1.30.2001
I do NOT speak Portugeuse
I don't want a boyfriend in Brazil and I DO NOT want a strategic alliance with your Brazilian company. This is a personal Web site and just because some web cam site down there listed me in their top ten Web cams (which kills me because it hasn't been updated in a month), that does not mean I have any clue what you are saying when you write me letters in Spanish or Portugeuse (why would you assume that when my entire site is in English?). I don't want any pen pals on foreign shores...I can barely keep up with the people I actually know. I know this sounds exceptionally caustic but I'm getting tired of posting my emails into babelfish to read them. So there.
9:14 AM | link | up| archives |
1.29.2001
don't fear the reaper
radio in backwater towns is always a fascinating phenomenon. I spent the weekend with a friend in a place called Pittsfield, MA. Interesting little town...one of the largest in the Berkshires and defined by such landmarks as Herman Melville's house and the Berkshire Museum (which is quaint and curious at the same time, complete with kooky animal dioramas from 1953). Yet the radio in this town is probably the biggest curiosity and the stations are characterized by mid-70-80s glam rock and heavy metal bands. I'm talking bands like Quiet Riot, Bob Seger, Europe, Def Leppard, Supertramp, Elton John, a bit of U2 thrown in for measure (odd amongst the other bands) and a bevy of bands that they play over and over again....like Big Head Todd and the Monsters, who we heard twice and the winner of the weekend...Blue Oyster Cult.
Now, not only did we hear Blue Oyster Cult five times in the span of two days, but we heard the song "Don't Fear the Reaper," for three of those...and my friend was right, it is about suicide. Got to love the redundancy of small town radio.
There are other things that are amazing about small towns...lawn animals and house decorations not withstanding. This time it was punctuated by tall purple lighthouses on the lawns and a near-life size (of a baby) giraffe on someone's enclosed porch. And then there are the funny little restaurants...like Teos, which serves mini chili-dogs and the "chicken" place, which I don't recall the name...but it had a big chicken on the top. It's geriatric central (our hosts were telling us how they ate there once and the firemen came for heart attack victims twice while they were there) and they serve lots of overcooked vegetables. The Harvard beets were a serious curiosity...they came in some weird sickly pink gel...no way on earth that you could get that down my throat. The BBQ chicken I had was excellent. They're known, however, for their heart attack size prime rib. A man sitting at the table next to ours was eating one...it had to have been the size of his head and wow...I have NEVER seen anyone put more salt on a piece of food than that man. He would eat a bite, salt some more, eat another, salt some more...ick.
But the views, the peacefulness, the charm...that's all worth it. To be able to look up at the sky and see the billion stars that you can't see in the city...or to fall asleep and hear, literally...nothing.
2:20 PM | link | up| archives |
1.23.2001
so many
encouraging emails from people who responded to my emotional outburst of yesterday. Thanks. Good to know there are people of like sentiment out there.
Oh, and a round of thank you goes out to ejmarc, from somewhere in some foreign country, who writes, and I quote: "You are ugly." Such love in the world! I assume that he is talking about what IS an ugly picture in my opinion...the recent webcam pic (cam is on the fritz and won't update and I don't have the patience to figure it out), but still. He's got to be feeling a lot of anger and frustration about his own life that he has to write some completely random stranger and tell me that he finds me ugly. Eric, go visit www.ratemypicture.com if that sort of thing gives you sick sardonic pleasure. I don't happen to have that kind of site, by the way.
And so rarely do I pay attention to all the cutesy chain emails I get, but well...this one from my Aunt I liked:
I want to go back to the time when.....................
· Decisions were made by going "eeny-meeny-miney-mo."
· Mistakes were corrected by simply exclaiming, "do over!"
· "Race issue" meant arguing about who ran the fastest.
· Money issues were handled by whoever was the banker in "Monopoly."
· Catching the fireflies could happily occupy an entire evening.
· It wasn't odd to have two or three "best" friends.
· Being old, referred to anyone over 20.
· The net on a tennis court was the perfect height to play volleyball and
rules didn't matter.
· The worst thing you could catch from the opposite sex was cooties.
· It was magic when dad would "remove" his thumb.
· It was unbelievable that dodgeball wasn't an Olympic event.
