Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder: March 2006

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Oh, I went to the Apple store and they fixed my "broken" capital S. I'd assigned a special function to shift-s and didn't realize that it affected normal keyboard function. Doi.

Regarding my air card, apparently the slot in this computer is so advanced that they haven't developed the air cards for it yet! Looks like I have to go with Time Warner wi-fi after all. :-(

Thanks Sandy and V, for your movie recommendations. I'm all ears, so if you know of a good movie, be sure to tell me!

Wednesday, March 29, 2006, 12:01 AM

I can hear some kid outside; it’s midnight—what the hell is he still doing up?

Thursday, March 30, 2006, 6:30 PM

Gawd I’m exhausted had a major sleepless night last night; was busy collecting trash to take outside because apartment management wants to barge in and apply pest control. Not saying I couldn’t use it. I resolved that I couldn’t even make the place look clean, but instead my goal was “slightly less shocking.” Hey, you can even walk across the floor in spots.

Supposed to go visit my folks for the weekend and was supposed to have gone today but couldn’t swing it. Needed to get my car registration and emissions test done because both are badly expired and my dad would have a shit fit. Got the test done but missed the county office by two minutes: they close at 4:45 and I got there around 4:47. Fucking civil servants, I tell you what. So, I called my mom to tell her I’d be there tomorrow instead and she sounded very unhappy about it. Oh well. I think I wouldn’t be a safe driver, as tired as I am, and I don’t want to hear any shit about the registration so I’ll get that done tomorrow morning.

Had kind of a shitty day. Drove all over the damn place, it seems. Had to go to PetCo because they’re the only ones who carry Natural Balance, which is what I feed my cats, and once I get there I discover that they’re out of the venison and green peas formula. :-E I’m going to bed.

Oh, I bought a computer game, Stubbs the Zombie. I like being the bad guy. But the motion is jerky on my computer, which, given that I've bought this shit-hot computer, shouldn't happen. *sigh* I'll look into that one of these days.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Friday, March 24, 2006, 10:13 PM

Watched the Donnie Darko DVD and holy hell, is that a mind-fuck of a movie! Definitely a keeper—you’ve totally got to see that more than once. Lots of good music too; I might get the soundtrack.

I need to make a list of movies I want to catch up on (not necessarily in this order):

Requiem for a Dream
Memento
Napoleon Dynamite
Shaun of the Dead
Almost Famous
Saved!
Red Rock West
Waiting for Guffman
Traffic

Watched When Harry met Sally yesterday and didn’t find it to be nearly as charming as I once did, maybe because I’m not a romantic soul anymore, or maybe because it didn’t age well. Dunno.

Was dismayed yesterday to find that someone beat me to the Mexican Coca-Cola in the Hispanic food section at Wallyworld. Damn, I was hoping to keep that my special little secret, that Mexican Coke is still made with sugar instead of corn syrup and tastes worlds better than American Coke. There was only one bottle left, which I took. They’d better get another shipment in soon, dammit! That’s the only soda I drink now, unless I’m at school and about to fall asleep, in which case I get something from the vending machine. Mexican Coke doesn’t make me feel like shit after I drink it, like American Coke does.

Warm kitty-cats on my lap but I have to pee.

Monday, March 27, 2006

God I’m pissed. I finally get the stupid-ass laptop wireless connect card, I insert the CD and it doesn’t auto-start. So I double-click on setup.exe and I get a message: “What program should we use to open this?” How the fuck should I know? Come to find, though, that the whole issue is moot anyway. The card, an Option GT MAX, which, from what I could gather, was the only one Cingular offered that’s Mac compatible, DOES NOT FIT INTO THE SLOT. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I was really hoping to be on the internet by this point and no longer dependent on the shitty school computer lab. So now am I going to have to buy an adaptor or something? More likely I’ll just return the whole gottdamn thing and call Peg to see what she uses. Nothing’s simple.

And the cats were playing marbles with the blown-glass eyeballs for my ball-jointed dolls and lost one. Grrrrr.

Anyway, I’m tired. Spent about three hours this evening in the ceramics lab, throwing on the wheel. That shit’s hard.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006, 9:55 AM

Here’s what I wrote in class yesterday:

I’m being critiqued right now. Here it goes. I’m totally divorcing myself from
people’s opinions – it’s not my story.

