archived notes for July 2000

07.31.00 - Guh. Well, the general Shemsu gifts are done. The kai-Imakhu Craig, Imakhu Christina, Tania, and Jeff remain.

Car needs to have oil changed. Need to clean out car. Need to finish the drorings of the other Names (at least I got Wesir's done in time). Need to pack and do checklist stuff. Need to charge up phone. Need to buy disposable litterbox for Miss Thang. Need to find an appropriate container for my icon. Need to mix up some thyme and lavender water for spraying down the bedroom I get. Need to write up document for my mini-seminar and print it and make 24 copies.

And I've been ordered to take some free time between here and Tuesday night. Ha ha ha. I'll try. I will. I promise. I don't know how, but I'll do it. Somehow.

Happy birthday to Wesir, happy spiritual birthday to me. If you're in the area and want to go grab a steak at Outback tonight with me, you're welcome to go (I'm not saying I'll buy, I'm just saying you can join me as I toast my God, my ancestors, and my third year as a priest). Dave, we'll figure out something so you can go, too.

Glitter, glitter, everywhere....

Kuchibiru ni negai o komete
Shiawase bara maku you ni
Utauwa la-la-la
Anata ni mo kikoeru to ii na
Watashi Fancy Lala!

07.30.00 - From Tibet Online:

China has lobbied to ban His Holiness the Dalai Lama, a Nobel Peace Prize winner, from the UN Peace Summit! Fax and write to the UN organizers and insist that they invite His Holiness to the UN Peace Summit.

Contact Bawa Jain, Secretary General, Millennium Summit for Peace The Interfaith Center of New York 40 East 30th Street New York, NY 10016 Fax 212-685-4222

07.29.00 - Success! I caught another cat!

I had been trying to catch one of the three wild kittens running around our office and had noticed in my failed attempts that they tended to run for the place where the embankment wall creates an angle. Doing this leaves them exposed to capture for about a second or two since they're busy trying to climb and (being kittens) aren't as devil-quick at scaling walls as the older ones.

When the one this morning zipped off when I approached it, I ran after and grabbed it as it topped the wall. I earned a nice bite on my finger for my efforts (yes, I have cleaned it out with soap, antiseptic, mouthwash, and water -- essential oils come next) and a very scared black kitten that seems to be dehydrated and malnourished (it's very bony).

One of the gals at work is going to take it. We don't know the gender yet, and I'm hoping it's not too sick -- should be okay, though. I'm also hoping it's a female since that removes another potential kitten-generator from the next generation.

Of course, what with Sluggy Freelance's latest "kitten" storyline about felines slaughtering a bunch of college kids who went to a cabin for a weekend (a la "Friday the Thirteenth"), I couldn't help but sit and snicker every time my recent catch went "mew!"

And that, friends, is my exciting life.

07.28.00 - A nice, depressing way to start off your morning. Apparently the cranks don't just exist in archaeology (ala West and Hancock and their ridiculous theories), they exist in the medical profession as well, where they're trying to convince people that HIV does not cause AIDS. Okay, maybe I'll be proven wrong in ten years, but if there's a cure now that is working and helping people live longer -- and the alternatives are not working, while the ones that are are being improved and helping us to understand the disease -- why in hell would you deny dying people this hope?

Dear GOD it pisses me off. It angers me that a leader of a nation won't let his people get ahold of a medicine that could help them! One in ten. One in ten people with AIDS in South Africa. WHAT THE HELL IS HE THINKING???

Blah.

That's been waiting for a while to come out. My apologies.

Walking out into the rainy season today, I realized belatedly I was wearing a white shirt.

White shirt + downpour + no umbrella == wet shirt.

Wet white shirt.

Well, at least I have a bra on.

07.27.00 - Outside, thunder. Heavy rain. Lightning.

In my head: The power is going to go out.

Me: Hunh?

Pause.

More thunder. No more messages from the head.

Squint at files I'm working on. Save and back them up on alternative machine. Listen to thunder, and get up to go find Andy.

Walk around toward the meeting room.

Lights flicker.

Light go out.

Lights flicker on.

Lights flicker out.

Dead, dark silence.

First thing out of my mouth?

"Thank God I'm not oncall!"

07.26.00 - Did I mention my dentist says I have huge freaking sinuses? That would explain the snoring.

We're all up for review...not to post numbers, but I did get a nice raise, and I think I'm heading in a direction I want to go in The Company (web development), but since things can be mercurial here it's a bit like steering a boat. Yesterday's plans often fall by the wayside in the face of impending storms.