· Having a weapon in school, meant being caught with a slingshot.
· Nobody was prettier than Mom.
· Scrapes and bruises were kissed and made better.
· It was a big deal to finally be tall enough to ride the "big people"
rides at the amusement park.
· Getting a foot of snow was a dream come true.
· Abilities were discovered because of a "double-dog-dare."
· Saturday morning cartoons weren't 30-minute ads for action figures.
. No shopping trip was complete, unless a new toy was brought home.
· "Oly-oly-oxen-free" made perfect sense.
· Spinning around, getting dizzy and falling down was cause for giggles.
· The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team.
· War was a card game.
· Water balloons were the ultimate weapon.
· Baseball cards in the spokes transformed any bike into a motorcycle.
· Taking drugs meant orange-flavored chewable aspirin.
· Ice cream was considered a basic food group.
10:20 PM | link | up| archives |
animal rituals
my loverkitty is a strange one. Funny how animals also have little rituals, places they like to sit, the way they like to eat their food, drink water, how they like to sleep. Yeah yeah, this is a cat blog, so those not inclined, don't read on.
My Romeo has many strange habits (lint-eating being one of them) but one that has been with me today is how he has to be within my vicinity. He can't bear to not be able to get to me at any given time. For example, in the bathroom, if I shut the door, he'll stand outside, cry in his kitty way and stick both fuzzy white paws under the door, curl them upward and try to open it (it IS both mildly disturbing and very adorable watching this). He manages it if I don't have the door all the way shut, then he comes in and wraps himself around my legs. So every morning when I'm getting ready, he does the same thing...standing outside the door, crying, sticking his paws under, until I finally open the door for him. Then he spends the next twenty minutes with me, wandering around my legs as I dry my hair, do my makeup, curl my hair. Every once in awhile I'll lean over and pet him, usually after he's fallen to the floor in a "pet me, pet me" sort of flop. How can you not fall in love with such a creature?
One thing that I decided very early on in breaking off my marriage...as I started dating again, that no one would ever win over my cat. Those with allergies would eventually have to suffer or be out of luck. Sounds cruel, but there is no usurping of the cat. He rules the roost and he knows it and I am perfectly content to let him. He has been my true blue companion in every crazy situation, sickness, joy, frustration, sadness. He knows when I'm feeling off...he will come curl up with me, talk to me, try to divert my attention. I would be devastated if anything happened to him.
It's not just cat lovers that get very attached to their pets. My grandfather loved his little white cockapoo sort of mutt, Jenny. She was his constant companion, following him everywhere. I remember going out to eat and he would ALWAYS bring her a doggy bag. When she died, he was devastated. They had her cremated and he still has her ashes on his dresser. A bit extreme to some people, but I can understand. Then again, my grandfather was always very sentimental...probably where I inherited my bit.
Every night when I come home and find Romeo, he sniffs my forehead, right where the hair and skin meet. Not sure why, but he smells it once and that's it. It's not as though he doesn't recognize me, he clearly does, but it's a bit of a greeting ritual. Strange cat. But then again, it's no different than the strageness of his lint eating, the racing across the entire apartment like a herd of elephants after he's taken a poo (someone told me that that reaction is instinctual...he's trying to get as far away from his scent as quickly as possible...but that didn't make much sense since he's super anal about the catbox and spends 20 minutes in there trying to cover it all up), or the cute little way that he loves when I order chicken teriyaki from the local Chinese joint. He wants two-three small pieces and that's it. Every time, always the same.
He IS a good kitty.
3:35 PM | link | up| archives |
1.22.2001
and so
"Let us have peace." ~Ulysses S. Grant, 1868
3:37 PM | link | up| archives |
things you should never discuss
with people unless you plan on the strong possibility of disagreement or a fight: religion and politics and money. Today it's politics and I apparently am a fool with uneducated opinions. I had expected it...I had completely anticipated it...but the shock for me was that it didn't come from someone I didn't know. It came from someone who I do know, who is, rightfully so, furious that I'm blogging here right now about this, and who doesn't know when to take his foot out of his mouth and put it back down on the ground.
Ahh but I'm in the grand habit of disappointing the world, my father, my mother, my boss, my friends...I suppose that this latest revelation that the opinions that I form are disappointing as well, shouldn't be a surprise to me now.