Not enough conflict. I’d like to
see more dialogue. Just about main character observing.

Great idea for a
story, BUT energy is different in introduction. Journal form preferred. Narrator
is character’s protector, too tidy; better to be there with, or “be” character.
Journal shows change.

Style of writing belies theme of story. Style is
very relaxed. Paragraphs are too long and languid. Show not tell. Too distant.
Write in first person, present tense. Currently in third person limited. End is
too tidy and predictable; should be messy. Sounds like “what I did on my summer
vacation.” Need tension. “A story I would want to live, not what I want to
read.”

Whatever. Teacher did say that I’m a good writer. He’s weird though. Lots of times acts like the class clown rather than a professor. I was talking to a classmate yesterday who pointed out that the prof makes a lot of sexually inappropriate comments, and I paid attention yesterday for the first time. Holy mackerel, he needs to get laid. Plus every other quip has to do with alcohol. I think he thinks I’m attractive; he said something to the effect that he could look at me all day. WTF? Oh well, tough noodles on his part. I’m so sick of being with losers that if I can find nothing else, I’d much rather be by myself.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

My new computer has some voice recognition features. It’ll read aloud selected text and perform some commands like, “quit this application.” I told it to make me a cup of coffee, but it didn’t work. Damn. Maybe one of these days, but it’ll have to be coffee the way I like it. My ex, of his own volition, brought me coffee every morning, but do I miss that? No, because his coffee was swill, no matter how many times I showed him how to make it. In addition, he’d appointed himself as my weight guardian and put in less sugar than I asked, thinking I wouldn’t notice. Manipulative twirp.

Thursday, March 23, 2006, around midnight

I need to go to that Pakistani place more often; I get a big plate of spicy curry and naan for five bucks! That’s about the same as eating at Whataburger.

Yesterday I saw V for Vendetta. It’s at about 70% positive on the TomatoMeter—I thought it sucked. I like Natalie Portman, but her English accent is awful, awful. I’m surprised they let it go without more work.

At the Pakistani place there’s a big screen t.v. which was set to MSNBC. They were talking about The DaVinci Code movie. Some big debate about religion, faith, offended Catholics, etc. Get the fuck over yourselves, it’s a goddamn movie, a watered-down version based on a book that was in itself a watery concoction. Sometimes I hate this stupid country. It just keeps going farther and farther backwards.

1:57 p.m.

I’m so late for class that I’m embarrassed to show up. I think I’ll just go to the campus and hang out in the computer lab until most people have left. Ugh.

Why does Newman always get so affectionate right when I have to go somewhere?

The capital ‘s’ on my keyboard is broken. WTF?
8:25 p.m.

Awright, ceramics class wasn't so bad. Granted, I didn't actually make "class," as it were. But I spoke with my instructor and he saw me begin work on the wheel and seemed pleased with it. I'm not a total beginner, but rather an "advanced beginner." I've worked on the wheel on and off for about ten years. I was throwing tonight for about four hours or so and now I'm SO TIRED. Made three cylinders though. :-P

I totally have to see Inside Man.

Monday, March 20, 2006

I’ve got a Siamese fighting fish, Latin name betta splendens, or betta for short, pronounced like “Betty” and not like “beta,” named Smokey. I rescued him from Wallyworld during a time when their dedicated fish person was out for a couple of weeks and no one took care of the aquariums in the interim. There was a betta dissolved in his cup, he’d been dead so long. Nasty. I verbally complained and then went to the website and submitted a written complaint. Poor fish.

So anyway, Smokey is one of the happiest fish I’ve ever seen. He’s in a 10-gallon tank all by himself and all he does all day is swim back and forth, back and forth, in circles, dancing up and down the glass, etc. I mean, he’s practically giddy. Smokey’s unnamed neighbor in a 2-gallon glass bowl isn’t doing so well and I think he’s on his last legs. I keep vowing to let my fish die off and not replace them, but it seems I have at least two at any given time. Two’s manageable at least.

