Life Listed - Chronologically

My sister's wedding dress. She's going with white against convention and what we all know better about her. Tomorrow I pick out the top to the periwinkle two piece bried's maid dress. I will coordinate the style accordingly.

I'd like to thank the snow for giving every morning news show something else to talk about other than Iraq, President Bush's ego, Michael Jackson's children who have to be covered more than Muslim women and every other asinine news story that is making me nauseous. I love snow, I pranced around my apartment this morning between the television and the tea kettle, giggling about the snow. It's nice to have a roommate who is never around so you can do silly stuff like that. I just hope the snow doesn't put a damper on my "hot date" tonight where we are going to actually go out and do things people do when dating like twinkle eyes at each other cover a cloth-covered table rather than giving in and prompty going to his bedroom after a martini over-looking Manhattan.

Friday, February 7, 2003

Is the comment option nice to have? Or not? I can't decide.

Thursday, February 6, 2003

I have compiled the top ten songs I can live the rest of my listening too. I am slow and take a while to get around to things, but I've been generating this list of add to Alison's page, but it's not timely any more so I'll put it here.

1. The boxer – Simon & Garfunkle
2. Over the hills and far away – Led Zepplin
3. Landslide – Fleetwood Mac
4. Mr Tambourine man – Bob Dylan
5. Love child – The Supremes
6. Fields of joy – Lenny Kravitz
7. A day in the life – The Beatles
8. American girl – Tom Petty
9. Midnight train to Georgia – Gladys Knight
10. The air that I breathe – The Hollies

The last two songs require that I listen to this music forever in the company of other people. If abandonded on a desserted island with those two songs, I'd need at least one person around and those songs could probably get me to love Gilbert Godfrey. In the case that I am completly alone with only a volleyball or whatever to love, I would like to replace the last to songs with:

9. Scenes from an Italian restaurant – Billy Joel
10. If I die tonight – 2Pac

Having 2Pac around for all eternity would be essential. I could get pissed off at the palm trees, relentless loneliness and so forth rather while listening to him than bawling my eyes out to Gladys Knight and the Hollies, essentially only having 8 songs I could tolerate listening to alone.

Thursday, February 6, 2003

It is not too late. . . you've pulled free of the gravity of a certain mental entanglement, and it would serve you to live as if that were true. Your mind may still have a tendency to get hung up on the ways in which you're getting the short end of certain power-sharing arrangements, and the effects of how you were disempowered in the past. You have every reason to question that reality, and your awareness alone offers you a dimension of power that is rare to experience. Indeed, there may have never been a time when you needed other people less. . . These will not take you further from other people, as our culture so often insists, only closer. It's not too late.

Horoscopial evidence of good mental times.
Wednesday, February 5, 2003

The final calculations are in an January was the coldest month ever. It was exactly 5 degress colder than normal (see graph below, calculated when it was only -4.93 degree from normal), it was blistery. It was possible to get frostbite by sticking your hand outside of a window in less than a second.

Monday evening I dropped my winter coat, which has been bundled tight against me for the past month, at the dry cleaners. It smelled of bars, cigarettes, sweaty necks on the subway and New Jersey. I dropped it off because yesterday was a rainy fall-like day of the mid-40s and my coat desparately needed to not smell that way anymore. I asked to pick it up the following evening, but was unable to as I was standing on an hour long line at the main post office express mailing my Rutgers application. (My mother informed me that I should not call the main post office on 8th Avenue the GPO - general post office - as we don't do that in America. I suggest we start.)

This morning, feeling the wind cut straight through my spring jacket, wooly cardigan, button down lavender shirt, and undershirt straight into my heart, I was happy to be getting my coat back. I was running late, very late and planned to exchange one coat for the other at the dry cleaners. After standing for 15 minutes while he looked for it, what do you know? It wasn't cleaned yesterday! I have to wear my spring jacket today! And tomorrow as well since I won't be able to pick it up until Thursday night at the earliest but more than likely Friday morning since I never leave work before midnight or so these days. I suppose I could have returned home to put on more appropriate coats like my puffy J-Lo or the tanish corduroy I bought as a freshman in college. But I was late. And in my spring coat, with February's mild 30s cutting through the thin waterproof fabric, it'll remind me of the feeling of January's 2 degrees through my heavy wool coat.
Wednesday, February 5, 2003

I surely hope I'm not ultra-senstive here, but this sentence regarding Ron D. Dittemore, the guy from NASA, makes me ill at ease:

It was a performance reminiscent of some of Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani's news briefings in those first harrowing days after Sept. 11, 2001.

It is horrible that these people died, but flying into and out of the atmosphere is a dangerous thing and ought to be at least mildly expected (see: Space Camp). Or maybe I'm completely desensitized and I cannot see how a space ship failing and kills 7 within the normal line of function is related to planes flying into buildings by crazed terrorists that kill thousands.

Adding to those things about the English language I do not understand: Prepare and repair should probably be spelled one way or the other in the same manner. Prepair or repare. I know there are important implications to the pair versus pare but, with the prefixes, the words take on entirely different meanings from their stems. I've pondered this for a while. I wonder when I'll ever accept this English.
Tuesday, February 4, 2003

I am a big huge ball of stress. I am forced down tears. I am looking at the horizon and knowing I'll get there as the only way to get through today. I am royally screwed.

