Indian Summer to come to the NY Metro area November 8 to 10 after a chilly beginning to the month. High temperatures are expected to be over 5 degree above the normal highs for this time of the year. Don't put away those t-shirts yet!
Temperatures are expected to be in the mid- to upper-60s rather than the chilly days of low 40s we have recently had. Unfortunately, it will rain on Sunday and then go back to nasty, cold weather for the next 4 months.
Get it while you can!
Thursday, November 7, 2002
Additional gripe for yesterday: When my alarm clock went off Tuesday morning, I groaned and rolled over as I thought "damn, I really hate it when I forget to shut this thing off on the weekend." I then shut of the alarm, happy it was finally the weekend and nearly drifted back to sleep when the word "Tuesday" raced through my brain. That's how long this week has already been. After only 1 day of work I was ready for it to be over.
The thing I try not to do, and rarely ever do, is smoke before I'm walking to the subway (i.e. first thign in the morning). This morning, it looked peaceful outside from my bed. And although I did not want to nor definitely need to smoke, I put on my big flannel shirt and slippers and stepped out onto the balcony. The air was fresh from the rain the night before, the so-called "Nor'easter". It was cool and crisp, not the stingy chilly it has been that sends my nose instantly running. The traffic on Ft. Hamilton moved slowed as the light changed, no horn blowing and other aggresive behaviors could be seen from my angle.
The world seemed kind of nice. The large maple, or maybe oak, or it could even be elm tree that stands in the cemetery across the entrance from the garden center had turned a brillant firey pumpkin in the past week. It grows from within the gates of the cemetery but seems to expand outwards far enough for it branches to wave over the street. The top half had no leaves left, only the bottom, fuller part of the tree still had these orangey leaves of cholorphyl turning to sugar. It was as if a large giant came along last night and grabbed high on the tree and shook, taking off the leaves only from the top. Or a herd of very tall giraffes came buy to feast on the pumpkiny leaves. I put out my cigarette and reluctantly got ready for work.
I have this idea for writing a book. It's not exactly brand new, it's actually 4 years old but it gets re-evaluated in substance, style and and narrative voice frequently. I write short stories baseed on what will be in this book often. But now, I think, I want to write it this way. In the past when I've thought of it, I've always furthered it with different changes. But for 3 months now, I've been developing the same idea. I need to do a bit of research. I would greatly appreciate a grant to write this book, and a good editor since
Marie says I'm a lousy typist. I would like to walk around the city in the middle of the day, looking for the books and articles and need for research. Stand on my balcony and smoke cigarettes while I notice the smallest details of my landscape. Write a book. Then either become a terribly disappointing failure or a sucess which will cause me freak out about as I couldn't deal with people I've known in passing reading my book, passing judegment and holding opinions, be they good or bad. This book will take me about 2 years to write. The wrinkles on my face will bother me more then.
Wednesday, November 6, 2002
Right now I do not think I can be fully relied upon. I'd like to be able to run to the library and get Victorian Era quotations on the fragile state of menstruating women which makes them even more so less predictable than normal. But no, that's just an excuse. That's not true at all, is it?
When I was changing out of my lavender collared shirt, to put on a soft cotton "weekend" shirt so that any splashes or other stuff from cooking the chicken I had left marinating from the night before would not get on this "work" quality shirt, I stopped for a minute and wondered what exactly it is that I am doing. Other than standing half naked in front of a shade with a questionable degree of shading ability. My whole going to work, changing out of work clothes, fixing nutritious dinners, drinking on weekends. I knew eventually I'd get over the excitement of the "adult" and wonder what more is there to all of this. Last night it happened. Or maybe it was just my period.
Maybe it all has to do with this colony of zits under my chin which throb in pain and have refused to go away after a week of constantly being coaxed to do so. It might be messing with my psyche too much. Maybe it's the Joyce Carol Oates book
Bess sent me, effecting my thinking and way of seeing. I read her constantly as a college student. I always felt then as if I was looking deeper into things for why when reading her books. Maybe it's Joyce Carol Oates haunting me.