This is a Monday that I should never have gotten out of bed for.
1:42 PM | link | up| archives |
smarmy
i always expect some nasty email when I talk politics on the site...but I never have received any. Until this morning, from a friend, who I am shocked to hear, thinks that my writing is "drivel" and that I have been hanging around with "sloppy, lightweight thinkers (and I wonder who that is in reference to????)" And that he could argue all of the points I made in my last blog with the exception of the simian references.
The thing is, there is nothing to fucking argue. It's my opinion. I said that when I talk to those Republicans that I KNOW, none of them can point to bad things Clinton did in office. I am not saying he was a fucking angel...I'm just saying that the people that I know that support Bush can't give me any concrete reasons why they didn't like Clinton with the exception of the Monica scandal. I'm not saying that there aren't reasons...just that no one can give them to me. That people voted blindly because Clinton had an indiscretion while in office, not because he was a bad president or because they didn't like his policies.
And honestly...it's plain as day that Bush is inarticulate in public settings and needs his hand held (notice the simplicity of his speech? mostly short words with no complexity) whereas Clinton could charm audiences, ad-lib without the aid of teleprompters. I never said that he was a man of honor, hell, there are few fucking men with honor in this world if you want my opinion.
Drivel. I write drivel apparently. You know, normally I wouldn't care at all what people said, but this time was different. Rather than telling me that he disagreed with my opinion, he shot down my writing and the people who inspire me to write. I haven't had someone say such a shitty thing to me since my best friend in college told me my writing was smarmy.
What a way to start my day. Bad enough that I have to come into work for someone who I am constantly "disappointing." But to top it off with such inappropriate and inconsiderate comments from someone who I used to look up to. Looks like I have one hell of a wonderful week to look forward to.
Thanks, old friend. Makes me awfully inclined to share more drivel with you.
10:07 AM | link | up| archives |
1.20.2001
gonna miss bubba
i am. really. I went to an anti-dubya brunch today over at my friend Paulette's. Four of us "hens" as another one of my friends would say, sitting around cackling at our new president's simian-like visage. It was amazing, watching the difference between how little georgie jr. talks vs. Clinton. Watching Clinton's farewell speech at the airbase was moving, was characteristic of his charismatic charm, and he is right. He did a lot of good while he was there.
When I talk to those Republicans that I know, not a single one of them can really point to anything bad that Clinton did in office unless it had something to do with the whole Monica thing. And they focus in on how he lied to the country. As if they would tell the truth when confronted by their community. Jeesh. But as far as anything else, they can't really say much...not about anything political that he did that they felt was bad for the country. They will say that the economy taking an upswing had nothing to do with him being in office, but I would argue that.
So now we have Georgie porgie in office. Four years of levity ahead. Paulette was telling me that Dennis Miller was talking about that...about how for the world of comedy, it was like being a hardware store owner and you see a storm coming. You don't really want the storm, but damn it's going to be excellent for business!! Lots of monkey jokes. Lots of idiots. Lots more Bushisms. Like this one that Slate featured the other day: "I'm hopeful. I know there is a lot of ambition in Washington, obviously. But I hope the ambitious realize that they are more likely to succeed with success as opposed to failure."-- Interview with the Associated Press, Jan. 18, 2001
And Laura. Sigh. Not a positive role model for today's women, unfortunately. A role model for conservative, barefoot, pregnant, homemakers with bad designers from Texas. She follows her husband, her husband who barely notices her, who didn't even look at her today during the toast to his presidency...she was standing in front of him, glass raised and he just looked past her. It's about him...it's not about family...it's not about sharing the success with his wife. Sigh. Poor woman. I felt sorry for her today, a silent figure, only noticed for the bad blue dress she wore that you could pick out from across the room.
And so, here we go. Four years of uncertainty, of embarassing jokes on behalf of the leader of our country. Honestly...I've seen more bad jokes about monkey boy in the last three months than I ever did during the entire year or more that the Monica scandal was occurring. So many more to come...
I hope Hillary gives Georgie Porgie hell.
7:34 PM | link | up| archives |
1.19.2001
breathe
sometimes it's all you can do just to move air in and out of your lungs.
