Happy September

My life is soooo special.

I'm done with the submission, and as I predicted, I'm back to normal, surfing, long lunches, etc. I upgraded to MT 3.1 last night, all by myself! I'm learning (or trying to learn) VBA so I can work with our Word templates. It's a little confusing. But it keeps me busy. I have to say that there isn't much to catch up on. The last month was spent working long hours, driving 100 miles a day, sleeping not so much. Amazingly, I've maintained my weight for the last several months. I haven't gained any...but I haven't lost any either. I'm still hoping to move closer to where I work, but I doubt it will be on the Peninsula side of the bay. I'm not too keen on living in Palo Alto or the environs. It's a little too picket fence for me. So I'm thinking of Fremont. Yay. I don't know. I hate thinking about it. I'm a little lazy when it comes to making a huge change like that. I've been where I am for six years, and I'm so comfortable with it all that just the thought of upending that life makes me break out in hives. But I hate it; I can't live there much longer. I just can't. There is so much I could try to explain, and believe me, I've tried to explain it, to rationalize it, but no matter what words I use to do so, the thought just comes out sounding wounded and like a victim, so I delete the posts and tear up the paper before it can be committed to anything. That should say enough right there, huh? What saddens me even more, and I've mentioned this as well, is that in order to break the ties to this living situation, I have to kill a relationship. I have to close it up and say good-bye. If I don't, all of this mess will follow me wherever I end up. I can't let that happen if I'm going to survive and be a happy person again. And I think this is a big part of why I haven't posted anything or even written in my paper journals. Everything I have had to say for the last few months is so negative, so bitter, and so angry that it isn't right to share it with the rest of the world. I don't want to be like this, and I don't want to always be known as the jaded, caustic, bitter person who never smiles. I wish it wouldn't take so long to happen, too. As it is, I might not be able to do anything about this until January or February, and that makes me cry inside and out. Five or six more months of this is just a horrible thought.

OMG. I'm so depressing, please forgive.

An Inspiration to Us All

Read what Brilliant Emily has to say about her reproductive system. It's dear and I can only applaud her.

Thursday Rants

OK, subsequent to my rants of yesterday, I am adding yet another one today. Let's see if I can go three for three on Friday, too. But not to get ahead of myself...

I got up bright and early this morning to go to work. I didn't pack a lunch, and I thought I would drive through the city to a Specialty's bakery to pick up a few things. There's one in South City which we used to go to when we all worked down there. So I head for the Bay Bridge. OK, let me back up: mistake number one was not packing a lunch. Mistake number two was heading for the Bay Bridge. I haven't taken the Bay Bridge on a weekday morning in several months now, and I have forgotten what a colossal pain in the ass it is. Hundreds and hundreds of cars, trucks, motorcycles all trying to crowd through the toll plaza to merge into five lanes across the upper deck. Big mistake, big, huge. It took an hour just travel ten miles. I know, people do it every day, and they don't bitch about it that bad. I used to do it, too, every day for about three years, and it became second nature to sit in a traffic jam in the morning. So I'm spoiled because the Dumbarton Bridge is like never jammed. (Knock on wood.)

So, after the bridge, I'm driving down 101 and right before the 280 merge, there's an injury accident holding up traffic again.

Finally I reach the destination with thick, gooey, chocolate brownies on my mind. I walk into the shop—it's been open for a couple of hours by now—and they have nothing. No brownies. No cheesebreads. No fresh loaves of bread on which they can make sandwiches. And now I'm screwed because, not only did I not pack a lunch, I'm already over an hour and half late for work.

So I get back on 101 and head south expected mondo traffic as I head down the Peninsula. Fortunately for me, though, the traffic was brisk and I arrived at work around 10 a.m...with no lunch, and no real good excuse for being late. I go in the back door, and people rarely come to visit me anyway, so it's not like the whole company knew I was late. I like it like that, so that part is not a rant.

It just reinforces my need to move out of Oakland and closer to where I work. I would really really like to live in San Francisco because the weather is better and the people are more fresh. The South Bay, the Peninsula, San Jose...these places don't impress me much, but they're affordable and I might get a place with a dishwasher! Isn't that reason enough to live there?