I wonder how rare it is for people to find happiness when others are happy. And why do we? And why doesn't everyone feel that way? I think that's part of what you were talking about, Suz. Some people just don't realize that, while you can find happiness for yourself, you can double the yield if you create happiness for others.

Mom, I really do love you. You know I do. Please don't be upset. What I feel won't always agree with what you feel. Maybe what I'm saying is true, maybe what you're saying is true, either way I don't want you to be unhappy. You're my mom. You raised your kids in a fashion that it really bugs the hell out of them when you're not happy. And you know that if you don't cheer up, I won't tell you about my dental surgery and just pay for it out of my own pocket. So there.

Some of you mentioned that the dancing Michael Stipe head from yesterday has scarred you for life. In an ongoing series, I present now to you the sequel to the dancing Michael Stipe head -- the dancing Tori Amos head!

Whoo yeah. I need that vacation.

07.25.00 - So....

If you were Michael Stipe, lead singer of R.E.M., what would you use as a pick up line to get the chicks? We were thinking about this the other night at the Del Taco. The best one I came up with was "If you believe, baby, I'll put my hands on your moons." I swear, sometimes, I could be a guy if I tried hard enough.

Very nifty herbals page. Over 1500 photos on the site of herbs (!!!). Wow!

I have glittery fingernails, by the way. Whenever I go to get a manicure, I usually wind up picking unusual colors. I got gold sparklies this time because of the upcoming retreat. By the end of the week the polish will be off my fingernails (ah, the trials of being dependent on a keyboard for work and communication), but my toenails will still sparkle, and I usually end up barefoot at some point during the retreats. :)

chat·e·laine
Pronunciation: 'sha-t&l-"An
Function: noun
Etymology: French châtelaine, feminine of châtelain
Date: 1845
1 a : the wife of a castellan : the mistress of a château b : the mistress of a household or of a large establishment

See also: Donna's New Website

07.24.00 - So on the bright side, I'm not falling apart. I need fillings, but not caps. I have cavities, but they're not deep enough to require root canal. My bottom wisdom teeth are on their sides, but I was told if they're not bothering me I don't need to worry about them.

Where the surprise came in was with my jaw. I've had a weird jaw since late high school -- it clicks and pops out slightly when I open it fully. Charming, I know. Dr. Jane suggested once that it might be TMJ, and when I mentioned it today the dentist was inclined to believe me. She also noted that when I bite, my teeth don't align correctly.

So that was where the surprise came in -- I'm being referred to an orthodontist. To get braces. I was expecting to hear that I have to get my wisdom teeth yanked, but no, they want to try and put braces on me. Now. At 25. I think there should be a law that once you've become an adult, all health issues you had get wiped off the board. Yup.

I had the jolly dental technician. She ended each sentence with a laugh. She was kooky, but I liked her. I think also she was being extra nice because I marked off the checkbox that said, "Does dental work intimidate you?" with a definitive YES.

All in all, I think despite the after-effect of achey-jaw from having to hold it open so long, I'm less intimidated. The gals said I had good teeth for not having been to a dentist in four years. And I'm happy that I don't have to have my wisdom teeth yanked. I'm ambivalent about the braces -- I'm more in mild surprise over them than complete opposition. I mentioned to the tech that I'm almost happy that I waited four years to go back because of all the advancements that have been made and she laughed (of course) and agreed that maybe it was a good idea.

And it could have been worse. Much worse.

Lucky! I just won another $10 from BizRate.com. Cool, hunh?
6:14 PM
 
 
Yesterday was Suz's birthday (happy birthday Suz!) and tomorrow is Melissa's birthday (happy birthday Melissa!). And now, even though it's not Tuesday, I relate the bank saga:

Back in May, I got my final car payment. Normally my payments were $307, and the way the payments fell I just assumed they were going to make May's payment the usual $307 and my final payment $94. No, they didn't. They made my May payment $401 because banks, children, are run by computers programmed for greed.

(I had other, choice words for them, but I think those should remain in the silence of my car, where I issued them.)

So I, being the counterculture maven that I am, decided to just pay my usual $307, and follow up with $94 at the beginning of June. Which I did. And it almost worked. Except that I didn't send in enough money.

I was off.

By a dollar.

One dollar. Which I didn't know until they sent me a notice saying that, due to not paying the full amount, I owed them one dollar....