Maybe it's being overtired, as I have been for 3 days now and now accept as a way of feeling. Maybe it would have been nice if I actually became tired when I put myself to bed early. Maybe it severe fatigue that effecting me. Or the moon cycle, or the end of Daylight Savings Time, or the lack of vitamin B12. Maybe I'm very anxious that the people I voted for this morning won't win.
I voted nearly straight down the democratic line, feeling as if I ran the risk of loosing something important if allowed a Republican to hold a small, unimportant office. I did not think that political parties mattered much a year ago, I wanted to vote for Bloomberg. But now he does not want to let us smoke, or have fun, or do anything that he isn't allowed to do. He's made me severely distrust Republicans like stray dogs shrinking from human touch as it reminds them of being struck.
Maybe it was easier when I did not vote, to not have to worry about who won and see the world out there as something huge acting against me beyond my control rather than something that I supposedly had a hand in creating.
I have the tendency to want to find an effect to everything, even if the thing that I am looking at is in itself an effect of something greater. I can make my mood boil down to acne and Republicans. We look inside and around too much, suffer from over-inflated senses of self-worth and entitlement. There is always something that caused something rather than it just being. I can blame my mood on anything, realizing the real answer is I'm just having a bad day.
Tuesday, November 5, 2002
Conspiracy, not Theory, but
Fact
When the girls of the NY metro area decided that seeing Tori Amos in concert at the Riverside Church would make for a fabulous evening out, they plotted an planned, send many an email while they were supposed to be earning their keep and were all set for the mysterious "internet pre-sale" to occur. Tara on one credit card, Alison on another, a magical password and a goodtime guaranteed for all. Tara, meaning me, admittedly was writing a work related email and didn't try to get tickets until 10:00:45 am. And they were sold out! The horror of it, only 45 seconds lat and no tickets left. Alison as well came up with nothing as well. The girls of the metro NY area, which could be the girls of Brooklyn if Marie didn't live in boring 'ole NJ, were disappointed. But ready to use their plastic again on Saturday in a second attempt to get tickets for this great occasion.
Tara, yep, me in the third person, stayed late at work yesterday and became annoyed to find it was raining out when she finally emerged from her box in the sky. She had a good deal of time before due at the mythical Craft Night in Williamburg and usually walked around on these Craft Night evenings. Last evening, she grunted and groaned as cold rain fell on her, and eventually made her way to the 14th Street L-Train Station. She chatted with an elderly lady as knitting has made her feel more connected with geriatrics of the same gender lately. And then hopped on the L.
A habit nearly all New York City subway riders are guilty of is reading what is inside of the newspaper that someone else is reading. Tara, in her wholesome goodness, is not above such actions. She probably does it more frequently than most. As it was Wednesday, many of the urbn hpstrs were carrying home their copies of the Village Voice, leafing through to find the most hpstrish activities to join in on this coming weekend. In this section, as most Voice readers know, are also announcements for upcoming concerts and ticket on-sale dates.
While looking at the Voice along with a rider more fortunate to be standing, Tara noticed something that made her feel instantly dizzy, woozy and the other physical things she feels when conspiracies finally reveal themselves to her as they often do since she's a keen observer on the world and interconnections. What caused this reaction was on the advertisement for the Tori Amos concert she and the girls of the NY Metro area had desparately wanted to see.
The Riverside Church show was marked in 1 inch red letters
SOLD OUT. "Sold out?!?" went through her mind immediately. "No fair, the regular on sale is not for a few more days!" And then that feeling washed over her and she knew immediately that there was something wrong. "But wait, the Village Voice is printed on Tuesday night. Those tickets did not go on sale until this morning. A show can't be sold out before it goes on sale."