Better go warm up some cheese enchiladas and refried beans. I’m supposed to go see Anne tomorrow. She lives a good hour away. I’m gonna have to be careful because she can be cranky and tactless; I’ll have to try to not take it personally. She’s made disparaging remarks about antidepressant medications, although in reference to someone else, and not to me (she knows I’m on them). Her attitude is, and I quote, “Everyone in life has had bad experiences; get over it.” I’d say she doesn’t understand, but I’m not about to debate it with her. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m not thrilled to be on antidepressants, but this is the first time in my adulthood that I can function. So until they come up with something else, it’s what I’ve got.

Poop. Got a letter from my rep at the Vocational Rehab department at the VA. To back up, I’m a veteran, obviously, and I’m on thirty percent disability for my depression. You know, it’s only the past three or four years that I’ve taken my depression seriously instead of writing it off as a shameful personal failing. Anyway, the Vocational Rehab program is in place to help people like me. However, their red tape is … what you’d expect from any government organization (now there’s an oxymoron for you). Their standards have been hard for me, too. I understand that they don’t want people sponging off their program indefinitely. But I find them, or at least my rep, to be unsympathetic to the fact that I have difficulty getting it together (low motivation, lack of energy, muddled thinking, forgotten appointments, etc.). Hello, I’m depressed! Whatever. Last year, when I fucked up so bad, I was told more or less that I didn’t qualify, yada yada yada, and I haven’t really bothered with them since. So anyway, today I get this letter from my rep, saying that she’d scheduled an appointment for the 29th. Surprised the hell out of me, I didn’t expect to hear another word out of her. I’m halfway inclined to just phone her and say, “If you’re just going to tell me that I’m not in the program, I’d just as soon save myself the trip.” However, good luck getting her on the phone. I’ll just go to the damn appointment, it’s the only way I’ll get to contact her.

Oh, and check this out: I got a letter from the department of English at my university, inviting me to join the local chapter of Sigma Tau Delta, the International Honor Society for English majors. There’s a one-time fee of $60. I don’t know what to make of this; I’ve never been invited to anything before. Are they fer real? And if so, what good will it do me?

Friday, March 17, 2006

Guess whoever I was piggypacking on got wise—my shit is shut down. And the campus lab is closed as if it were a holiday or something. *snort* And I’m not gonna blog from Anne’s house. Even if I were to clear my tracks, her husband knows about computers, and I can’t leave any clues. My own computer acumen is spotty at best, and has deteriorated since I left the workplace. I know my way around applications like Werrrrd, but not operations.

Operating on a sleep deficit, when it’s usually a surplus, so I’m getting hopped up on Wellbutrin, coffee and a B comlex capsule. Glad I got any sleep at all.

Guess there’s no point in dilly-dallying.

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Had a really nice time at Anne’s yesterday. She was even so kind as to feed me—twice! We had fun chatting and whatnot. We don’t yack about just dolls, of course. She and I are both liberal-minded and feel that world is spinning out of control, which depresses us so we play with our dolls. Her husband is shy and comes across as a mild-mannered engineer, but he has an acerbic sense of humor and an irreverent “screw the man” attitude that cracks me up.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Sitting with some hipsters in Border’s, eating a mudpie cheesecake (breakfast of champions) and drinking Seattle’s Best Coffee (which was bought out by Starbuck’s so who cares). I’m here with my Mac, trying my best to pretend that I can get onto their WiFi. I never heard anyone mention before that you have to have a T-Moble account. I called for a free day pass, but they wanted all my credit card information, screw that. Hip, schmip. :-/ I thought I’d save myself a drive to campus, hmph.

From Anne I borrowed the DVD Almost Famous, and it was fucking awesome. Watched it twice, once the theater release and once the director’s cut. I highly recommend either/both. All the performances were spot-on. I’ve got Elton John’s “Private Dancer” in my head. Awright, now my nerves are jangling from all the caffeine and sugar.

[Note: my bad, it's "Tiny Dancer."]

Phoned the bank for my balance. They’ve implemented a very annoying voice-activated system, which means that making the call in public forfeights privacy. I hold the mouthpiece close and mutter, “checking,” and the cheerful automated voice says, “Alright, checking!” I’d say, “fuck you,” but then it would reply blithely, “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.” “I said, FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!”