So last night, as I'm relaxing at 11:00 p.m., I turn on KQED to find a show on home burials. That's right, taking your dearly departed and caring for them after they've died, building a custom casket for them, burying them in the back yard. As morbid as it may sound, it was a very interesting point of view, and the show was well done. There are more and more people in America who are not willing to hand themselves or their loved ones over to corporate funeral services when they die. One lady said that since we raise and care for our children from the day they're born, why should we stop after they've died? Why should we give our loved ones to total strangers to take care of? And besides, death is a natural part of life. Most people with mortal souls will die after all is said and done. Home burials give family and friends the chance to mourn the loss in their time without being rushed through a wake, a funeral, the burial, all in a matter of days. Being at home gives peaceful, quiet time to reflect and say good-bye.

The whole funeral process in America has become so commercial, so capitalistic, it's all about the biggest, brassiest coffin, the grandest headstone, the largest plot (with the best view, whatever) in the cemetary. Funerals in America can cost up to $10,000! That's insane!

I have the utmost respect for death. I understand that one day it will happen to me, and I'm not afraid of it. I also understand that once I die, whatever happens to my soul, it won't need my body anymore, and thus, why should I care what my body goes into or how it looks or where it's put? It all becomes so irrelevant. So let me make it clear, here and now, what I expect of my human remains after I've checked out. Only one other person on the planet knows, respects, and will make sure this happens for me. So let's add a few more, K?

When I die, I want to be cremated. I don't want a fancy urn. I don't want to be stuck in a plot in the ground or the wall of some cemetary somewhere. I want to be scattered in the ocean. I certainly would never expect to be put in a coffin and buried in the ground. How horrible is that? My body would rot, but it would be contained in a casket that might never decay, and thus my body would never return to the Earth and provide life to the Earth's creatures as it should. That sounds miserable to me. So burn me up and make me fish food.

Anyway, I don't need a physical location to be remembered. I hope that even by now I have touched enough people in enough places (pun intended) that there is sufficient material by which to remember me. And if you think about it, when you pass a building or a location that you visited or lived in or spent time at with other people, doesn't that evoke the memory of those people whether they're living or dead? And isn't that sort of what a cemetary does for you, too? You go there to visit and pay respects to those who have gone before us. But you don't necessarily need a cemetary to do that. You can do that any time of the day or night, wherever on Earth you go. And that's why I don't want to be buried in the ground. Besides, after so long, there won't be any living people around to remember who I was or where I am, so what difference will it make? I have to tell you though, when I first went to London, I visited Old Brompton Cemetary, and I loved all of the very old headstones everywhere. But I've always loved graveyards. I think it's cool to walk around and look at the headstones and the dates of the lives of the people who are there now. This isn't going where I wanted it to...

Since I've never been one to make a solid conclusion from any kind of argument, I'll just end it here. Just so you know. And Happy Thursday.

This Is the Way to Do It!

The Wave of the Future

If Philadelphia, which plans for about 135 square miles of coverage, can do it, tiny little San Francisco, at 49 square miles (the size of Disneyworld, mind you), can do it, too.

No Rants Today

Sorry if I disappoint. I'm simply too tired and bored to rant about anything...not that I don't have anything because given the time, I'm sure I could come up with something, like my boss or whatever, but even talking about her for so long makes me weary and to the point where I'd rather just drown my head in a big bowl of vodka than have to think about her anymore which wouldn't be too bad if I threw in a bunch of orange juice and maraschino cherries to make a giant screwdriver but there's a three day weekend on the rise and I don't want to pass it by in a drunken stupor even though I've got a month of four day weeks coming along, or have I mentioned that because I worked too hard during the submission I can make it all back in the form of a long weekend here or there and so the way I planned it, I will only work Tuesday through Friday for the next four weeks and that sounds grand to me period.

I'll Drink to That!

Vote Carrie

Sorry I Missed This!

SF Woman Hauled Away for Interrupting President

Although I wouldn't have used that headline to describe her actions. She was hauled away because SHE SPOKE THE TRUTH AND THE MAN COULDN'T HANDLE IT!!!

Ahem.

Go girl.

Gee, For a Second There...

I thought I might actually post every day of September. We set our goals, you know.

I worked all of last weekend, Labor Day, that is. Aptly named in my case, I think. And this weekend, I was almost duped into pulling another one. What the fuck? Am I stupid? (Say it with me, schtyoupid.) I have to shake my own head at that one. It's a three-dayer for me, and I'm looking forward to every single one of those 72 hours. And put that way, it simply doesn't sound like enough!