Last night, I threw a minor hissy fit when, in attempting to download an anti-virus update to attempt to fix my ailing computer, the entire thing froze. After repeated restarts and other such "fixes", nothing really happened. The piece of crap my parents gave me is truly a piece of crap. The cheap unfinished wood desk from Ikea upon which it sits is more valuable. I wanted to write my statement of purpose for grad school applications. I wanted to finish this early. I wanted to take the future into my hands.

So I decided to fill out the written part of the application instead, carefully filling in my data, checking boxes, attempting to calculate my GPA. Leafing through the Rutgers's propectus, I saw something that made my heart stop. "However, applications for financial aide are due February 1."

I had held the date of Feb. 15 in my head for weeks, thinking I was getting on this application in due time. Not two days past due. Not late, not when it comes to me getting an stipend, affording to go to grad school. Not the program I want because it's cheap and good and in New Jersey where I want to eventually work. I could not have missed the deadline. I have missed it. But it will still go out, today, before the GPO collects its last over-nights at 10 pm.

I have work piled to my nose, to do lists running on for pages, stacks of papers to review, notes to type up, information to process. And a statement of purpose to mail out by 10 pm in the hopes that 2 days late has not made me ineligible. It will get done because this is what I want; it must get done because it is what I need.

(Sorry for the boring entry. This is all that is on my mind.)
Tuesday, February 4, 2003

Friday night: My older sister decides that I am a horrible person because I pick up my phone before entering a tunnel and am brief with her trying to let her know my phone will cut off soon. She refuses to answer my calls and I am aware that I have won the award of someone to be mad at this month. I drink 2 martinis and am happy the world out there seems far a way. Later, I get to drive Jersey boy's car.

Saturday: I get to use the car again. I get my taxes completed and now eagerly wait the few hundred dollars back out of the thousands I gave in to the system. Doing taxes is dangerous as I get a huge paper cut that bleeds intermittenly until Sunday morning.

Saturday night: I travel about 1,000 miles within the confines of the metro area, going from Jersey to Brooklyn to Manhattan in under 2 hours. Bess's birthday is celebrated. I drink many beers, meet surprising and startling people and wander the streets of Manhattan until 1:30 a.m. I realize I'll never love anything as much as wandering the streets alone.

Sunday: Unpack and repack, travel another 500 miles back to Jersey. Punxsutawney Phil confirms my suspicion that winter is never going to end.

Sunday night: Having a few beers and getting take-out at a Jersey outpost of a common chain restaurant, Jersey boy & I run into a woman about 40 with thick glasses and frizzy hair. He falls silent and less communicative. I ask if that's an ex, to which he answers no. Eventually, it comes out that they "dated" and she thinks he "has a good heart." I don't understand anything except I wonder precisely what drugs he was on to tolerate being with the unattractive and dowdy woman who apparently spends her time dressing teddy bears to sell to other unattractive and dowdy women who like things like teddy bears dressed in police uniforms and renaissance gear. Later, when static comes between us, I believe this meeting is responsible but have no concrete way of knowing this as I fear mentioning anything about her may cause me to uncontrolably say things such as the above about her. We watch the first episode of the Sopranos. I have strange dreams about bears.

(Actually, I don't dream about bears. It just sounded good. I have strange dreams about sex.)

I have precisely 12 days until $100 of my money and 2 graduate school applications are due. I have precisely 12 days to complete and mail out 2 applications that are going to make admissions committees cry with desire to have me join their programs. I have precisely 12 days to take the next step.

Finally: Happy Birthday to my favorite companion at the "sports bar" "Lopez-Fitzgeralds" and other such locations where we devise our devious plots: Bess!
Monday, February 3, 2003

From the Bess files:

What is it with North Jerseyans freaking out o'er being in "large crowds"? I mean, I guess since you guys grew up in the middle of nowhere, with not another soul around for miles and miles, hunting and gathering on the wild & unruly "reservation", it's understandable that they are anti-large-crowds and can't tell the Empire State Building from the Eiffel Tower.

Friday, January 31, 2003

Dear job:
You suck. The work day ends at 5 pm, which is fully when I intend to leave. Your gratuitous abuse of the hour of 5 occurred yesterday when I spent over an hour printing out transparancies on the color printers since other people don't properly plan their time. Today, separate people are also having time management problems which I refuse to take up slack for. I have a Jersey boy working in Manhattan today and picking me up, I refuse to work past 5 pm (see: rest of month when I did).

Dear nail on right ring finger:
You suck. Thanks for breaking on me, for splintering into a sharpened splinter that I nearly killed myself on. Just thanks.

Dear F-train:
You suck too. What's up with commute being over an hour these days? It's really unnecessary. Sorry for cheating on you and using NJ Transit more frequently these days, but geez, can we speed it up a bit?