Someone just complimented me on my Mac, which prompted his friend to make a snarky comment about it versus PC’s. Who the fuck cares?! Peoples, just don’t know about ‘em.

Later…

Drove to a computer lab, same university but different campus, but can’t get onto the network here. Nor can I get onto their WiFi. Gahhhhh. I ain’t driving all the way down to the central campus, so screw it. I must say, though, that this has got to be the swankiest computer lab I’ve ever seen! Holy fucking shit, brand-new computers, high-tech ergonomic chairs! It must have cost a fortune! This is sweet, I’m going to the wrong school.

Dawg, I’m having internet withdrawal. But even though I can’t get on right now, I just want to sit here for a moment and soak up the atmosphere. If this place had an art program, I’d transfer.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

John brought something interesting to my attention, vaginal plastic surgery. Holy crap. A certain percentage of women, and I don't know the exact percentage, have inner labias that extand past their outer labias, and I am one of them. It is perfectly normal. But in this article [and bear with me because on the Mac I don't know how to make it link, I'm gonna have to learn HTML]:

http://www.latimes.com/features/health/la-he-rejuvenate13mar13,0,517673.story?page=1&coll=la-headlines-california

it says that more and more women are getting labiaplasty, which is not the same as reconstructing a vagina that has loostened after childbirth (vaginoplasty). Labiaplasty is for cosmetic reasons only, and the article says that women are going after a porn star esthetic, which in turn is based on that of a pre-pubescent girl. This society is sick, sick, sick.

When I was 20 I dated a guy who referred to my labia as "elephant ears" and told his friends about it. Back then I was too stupid not to pitch him over the side of the building. Unsurprisingly, this gave me a complex. My ex, to his credit, was educated and told me, repeatedly, for I needed a lot of reassurance, that my vagina was perfectly normal and that's just the way some women are built. I know that I inherited my traits from my mom and her mother.

It's no big deal. If I'm ever with a man who doesn't like the way I look down there, he can go take a flying leap into a cesspool. As I was telling a friend once, my construction prevents me from going to a nudist colony, because I feel as if too much is exposed. They don't call them "privates" for nothing. However, as it's doubtful I would go to a nudist colony anyway, it's pretty much a non-issue.

If I were a celebrity, I'd refrain from making videos of my partner(s) and myself having sex. Y'know? Way too easy to be compromised.

That said, and I'm not famous, but early in the relationship, my ex and I filmed ourselves having sex. He told me he destroyed it, but I didn't actually see him do it. And since he subsequently proved himself to be duplicitous, soulless, callous, and mercenary, any utterance of his comes into question. I have no reason to believe that he might have kept it, but you never know.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

My religious views are somewhat vague and I’m not sure I believe in heaven and hell. But I hope there’s a special place in hell for people who hurt children and animals. I just read about a child porn ring that streams videos of live acts of molestation over the internet. It makes me want to throw up. I just don’t get it—what the fuck is wrong with people?!

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Some friends of my mom’s have a five-year-old standard poodle who, it was discovered, has cancer in his mouth/jaw. The vet’s going to remove the poor dog’s jaw from behind the canine tooth onward. It’s not my call, and I know those people love their dog very much, but I’m not sure I could ask my pet to go through that; it seems cruel. I think what I’d do is let the dog hang around for as long as he’s not feeling pain, and then let him go. Of course, it’s easy for me to say, isn’t it.

Don’t know if I wrote that I recently bought some BJDs, those Asian ball-jointed dolls. They’re sickeningly expensive and I have no business buying them. Sure enough, I just sold my Sooah yesterday. Thing about Sooah, though, is that she’s so pouty, petulant and negative looking. I don’t need some pissed-off doll; I play with dolls to escape from the real world! So I think that’s a good trade-off with my new Soah (weird how the company named the dolls so similarly, but oh well). Soah looks very sweet and pleasant. Except her lashes came off—grrr. BJD’s are so fun because you can change out their eyes and wigs and presto! new doll. Another thing about BJD’s is that, if you don’t like them, they hold their value so you can sell them for the same price at which you bought them.

I don’t know what it is, but I’m so tired.