I've been toying with the idea of upgrading my PowerBook Pismo from a G3 processor to a G4 courtesy of Fast Mac and their innovative processor upgrade. It's a little much for me right now, but it's still pulling at me. I can upgrade the failing CD/DVD drive at the same time for another couple of Franklins—you know, I really find it disappointing when I succumb to using common and trite phrases like "a couple of Franklins" instead of the more accurate "$200." I'm not usually one to throw out clichés like that, so when I do, I sound like a poseur. In my head, I'm saying to myself, "oh please." Anyway, my CD drive doesn't even work anymore, and I'm not going to get rid of this machine. It's way too special to me. And thank heavens for the built-in Airport card. I even went to Home Depot in search of little rubber feet to replace the ones that fell off the bottom of the machine long before I acquired it. That was a daunting experience as it always is: me in my chinos and loafers looking around this massive (and dusty) place for a tiny little package of things I can't quite describe, surrounded by a bunch of burly (and dusty) men who just stare as I walk by like I'm a freak. Well OK, so they're a good judge of character. So I'll bite it and buy the upgrades. And I'll wait another month to move to a new apartment. We make our beds, you know.

I'll be back soon.

Another Dream

I had a bizarre dream last night. OK, most dreams are bizarre. But this one is repeating itself in my head, and I want to get it out. I am walking down a street in a business district which has lots of little stores. It reminds me of College Avenue around the Rockridge BART station in Oakland/Berkeley. I'm walking past a shop window and I see a "family" of cats sitting outside. There are two adult cats and a few very small kittens around them. The door of the shop opens up and a large, grey-and-black tabby walks out, picks up one of the kittens with its claws, and returns inside the shop. Through the shop's window, I see the tabby tear at the kitten with its claws and teeth, eating the kitten. The adult cats outside don't appear to concern themselves with this. I continue walking and I see a young woman with a baby in a stroller. She's pointing out what the tabby is doing to the kitten, and I say to her, "I've certainly never seen that in nature before," and I continue on my way. When I get home, I find a black-and-white Cocker Spaniel waiting for me. This is my dog, but he's new, although he's already at least a year old. He is not house-trained, and I am faced with the difficult task of disciplining this dog.

I never liked having to be forceful with animals. I always saw it as being mean. I've read countless times that dogs strive for their owner's affection and attention, and they especially love to please their owners. Dogs usually respond well to being trained, and when they are commanded about they see or feel it to be an opportunity to please their owner. But that doesn't change the fact that my human emotions tell me that what I'm doing is hurting the dog when it's clearly not and it is clearly necessary. I want a dog so badly, but I'm afraid that when I do get a dog, I won't be able to train it well because I will feel too sympathetic to it, and I won't be forceful enough. I do believe that dogs should be trained, especially when they're on a leash. It pains me to see dogs on a leash who are walking their owners. It's not good for the dog, and I think it's somewhat irresponsible of the owner.

My goodness, am I always this preachy? Especially on a Friday? When I've got a headache that could kill an ox? And I've got nothing better to do to keep me busy?

See ya.

Rants and Raves

How about a little mix for your beautiful Saturday morning?

First my rant: because today's automobile headlights are so sophisticated, the manual recommends that you take your car to an authorized service shop to replace damaged or burnt-out headlamps. I opened the hood of my car to look into the vast unknown of my engine compartment thinking, "hah, I can do this myself, heh heh heh." When my gaze reached where the headlamps should be, I stopped and wondered what the little white thing attached to the black case attached to that cable was for, and I realized that I really am only able to put gas and wiper fluid in the car without breaking anything else. So I called my "authorized repair shop" who told me that it's a warranty service and that I could have them fixed on Tuesday morning. In both my Rabbit (which took the big, brick headlamps) and my Golf (which took the smaller bulb unit only), I was able to do this myself and walk away feeling proud and competent. With my lovely two-year-old car, I feel humble and inadequate because I can't do this myself. I suppose there's a computer chip attached to the whole thing, too. So, it's an insecure rant, but a rant nonetheless.

