Encyclopedia Mythica

I just found the coolest reference site! If you're at all interested in mythology or folklore and need a reference source, check out Encyclopedia Mythica. Way cool, IMHO.

Well, on a more sad note, I regretfully cancel my trip to England in May. I knew it was too good to be true. Damn it all to hell. It's not going to work out this year. I've got so many things going on, a trip like that is simply out of reach for me. As much as I hate to admit it, and as much as I was preparing for it (I had read a great little primer on pubs and pub etiquette put out by the Social Issues Research Centre, and I've got a book on Gay London put out by TimeOut on the way from Amazon), I have to put it on the shelf until 2006. This sucks major donkey dick, people. Shit fuck piss.

As it is, I have to plan and take all of my vacations before 1st June this year as after that, I'll be chained to my desk until at least Xmas. I should seriously reconsider my line of work. But I've been through this angst and rhetoric a hundred times in the past, and I'm still here! I guess that means I'm a whore, a corporate, money-grubbing, toe-the-party-line, glory-hole-in-the-men's-room, I-want-my-goddamn-stock-options, hootchie mama. My soul is withering.

Oh, and to the two people who read this thing: I kinda fucked up when I uploaded the latest update to the MT system. I didn't change any of the permissions on files that do all the work. Oooops. So, the comments and trackbacks that were causing server errors have been fixed. "It's called 755, Mike." Just so you know.

Mutter Blue

1. Judge :: Judy (duh!)
2. Detroit :: is not the Paris of the West or the Midwest. Sorry to disappoint.
3. Hyphen :: is not a suitable replacement for an em- or en-dash.
4. Get it right :: when using punctuation around me, because I will correct you, except with commas because they're so flexible.
5. Pulsating :: sorry, I know this is supposed to be the first thought that comes to mind, but that thought wouldn't make me a Kinsey 6 anymore.
6. Yoga :: I need some
7. Memorable :: Matt, one of the only real dates I've ever been on. We had dinner at the Outrigger on Cannery Row, and then we walked on the beach and told each other silly stories. We didn't go out for more than two weeks, but I don't think I'll ever forget him. He was so cute. He shared my love of Bananarama and Marlboros. This was, like, in 1993.
8. Financial advisor :: Wouldn't know where to start with me.
9. Ten million :: reasons to say no.
10. I :: Is that a capital "i" or a roman numeral 1?

Haven't done this in a while. Thought it might be fun to exercise the brain a bit, you know.

A Couple of Things

1. Crack in a Box took their jumbo tacos off the menu. I'm totally not happy with that, although my waistline might be. On one of their receipts, I was given a website and an authorization code to take a customer survey after which I was asked for any other comments. So I diligently took their survey and left my comments requesting the that the tacos be put back on the menu. A "client services" agent called me back!! First time for everything. I asked her why they took the tacos off the menu, and she replied that from time to time they rotate items, especially promotional items, off the menu to make room for new stuff. Not to nitpick, because I've never been called by "Corporate" before, but the tacos have been on the menu since I've been in California, at least, and that's fifteen years, deary. But whatever. She said that if enough people ask for them back, they might reappear. I was under the impression that the jumbo tacos were a cult favorite and a big seller. Apparently, I was mistaken.
2. Come Clean—for those of us who need (anonymous) absolution.
3. Dark colors really are slimming.
4. I had a blister on the heel of my left foot for about two weeks following an attack of insanity about that much time ago. I was going to write about this incident and the events leading to it, but I didn't because it would have made me look ridiculous and simpering, but I keep forgetting that this thing is for me, and I should not hold back simply because the world could (potentially) look at it. So...
   

On 31 Jan of this year, our company held its yearly kick-off meeting, where the executive committee gives presentations and pumps the people up for the year ahead. They set out our corporate goals, acknowledge past achievements, and generally give us all a great pep talk. Normally, I'm not interested in these types of events, but the motivational speeches that the EC gave us were enough to hold my interest for four hours. Plus, they held the event at Spanish Bay on the Monterey Peninsula, and I couldn't resist that.