Dear pitas:
You suck the most for swallowing this entry up the first time I posted it. My bitter anger is probably aggrivating rather than hilarious this time around. Really appreciate it.
Wednesday, January 29, 2003

In case you have no neurons, are kidnapped or otherwise completely unaware of the world outside, it is damn cold. The weatherman says this is normal and that it’s winter, that it ought to be expected. However, due to my unnatural obsession with averages, excel figures that don't contain asterisks and other such geeky endeavors, I have updated my degrees from average figure (see 11/7/02 archive for previous version).

Thus far, it is 5 degrees colder than normal, by far the coldest month in the past 13 months. This winter is not as cold as last winter was warm, but it can't really get any colder than it is. January is going to pull a trick on us and warm up to the toasty mid-30s for the rest of the week, thus upping the average degrees below normal by month’s end, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s been damn cold.

To think I thought that October was particularly nippy. I had no idea what I was in for. I would just like to not have to wear an undershirt, long sleeved shirt, sweater, zip-up hooded cardigan sweater, coat, long socks, heavy shoes, hat, scarf and mitten/gloves every day. For a day or two even. Just a break from the severe cold. Groundhog's Day couldn't be more interesting to me at this point.

Somehow, though, even with the big determination of how much longer winter is going to last divined by the god's through a groundhog's shawdow rapidly approaching, I feel as this is just the beginning.
Tuesday, January 28, 2003

My favorite thing, hybrid cars, are getting popular. There’s even going to be a Lexus hybrid made. Unfortunately, while there are good cheap cars in the under $15,000 range, the hybrids, due to their low production numbers mainly, are a bit more expensive. Guess who will be leasing a car if she’ll need one next year so she can get the hybrid once they fall in price? Seriously, who wants to spend $20 or $30 in gas, filling up once or twice every week over $15 maybe every week and a half. (Answer: Stupid SUV owners.)

The governor of NY is even after SUVs. There is apparently a loophole in state tax laws that allow business owners to write off the purchase of certain SUVs since they meet vehicular requirements that were intended to give a tax break to farmers (big heavy car is a lot like big heavy tractor). Smarty Pataki is ending this.
Tuesday, January 28, 2003

If you have not yet seen The Jerk, I highly recommend that you do. I cannot believe I've gone this long life without watching it. It is easily one of the funniest movies, or maybe it was just the combination of laughing on a consistent basis mingled with sleep deprivation, open cartons of take-out and cuddles. Regardless, it is simply hilarious, it is what Jim Carrey desires to be but never can. Any movie that opens with Steve Martin saying "I grew up a poor black child," and goes on from there definitely is worth the $3 rental and 2 hours watching. And in this bitterly cold season of hibernation, it is something better to do than test the reaction casued by tying various objects to your pets' tails.

I'm picking out a thermos for you
Not an ordinary thermos for you
But the extra best thermos you can buy with vinyl and stripes and a cup built right in
I'm picking out a thermos for you
And maybe a barometer too
And what else can I buy, so on me you will rely, a rear-end thermometer too.

That is the song he sings his girl. Which is easily as funny as Melanie Griffin in Working Girl saying to Alec Baldwin "I am not steak. You cannot order me."
All degrees of seriousness have been suspended for the time being.
Monday, January 27, 2003

Dear Al Sharpton,
You got it going good now, with Mayor Mike showing up at your Rev. MLK, Jr. day earlier this week along with Hillary and other notables. That Guiliani sucker never gave you that credibility when he was in office, did he? Mayor Mike was probably just trying to score some points with the constituents; something Rudy never gave a rat’s ass about. But, regardless, it’s best for you in the end to get some degree of seriousness thrown your way as you are in the top 5 wacky black men in the public eye:

1) Don King (whom I frequently confuse with you)
2) Marion Berry (got crack? got a city that’ll elect you twice?)
3) Al Sharpton
4) Johnnie Cochran (No explanation needed)
5) Clarence Thomas (No matter the Supreme Court Justice status, he still put pubes on coke and are pro-life)

Maybe now you’ve dipped to fourth place, time will tell.
The other day you decided to run for president, again, and while you were in D.C. your Hall of Justice had a pretty bad fire. Conspiracy theories are indeed interesting and this is suspiciously coincidental and I cannot wait to hear what you have to say about the situation. What the papers had to say was:

"Fire marshals said the cause of the blaze was a faulty extension cord near some boxes of leaflets. They ruled it accidental."

With GwB trying to get rid of affirmative action, shortly after saying Trent Lott is too much for congress for supporting a segregationist, the social discourse on racial issues completely non-existent for several years, MLK Jr.’s big day just past, and you deciding to run for president, the idea of someone setting fire to your headquarters purposely under some grand attack against black people ever getting any where other than token sports stars, Oprah, and BMW-driving suburbanites deserves a raised eyebrow or two.

However, the circumstances of your fire, a "faulty" extension cord strike, dare I to say, a cord with me. Several years ago, as you may recall from our long-standing correspondence, I too suffered the pain of a fire under the same suspicious circumstances of a faulty extension cord. That it should happen to me nearly 3 years ago, on Memorial Day weekend, and then you right after MLK, Jr. day should only fuel the flickers of conspiracy.