Now my rave: I was recently introduced to the USB flash drive. This type of removable media has been around for some time now, but the prices (and the drive capacity) were always a little unbelievable. On my contract assignment last weekend, I was working with a 256 MB SanDisk USB Flash Drive, which the owner said only cost $40 at Costco. So, I took a trip to Costco on my own, and I found a 512 MB drive for $65. I bought two. When I opened the obnoxious and wasteful plastic packaging to remove the item, which is about the size of a tube of lipstick, I was blown away by how convenient and powerful this little drive is. I instantly copied files—which I would normally burn on a CD-RW and transport to another computer and then erase from the CD-RW so I could use it again, or even face the headache of networking computers for file sharing, etc.—within seconds thanks to the USB 2.0 compatibility, and now I have a truly mobile file storage device. I highly recommend the use of these drives for file swapping and sharing or simply copying from one computer to another. I am so happy that I invested the small fee for such a powerful tool. I'm grinning from ear to ear.

Have a great Saturday!

Second Set

I got the second set of ordered videos today. The first set—long-awaited copies of To Catch a Thief and Dial 'M' for Murder (big yay)—came last week. This week, it's all about growing up in the 80s. I had a Molly Ringwald moment a fortnight ago, and Roommate clued me in on it. When I realized that I owned no Molly Ringwald moments on video, I nearly rocketed to Amazon and found a great little set of three videos called the High School Reunion Collection for about $30. The collection contains: Sixteen Candles, Weird Science, and The Breakfast Club. As an added bonus, I ordered Pretty in Pink to go with it. How could I not? Now I just have to find time to watch them all, maybe I'll just go home sick today. I'll laugh and cry just like I did when I was fifteen. Ah, nostalgia.

And to continue this ultra-gay moment, I would like to say that, no matter what, I love Oprah. I heard about her enormous charitable gift on her season premiere yesterday (which I sadly missed), and I just shook my head. I know she didn't pay for it all, but she managed it all and got GM to pay for it all. Either she's a smooth talker, or she's just fabulous. I'll go for the latter. I think she's great.

Because I Love Blonde Jokes...

And because it's Friday, and I have nothing better to do:

The Alligator Shoes—a very special blonde story!

A young blonde was on vacation and driving through the Everglades. She wanted to take home a pair of genuine alligator shoes in the worst way but was very reluctant to pay the high prices the local vendors were asking.

After becoming very frustrated with the "no haggle on prices" attitude of one of the shopkeepers, the blonde shouted, "Well then, maybe I'll just go out and catch my own alligator, so I can get a pair of shoes for free!"

The shopkeeper said with a sly, knowing smile, "Little lady, just go and give it a try!"

The blonde headed out toward the swamps, determined to catch an alligator.

Later in the day, as the shopkeeper is driving home, he pulls over to the side of the levee where he spots that same young woman standing waist deep in the murky bayou water, shotgun in hand. Just then, he spots a huge 9-foot gator swimming rapidly toward her. With lightning speed, she takes aim, kills the creature and hauls it onto the slimy bank of the swamp. Lying nearby were seven more of the dead creatures, all lying on their backs. The shopkeeper stood on the bank, watching in silent amazement. The blonde struggled and flipped the gator onto its back.

Rolling her eyes heaven-ward and screaming in great frustration, she shouts out, "DAMN!! THIS ONE IS BAREFOOT, TOO!"

Haven't Done This in a While

1. Pointless :: to argue about the weather
2. Sadistic :: to have to wait almost another week
3. Bunny :: I never understood why Anya was so afraid of bunnies. I would like to see what they did to her to make her fear them so.
4. Betrayal :: like number two on my list of fears, but it happens so often, it shouldn't even belong on the list anymore.
5. Oliver :: that pudgy kid on the Brady Bunch
6. Star Wars :: on DVD! I get my copy by Friday, and I'll be out of touch all weekend. It's about damn time, George.
7. Let it ride :: I learned how to play craps with R&W but was always too chicken shit to try to play for real in Vegas. There's so much math involved, and when I'm inebriated, the math just doesn't seem to work. Since I'm always inebriated in Vegas, well, it's just not worth the risk, you see.
8. Ray of light :: One of her best, I think.
9. Tight :: Ass, uh huh.
10. Gadget :: it's the name of a font that comes with the Macintosh operating system, but isn't there a cartoon character named as such? I just can't keep up anymore. Spongebob Squarepants is enough for me. Cracks me the fuck up.

What Hole Did You Fall In?