...and $45 in late fees.

Mental note to self: being a counterculture maven can be expensive.

So I figured -- well, this is fair. I was late, I was a little dumb, and I guess I sort of deserve it. So I paid it. The check cleared on the fourteenth of July. All was well. Or so I thought.

Saturday, I came home from being rubbed, painted, and facialed and got my mail. There was a suspiciously slim letter from my loan bank, which I thought was much too small to hold the title to my car. Turns out it was -- because inside was not the coveted pink slip, but another notice.

Saying I now owed $168 in late fees. Postmarked to the thirteenth.

ONE hundred and SIXTY eight DOLLARS.

On one dollar.

Mental note to self: this is probably why most counterculture mavens are terminally broke.

So I called the bank today, and after twenty minutes of being told over and over by yet another computer to "Please hold. Your call is important to us. Please hold." I finally got through and told the lady my tale of woe. She called up my account (in a computer) and told me the account was settled. No late fees. No remaining balance. Nada.

So....

It's over. I'd yell Nekhtet!, but I'm not willing to do so until I get the fabled car title.

My father was threatening legal action if they actually asked for the $168. It's funny that he should do that -- I've heard the same thing from players before, never done it myself, but do wonder if it would have been effective. On one hand, I was late. But on the other, it was one dollar off on my final payment. That's human error. And if the computers handling my account had been programmed better -- or if it had been handled by a person rather than a machine -- this wouldn't have happened.

Well, maybe talking to the Aset child helped the situation. She told me everything would be okay, and my Nisut (AUS) would be proud -- I didn't naysay her. I just nodded and changed the subject.

Anyway.

Like I said. Dentist today. Say a prayer for me and all those other poor souls going to the fluoridated ring of Hell.
12:01 PM

07.22.00 - Baby madness continues! My sister is pregnant!

Planned pregnant. She's going to prenatal classes already. I'm very happy for her.

Congratulations, Cindy and Jeff! Let's hope for a girl!!

The massage was really splendid. It was not nice to come home to a notice saying I owed my bank $160 in fees I didn't actually owe them. I don't even want to explain it right now. I'll do that when it's over. It's just too annoying to pay attention to it when I can't do anything about the problem until the bank opens on Monday.

Seshat, Hethert (Hathor), and Amen's oils are done. Aset (Isis), Ra, Sekhmet, and Bast tomorrow. Yinepu (Anubis), Heru-wer (Horus), Set, Wepwawet, Nebt-het (Nephthys), Ptah, and Wesir (Osiris) will follow, plus a meditation blend I'd like to try, and more of the mint stuff I've been diffusing at work.

The letters are blurring. Time for bed.

07.21.00 - I'm going to try something odd this year. Pamie does her yearly Christmas card list...I want to do a yearly Kemetic New Years card list.

So...here's the deal. Send me your mailing address, and if I have the time and the will and the ability, I'll send you a New Years card. I don't send Christmas/Yule/Hannukah/Kwanzaa/Solstice cards, so I have to find some way to fill the card-void.

I can't promise I will actually do this, and I can't promise that I won't sell your mailing address to a third party for mucho bucks (hey, it's better than selling my hair!), but if I can do it (the card thing), I will. :)

(I was kidding about the third party thing. Really. You can trust me. I'm a priest.)

This is the important part. The cut off date is July 30th. After that you can still send me your address, but you won't receive a card. Fair? Fair.

I have discovered the incredibly nifty Chu Chu Rocket commercial (1120k)!! It's so cute! I like the cat munching up the mice. The remixes are -- erm -- interesting, but not great :)

That jasmine sambac (Jasminun officianalis sambac) is excellent. If you want to know what it smells like, brew a cup of silver jasmine from Stash. Same plant, I'd bet. I think I prefer it to the jasmine I have now for me, personally. I am not fond of the traditional, heavy, sweet jasmine, but this one is perfect for my blank lotion.

Okay, why didn't anyone every tell me sports bras were so comfortable? Not to freak the guys out, but really -- you have no idea how uncomfortable regular bras can be. After six hours in one you start to figure out why Amazons cut theirs off.

07.20.00 - Here's the problem with me:

1. I know that excercise makes me feel better. Whenever I excercise, there is that hour afterwards where I'm panting and exhausted, but the next day I feel more alert, awake, and balanced. I sleep less, I get tired less, and I feel better.
    