Again, I am sorry the Hall of Justice burned. Best of luck in your presidential race. While you don’t have my vote, I welcome what your presence in the race will do to the discourse and subjects discussed. Much like when Howard Stern, our dear friend, ran the gubernatorial race to end roadwork during the day (which ultimately occurred even with his loss) you will also inject elements that the current pussy assed p.c. liberals dare not to mention. Maybe things like affirmative action, racial injustice and the fact that this supposed "melting pot" is a boiling cauldron with hate spattering all over, will be mentioned without your wacky-black man status discrediting the issues.

xoxo
tara (Please excuse this complete and utter nonsense)
Friday, January 24, 2003

Is is Friday afternoon yet? Can this shortened work week that was still heavy on the stress even if I did get to leave at normal human times be over with, yet? I can't stand another 24 hours of wearing 74 layers in order to be outside and having a constant runny nose as soon as I step out into the world. I can't stand the stuffy office and dry nose. The endless hours of mousing and formatting and suddenly everyone realizing that I am a smart cookie for knowing the most basic things about computer software (and smart-ass when it comes to naming files like "biteme.doc"). Of mousing around my desk making tables and figures while my head slowly dehydrates from the over-heated office. I would give up the plans I have with a friend tonight, a "you screwed up and I am willing to pass on our plans just for it to be Friday" friend, just for it to be Friday.
This whine was brought to you by the APA and their annoying reference formats.
Thursday, January 23, 2003

To sum up this week's 90 minute "special" Bachelorette utilitizing a line from Jerry Maguire: "You had me at 'hey little one'."
When Charlie's secret videoed message started with that, we could see her visibly tremble in excitement at the idea of getting his little one. The who situation with big funny Bob was outrageous, with Trista telling him that if she had a fifth rose, it would be his. Mostly because the other 3 guys were creepy. She should have given him the truth: "I like you, but you're fat." How she could find Russell "I was afraid that if I moved to sit nearer to you it would be too forward" or Greg "Watch my green eyes dance in the fire light but don't look to close or else you'll see the gates of hell" inheirently appealing over Big Bob with the exception that they are not fat, is beyond me. Basically, there's no point to watch until she has to decide between Ryan and Charlie.

From the Jersey boy cracking me up files: "Let's go out Friday, this way I have time to rent a red Camaro. Or a t-top. And I'll be waiting on Raymond Avenue leaning against the car with my hair gelled back, sweatpants on too low and a wife beater on. Big huge gold chain around my neck. Blasting techno."

From the Can we go over again why I only got a 2Point5 given the idiocy of co-workers: "I can't figure out to get rid of this second blank form and sample form from this thing I downloaded. I tried to save it as a .doc instead of an .rtf, tried copying my section to another document but the margins were all wrong. I don't know." 5 seconds later I say: "Go to tools, and then unprotect. You can do it then." And they act like I am a genius for this instead of just a 2Point5.
Thursday, January 23, 2003

When I forgot my disc yesterday containing the response to my year end-review, I thought it was for the best and decided to take another look at what I had written in case anything was too outrageous / in case they are looking for another person to lay off I don't want to basically volunteer with my response. But my disc wouldn't work. My A: drive wouldn't work. I cursed the computer and spent the night talking on the phone instead. I don't think I've spent the night talking on the phone since I was 14 or so.

This morning, I loaded the disc into the A: drive at work and the file popped right up. I cursed my computer at home for being an idiot. I reread my response and realized that it was a pretty good reflection on how I felt and was in no need to be pared down or toned down. I printed it, stapled it to the back of my review, signed my review for January 15, 2003. Then my mouse stopped working as it had maybe a week before, and I hoped I wouldn't have to loose my special ordered mouse with laser and scrolling whirlly-gig. I hit cntrl-atl-dlt to restart. Then the antivirus software popped up informing me they couldn't restart me thanks to a virus on my disc. I popped out the disc and wanted to go to the IT guys with this problem.

"But wait!" I exclaimed inside my head. "They will see the name of your file when scanning your disc!" I scampered downstairs with my disc, knowing it was best to let them know as soon as possible. "I brought a virus to work today," I told the room of 3 technicians. "You're getting reported to HR," one bantered back to me while smiling and getting up to take my disc from my hand. After scanning it, the virus was confirmed to be gone and a brief discussion followed regarding how to clean my home computer.

The guy was still messing with my disc to make sure everything was okay, but looked puzzled. "You only had 1 file on this disc?" he asked with his head tilted, questioning more the file name the the number of files. "Yeah, in case you're wondering about that filename, it's a response to my year-end review." The 2 other guys look up from behind their massive IT computers, wondering what the suspicious name could be. "Oh, don't worry about it," he said smirking, handing me back my disc, keeping it a secret between him and me. For the benefit of the other two guys, and a good laugh, I said, "I thought 'biteme.doc' pretty much summed it all up."
Wednesday, January 22, 2003

