difference from one to the next. Actually, I could check to see if the pants and shirt I'm wearing are different from the ones I wore yesterday, but since I can't ever remember what I actually wore yesterday I'd never be sure. Unless my socks got hard. Do socks get hard on your feet in your shoes if you wear them for 72 hours? I'm sure someone out there has tried it before.

Yesterday was the farmer's market thing here. (They call it something different, though. I think they do it so people like me, who sometimes take things too literally.) It's mostly built up of boothey things that have people selling jewelry or where local, sometimes chain, restaurants are selling food at prices higher than they sell the food for at the restaurants' physical locations. Anyway, I actually remembered that it was farmer's market day and brought some money with me. For the past two (three?) weeks I've been walking through it with no money and therefore don't buy anything, but yesterday was going to be different. I was going to buy some smoked salmon. Each time I walked through, it's in the middle of a street I can walk down to get to my apartment, I've seen this guy sitting at a card table with a cooler and a sign that said "Home Smoked Salmon" and I wanted some. He wasn't there yesterday, though. Maybe he ran out. Maybe he'll be back next week. I can only hope he will be and that I'll remember to bring my money.

Tonight, I'm going to watch my Arrested Development season 1 DVD, eat some chocolate Teddy Grams, read a book that I've read before, and sleep. How about you?

Baby Blues

About three weeks ago, right before Memorial Day, I think, The Supervisor's daughter gave birth. The supervisor became a grandma. I did my thing; I congratulated her, and pretended to be interested in her family. I smiled at the picture she showed me. And when she said, "Isn't he cute." I just smiled and nodded rather than saying he looks like a crustacean without its shell--all pink and squishy with bulbous eyes. Yuck.

That Thursday, I was handed a card by SHTK and told to sign it. I asked what it was for. She said it was to congratulate The Supervisor on her grandchild. SHTK told me, again, to sign it and then pass it on to the next clerk for more signing. I sighed and rolled my eyes. It's not like The Supervisor had to do any work in getting this grandson. Her daughter is the one who, hopefully, had fun making it and had to do the bulk of the work during the incubation period. (The son-in-law did the rest of the work.) Sure, The Supervisor visited her daughter after the due date came and went, but before that, she complained a lot about her daughter not bringing the baby belly to North Bay, like her daughter and her daughter's husband didn't just move into a new place so there would be room for the baby and they didn't want everything set up and ready by the time the incubation was over. I sighed again and signed the card. I didn't write anything clever, because, honestly, I didn't care.

On Friday, SHTK came to work carrying a bag. It was the kind of bag presents are placed in. When I looked closer, I saw little plumes of tissue paper coming out the top. I didn't ask what it was. I didn't want to know. It was none of my business. TMSV, on the other hand, decided that it was her business. "What's in the bag?" she demanded. SHTK slid her hand in and pulled out started to pull out something fuzzy. It was a stuffed stegosaurus, exactly they kind of stuffed animal who would have terrorized all the stuffed animals, but was really a coward and a nice guy, if I had it when I was a kid. "Who's it for?" demanded TMSV. SHTK said it was for The Supervisor, to go with the card. TMSV got excited. I wanted to pound my head into my desk.

Ten minutes later, SHTK poked her head around the partition that blocks my view of the front and said, "Everyone else is giving some money for the gift. You don't have to if you don't want to." And she turned away.

I don't bring cash with me to work unless I'm planning on going out to lunch or cruise the comic shop. If I have it on me, I'll spend it. So, I couldn't give her anything, but I saw the production that was made when the others gave her a few dollars. I went on my break.

As I walked back to my desk after my break ended, SHTK came around a corner so fast she almost hit me. "Hurry up," she said.

"Why?"

"We're giving her the dinosaur and the card now," she said in a hushed voice and turned around, walking quickly away from me.

I rolled my eyes again and followed her.

The gift and the card were received with much thanks. And I slinked back to my desk as soon as I could.

Last week, Monday or Tuesday, NPWH's oldest daughter produced a spawn of her own. This time, I wasn't subjected to pictures and inane questions. NPWH has her own office-esque area and stays pretty private. (I didn't even know her daughter was carrying until Monday morning because her daughter had been in the hospital over the weekend with labor pains.) She doesn't foist stories of her life on the people of the office to prove that she has one, like The Supervisor does. (Remember, people, you choose to come here and have my "life" forced on you. It's not like being stuck in the break room trying to read and hearing about the same damn car trip down Highway 49 her and her husband took five years ago.) So, after the announcement, I congratulated her and said that I bet she's extra eager to get to her vacation now to see the little one. She agreed that she can't wait to go. And that was that.