A show can't be sold out before it goes on sale
This echoed in her head for minutes, until the mad rush out of the train at Bedford Avenue occurred. Then it was cold and rainy and her shock had disappeared when replaced with coldness and wetness. But it does not change what she saw, a show sold out before it was ever on sale. If you don't believe this, pick up the Village Voice and your eyes will not lie.
Thursday, October 31, 2002
Update: Thus far, the temperatures in October have been -0.9 degrees below normal. Only last week, (see 10/24 graph) October was about average but our recent cold spell has put October below normal. These numbers do not include the temperature for today, which isn't supposed to get anywhere near the 52 degrees of an average Halloween. Today is sure to make the -0.9 departure from average even lower. Brr.
On the plus side, as it always happened when the chills come early,
accuweather is predicting warming temperatures by the end of next week. Can we say Indian Summer? Time for some apprectiation of warmer weather before it becomes permenantly cold.
Confidential to all those ignorant of the fact: Daylight Savings Time
just ended, we were in DST all summer, we are now in "normal time." Clearly, we aren't saving any daylight with it getting dark at 5 pm and that in itself should be a good enough indication that it is
NOT Daylight Savings Time now. Any further misuse will result in my head exploding.
Thursday, October 31, 2002
What was supposed to happen last night: Leave at 5:45, take leisurely stroll down to West 4th or Broadway/Lafayette, find seat on subway, get home by 7:00, eat something delicious, do some yoga, watch some pbs, knit a hat, go to bed before 11:30.
What really happened last night: I left at 6:15 and then walked to 14th Street. I was thirsty since the air was dry, cold since the air was cold. I bought a beverage and went into the subway station. The platform was packed, not Crocodile Dundee packed, but people were standing 6 or 7 deep, peering down the tunnel, obviously annoyed. I contempleted what to do. I took the V to the A. At Jay Street and F train sat nearly empty and peaceful. Because it wasn't going to go anywhere.
Apparently a train was stalled at the very next stop. And no train were moving, backed up all the way into Manhattan. I regretted staying late, I regretted not taking the W even though it's scary to walk along the cemetery at night. I walked to the street level to get the bus and upon seeing the crowd, I regretted being born.
I'm a little shady, or should we say clever. I didn't think I was that clever until I realized I was the only one to think of it. Rather than to have to queue up when the next B67 came along with the crowds of disgruntled F train passengers, I walked up the street, past the college, to the stop earlier in the route. And waited in the cold, and got a seat. I would be hated for the next 45 minutes to and hour for having a seat.
What I hate most is how people complain and get stressed out when they all need to relax. In crowds like those, everyone agitated and taking it directly personally that the F train was not working, their negativity just makes me crazy. I pretended to read a book the rest of the way home.
Once we passed all of the yuppie areas, something strange happened. People started to talk and laugh. You know, the middle class non-up-tight people who don't pay to much rent? Yeah, those people aren't so bad to ride the bus with. Too bad it was only the last 15 minutes of the ride.
When I finally got home, I made some rice and ate a pitiful dinner while looking through a catalog. I washed my dishes while talking to Conrad and then realized I forgot to give him some rice. I put on this green mask and was marvelled at how my pores closed but the colony of 4 zits under my chin still make me feel like a leper. I knit the rest of the hat I started the day before. I did not go to bed until 1 am. I did not fall asleep until very much later after that. I might have well as had real coffee yesterday.
The gods owe me a better tonight to make up for yesterday.
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
I am plenty aware that caffeine is no good for me, no matter how often I try to convince myself otherwise. All of the evenings I stay up well past 1 am, 2 am, trying to fall asleep, knowing very well at 7 am I will not be this awake, will not be this awake at 8 am. At 9:30am when I finally get close to my work, still asleep and yawning al over the place, I will walk into another deli and buy another cup of that wonderful coffee. Just to be as awake as the caffeine kept me at 2:30am when I was counting the cars whishing up the Ft. Hamilton Parkway. I can't count sheep, I wind up spending too much time indulging in details of wool color, then I start thinking about yarn, and how to breed blue sheep. It's just a wreck.