Newman seems to like cuddling with my legs, but if I were to turn around and lay with him face-to-face, he'd leave. I'm so needy, I pick my cats up all the time and hug them. They're like, "Jesus, will you put me down?" Actually they bear it pretty well, and I never hold them past a few seconds. But I'm about to cuddle Newman. I love the cats' weight on me.

Last summer, if you recall, I found that cocker spaniel in the street and dubbed her Heidi before turning her in to cocker spaniel rescue. Well, I've been keeping an eye on their website, and Heidi's been adopted. :-) She had to undergo heartworm treatment first. I'm so glad--she was so deserving.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

The temperature has plummeted. Yesterday night I was sweating and tonight it's going to be 47 degrees. Someone's running his air conditioner--has he stuck his nose outside lately? Dumbass.

From John and his friend Skip:

"An Alabama State trooper pulls over a pickup on I-64 and says to the driver, 'Got any I.D.?' and the driver replies 'Bout wut?'"

Monday, March 13, 2006

I’m looking at my academic requirements ‘cause I’ve been uncertain as to what to do with myself. I prefer art to English but out of the two, English is slightly more practical; however, I’m not interested in getting into blocks, which is required for art majors. But check this out: I need only six more classes before I’m done with my English major! Is that da bomb or WHAT? Still have to fulfill the core requirements (fuck you, algebra!) and six hours of a foreign language. It’s odd to think that I’m actually making progress and that I’m inching toward completion. I lose sight and think that I’ll never be done with this. To be honest, though, reentering the “unreal” world isn’t something I look forward to. Grad school? Yes, I hope so. I’ve got something to prove to all those fuckers in the world—and there were several—who thought I was a nobody.

I seem to have a problem with the vibes I send out to people. Like, men in particular. It’s like, if I try to be pleasant and social, men jump to the conclusion that I want to get into their britches. It’s always been like that and I don’t understand it. Presumably, it stems from my upbringing where all my boundaries were fucked. I certainly didn’t learn any social skills at home!

An example is Greg. I was thinking about this as I was making my coffee. I had a vacuum brewer at work and Greg was a coffee enthusiast, so I, happy to find a kindred spirit, started telling him about vac pots and all that good stuff. Then he started looking anxious and saying, “My wife this,” and “My wife that.” I was surprised and confused. I knew that Greg was married and I hadn’t the least bit of interest in him one way or another. And regardless, I don’t mess around with married men. You think I want to be like that hootchie cunt my ex fucked?

A more recent example is Patrick, who’s a teaching assistant in the ceramics lab. First of all, he was there last year when I went though my fuckup with the Drunken Toad, so that’s kind of embarrassing. But anyway, I get the impression that he thinks I’m after him. He’s a handsome guy, sure, and very nice besides. But married, so I’m not interested. I’d never go after something that isn’t mine, I just wouldn’t. But that isn’t the kind of thing you say to someone.

And then the wives of guys I’ve worked with over the years think the same of me. A few have been downright horrid to me. John’s first wife, Renee, didn’t like me until I started dating Bill and was deemed “safe.” Then, when John married Becky, she didn’t like me, and I was married! Jesus. But in her case I think it was also that I didn’t fit into her approved socio-economic bracket, whereas I found her shallow, materialistic and judgmental, like a lot of Southern Californians I encountered (degree, degree, degree, that’s all they’re about). My ex and I were invited to their wedding reception, but not their wedding, and I’d known John for years before he met Becky. [This is the John who wrote saying, “Where have you been?” and then didn’t write back when I replied.] [And Liz did that too. WTF?]

I’m no saint, I’ll admit that in my early 20’s I dallied with committed men, not habitually, but a couple of times. I’ve learned since then.

So anyway, I often just keep my head down and not say anything out of fear of being misinterpreted.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

There's a scene in Clockwatchers where Toni Collette's character staples up the hem of her dress. I've done that. Scotch tape didn't work. Also, one time I wore a skirt that's elastic gave way around the waist. I made a fold in the waistband and held it in place with a large paper clip.

Holy crap, does office work suck a big fat one. At least, thank gawd, there wasn't any piped-in music anywhere I've been.