Marie Bess Jesse Alison Explodingdog Anti-Hipster Miz_a Fulltilt Gwenworld Savecraig	Tried and True My sister's wedding dress. She's going with white against convention and what we all know better about her. Tomorrow I pick out the top to the periwinkle two piece bried's maid dress. I will coordinate the style accordingly. I'd like to thank the snow for giving every morning news show something else to talk about other than Iraq, President Bush's ego, Michael Jackson's children who have to be covered more than Muslim women and every other asinine news story that is making me nauseous. I love snow, I pranced around my apartment this morning between the television and the tea kettle, giggling about the snow. It's nice to have a roommate who is never around so you can do silly stuff like that. I just hope the snow doesn't put a damper on my "hot date" tonight where we are going to actually go out and do things people do when dating like twinkle eyes at each other cover a cloth-covered table rather than giving in and prompty going to his bedroom after a martini over-looking Manhattan. Friday, February 7, 2003 Is the comment option nice to have? Or not? I can't decide. Thursday, February 6, 2003 I have compiled the top ten songs I can live the rest of my listening too. I am slow and take a while to get around to things, but I've been generating this list of add to Alison's page, but it's not timely any more so I'll put it here. 1. The boxer – Simon & Garfunkle 2. Over the hills and far away – Led Zepplin 3. Landslide – Fleetwood Mac 4. Mr Tambourine man – Bob Dylan 5. Love child – The Supremes 6. Fields of joy – Lenny Kravitz 7. A day in the life – The Beatles 8. American girl – Tom Petty 9. Midnight train to Georgia – Gladys Knight 10. The air that I breathe – The Hollies The last two songs require that I listen to this music forever in the company of other people. If abandonded on a desserted island with those two songs, I'd need at least one person around and those songs could probably get me to love Gilbert Godfrey. In the case that I am completly alone with only a volleyball or whatever to love, I would like to replace the last to songs with: 9. Scenes from an Italian restaurant – Billy Joel 10. If I die tonight – 2Pac Having 2Pac around for all eternity would be essential. I could get pissed off at the palm trees, relentless loneliness and so forth rather while listening to him than bawling my eyes out to Gladys Knight and the Hollies, essentially only having 8 songs I could tolerate listening to alone. Thursday, February 6, 2003 It is not too late. . . you've pulled free of the gravity of a certain mental entanglement, and it would serve you to live as if that were true. Your mind may still have a tendency to get hung up on the ways in which you're getting the short end of certain power-sharing arrangements, and the effects of how you were disempowered in the past. You have every reason to question that reality, and your awareness alone offers you a dimension of power that is rare to experience. Indeed, there may have never been a time when you needed other people less. . . These will not take you further from other people, as our culture so often insists, only closer. It's not too late. Horoscopial evidence of good mental times. Wednesday, February 5, 2003 The final calculations are in an January was the coldest month ever. It was exactly 5 degress colder than normal (see graph below, calculated when it was only -4.93 degree from normal), it was blistery. It was possible to get frostbite by sticking your hand outside of a window in less than a second. Monday evening I dropped my winter coat, which has been bundled tight against me for the past month, at the dry cleaners. It smelled of bars, cigarettes, sweaty necks on the subway and New Jersey. I dropped it off because yesterday was a rainy fall-like day of the mid-40s and my coat desparately needed to not smell that way anymore. I asked to pick it up the following evening, but was unable to as I was standing on an hour long line at the main post office express mailing my Rutgers application. (My mother informed me that I should not call the main post office on 8th Avenue the GPO - general post office - as we don't do that in America. I suggest we start.) This morning, feeling the wind cut straight through my spring jacket, wooly cardigan, button down lavender shirt, and undershirt straight into my heart, I was happy to be getting my coat back. I was running late, very late and planned to exchange one coat for the other at the dry cleaners. After standing for 15 minutes while he looked for it, what do you know? It wasn't cleaned yesterday! I have to wear my spring jacket today! And tomorrow as well since I won't be able to pick it up until Thursday night at the earliest but more than likely Friday morning since I never leave work before midnight or so these days. I suppose I could have returned home to put on more appropriate coats like my puffy J-Lo or the tanish corduroy I bought as a freshman in college. But I was late. And in my spring coat, with February's mild 30s cutting through the thin waterproof fabric, it'll remind me of the feeling of January's 2 degrees through my heavy wool coat. Wednesday, February 5, 2003 I surely hope I'm not ultra-senstive here, but this sentence regarding Ron D. Dittemore, the guy from NASA, makes me ill at ease: It was a performance reminiscent of some of Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani's news briefings in those first harrowing days after Sept. 11, 2001. It is horrible that these people died, but flying into and out of the atmosphere is a dangerous thing and ought to be at least mildly expected (see: Space Camp). Or maybe I'm completely desensitized and I cannot see how a space ship failing and kills 7 within the normal line of function is related to planes flying into buildings by crazed terrorists that kill thousands. Adding to those things about the English language I do not understand: Prepare and repair should probably be spelled one way or the other in the same manner. Prepair