I’d like to know how my parents do it. In the mornings when I stay there, one large mug is left behind after they’ve attacked the morning pot. They drink nearly a pot of coffee in the morning! My father spends his day driving around with a van full of coffee and I’m pretty sure that that causes a contact buzz. My mother has this addiction to iced tea. And when 10:30pm rolls around, they’ve given the dogs one last walk, retreated to their bedroom and are out for the night. I am very jealous, but not of the going to bed at 10:30 thing.
People have suggested decaf to me several times. They said I should try decaf, drink decaf, stay away from the caf. I would just chuckle and let them know that decaf was all wrong for me. Like smokeless tobacco, tofu sausage (I don’t eat any sausage, actually), non-alcoholic beer and other such “lessened” products, I could not go down that road. Coffee was delicious precisely because of it’s caffinated contents. Such I was convinced.
This morning, I used something rarely tapped into called judgement when purchasing morning rations of beverages. I went for decaf. It was indeed as lousy as I suspected it would be. However, much like some places have lousy coffee, I might have went to the place with lousy decaf. I’ll try the coffee stand this week. If it is bad there as well, I give up. It will forever be my conflict: rest / caffeine.
When my older sister, who is set to get married next July, asked for my email address, I should have given her a fake one. This morning, I had over 10 emails entitled:
Look what I found in the WeddingChannel.com fashion search!. All of them linked to various bride’s maids, mother of the bride and wedding gowns. I just want her to tell me what dress to buy, where to go get it, make my mother pay for it if it’s over $100 (which it surely will be) and then let it sit in my closet until I need to wear it, returning 10 hours later.
Farewell,
Dumbledor.
Monday, October 28, 2002
Lately, I've become obsessed with PBS. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the Discovery Channel has become flippy and grainy and not very watch able or maybe I've fallen back in love with a Channel that I probably haven't watched this much of since clocking in many daily hours of Sesame Street as a child. They had this great series on the
Jim Crow south where I learned things that many history courses by prominent scholars at my college failed to mention. When I missed the second half of the
Frank Lloyd Wright documentary, I became a little depressed. There's this great series called
Frontier House that they are now replaying featuring 3 families trying to live like homesteaders. It's by far better than the lot of reality television with the exception of the first three episodes of this season's Bachelor. Finally, this week is
Celebrate Brooklyn week.
Last night, while finishing up a spiffy knitting project, I tuned into my new best friend of a television station. There was an hour-long program on
SUVs and their tendency to rollover. That I particularly dislike this vehicle is nothing new. Below I have a link where you can donate money to an ad campaign against the gas guzzling SUVs. One of the first things I ever "published" on the internet was about
how I loathe them. And now, an hour later, I have enough arsenal to almost make me want to go to law school so I can then spend the rest of my life curtailing the number of these vehicles sold. (Notice, I said
almost.)
I do understand that they are actually functional for some people. I would have liked an SUV when
Marie and I went to Ben's cabin as I feared the floor of her car being scraped from under us as we took the "road" of large boulders and dirt. I understand why his father owns one. I do not understand why you need one for you litter of suburban kids, why you need one to get 1,000 rolls of toilet paper for 99 cents at the Costco. Frighteningly, 1 in 4 cars being sold these days is an SUV.
The ultimate irony of the SUV situation was revealed. First, the set-up. In the
rant I wrote so long ago, I discussed my first motor vehicle accident was caused by me not being able to see around the SUV in front of me. They are too big and too heavy.
Second, the issue. Not too long ago, during the Gulf War, when SUVs were called 4x4s and few people owned them, a bill was to be passed that required that vehicles have strict gas-mileage requirements. It was all American, saying we should not rely on foreign oil too much. While SUVs have increased their fuel economy considerably in the past decade, back then this bill was a direct threat to this burgeoning industry where a car company takes a pickup truck, encloses in and sells it for two to three times the price.