Was up "early" today and met Anne at a doll show at 9:30 a.m. Anne's doing well. Not much happening at the doll show. Pretty lame for a $4 admission. Now I think I'll go take a nap.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Never really wrote before that I'm a coffee snob, geek, or whatever. I buy my beans green, roast them myself, grind them fresh at every brewing, and use a vacuum brewer. Yessir, a spirit-fueled vacuum brewer, Hario Nouveau to be exact. Had that Nouveau for five years or so and broke it last week. Bummer. Fortunately I have backeup models so that i can get my fix. But it looks like in the interim years since I've bought my gadget, Hario, a Japanese company, has stopped selling to the US. At least, that's my conclusion so far since the web page is down. Does that mean I can't get a replacement Hario pot? Hmm. Interesting. Be assured that I shall post up-to-the-minute reports on this fascinating situation as it develops.

You know I've been blogging for over a year and I still don't know what a blogroll is?

I've been reading Brighton's blog, http://brightonandbear.blogspot.com, and enjoying it very much. I feel she and I have a lot of things in common: we don't like to shop, we don't wear much makeup during the day, and we're jeans-and-t-shirts kinds of people. My hat's off to her for juggling all that she does. Me, all I do is go to school and come home and take care of the cats. Pretty minimal in comparison.

My food poisoning seems to be better! Thank gawd, thank gawd, thank gawd. Nothing's more important than good health, folks. I really need to start taking better care of myself. I'm thankful for WebMD.com, because I've never had blood in my stool before and I was wondering if I needed to don an adult diaper and head for the emergency room; the website put me at ease. BTW, that abnormal pap I had turned out to be a fluke; the HPV test came back negative. If I'd been positive, I'd have been really pissed off, considering that five years had passed after my divorce before I'd had sex again.

Five in the morning, kittycats fighting on the bed. Of course. Newman spent the past hour lying on my neck, purring. I haven'’t budged from this spot since day-before-yesterday, except to run to the loo. By the way, I looked up food poisoning on WebMD and I'm pretty sure that's what I have. Says I'll recover in 2-5 days.

So in the wee hours I reflect on things. Remembering how once, when I was a kid, I dunno, maybe thirteen or something, I had the strangest dream. That something was tickling my right arm, and then biting me. I stirred and with my left hand I tried to brush off what I thought was a bug, but I found I was immobile, as if strong hands were pinning me down. Then the thing on my right arm started biting me but good; it hurt so bad that my back arched and I cried out in my sleep. Then, a strange, euphoric feeling washed over me. That's the last I remembered, but the next morning there was a red dot on my right arm.

So obviously my dad had shot me up with something. I have no idea what transpired after the injection, and it's probably best I don't know. I looked him right in the eye over breakfast and said that a scorpio had bitten me in my sleep, and he quickly looked away. My father would have sold me up the river for his own sexual gratification, and lord knows he tried. There was that time he wanted me to meet someone about "being in a movie.” I was seven or eight. I held my dad's hand as I was introduced to a black man, who looked down at me, startled, and I gave him my biggest, most ingratiating smile. Then he looked at my dad with a combination of loathing and fear, and shook his head. Afterward, my dad said not to mention any of that to my mother.

I'm so glad there wasn't an internet when I was a kid, or I might not even be alive right now.

Incest, or child molestation, period, is such a common topic in those sordid crime dramas that run nowadays. I don't have a t.v., as you know, but every time I'm at my parent's house, where the t.v. is on faithfully every day, it seems that there's a show on dealing with it. It's happened two or three times at least. My parents get very agitated. My mom starts twittering and fluttering her hands, and my dad clears his throat. Last time it was that CSI rerun [episode "Blood Drops"] with Dakota Fanning, who played a little girl molested by her father wearing a buffalo medallion around his neck and the only word she would say was "buffalo." In the story, it turned out that her older sister had gotten the rest of the family whacked to protect Dakota's character. During these episodes when my parents are tweaking out, I see them impassively and am almost amused.

Anyway, after the show was over, my mom rose to get ready for bed, but first touched my cheek with the back of her hand, something she never does, and she looked so sorry. I know she wants my forgiveness, and I think that's why she and my dad are helping me so much with college, because my life up to age 36 was one miserable fuckup after another, and they felt responsible.