2. BUT -- I get frustrated. Because to excercise, I have to strip down to a sportsbra and tights, and I know what I look like in that outfit. It's not pretty.
    
3. Plus, my schedule is so uneven and there's always something else to be doing. I could spend thirty minutes stretching and dancing and sweating, or I could sit in my nice, comfy chair and work on the websites and email I haven't answered.
    
4. Then I start thinking about just how long it's going to take me to ever get into any sort of shape, and I wonder what the point is.
    
5. And then there's all those appearance issues, the result of having multiple gorgeous, thin family members to compete with.
    
6. Of course, I tell myself that that's not the point, people love me for who I am, blah blah blah blah, but I can't help it. I still feel like I'm in a losing beauty competition.
    

Creation, the desire to make things, is intrinsic to the human condition. Whether it means rolling up our sleeves and getting our hands dirty, writing a song, or giving birth to a child, creation is a part of life.

One of the reasons that aromatherapy has captured and kept my attention is the many ways it allows me to use my imagination. Here is the chance to make bath bombs, soaps, fragrances, body oils, face steams, scrubs, masks, and so much more.

Maybe. Someday. If I ever do those pages I want to do. :)

More than anything else, all I want to do right now is go home and soak in my new soaps, play with my new oils, and try and figure out how to put on make-up. But I have to work, and I owe Bubba some stuff, so I'm doing that instead.

07.19.00 - Bwahahahahahahahaha. I got Suz a birthday gift. Well, Jeff and I pitched in on one. :)= I am happy! By the way -- for anyone ordering her stuff off her wishlist on Amazon.com, there's a peachy keen coupon going on there now for $10 off a $30 order, enter coupon code HARRYPTTRSPC. So you can afford to get her more expensive gifts! Yay!!! I love coupons!!! :)

Oh good. Someone else who bawls like a baby at the end of Braveheart. ;) Now I don't feel quite so lonely.

I feel tired again today, though I slept for ten hours. I need to excercise more.

Or drink more caffeine.

Heh.

Between the retreat and websites and probationers and work and apartment hunting, I just feel drained. After August most of this will no longer be a problem, but for now I'm feeling a little stretched. And somewhere I have to decide when I'm going to go visit my grandmother and arrange that, too.

Well, we thought we'd found a place to rent...and lo and behold, they have a no pets policy.

07.18.00 - So we found out two fun things tonight:

• On the Keirsey test, I score as an iNFp -- the Counselor. Just don't call me Deanna.
   
• Jeff's astrology signs are Sagitarrius (Sun), Virgo (Moon), and Capricorn (Rising).

07.17.00 - Every time I flatten boxes, I think of Full Throttle. Hee.

And -- whoo hoo! Another Monkey Island game is coming out! Lucky!

Someone who shall remain nameless bought me Castle of Cagliostro for my birthday. Thank you :)

I hate writing "about me" pages, because I just don't ever feel like I'm adequately representing myself. I know I've written them before, but I always feel like something's wrong with myself when I do. So then I try to write it as if I was writing about someone else, but it's creepy to write about yourself in the third person, though after all the years I've spent writing about other pieces of myself as a third person, it's not hard for me to do.

One of these days I'll write a first person book. First person stories are easier to write and more genuine, but I like reading third person books better -- they have a more fantastic, mythical feel to them.

I'm in a weird melancholic state since I finished writing those scenes...outwardly I don't think anyone's noticed the difference, but inside I'm sort of ambiguously sad. The next scene is waiting to be written, and it's another sad one -- Kiroji apologizes to Myr for loving her so much. It's sad because no one should ever think or feel that way -- you can't really ever love anyone too much -- but he's so screwed up he thinks there must be something wrong with him that he loves her.

This is great fun :) I don't mind feeling this way. It reminds me of the good things in life. I'm the kind who tries to listen to her pain in order to comprehend it. And that's part of why I write.

So this was a very stream-of-consciousness type of entry. I realize when I'm talking about my characters it sounds as if my grip on reality is very loose indeed, but I've always existed in two worlds -- the one in my head and the one out here. Sometimes the unreal one eclipses the other, but usually I manage to stay firmly in the one that birthed me and at least put up the so-called semblance of normality.

Not that normal even exists to begin with.

07.16.00 - Three calls over the weekend, one requiring me to drive into the office to kick a machine at 10:30 am on Saturday after I went to bed at 5 am...heh. Gotta love it.