or repare. I know there are important implications to the pair versus pare but, with the prefixes, the words take on entirely different meanings from their stems. I've pondered this for a while. I wonder when I'll ever accept this English. Tuesday, February 4, 2003 I am a big huge ball of stress. I am forced down tears. I am looking at the horizon and knowing I'll get there as the only way to get through today. I am royally screwed. Last night, I threw a minor hissy fit when, in attempting to download an anti-virus update to attempt to fix my ailing computer, the entire thing froze. After repeated restarts and other such "fixes", nothing really happened. The piece of crap my parents gave me is truly a piece of crap. The cheap unfinished wood desk from Ikea upon which it sits is more valuable. I wanted to write my statement of purpose for grad school applications. I wanted to finish this early. I wanted to take the future into my hands. So I decided to fill out the written part of the application instead, carefully filling in my data, checking boxes, attempting to calculate my GPA. Leafing through the Rutgers's propectus, I saw something that made my heart stop. "However, applications for financial aide are due February 1." I had held the date of Feb. 15 in my head for weeks, thinking I was getting on this application in due time. Not two days past due. Not late, not when it comes to me getting an stipend, affording to go to grad school. Not the program I want because it's cheap and good and in New Jersey where I want to eventually work. I could not have missed the deadline. I have missed it. But it will still go out, today, before the GPO collects its last over-nights at 10 pm. I have work piled to my nose, to do lists running on for pages, stacks of papers to review, notes to type up, information to process. And a statement of purpose to mail out by 10 pm in the hopes that 2 days late has not made me ineligible. It will get done because this is what I want; it must get done because it is what I need. (Sorry for the boring entry. This is all that is on my mind.) Tuesday, February 4, 2003 Friday night: My older sister decides that I am a horrible person because I pick up my phone before entering a tunnel and am brief with her trying to let her know my phone will cut off soon. She refuses to answer my calls and I am aware that I have won the award of someone to be mad at this month. I drink 2 martinis and am happy the world out there seems far a way. Later, I get to drive Jersey boy's car. Saturday: I get to use the car again. I get my taxes completed and now eagerly wait the few hundred dollars back out of the thousands I gave in to the system. Doing taxes is dangerous as I get a huge paper cut that bleeds intermittenly until Sunday morning. Saturday night: I travel about 1,000 miles within the confines of the metro area, going from Jersey to Brooklyn to Manhattan in under 2 hours. Bess's birthday is celebrated. I drink many beers, meet surprising and startling people and wander the streets of Manhattan until 1:30 a.m. I realize I'll never love anything as much as wandering the streets alone. Sunday: Unpack and repack, travel another 500 miles back to Jersey. Punxsutawney Phil confirms my suspicion that winter is never going to end. Sunday night: Having a few beers and getting take-out at a Jersey outpost of a common chain restaurant, Jersey boy & I run into a woman about 40 with thick glasses and frizzy hair. He falls silent and less communicative. I ask if that's an ex, to which he answers no. Eventually, it comes out that they "dated" and she thinks he "has a good heart." I don't understand anything except I wonder precisely what drugs he was on to tolerate being with the unattractive and dowdy woman who apparently spends her time dressing teddy bears to sell to other unattractive and dowdy women who like things like teddy bears dressed in police uniforms and renaissance gear. Later, when static comes between us, I believe this meeting is responsible but have no concrete way of knowing this as I fear mentioning anything about her may cause me to uncontrolably say things such as the above about her. We watch the first episode of the Sopranos. I have strange dreams about bears. (Actually, I don't dream about bears. It just sounded good. I have strange dreams about sex.) I have precisely 12 days until $100 of my money and 2 graduate school applications are due. I have precisely 12 days to complete and mail out 2 applications that are going to make admissions committees cry with desire to have me join their programs. I have precisely 12 days to take the next step. Finally: Happy Birthday to my favorite companion at the "sports bar" "Lopez-Fitzgeralds" and other such locations where we devise our devious plots: Bess! Monday, February 3, 2003 From the Bess files: What is it with North Jerseyans freaking out o'er being in "large crowds"? I mean, I guess since you guys grew up in the middle of nowhere, with not another soul around for miles and miles, hunting and gathering on the wild & unruly "reservation", it's understandable that they are anti-large-crowds and can't tell the Empire State Building from the Eiffel Tower. Friday, January 31, 2003 Dear job: You suck. The work day ends at 5 pm, which is fully when I intend to leave. Your gratuitous abuse of the hour of 5 occurred yesterday when I spent over an hour printing out transparancies on the color printers since other people don't properly plan their time. Today, separate people are also having time management problems which I refuse to take up slack for. I have a Jersey boy working in Manhattan today and picking me up, I refuse to work past 5 pm (see: rest of month when I did). Dear nail on right ring finger: You suck. Thanks for breaking on me, for splintering into a sharpened splinter that I nearly killed myself on. Just thanks. Dear F-train: You suck too. What's up with commute being over an hour these days? It's really unnecessary. Sorry for cheating on you and using NJ Transit more frequently these days, but geez, can we speed