Have I forgiven my parents. Well, in a sense. I remember talking about this in a previous post, but I only forgive them to the point. I know that their failings are due to their own inadequate internal programming. I also know that spending the rest of my life blaming them is like shackling myself. So I've let go. But of course, being adults who made conscious choices, what they've done is unforgivable, and they know it.

I wonder what my Oma would have done if she knew.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Not a happy camper. I’m sick. Either a stomach virus or something I ate didn‘t agree with me, but I’ve been making frequent trips to the loo since about two in the morning and threw up once, too. Erg. Now I am confined to the domicile but feel too weak and fragile to do anything, even watch a DVD I rented last night (I can watch a movie in my home for the first time in years). This is the first day of spring break and I’m pissed to be losing time to this bug, whatever it is; I suspect my sour-cream-and-onion dip. Wonder if eating something will stabilize my stomach, but I’m too scared to try. I am drinking Gatoraide.

Funny to be physically sick instead of emotionally for a change. Knocking on wood, my body’s usually pretty hardy.

Man, what if someone had a stomach illness in the olden days, whey they had to run to the privy every two minutes? That would totally suck!

Am liking my Notebook, but am missing my mouse. Spoke to some lame-o at Cingular yesterday about getting an air card instead of a wireless cable connection. Sounds like what I’m going to do, except that the air card costs a whopping $199 and $60 monthly. Somewhat more expensive than cable, but honestly, it’s worth it to avoid the cable company, those monopolistic dicks. Thank goodness Peggy told me about aircards. I remember the day she called me and was all concerned about the Mac, asking me whether I’d used them before—which I had—and whether it would be a tough transition. Now she’s one of those smug, fervent MacHeads. I promise not to become one of those. A computer is a computer, a tool and that’s it. Heheheh, I said “tool.” One thing, I’ve got one of those cameras built-in and Peggy and I thought it would be fun to videoconference. Uh-oh, that means I have to get cleaned up first, unlike the phone. :-
Did I tell you, I’ve totally given up on Eric the knitting guy. I figured that if he wants me bad enough he’ll make a move, and since he hasn’t, I guess he doesn’t. Why should I make things easier on him? Besides, he’s a bit of a putz. He keeps nagging the older ladies for tips on how to make him a speed-knitter. Fact is, he’s been knitting for two years and they’ve been knitting for thirty or forty. What’s the point anyway, which everyone’s told him but he persists. Too pedantic for my tastes.

This notebook gets hot on the ol’ lap.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Pooter's here, pooter's here! I'm typing from my bed, yessiree. Stealing internet access from some neighbor ... didn't mean to, but it happened so here I yam. Gadget arrived a day early, can you imagine? This upcoming week is spring break but I don't see any break in the works for me. I've promised everyone and his grandma that I'd come see him. *sigh*

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Omigawd, my Apple is due here on the ninth. What day of the week is that? Oh crap, Thursday. I'll be in school. Eeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

Maybe you can expect lengthier and more interesting posts. Or not.

Monday, March 06, 2006

Well, nothing can be done about the crack in the "thing" I made over the weekend. Can't call it a pot, can't call it a sculpture. Anyway, the crack's not bad enough to prevent it from being fired. Life's not all bad. I'm blowing off knitting group tonight though. I'm tired.

When is Kirsten Dunst gonna learn to wear a bra? She's way too young to have such droopy tits.

Oh wait, that's an old pic. But still.

Man, I am so discouraged right now. I spent all day yesterday and all evening today working on my final project for the upcoming midterm critique in ceramics this Thursday. I was really loving what I did. Then, at the end of my lengthy painting session tonight, I saw that it has a huge crack running right down the center of it. I nearly cried.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Romance, schmo-mance. My horoscope says stuff about meeting a new flame and all sorts of what-have-yous. It said something about an old flame reappearing and that we might reconcile and start anew. Uh, no. No. Uh-uh. Every time I think about anyone I used to date or be married to, I cringe and smack my head, saying, "What were you thinking?!" Woof.

Dusty Newspaper Clippings and other mental disorder