I had a conversation with a coworker today, telling her about the crisis hotline I used to work at years back. The suicides, the men with guns to their wife's head, the mothers whose kids would beat them up, the the woman that used to molest children, the crazy old woman that used to call up people in the phone book and tell them she was hungry and could they bring her fried chicken? They would. It put a lot of my life in perspective while I was there.
That conversation came on the heels of some news that a close friend of mine received about his stepchild being diagnosed with cervical cancer. I don't know her but the shock of it even for me is strong. This same friend has two kids with cystic fibrosis, a wife with a wild thyroid disorder and a condition that might lead to blindness, an aunt with gangrene and now this. It makes the things in my life that seem rough suddenly become very very trivial.
Such strength. He tells me that he never really feels strong in the face of it all, but the truth of it is that he is...he is forced to be. He is the center of their lives...the pillar that keeps that family hinged together and whole. It is a really weighty thing to carry. I do not envy him. But for all the things that he and I fight about, in this I have complete and utter admiration. And I have recognized value in my life as a result of those things...which seems so funny, to sound like I'm capitalizing on his hardship, but that's not it. I have learned through him about the value of relationships, about not taking the people in your life for granted, about finding ways to nurture and grow the relationships in your life, with your family. The older I get, the more I see this. The less important business becomes, the less important money is, the less important material things are. I would not have this view without having the chance to know my friend...not in the same way. I've seen how he interacts with his children...how he has built the relationships in such a way as to provide amazing love and support and value for those kids. That is something I do envy.
It's partly because of him that I have such joy in the people around me...in finding ways to live and enjoy life...and to know what it really means to breathe.
That girl doesn't deserve to have cancer...no one, of course does. But I can tell you, she has one hell of a wonderful father figure there to be with her during her time of need.
3:09 PM | link | up| archives |
1.18.2001
voyager
niki is back from Russia...I can't wait to see her pictures. I have such envy, I must admit. A lot of envy for most of the people that I know, who have traveled to various parts of the world. My dear friend Greg is in China now, teaching English and he takes vacations all over Asia and Europe. My friend Joanie recently came back from Spain and she went to all sorts of places last summer...to Vietnam. Jack just came back from Australia.
I feel so boring, so stuck. I have wanted my whole life to travel, to explore. I couldn't go on exchange trips in high school and college...the money was too tight. And it's only now that I finally have an income that might support travelling, but I need to get my debt under control first. I have managed to see much of the US through my work travels, and that is something that I am grateful for. And long ago, I had the chance to go on a cruise and had a bit of time to spend (but not much) in Costa Rica (the white water rafting trip is probably one of the most amazing things I have ever done), Colombia (I got to hold a sloth!!), and a little bit of Aruba (first and only time snorkeling). But the time was so limited and the company for the most part undesireable (basically had to go with the ex's parents and grandparents, both of which hated me).
Still, there is so much that I want to see and do. My company is going to the Bahamas the first week of March and that is something that might be a lot of fun. But I want to see Europe so very desperately. Ever since I was very little I wanted to go to the British Isles, to see castles and cathedrals, to see old cities and worn streets. I have a yearning to see the world, to visit cultures that I have barely touched. When friends talk about new places I want to hear about all of it...I wish I could read all their travel journals, to taste a bit of that which I have not. I can't wait to see Niki's pictures, to hear her stories.
Someday. Someday I'll get across that damn ocean.
10:15 AM | link | up| archives |
1.17.2001
alternative topics
So my English friend (hence the strangeness) suggested the following tidbits for discussion on my blog (which is probably better than the ranting and raving I would do about being treated (scolding, being told how "disappointed" they are in you, etc. etc.) like a child by my boss):
~What is wrong with just about everybody? The water has been poisoned, I tell you. Some people are just a bit more immune than others, I think. I mean, how else can you explain George Bush? How else can you explain the insanity of your ex-wife? How else to explain an overwhelming desire to micromanage a business and deflate your employees day by day? It's the water. The water.
~How to skin a hedgehog. Give it more water. Sedate it. Then bonk it on the head and turn it over. Wait! Why would you want to skin a hedgehog? That's terrible! You mean bloody bastard!