Third, the retort. American SUV manufacturers, which were struggling until the SUV came along due to competition from cheaper Asian-made cars, weren’t going to allow their market to bottom-up. The number one way to increase fuel economy was smaller cars. A crash-test was run showing how smaller cars don't do so well in crashes. Ford and other manufactures petitioned the feds hard, trying to show them that fuel-efficiency should not be placed higher on the list than safety of all of us good Americans.
Fourth, the irony. The bill did not pass and SUVs began to sell like crazy. Gas prices went down, the "internet" created a "boom" affording more people the ability to pay for the $30,000 or more price tags. The number of SUVs on the road skyrocketed. What this created was a higher percentage of heavy cars. My problem with all of this if you aren't bored to tears yet . . . heavier vehicles hurt smaller cars. Means with more SUVs on the road, non-SUV drivers are at a much greater risk of severe injury or death. The exact reason for not passing a fuel-efficiency bill (safety) is now what threatens non-SUV drivers in a country of increasing SUV ownership. Young families getting by using their old college Honda hatch-backs don’t stand a change against middle aged McMansion owners when they skid out and collide when picking their kids up on a rainy day.
Basically, you have to get an SUV and suffer the chance of it rolling over or you drive a small car and run the risk of SUVs completely wrecking your car, your body, your life. Fuckin' a man. and I love PBS.
Friday, October 25, 2002
Watch out Sam Champion!
It's been cold these days. I thought I was going senile and that this weather is normal for October. So I went on to
accuweather and did a little analysis. The results are:
As you can see, the weather thus far for October has been roughly normal. This is only one of two months (the other being June) where the weather has not been above normal. In January, the temperature averaged over 7 degrees above its usual mark. I played in Coney Island in a sweatshirt that month. Now I feel continually cold, but that might be because I refuse to shut my windows all the way. Maybe an averaged temperatured month actually feels cooler following many months of above averaged temperatures.
However, the past few days it has indeed been about 5 degrees colder than the average temperature this time of year. If this was my job, I'd put about three asterisks, since that's a pretty significant increase. (I'll spare everyone the math). Although I do have numerous tasks at work to complete, my intellectual curiosity got the best of me.
Yes, I made that figure. Yes, I am a dork. (Bess rocks for me actually getting to share with the world exactly how dorky I am)
Thursday, October 24, 2002
"This is George." Then we see a close-up of a gas pump. "This is the gas George buys for his car." Next we see a guy in a suit. "This is the oil company executive who makes money on the gas George buys." Close-up on al-Qaida training film footage: "This is the terrorist organization supported by money from the country where the oil company does business." It's followed by footage of 9/11: "We all know what this is." And it closes on a wide shot of bumper-to-bumper traffic: "The biggest weapon of mass destruction is parked in your driveway." Pretty effective.
To make it (this ad campaign) happen, the National Resources Defense Council (NRDC) on Tuesday opened a special account for these donations. If you would like to contribute, click
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
Last January, my hard work and good behavior was rewarded with a very small bonus. I was also treated to a minor increase in salary which has afforded me slightly a few more beers and occasional indulgent crafty purchases. One of the problems I had with the issue with the bitch lady at work is that yearly raises and bonuses are based on the year-end review and I feared that the sitation would mar my record and make my teensy bonus even teensier. I was trying to guestimate how much I would get, how much I could spend on Christmas gifts, birthday presents for myself and so forth. I wondering how many extra beers my salary increase would get me. Maybe even enough for a martini increase.
I don't have to worry about that any more. I don't have to worry about bonuses or year end salary increases that are slightly more than cost-of-living / inflation adjustments. Because we aren't getting any this year.