I had never been to Spanish Bay during the time I lived down there, but I had walked along the beach at Asilomar countless times with H, walking out aggressions, talking about whatever, watching the sunset, doing just about everything on that beach. It is incredibly beautiful there, and when the weather is right, it's a little bit of heaven on Earth. The 31st was no exception. I got to the Peninsula about an hour early, which was sort of planned so I could take a small trip down memory lane. The tide was in, and the waves were glorious. I always forget how incredible is the natural beauty of the Monterey Peninsula. Anyway.

After the talks were given, we had about an hour until our evening event, so I took advantage of that time and took a walk on the paths along the beach. The tide was still too high for me to walk on the beach itself, but standing on the paths was close enough. I found a good spot and stared out at the ocean, watching the tide move in and out, remembering so much of the life that I led while I was there. I ran away from the peninsula and was absorbed by the city so quickly that I never really had time to let it all go, to put it all aside. In the seven years that I've been up here, I think about that place from time to time, but I never really dwell on it. It's for the best, I know, but I never made my peace with what happened there. I lived there for eight years, I grew up there, I loved and was loved, I had friends and watched some of them go, get married, or die. So, watching the scenery, I remembered all of that stuff and I cried a little. I got depressed. I wanted to go home and get back to my reality. I was feeling sorry for myself and I let it affect me too much.

So by the time the evening event came upon us, I was morose and unsociable. We boarded the buses that took us to the Doubletree and the Monterey Convention Center. There were food stations all over the very large and dimly lit room. There were as many bars serving up whatever alcoholic concoction you wanted. There were couches to sit on and tiny little tables set up making the place look like a nightclub. It was not really what I had in mind for an evening of entertainment. As I was all self-involved, I turned around and walked out, headed for Asilomar and Spanish Bay. I walked from the Doubletree all the way to Spanish Bay. On foot. At night. In khakis and loafers. Can we say "fucked the hell up"?

It took about an hour and a half, and I was really pushing it to make the walk before the first buses delivered people back to the hotel. I had forgotten how far Spanish Bay is from Fisherman's Wharf in Monterey. It's far, well, not really, but when you're not walking for exercise, and when you are walking to escape, it's too far. Why didn't I call a cab? Why didn't I just wait it out like the rest of the people there? I had a panic attack. I became so over-anxious that I could see myself hyperventilating. It was on the walk back to my car, and during a conversation with H that I realized that I suffer from social anxiety, that crowds scare the shit out of me, that any contact with strangers petrifies me. If there are no friendly faces in the crowd, I leave, no questions asked. And I was going to go to a foreign country this year, by myself. But that's the weird part, I'm not really affected if I am not expected to participate. If I can be an innocent, uninvolved bystander, I can mingle through a crowd, ignoring everyone, speaking to no one, and be just fine. But social situations like an even at work, even in the comfort of our own office, put me out completely.

So, I got back to my car, breathed a sigh of relief and took off my shoes only to see a huge blood stain on my sock, the back rim of the loafer, and the cuff of my pants. I slowly peeled the sock off of my foot to see a huge open wound, about the size of a fifty-cent piece, bloody and raw. I was in such a hurry to get back to the safety of the confines of my own vehicle that I totally neglected the health of my own body. That in itself should say something about the state I was in. In retrospect, I was completely without reason, totally distraught and inconsolable. Insane.

Totally long story short, for the following two weeks, I had to wear comfortable tennis shoes (and jeans) to work in order to allow the heel to heal. It finally has, and that's the end of my story.

Voilà

1. Dirty work :: Ripping CDs
2. Shopkeeper :: Edna Garrett
3. Goodness :: is next to cleanliness
4. Yearning :: for another road trip
5. Show and tell :: carrots
6. Trapped :: in the body of a white girl
7. Malcolm :: McDowell
8. Season :: Hulshizer
9. Bestseller :: Valley of the Dolls
10. Desk :: Set