~Why people dislike George W. Oh come on,...it's CLEAR...CLEAR...he's a monkey and a stupid monkey at that. And he wants to appoint racist, ultra-conservative, chauvinist, ex-Nixon cabinet members to office. If I were a punker (ahh but the days are long gone), I might be screaming about the new fascist regime...
Is the Death penalty a tad harsh? Well apparently Georgie doesn't think so. How many executions in Texas last year? 120+?
What is perversion? Depends on who you are talking to. And my mom might someday read this site so I am going to refrain from helping her further believe that I am hellbound.
Is anatomy destiny? Huh? Are you talking about genes being hereditary? If anatomy fits together right? Size? You've confused me.
Tissues, necessity or fashion statement? Body tissues? Necessity. Nose tissues? Necessity. NEVER a fashion statement. But 600 times better than carrying around a greasy boogered up handkerchief in your pocket....EWWWWWW hint hint
4:01 PM | link | up| archives |
1.14.2001
angelic voice
And niki, who is off gallavanting about Russia, has a link to this very cool site.
1:59 PM | link | up| archives |
a goal
On one side there is luminosity, trust, faith, the beauty of the earth; on the other side, darkness, doubt, unbelief, the cruelty of the earth, the capacity of people to do evil. When I write, the first side is true; when I do not write, the second is. Thus I have to write, to save myself from disintegration. Not much philosophy in the this statement, but at least it has been verified by experience. ~ Czeslaw Milosz
My friend Payman gave me a book by the above poet, a Nobel prize winner who hails from Poland originally, but who now teaches at Berkeley. Payman knows my love of poetry, of words and how their expression is extremely dear to my heart--it was a very thoughtful gift, to share with me the words of someone he felt I would connect with, and I have. Milosz managed to capture, in that short bit of prose, how I feel about myself and my writing. It is very much like that, two sides, love and hate. When writing I feel that love of myself and of life more, when I am not, there is something missing, lacking, dark and not actually hateful, but rather, devoid of love. It's very difficult to explain. But that is the reason for this blog, to keep that bit of me disintegrating, deteriorating. It is cathartic, it is near habit, it is a release of strange toxins inside of me.
I went out with friends on Friday night to celebrate the beautiful ring on my friend Joanie's finger. I too, am impressed at her fiance's wonderful taste in gems. Congrats to the both of you. Joanie is so radiant with happiness. Her excitement was contagious.
One of my friends at dinner that night mentioned something to me which shocked me a great deal with its truth. I've thought a lot about it, turning it over in my mind. She remarked on my own happiness...and how she hadn't really known me to be happy in the four years that I have known her. She's right though. I hadn't been happy. I hadn't been truly comfortable within myself. The last few years have been full of conflict for me, internally. I've made some choices in my life that have been confusing and have left me in circumstances that were not the best for me or the people around me. I even lost a very close friend this year due to an extremely poor decision that I made. I regret very few things in my life, but the loss of her comradarie and advice is something that I regret very much and there is no one to blame but myself in that matter. Still, this summer and fall was a significant turning point for me. I feel cleansed. I am on track for the first time in countless years. I am thoughtful about my actions, about the things I say, about how what I say or do will affect people around me...and how in turn that will affect me. I feel joy and comfort in every day of my life, something I cannot say that I have felt in a very very long time. And while certain parts of me feel stress about different aspects of my life, I still have tremendous happiness which is pervasive throughout my being. Now don't misunderstand, I have been happy (often very very happy) during much of my past years, but it wasn't a constant. It was fleeting, it was momentary...lasting as long as particular events dictated...there was always a darker cloud on the horizon. This is, finally, different.
And now I'm sitting here, with strange tears in my eyes, feeling a combination of sadness at the more sorrowful events over the last year...the loss of that girlfriend, the ending of a long amiable marriage, and the constant struggle to understand how my once best friend has changed and makes decisions that I do not know how to comprehend...and then feeling a thankfulness, for the knowledge about myself that I have now that I didn't then, for having good friends and companionship in my life, for new lights at the end of what was often a gray tunnel...and happiness, for the sense of freedom, of love of myself, for coming home everyday and feeling a new sense of elation at the fortune I now have. I've always been emotional. I've cried countless times in the last years, more times than I can count. Now, for the first time in a long time, I am crying because I have my own new luminosity and faith to celebrate.