OMG!! Like whatever. Who buys a domain for five years for his blog and then doesn't write anything on it? I do. I don't know what it is. I've been in such a slump lately. I just have no desire to do anything but eat Milk Duds and buy DVDs. I went to Virgin over the weekend to look for the new(-ish) Sarah McLachlan CD, and seventy-two dollars and change later, I walk out with three DVDs (all at least half off, so it was a bargain I can feel good about), the Sarah CD, and the new RuPaul CD. The week before that, I went in looking for Buffy on DVD (because I swear I heard that season 7 is out already, which it's not) and walked out of there with Truth or Dare, The Parent Trap (the original with Hayley Mills, course), and Freaky Friday (the original with Jodie Foster, course). Yesterday, the fourth season of Star Trek: Voyager was released on DVD, and at Costco, it was eighty bucks, and then I found the special collector's edition of Star Trek: Generations which I don't have (or didn't have yet), and at $10.99, how could I pass that up? sigh And on top of that, my Star Wars DVDs came from Amazon last Tuesday, and I'm so happy to have them, I'm trying to find the perfect time to watch them...a time when I won't be interrupted, a time when I won't get bored with Lando Calrissian and find something else to do, a time when I won't have to go to bed early to go to work the next day.

I hate my job. I know, just a few weeks ago, I (must have) said that I loved it here. But I still wonder if I made the right choice or not. Fuck it, I'm not wondering anymore. I didn't make the right choice. I shouldn't be part of a corporation. Corporations suck ass. Benefits, a steady paycheck, lots of free lunches. Yeah, so I'm spoiled, yeah so I'm lucky to have a job, yeah so I hate working for a bunch of ignorant freaks who get paid three times more than I do for sitting in an office and making decisions. OMG! Is that how you really feel? Maybe. What am I going to do?

I'm in a rut. I love working out with my new gym membership, but I also love getting home before seven o'clock and settling in to watch the new season of the WB start up. As it is, I've missed most of the Gilmore Girls, but Smallville is back, and I've missed looking at Clark. He's so hot! And what's this introducing Lois Lane as Chloe's cousin? I have so many new books to read, I'm sure I should be reading those instead of sitting in front of the tube. I wish I could motivate myself to work out. I don't know what it will take to do so. I have, somehow, maintained my weight for a long time now, but I just can't get started losing it all. I would love to lose fifty pounds, that would put me at 160 and very thin, so maybe I'll shoot for 175 instead. That's thirty-five, and somehow more manageable, and perhaps close to a 32 waist, hello. I just want to be able to be comfortable again. And I maybe I would like to start dating again, too, and 5'9" and 175 pounds is a reasonable figure, I think.

On and on he goes, where he stops, no one knows.

I'm waiting and waiting for my G4 Pismo upgrade. It's been seven days, and they quote eight to ten days, but they're in Santa Clara, I'm in Palo Alto (right now), and how long does it take to swap out the G3 for the G4 processor chip? Like about a minute? And how hard would it be to just do that in a minute, and pop it back to me? I'm only ten fucking miles away, people! I can't wait any longer! Seven days? What is this, like the 20th Century or something? And...AND...I just know they're going to forget my new slot-loading DVD/CD-RW drive for the Pismo. Mine's broken. It's five years old, and the dude in WeHo or Silver Lake or whatever must have played some serious porn on that thing to make it break. I ordered it when I sent my CPU to them, and they said they would ship the new drive back with the new CPU. So hurry up already!

And I didn't even drink coffee this morning. I never drink coffee. It gives me a headache. No Mountain Dew...which reminds me...I did meet a guy this weekend. He was totally cute and hunky, and had the most kissable lips ever. Only he's a Pepsi guy, and I'm a Coke guy. Is there any chance of happiness there? Opposites attract, but then when the fun of being opposite wears off, what do you do? Eventually, people like to be with those who are similar to themselves, and always having an opposite around could drive me mental. But I want to see him again. I haven't met anyone who has had that kind of effect on me in so long, maybe that's why I want to see him again so bad. He was so nice. And real. No nonsense, no façade. Just a real guy who (says he) enjoyed talking to me. Well, dude, and I doubt that you would find this, know that you're always welcome in the Bay Area. Ring me up, you hottie, and we'll "talk" some more.

I Completely Forgot!

It's Michaelmas.

Happy Michael Day everyone, and eat a goose!