The board of my company met last week and because our money is from foundations and government, both effected by bad economic situations, they decided we should go without the bonuses. Even if they are only a couple hundred bucks, which means a lot to me. Salary increases? Limited to 2.5% of the entire company pay, which means after promotions, I might see enough money to buy some stamps in my paycheck.
I have been thinking about finding a new job but decided to hold off until the new year so I could get my little bonus. I guess I can start looking elsewhere now. Anyone have a job for me? I'm pretty cheap labor.
P.s. Maybe I'm not used to turtle necks, but my new black sweater one, which I was overjoyed with upon purchase, s making me feel a little chokey today.
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
I did not place an "out of office" reply on my email / voice mail but did inform people last Wednesday or Thursday that I would not be in the office on Monday. However, I still got several messages asking for tasks to be completed yesterday. It makes it all kind of pointless, doesn't it?
I took off yesterday for mental health, good measure and to not have to be in here. I needed to be away from work a bit longer. It feels like, on the weekend, Sunday afternoons is when I'm finally rested, winding down and work seems miles away just to have to return a couple hours later. 3 day weekends surely fix this problem. I still do not understand why we can't work 4 days at 10 hours rather than days at 8 hours. Regardless.
The weatherman on Sunday night reminded me that next weekend we are setting the clocks back, back to no more sunshine after work. I threw a minor fit and realized I must get as much evening walking over the Brooklyn Bridge in this week as possible. My plan for my day off was to walk, walk, walk and walk. And learn that coincidence is the only thing that stays the same.
I actually slept, past 10 am. It felt so lovely. I took a walk with Angel, he bought me soup and 1/2 sandwich, I got too full of energy and skipped around the far West Village. He asked me if he was boring and I honestly had no reply. I made my way down towards the Brooklyn Bridge after we'd parted, zig-zagging through the city. The breeze was a bit chilly, the sun hidden behind the buildings of downtown already, but there was still golden rays stretching across the middle of the bridge.
There weren't too many folks making the walk one way or the other right then. I increased the length of my stride, quickened my pace and began walking towards the first tower. I looked at the buidlings, got lost in my head and then looked up the pedestrian path, immediately aware that the person walking from Brooklyn was clearly my old roommate. You are not supposed to run into friends on the Brooklyn Bridge.
Sunday, I made a trip around Manhattan and stopped into the Strand as Edward has given me money for part of the utilities. I spent it all ($16) including a book of short stories from John Irving that was hidden in the stacks. I began reading it and thought of this old roommate of mine, because of how good old New England John Irving can be and how my friend is New England no matter what. Much like you can never make a Jersey girl un-Jerseyed (see: Martha Stewart).
"I was just thinking about you, and how you said you loved to walk over the bridge," was the first thing she said. "Funnily, I was thinking about you too today." But isn't that always how these things work. Always just thinking about the person you run into at the most unlikely local?
Later that night, watching PBS, as it's "Celebrate Brooklyn Week", there was a special on the Brooklyn Bridge with several authors and notables discussing the importance of the bridge to the city, to the people, to basically humanity. How it was built by hand, the tallest structure in the cities (Brooklyn and Manhattan) at the time, a complete marvel to be that high up even though now it's dwarfed by skyscrapers. There weren't any women talking about the importance of the bridge, but even so, these old men knew that this bridge is one of a kind, full of something that can't be described no matter how literary or dstinguished they may be. Maybe, then, it is fitting to run into old friends on a place that can't be fully explained.
Tuesday, October 22, 2002
I am currently have this pin-point of reddish pain, off-center, left of my forehead. It's a zit that's coming in that will surely be disgusting and large. I am getting to old for these things. It's just wrong to apply anti-wrinkle cream under and between my eyes and on my neck followed by zit cream on the rest of my face. Whenever this zit finishes brewing under my skin and comes to a head, probably while I'm washing my face as they normally do, it will look like
this.