1:43 PM | link | up| archives |
1.12.2001
sleeping
in tomorrow is going to be such bliss. This week has been so stressful, sleepless and headachey. It's feeling like that will go better, but it has taken such a toll on my body.
I'm going to be 30 this year. My dear friend Greg turned 30 on the 1st...at least I have the consolation that he's a bit older than I, grin. But wow...my life is 1/3 over now. My body feels older.
This morning on my way to work, I saw an old man pushing a handtruck on the sidewalk. He must have been near 80, with a very wizened, wrinkled face. His cheeks had sunken inward so that you couldn't see his lips--a result of no teeth and no dentures. The worst part though, was his tongue, which seemed to permanently stick out of his little mouth...just a pink wet nub that went in and out of that wrinkly hole. I felt such strange shock, sadness and yes, ashamedly, disgust. He wasn't a tramp or anything like that...just an old man whose body was no longer kind to him.
Sad how our society has made us value beauty over age.
4:59 PM | link | up| archives |
1.10.2001
monkeys in the white house!
Really...check it out!
~and oh...I forgot to mention below that I think I'm going back to school in the fall...
11:06 PM | link | up| archives |
musing
2001 has not yet been my year for the blog, I'm afraid. I come to the site every day...some days staring at the Blogger interface (which, btw, is an excellent case study in Internet technology, permission marketing, user buy-in and a bunch of other things that are interesting to me) and just feel blank. The thing is, I have a billion things to say...they're just locked up inside right now.
Why?
~ Stressed at work (to the point of bad dreams, waking up in a cold sweat, talking in my sleep). It's not what I thought it would be...the challenge lies in discovering new ways to work in an unfamiliar micromanagement situation. The excitement of the first month led to frustration which has in turn, led to inertia. Not a great place to be. But thanks to some good advice from a co-worker this morning, I'm feeling a little better...at least today. Let's hope that I can recover some of my motivation before the lack of it buries me.
~ Rediscovered Everquest. The world's most addictive, largest, Internet online gaming community has sucked me back in...but this time I have a local, offline comrade in crime to smash beasties with, to share the woes of not zoning in time, and even to be so kind as to trade 40 valuable bone chips for the Stein of Moggok for my little lvl 12 enchanter. You rock, btw. Not to mention extra-cool Swiss druid friends who can give me wolf-form and power-level the hell out of me. Which reminds me that I haven't posted that portrait that he did of me for Christmas...which I will, soon, really, because it's cool. I just always think of it when I'm not at home where the pic is at.
~Stressed about money. Story of my life, right? But I see some lights at the end of that tunnel.
~Slight writers block. Not block really...perhaps just a building up of the writing energy inside me. I have the first inklings of a new good story that I'm starting to write down. I'm reading a bit more and I'm immersed in the atmosphere that my story idea requires, so that's helpful. At least the buzz is going on internally...it's not a deadness, just an inability to express it at the moment.
~ Have some paperwork that I'm waiting for to come to me and it's not and figuring out how to handle that situaton is an ongoing sadness and frustration. Funny how good memories that you had of someone can change when they don't follow through on the present. I find that my good feelings about the past are turning to frustration, bitterness and anger...which is the last thing I want, but I don't know how to do much about it. I hate nagging, pushing, tugging, pulling.
But there are good things going on in my life. Really good things that constantly amaze me. I'm involved with the world around me in a heightened way, even if the results aren't appearing here on the site.
I'm catching up with old friends...oh CONGRATULATIONS my new soon to be married, friend, Joanie. The cubers are going to have to find a new margarita hole...and I think that the Coyote Grill in Kendall might be the answer.
2001 is interesting so far, there is at least that much I can say with clear definition.
4:56 PM | link | up| archives |
1.6.2001
sent from a friend
I have a moral question for you. This is an imaginary situation: You're in the Midwest, and there's a huge flood. Homes have been lost, water supplies compromised and cattle destroyed. You're a photographer looking for particularly poignant scenes.
You come across George W. Bush, who has been swept away by floodwaters. He's barely hanging on to a tree limb and is about to go under. You can either put down your camera and save him, or take a Pulitzer Prize winning picture as he loses his grip. So, here's the question and think carefully before you answer it:
Which lens would you use?
10:49 AM | link | up| archives |