Killed about 10,000 words worth of material in favor of not lingering too long in the afterlife. I think I'm happy with the current incarnation of the death/rebirth, but I could wind up hating it next week and coming up with a better idea. Right now it's ambiguous, which matches with the theological schema (and was what bothered me about the last treatment). The gods in this world just don't talk to their followers for long, extended conversations. They don't like to explain things....

This is the problem with being a priest and a writer -- by necessity, I compare everything I write with everything I live, and it's made writing this a pain because, in my world, people don't just come back from the dead. I swear for the next world I write I'll use every damn cliché in the book, because it'll be a hell of a lot easier than trying to be realistic. Anything to save myself from having to make the painful attempt at using gods who actually behave like gods rather than "humans on a grand scale" (which is how most speculative genre deities seem to act).

Anyway.

Saw X-MEN again. I think I'm done with it for now. Maybe in a month I'll get the urge to see it again, but for now I'm happy. I want a sequel done by the same crew. I want a WeaponX movie.

I bought more white clothing today than I have in my entire life. You see, I'm wearing a cassock at the retreat, and they're slightly see-through. And what color clothing does Steph own, you ask?

Yeees, that's right! Black, black, and more black!

Well, to be fair, while a large bulk of it is black, the rest is mostly earth tones -- beige, dark green, browns, some dark blue, some dark grey. Some t-shirts. One white cotton top. One red boat-neck top. One red sweater that says "CATLADY" on it. I'm not a red kind of person, but I can't resist a shirt like that.

My thumb has stopped hurting since I stopped playing Diablo II. Hm.

Please Save My Earth is stuck in my head. The end song, "Toki no Kioku" ("Memory of Times") is another one of Kanno Yohko's pieces and, once again, I'm stuck with needing to hear it over and over again. It starts out with this single voice singing, and she sounds kind of sad and lonely, and then it slowly builds and...argh. It was a good thing to write Myr's scenes to.

Backups are done for the book. I'm going to bed. (wave)

07.15.00 - Why I shouldn't write at 5 am:

"Is there a point to this?" she asked. "Was there a point to showing me them, to making me linger here? What was it? and why doesn't this scene jive?

dammit.
f***ingmuddlepucker.

need to think of something else.

sigh.

07.14.00 - Not for the faint of heart, some ASP code that I needed, that no one had, that is now part of my repertoire:

<%

dim findBrowser, whatBrowser, getBrowser, browserInfo
'' I want to check to see what
'' browser they're using. Explorer? NetScape?
findBrowser = "IE"
Set browserInfo = Server.CreateObject("MSWC.BrowserType")
whatBrowser = browserInfo.Browser
getBrowser = Instr(whatBrowser, findBrowser)

%>

Cops in cars
The topless bars
Never saw a woman
So alone
Motel Money Murder Madness
Let's change the mood from glad to sadness

07.13.00 - Getting into a busy season for me. Expect less regular updates, but I'll be back after August 7th.

Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I have two presentations at the beginning of August, a lot of oils to mix, and websites to do, so something's got to give.

Will try to update daily, though. Just not guaranteeing it.

And all I wanted were the simple things,
A simple kind of life.
Now all those simple things are
simply too complicated for my life
How’d I get so faithful to my freedom?
A selfish kind of life

07.12.00 - Finally did that dental appointment thing I've been meaning to for, oh, four years now.

Um, yeah. Sorry, mom.

So in twelve days, I get to hear how bad my mouth is doing. Now I just need to go to the OB/GYN. (sigh) Look, I know it's all clinical, but I still feel like I just rolled in the mud after one of those things.

They have bindi items over at the local beauty supply place. I may go check it out if I get a chance, though admittedly I feel odd wearing stuff like that.

Heard at work today:

07.11.00 - Yes, Susan, I owe quite a bit to good ol' San Onofre and its two greatest assets; what we, the denizens of San Clemente, affectionately called "Dolly" out of humanity's reflex to give cute, current-event names to things that, if we stopped to think about them too much, would probably scare us witless. But regardless, the twin peaks of Southern California were and are for me shining monuments to womanhood.

Well, actually, they're concrete...so they don't really shine. They do blink, though. I swear to God. They have little lights in the, er, "nipular" region to warn planes.

Which reminds me. Did you know a jumbo jet could crash into that concrete pair and it wouldn't bust them? Heh heh. No pun intended. Seriously, though. They were built to last, those babies. Built like a brick...you know. Somewhere, I know there's an engineer who wanted to be a plastic surgeon and wound up a nuclear powerplant architect instead. San Onofre is his opus. He was ahead of his time, recognizing the power of breastages, their ability to contain dangerous radioactive stuff and things, their inherent appeal to the human race.