Until yesterday, when SHTK came at me with a card, "Sign it and pass it along," she said. "It's for NPWH."

This time, I signed it and passed it along without the sighing and eye rolling.

Today, a Piglet toy, that rattles when you shake it, showed up in a party bag. That's when I rolled my eyes.

I got up to hunt down files and SHTK chased me around the same corner we nearly collided at two weeks ago. "Where are you going?" She was flustered.

"I'm doing my work." I waved the papers I had in my hand at her.

"But we're giving [NPWH] the card and toy now. Come on." She hurried away.

I sighed and followed.

I Have a Bad Headache

So, today you get a recommended website, pointed out to me by the Televisionary himself.

Visit Superdickery.com. My favorite, so far, is this one.

Enjoy.

Talkin' Cars

When talking to people, like actually speaking with them, using my voice and hearing their voices and sometimes seeing their spittle fly out of their mouth, many of them said they didn't want to see this movie because the trailer makes it look bad. I, personally, can't remember when a Pixar trailer ever looked good. Can you? So, when deciding whether or not to see a movie made by the Pixar people I think about two things: The first is their record of making a stream of wonderful and fun movies. When I can only compare one Pixar movie to another Pixar movie to try and find fault with it, which means they're always better than the average film out there. When I think about their movies and A Bug's Life is the worst one they made, but I still think it's charming and fun and better than most things that came out that year, it means they've made a bunch of good movies. The second thing I think about is the fact that they take classic plots, plots that we've seen on TV and in the movies more times than we want to count, and do them better than anyone else has in recent memory.

Cars is about Lighting McQueen (Owen Wilson), a big shot racing star, who gets stuck in a nearly dead hick town on Route 66. He destroys property and is sentenced to stay in town and fix what he destroyed. While there, he learns that not life in the fast lane (HAHAHAHAHAH!) isn't everything and that sometimes it's better to slow down and find something to care for other than winning.

Sound familiar? The basic plot reminds me of Doc Hollywood. (I'm sure that there are older movies with the same plot, but Doc Hollywood was the first movie I remember seeing with this plot and it has a naked girl rising from the lake, which left quite an impact on my young mind when I saw it.)

The thing is, the movie is so much more than its plot. It's all the wonderful side character. There's Doc Hudson (voiced wonderfully by Paul Newman) who's the little town's sharp doctor and judge and he has a past that no one in town knows about. There's Mater (Larry the Cable Guy) who's as dumb as the tractors he tips but the most loyal and trusting tow truck you could ever meet. There's Ramone (Cheech Marin) the low-rider who runs the body shop and changes his paint on a daily basis and Flo (Jennifer Lewis), his wife, who runs the diner. There's Sally (Bonnie Hunt) who used to live in LA but fell in love with the small town and want to bring it back to what it was. And on and on. Each character in the town has enough personality that I was able to build elaborate back stories for them that told me why they live there and why they didn't leave when the town dried up.

Then there's the way the film looks. The animation is stunning. I found myself captivated by the shadows cast by the cars in the racing scene at the beginning of the film. The backgrounds (I'm talking landscape here) are full of visual car jokes that it took me way too long to see and when I did, I couldn't help chuckling at them. Mater looks like he's made of rust and if someone sneezed on him he'd just blow away. The reflection on Lightning when he's in bright light is amazing. And the paint job he got near the end, the fact that Pixar could do it with a moving object, blew me away.

For the most part, the voice acting was superb. Paul Newman blew me away as Doc. And Jennifer Lewis cracked me up when I heard her speak. Owen Wilson was the only disappointment. It seemed to me that he was just phoning in his performance by playing character's he's already been. (Hansel from Zoolander and Roy O'Bannon from Shanghai Noon seemed to be the big influences.) His performance wasn't bad, just not as good as the others. There were also a bunch of cameos by famous car people, but I didn't recognize most of them, since I'm not a race fan, but I did recognize Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers, who host Car Talk on NPR. (I am such an NPR geek.)

One question that I kept coming to throughout the movie was, why are there sidewalk? (See this comic for a similar thought.)

The only problem I had was with the ending. (I usually have a problem with endings, don't I?) Yes, I knew it would end happy and I was pretty sure how it would end and I was thrilled at how the final race was concluded, but the final ending was just too pat, too sickly, gooey sweet. A little realism there would have gone a long way with me, but it probably would have left the rest of the audience a really bad taste in their mouths.

So, I say go and see and enjoy Cars. It's not their best, but it's certainly better than most of the other things you'll see this summer.