it up a bit? Dear pitas: You suck the most for swallowing this entry up the first time I posted it. My bitter anger is probably aggrivating rather than hilarious this time around. Really appreciate it. Wednesday, January 29, 2003 In case you have no neurons, are kidnapped or otherwise completely unaware of the world outside, it is damn cold. The weatherman says this is normal and that it’s winter, that it ought to be expected. However, due to my unnatural obsession with averages, excel figures that don't contain asterisks and other such geeky endeavors, I have updated my degrees from average figure (see 11/7/02 archive for previous version). Thus far, it is 5 degrees colder than normal, by far the coldest month in the past 13 months. This winter is not as cold as last winter was warm, but it can't really get any colder than it is. January is going to pull a trick on us and warm up to the toasty mid-30s for the rest of the week, thus upping the average degrees below normal by month’s end, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s been damn cold. To think I thought that October was particularly nippy. I had no idea what I was in for. I would just like to not have to wear an undershirt, long sleeved shirt, sweater, zip-up hooded cardigan sweater, coat, long socks, heavy shoes, hat, scarf and mitten/gloves every day. For a day or two even. Just a break from the severe cold. Groundhog's Day couldn't be more interesting to me at this point. Somehow, though, even with the big determination of how much longer winter is going to last divined by the god's through a groundhog's shawdow rapidly approaching, I feel as this is just the beginning. Tuesday, January 28, 2003 My favorite thing, hybrid cars, are getting popular. There’s even going to be a Lexus hybrid made. Unfortunately, while there are good cheap cars in the under $15,000 range, the hybrids, due to their low production numbers mainly, are a bit more expensive. Guess who will be leasing a car if she’ll need one next year so she can get the hybrid once they fall in price? Seriously, who wants to spend $20 or $30 in gas, filling up once or twice every week over $15 maybe every week and a half. (Answer: Stupid SUV owners.) The governor of NY is even after SUVs. There is apparently a loophole in state tax laws that allow business owners to write off the purchase of certain SUVs since they meet vehicular requirements that were intended to give a tax break to farmers (big heavy car is a lot like big heavy tractor). Smarty Pataki is ending this. Tuesday, January 28, 2003 If you have not yet seen The Jerk, I highly recommend that you do. I cannot believe I've gone this long life without watching it. It is easily one of the funniest movies, or maybe it was just the combination of laughing on a consistent basis mingled with sleep deprivation, open cartons of take-out and cuddles. Regardless, it is simply hilarious, it is what Jim Carrey desires to be but never can. Any movie that opens with Steve Martin saying "I grew up a poor black child," and goes on from there definitely is worth the $3 rental and 2 hours watching. And in this bitterly cold season of hibernation, it is something better to do than test the reaction casued by tying various objects to your pets' tails. I'm picking out a thermos for you Not an ordinary thermos for you But the extra best thermos you can buy with vinyl and stripes and a cup built right in I'm picking out a thermos for you And maybe a barometer too And what else can I buy, so on me you will rely, a rear-end thermometer too. That is the song he sings his girl. Which is easily as funny as Melanie Griffin in Working Girl saying to Alec Baldwin "I am not steak. You cannot order me." All degrees of seriousness have been suspended for the time being. Monday, January 27, 2003 Dear Al Sharpton, You got it going good now, with Mayor Mike showing up at your Rev. MLK, Jr. day earlier this week along with Hillary and other notables. That Guiliani sucker never gave you that credibility when he was in office, did he? Mayor Mike was probably just trying to score some points with the constituents; something Rudy never gave a rat’s ass about. But, regardless, it’s best for you in the end to get some degree of seriousness thrown your way as you are in the top 5 wacky black men in the public eye: 1) Don King (whom I frequently confuse with you) 2) Marion Berry (got crack? got a city that’ll elect you twice?) 3) Al Sharpton 4) Johnnie Cochran (No explanation needed) 5) Clarence Thomas (No matter the Supreme Court Justice status, he still put pubes on coke and are pro-life) Maybe now you’ve dipped to fourth place, time will tell. The other day you decided to run for president, again, and while you were in D.C. your Hall of Justice had a pretty bad fire. Conspiracy theories are indeed interesting and this is suspiciously coincidental and I cannot wait to hear what you have to say about the situation. What the papers had to say was: "Fire marshals said the cause of the blaze was a faulty extension cord near some boxes of leaflets. They ruled it accidental." With GwB trying to get rid of affirmative action, shortly after saying Trent Lott is too much for congress for supporting a segregationist, the social discourse on racial issues completely non-existent for several years, MLK Jr.’s big day just past, and you deciding to run for president, the idea of someone setting fire to your headquarters purposely under some grand attack against black people ever getting any where other than token sports stars, Oprah, and BMW-driving suburbanites deserves a raised eyebrow or two. However, the circumstances of your fire, a "faulty" extension cord strike, dare I to say, a cord with me. Several years ago, as you may recall from our long-standing correspondence, I too suffered the pain of a fire under the same suspicious circumstances of a faulty extension cord. That it should happen to me nearly 3 years ago, on Memorial Day weekend, and then you right after MLK, Jr. day should only fuel the flickers of conspiracy. Again, I am sorry the Hall of