Or maybe he was just like, sitting around, drinking beer with his buds, grumbling about his latest blueprint and -- BANG! It hit him. Not only would he have his radioactive cake, but he'd have Edith, too! Jugs! Jugs for all! Great big cosmic-sized jugs! Jugs that would ensure that everyone who drove past them would point and snicker at least once.

I think it's refreshing, really. With all the phallic symbols we're assaulted by in our day-to-day lives -- skyscrapers, missles, grain silos, Marge Simpson's hair -- it's good to see a strong sign of women's symbolism in the industrial world. Those two bold, full, god-sized handfuls sitting by the coast always made me feel proud of my own girls -- and a little inadequate.

I really wanted to use the word "yonic" in there somewhere, but it doesn't refer to the right thing. I've always wanted to use the term yonic in a sentence. Someday...someday....

Is this an Amazon.com box that appears before me? That reminds me....

THANK YOU to everyone who got me gifts. Gryph and Bear bought me one of the X/1999 volumes, and my sister Cindy bought me some, too. And Jeff, who is evil, bought me the collectors edition of Bubblegum Crisis.

Thank you :) I like getting my gifts late, you know...it gives me more things to look forward to. I love walking into work and finding a package on my desk. Thank you!!

07.10.00 - Huh huh. I know Magic Missle.

With all this talk of nukes and bombs in our little anti-establishment sewing circle of Mooville and ex-Mooville journalists, I'd have to say that while I didn't live during that era of bomb shelters and drills, I did live ten miles from the San Onofre nuclear power plant for most of my formative years (eleven to seventeen), and we would have regular testing of the local sirens, in event of a meltdown.

There is nothing in the world that gives me that chilling, sick-to-the-stomach feeling as the up-and-down wailing of a nuclear alarm going off. It makes me physically nauseous to hear one.

BUT, at the same time, I was the girl who dressed up as a radioactive mutant for halloween when she was thirteen, so maybe I'm just one big ol' hypocrite.

Susan, just so you know -- I'm not girlie either. And I'm sorry I ever dragged you off to the local pharmacy to try and buy make-up. I still have no idea why I did that to you.

Um, but I do like dayspas. I like the massage part, and facials are kind of nice, too. Except that I fall asleep during them, and start to snore. Very ungirlie.

I'm in a tired/headachey mood today. Too little sleep. Too many ideas running around in my head.

So my middle finger has a ring size of ten, as I found out from the woman behind the jewelry counter at WalMart today. It's very odd going up to someone and asking them if they'll size your finger, and then you literally give them the finger, and they happily slip a ring onto it. It's almost as odd as phoning in an order for a cassock.

I'm yawning like crazy. I need to get me to bed at midnight tonight. Please, Jeff, make sure I go to bed at midnight tonight.

I hope my landlords don't read my website, because we (Jeff and I) are planning on moving into another place come October. The old two-bedroom, one living-room digs are just way too small. We're looking at a three-bedroom, three-story apartment near the office building. I want a guest room for guests, and -- assuming Ron ever hauls his ass out here -- eventually a room for my shrine (since Jeff would move out if Ron ever got his mojo on). It's a loud shrine, and having it in my bedroom is okay, but I think it needs its own place.

Man. New apartment. That would be so nice. I could get another cat. In fact, I will get another cat if we get the new apartment. Another girl, I think. I like the girls, though the boys are the ones who were always sweet on me. But the boys cause fights and like to spray. So a girl it is.

Cat!

Meep.

Shine on friend,
good night.
why then
the darkening of the light?

07.08.00 - Well, I crashed Kemet.org. Again. Phear my leet server-killing skillz.

Not that I did it on purpose. It just seems to happen once in a while when I'm uploading and downloading files. Hopefully it'll be back soon -- I need to get some new fixes in.

I don't know how many of you believe in it, but astrological-wise, this is the type of week when one should expect things like communication crashes. Yes, friends, Mercury is in retro, and for those of you who actually know what that means, you're probably screaming and running for the nearest rock as we speak.

I don't really hold much value in this sort of thing, but I do find it suspicious that we've had two major server failures and multiple server problems with Kemet.org and Netjer.org in the last few days. So...well, take it for whatever. Sometimes the best thing divination and prediction does is make us concentrate on areas we may not be paying full attention to.