Randomness

Yesterday was one set of grandparents' 62nd anniversary. If I double my age, I've been alive less than half the time they've been married. (And I'm their oldest grandchild.) My other set of grandparents have a ways to go before they catch up, and I hope they never do because that would mean that one out of the four has gone missing, and I'd rather not have to deal with that until I'm so old I'll forget all about it the next day. Too bad that won't happen, but it's a nice wish.

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I saw a file with the name Jeffrey Johnson Junior. I couldn't help thinking that his middle name is Jackson so when his mom would get angry with him she'd yell, "Jeffrey Jackson Johnson Junior get over here!"

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You scored as Suicide. Your death will be suicide. What more can I say? Fact: Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. If you want to know how you will commit suicide, take a look at your second highest percentage on the bar graphs.

How Will You Die??
created with QuizFarm.com

My second highest percentage was "disappear." So, you've all been warned.

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When I saw A Prairie Home Companion the other day, I was sitting next to this older woman who was busy chatting away with her husband, before the movie, about how much she liked their seats because it was right under the light and she could read. She reached into her bag and pulled out her book and noticed that I was already reading. "You brought a book, too," she said.

"Yup," I said.

"See what I brought." She turned the cover toward me. It was one of those new Little Lulu trades. I smiled.

"It was my birthday present."

"It's a good gift,” I said.

"Can you imagine a 67-year-old woman wanting this as a birthday present?" she asked. "But I did."

"It's a good gift," I said again. "Anyone who doesn't like Little Lulu deserves..." I paused. I wasn't sure if saying "deserves to die" is the kind of thing one should say to a stranger. "Well, I'm not sure what they deserve, but it should be something painful."

She laughed and said, "You are absolutely right." She opened her book and started reading.

I went back to my reading.

Every minute or so I heard her chuckle.

---

At lunch this week, I've been heading out of the office, going to the south stairwell, climbing to the landing between the fourth floor and the roof access, and sitting there to read. So far, it's the best place I've found for privacy in this town that isn't my apartment or has a toilet to sit on.

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Here's a cartoon that I wish were animated and played in every movie theater worldwide.

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And now I'm done. Have a decent weekend folks.

A Prairie Home Companion

"We come from people who brought us up to believe that life is a struggle, and if you should feel really happy, be patient: this, too, will pass." --Garrison Keillor

That's not the whole quote, just the last part. The first part is just as funny, which makes the last part even funnier. Unfortunately, I can't remember the whole quote because so much was going on in the movie.

That's right. Last night, I saw the movie I was most looking forward to in a "special sneak preview." All the other people out there who are looking forward to seeing it (not enough people, if you ask me) have to wait until Friday. (Or, if you come from a place like my hometown, you'll probably have to wait until it's available through Netflix. *sigh*)

So, what is A Prairie Home Companion? It's a movie about what goes on backstage, and onstage, at a radio show broadcasting its final show. The final show part is always there, but I got the feeling that a the backstage would have been just as chaotic it if the film was just about putting on a radio show this size.

The cast is star studded and they all do an excellent job. Altman's direction is sure and he keeps the camera moving to show the frantic pace. And Garrison Keillor's script is hilarious.

Fans of the radio show will not be disappointed. Guy Noir is there with his classic opening about "a city that knows how to keep its secrets." Also, there's Dusty and Lefty fighting and singing right there on stage.

Oh, and the show is brought to you by Powdermilk Biscuits, Bebop-a-reebop Rhubarb Pie, and The Catchup Advisory Board, which bottles a little bit of sunshine just for you.

Good-Bye Everwood

I watched the series finale of Everwood again last night. I'm really going to miss the show. Not that (m)any of you would understand. You didn't watch it. You don't know how well acted and scripted and directed it was. You missed out. From now on, I'll be missing out, too.

While I was thrilled that Everwood was able to have a final episode, I was disappointed with the end. I know that the writers and produces and the whatnots wanted happy endings that tied up the major romances, but, to me, that was far too simplistic for this show. Since it's beginning, Everwood has been about people making mistakes and learning from them, only to realize that in the process of learning nothing is completely fixed, nothing comes out perfectly. The life of these characters was messy, most of their endings weren't. If I could change the finale, I'd make the Amy/Ephram ending closer to the Bright/Hannah ending. That's just me, though.

To read a pretty good review of the last episode, check out what Matt Roush wrote.

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On another note, I don't know what's wrong with me. I still don't feel too well. My stomach is achy on the top part and my head feels like it's being pressed in on five sides.

Here

I'm not feeling very well, haven't been since last Friday.

Today, you get a link to a funny animation.

Enjoy.

Too True

This comic shows part of the truth of what X-Men: The Last Stand is.

What was their problem with Cyclops?