I'm walkin' down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
But goodbye's too good a word, gal
So I'll just say fare thee well
I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right
Bob Dylan really needs to be a larger part of my daily musical requirements. Of course, I currently am suffering from long-term musical deficiency, which has been mildly ameliorated in the past month but seriously lack that healthy daily dosage. Maybe, tomorrow, when I wake too early for a weekend, desparate to just sleep until noon, just once, I'll throw 5 Dylan cds in the stereo and clean. Preferably, my roommate will be home and I can ask him to, you know, clean a litle bit now and again. Or at all.
I'm ready to go back to school, I think. The sad part is that Carnegie Mellon has a good graduate program but is in Pittsburg. I should never have gone to Barnard as it's made living in 95% of this country a really intolerable idea. The remaining New York metro-area is just too darn expensive to be a grad student in. Seriously, who can afford 60,000 dollars for two years getting a Master's at Columbia plus living expenses? Not this bitch. Lame ass cities it is then. At which point I might as well decide to become a writer instead and go to Iowa which mysteriously has the best writer's program in the country.
Friday, October 18, 2002
Tonight, is my granny’s birthday. She’s officially now a National Historic Landmark, you can tell because there’s a brown street sign with seriffed fonts instead of just the plain old green and white ones. The thing is, she really doesn’t need anything. She has enough clothing, doesn’t have much in the way of hobbies like listening to music so I could buy her some Sinatra or Tony Bennett. So I’ll buy her some chocolates and pick up some flowers at the Hoboken train station that have those big shiny daisies that are popular these days.
The president’s niece gets
jail time. Jeb’s kid gets 10 days. Check her out, she’s 25 but looks at least 35. Those Bush kids can’t seem to keep it together. I guess it runs in the family. I’d love to be back at the ranch in Texas for Thanksgiving dinner with George I, Babs, Millie the frigging dog, George II, his bitchy wife, Jeb (I’m sure he has a wife too), and 3 grandkids with drug and alcohol issues. I’ve tried to further describe the scene but find myself unable. It’s nearly frightening, actually.
Dave Barry sad young kids don’t read the newspapers any more. Some young kids wrote to him (as a classroom assignment since they obviously weren’t reading the paper to find out he wrote this). They has some
suggestions:
"Don't use jokes that we don't understand. In your article, you said, 'a much higher percentage than the general population voted for Stalin.' Who is Stalin? Put in jokes kids understand."
This morning I realized when a bar is closing, a business is going under, a retail establishment is ready to pull down it’s iron gates and so forth, we commonly refers to this as "shutting down." I realize that this may very well be the computer dictating our language as you must ask it to shut down before it will shut off. I don’t recall people using "shutting down" 10 years ago but I was also not old enough to go to bars or care about stores going out of business then. It’s an entire process to shut down a computer (do you want to save this application you have been working on all day but have neglected to save before I shut off?) much like the above examples require processes. Before, we just used "closing" which is a single action that is the opposite of opening. Conversely, we also call say new businesses are "starting up" but thankfully, we don’t not say that they are "loading."
On a related note: Is 'Dell dude' Steven
done for? Yes, please. It will allow me to sleep more soundly knowing I’ll never have to hear that again until he’s on a V-H1 Where are They Now in 5 years.
The song on the alarm clock this morning was Pat Benatar’s We Belong. My older sister obsessively listened to this song when she was not listening to Bon Jovi back in the late 1980s. I guess she was going through some teenaged drama at the time wherein she probably desperately wanted to kiss such and such a boy. It reminds me of what I’ve heard through a bedroom door so many times. Then, this morning, I got too overly analytical on these lyrics:
Don't want to leave you really
I've invested too much time
To give you up that easy
To the doubts that complicate your mind
Which is basically how I deal with the world. I refuse to give up. I thought for a while, then managed to doze back off. I was still in the office by 9:45, which, to me, is right on time.
Thursday, October 17, 2002