And for those of you curious, I'm a Cancer with Cancer rising and Pisces moon. A whoooole lotta water, baby. Anyone up for seafood?

07.07.00 - (thud!)

Bruce put up a page.

Wow.
2:12 PM
 
 
At lunch today:

when you've got a high i.q., you're a great student. when you've got high e.q., you're a great teacher. when you've got high i.q., you get the job. when you've got high e.q., you get the promotion. when you've got high i.q., you can write a book on marriage. when you've got high e.q., you have a good marriage.

07.06.00 - Oh man. My new headphones rock. They almost completely kill all the outside noise around me, and contain the sounds I'm listening to. Deadly. This is what I get for visiting Kottke.org. A prescription for headphones that rock. Mmm. Tasty.

The first time I had Out of a Flower ice cream, it was because I'd heard of them on some TV show. I found a pint of Passion Fruit and Rose Petals ice cream on sale at the local WholeFoods, and man was it good. Then I found their Watermelon sorbet and it was even better than the other. Especially since I had a nasty cold at the time coupled with a sore throat...that pint of sorbet was all I had for two days, and it was worth the steep pricetag. The Wild Oats stores here in Missouri do carry Out of a Flower ice creams, much to my delight, but if you can't find any in your area, this company will ship six pints to you for $60. Can't vouch for the company, just found it in a search.

The Internet is a great place.

Feeling enervated today. Probably due to the fact that I had intended on going to bed at midnight, and wound up going to bed at three instead. Tomorrow, though, the demon phone will trade hands and I can yell, "Out, out, damned spot!" to the whole affair.
5:39 pm
 
 
Things you discover at 12:30 am after being called in because the webserver is down:

• Yes, you should have listened to yourself when, halfway out the door, your brain reminded you that you left your wallet in your jeans. You should not scoff at your brain and tell it you have a key to the office and will be very careful driving, because your brain is just sadistic enough to wait until you've driven up to the parking lot of the office to remind you that the reason it was telling you to grab your wallet was because you can't access the electronically locked room that houses the webserver without the keycard that was, erm, in your wallet.
   
• Going into an empty office building after watching Perfect Blue is...kind of creepy.
   
• No matter how beloved of Bast you may be, wild cats are wild cats. Wild kittens are wild kittens. Just because you stand there and yowl at them entreatingly doesn't mean they'll actual come running over.
   
• But, on that note, there is a new cute kitten running around the office.
   
• Fireworks stands start off-loading their unsold merchandise at 1 am. No one is quite sure as to why.
   
• WalMart does, indeed, sell denatured alcohol.
   
• It's in the paint aisle.
   
• It's pretty fricking cheap.
   
• The WalMart clerk doesn't care that you're a half-asleep looking hastily dressed broad buying alcohol-based accelerants at 1 am. All she wants to do is get you the hell out of her store.
   
• But her smile did remind you of your grandmother, which was nice.

07.05.00 - A weblog, diary, journal...whatever you name it. It's what you make of it. I used to consider mine cheap therapy, but now I consider it as a scrapbook that I can look back on and, at the same time, share with my friends while I'm collecting the pieces for it. Someday my kids will read this. And I want them to. I want them to know what I'm like, if they want to know. I'm hoping they will want to know.

I just want to restate what I said a few months ago. My mind was on Nora again this morning, because I've been dreaming about her and some of my Akhu (ancestors) for the last couple of nights. It's the end of my spiritual year, and the threads of the world are starting to loosen, so this is to be expected. (And that reminds me that I need to do that page on the New Year.)

Anyway.

The more friends you have, the more chances you have to love people, but the more likely you are to lose them. When my grandfather died, my first thought was...I wish I had spent more time with him. When Roger died, my first thought was...I wish I'd known him better. When Terry died, I chastised myself for not going to see him the one chance I got, for not sending him more email or instant messages. When Marion died, I thought...I wish I'd known her back before all the strokes. When Nora was dying, I thought...I wish I'd sat and talked with her more.

The lesson here, though, goes back to my great-grandmother, Lotte. She kept telling my mother that she was going to stay alive "long enough to see the next great-grandkid", and after the fourth kid came along, she finally admitted that "there's always one more reason to live".

And that's true on the flip side. There's always one more thing to say. There's always one more dinner we could have spent together. One more conversation we could have had. And the more friends you have, the more people you love, the less time you have to spend with all of them, and perhaps the more regret gets accumulated when they go past your reach.