Justice burned. Best of luck in your presidential race. While you don’t have my vote, I welcome what your presence in the race will do to the discourse and subjects discussed. Much like when Howard Stern, our dear friend, ran the gubernatorial race to end roadwork during the day (which ultimately occurred even with his loss) you will also inject elements that the current pussy assed p.c. liberals dare not to mention. Maybe things like affirmative action, racial injustice and the fact that this supposed "melting pot" is a boiling cauldron with hate spattering all over, will be mentioned without your wacky-black man status discrediting the issues. xoxo tara (Please excuse this complete and utter nonsense) Friday, January 24, 2003 Is is Friday afternoon yet? Can this shortened work week that was still heavy on the stress even if I did get to leave at normal human times be over with, yet? I can't stand another 24 hours of wearing 74 layers in order to be outside and having a constant runny nose as soon as I step out into the world. I can't stand the stuffy office and dry nose. The endless hours of mousing and formatting and suddenly everyone realizing that I am a smart cookie for knowing the most basic things about computer software (and smart-ass when it comes to naming files like "biteme.doc"). Of mousing around my desk making tables and figures while my head slowly dehydrates from the over-heated office. I would give up the plans I have with a friend tonight, a "you screwed up and I am willing to pass on our plans just for it to be Friday" friend, just for it to be Friday. This whine was brought to you by the APA and their annoying reference formats. Thursday, January 23, 2003 To sum up this week's 90 minute "special" Bachelorette utilitizing a line from Jerry Maguire: "You had me at 'hey little one'." When Charlie's secret videoed message started with that, we could see her visibly tremble in excitement at the idea of getting his little one. The who situation with big funny Bob was outrageous, with Trista telling him that if she had a fifth rose, it would be his. Mostly because the other 3 guys were creepy. She should have given him the truth: "I like you, but you're fat." How she could find Russell "I was afraid that if I moved to sit nearer to you it would be too forward" or Greg "Watch my green eyes dance in the fire light but don't look to close or else you'll see the gates of hell" inheirently appealing over Big Bob with the exception that they are not fat, is beyond me. Basically, there's no point to watch until she has to decide between Ryan and Charlie. From the Jersey boy cracking me up files: "Let's go out Friday, this way I have time to rent a red Camaro. Or a t-top. And I'll be waiting on Raymond Avenue leaning against the car with my hair gelled back, sweatpants on too low and a wife beater on. Big huge gold chain around my neck. Blasting techno." From the Can we go over again why I only got a 2Point5 given the idiocy of co-workers: "I can't figure out to get rid of this second blank form and sample form from this thing I downloaded. I tried to save it as a .doc instead of an .rtf, tried copying my section to another document but the margins were all wrong. I don't know." 5 seconds later I say: "Go to tools, and then unprotect. You can do it then." And they act like I am a genius for this instead of just a 2Point5. Thursday, January 23, 2003 When I forgot my disc yesterday containing the response to my year end-review, I thought it was for the best and decided to take another look at what I had written in case anything was too outrageous / in case they are looking for another person to lay off I don't want to basically volunteer with my response. But my disc wouldn't work. My A: drive wouldn't work. I cursed the computer and spent the night talking on the phone instead. I don't think I've spent the night talking on the phone since I was 14 or so. This morning, I loaded the disc into the A: drive at work and the file popped right up. I cursed my computer at home for being an idiot. I reread my response and realized that it was a pretty good reflection on how I felt and was in no need to be pared down or toned down. I printed it, stapled it to the back of my review, signed my review for January 15, 2003. Then my mouse stopped working as it had maybe a week before, and I hoped I wouldn't have to loose my special ordered mouse with laser and scrolling whirlly-gig. I hit cntrl-atl-dlt to restart. Then the antivirus software popped up informing me they couldn't restart me thanks to a virus on my disc. I popped out the disc and wanted to go to the IT guys with this problem. "But wait!" I exclaimed inside my head. "They will see the name of your file when scanning your disc!" I scampered downstairs with my disc, knowing it was best to let them know as soon as possible. "I brought a virus to work today," I told the room of 3 technicians. "You're getting reported to HR," one bantered back to me while smiling and getting up to take my disc from my hand. After scanning it, the virus was confirmed to be gone and a brief discussion followed regarding how to clean my home computer. The guy was still messing with my disc to make sure everything was okay, but looked puzzled. "You only had 1 file on this disc?" he asked with his head tilted, questioning more the file name the the number of files. "Yeah, in case you're wondering about that filename, it's a response to my year-end review." The 2 other guys look up from behind their massive IT computers, wondering what the suspicious name could be. "Oh, don't worry about it," he said smirking, handing me back my disc, keeping it a secret between him and me. For the benefit of the other two guys, and a good laugh, I said, "I thought 'biteme.doc' pretty much summed it all up." Wednesday, January 22, 2003
Archives 2003 1/21 2002 12/18 _ 11/21 _ 11/7 _ 10/16 9/24 _ 9/4 _ 7/31 _ 7/11 6/19 _ 5/28 _ 5/9 _ 4/11 3/27 _ 3/13 _ 2/19 _ 1/28 2001 12/31 _ 12/3 _ 11/1 _ 10/23 10/7 _ 9/17 8/22 _ 7/25 _ 6/21 _ 5/25 Extended Play The Essentials Email
Colors _ pitas