But you can't regret. You have to instead realize that it's a sign of personal integrity that we miss these things, that we long for those missed conversations and those years spent that we can't regain. You can't let grief stop you. If you loved someone, and you let them know that, you already had the most important conversation of all. You let them know that someone cared about them, and you let them know that, when they're gone, someone would remember them on their birthday, their deathday, or whenever.

There's one last thing I want to say.

Happiness is what you make of it...I've spent the last three and a half years without Ron. And contrary to the popular chickfilm admission by the woman to the man that he "completes her", I do not need anyone to "complete" me. I was designed as self-contained. I have found happiness without him. It's a different kind of happiness, but it's happiness all the same. I think of the two kinds of happiness -- single happiness and coupled happiness -- I enjoy the coupled one better, but y'know what? I can live. My mother, I think, feels that I'm lonely, but I want her to know that I'm not. I am honestly happy. I will always be happy. I don't want to scare you but -- I have God. Always had God. And will always have God. And because I listen to Her and know Her and am touched by Her, I have the desire to be there for others. To listen to them and talk to them and maybe bring some of my happiness to their lives. And so I'm never alone.

And I think others see that, even if they don't recognize that as such.

That's all. I'll pipe down now. :)

07.04.00 - I settled on a name for the notes page finally. I'm twenty-five, as you all figured out, so I figured I'd call my page "five by five". It has a lot of nifty meanings:

• five times five is, of course, twenty five
• it's a military term for "everything is really great"
• it was one of the cooler lines out of Aliens
• five is the number associated with Bast. therefore, five by five is especially...five-ish.
• it's fun to say. fiiiiive byyyy fiiiiiiiive

upside-down funky


brushscript-sunburst mirror


verdana mirror

07.03.00 - I love fire.

Not in that bad, burning down houses for a sexual thrill sort of way ("arsonist"), but in that good, gazing for hours into a fireplace sort of way ("pyrophile"?).

So you'd think the 4^th of July (an American holiday featuring lots of pyrotechnics for those of you outside the States) would be one of my favorite holidays, but it's not. Truth be told, I usually don't notice it, nor do I look forward to it. I don't hate it, I just don't think about it.

I like to take boxes of matches and set them on fire. Just to watch them burn. Ron used to make a point of not letting me take matchbooks from restaurants as sort of a joke.

07.02.00 - Pros and cons.

Pros about having the house to myself: I can walk around without clothes on, I can keep the door to my bathroom open, I know who made what mess and who needs to clean it up, I don't have to explain what the latest concoction I'm working on in the kitchen is.

Cons about having the house to myself: I can't go in and sit on Jeff's bed and watch TV with him while he plays a game, the realization that if I died, right here, right now, it would take days before someone would find my body, no one to come home to and tell about my day.

Somehow I have avoided living without anyone in the domicile for long stretches of time. I can get by by myself -- and like I said, there are some nice things to it -- but there are also nice things to having someone there. Human interaction and all that.

I hit the first big bump in the book, and now I think I'm going to rewrite chapters twenty through twenty-four. I just don't like the way the afterlife turned out. Too silly and contrived. Obviously this is taking some time to think through, so I started drawing stuff to try and work my way through.

This helps. I'm not a good artist, but it's okay because these aren't drawings anyone will ever see but me. They're crude, and the bodyparts don't match up right, but they help me beat through the visualization of a fight scene or how someone should look; their expression, what they're feeling. I'm told C.J. Cherryh does something similar, and Misty Lackey used to write a song that encapsulated what was going on with her characters at that moment. I'm not a poet...but I do have a touch of the drawer's gift, and it really does help.

Which reminds me. I haven't written a song in a year or more. I used to, but then I think I got intimidated by people like Donna, who write such magnificent poetry. I don't think I know enough words to compact things into something as clear and meaningful as, say, Rilke could. I think the last one I wrote that I can remember liking was a piece for Bast that could probably be defined as heka, and that isn't exactly something I want to share past myself and a few others (sorry).

I made natron today. I needed a new batch. I tried the boiling water method that Barbara recommended, and it worked really well. I used a little too much water, though, and so I had to drain it off. It's now baking at 200^o for as long as it takes.

I called my dad today, and we talked...I should probably do that more often, shouldn't I? I should also probably explain my relationship with my dad to you all, but I don't know that I can. I love him, for what it's worth. I think that's all that needs to be said at this point.

Or we could put it in his own words: