Friday, August 25, 2000

Hoooooi. School starts _Monday_. I'm excited and scared, but I always am. We're getting 12 brand-new kids!

We were the lucky recipients of approximately 10 LocalTalk network adapters and about twenty feet of RJ11 phone cord, which I used to build our Old-Computer network (which is, of course, different from an Old Boy network). *Bounce bounce* No expensive and elusive PDS/NuBus cards! No hubs! Just good old phone cords and RJ11 connectors, and we have two LCIIs and one LCIIvx hooked up to our LaserJet 320... And I figured out how to make one of the LCIIs print where it wouldn't before. *Smug little grin* Yeah, I'm goooood. Hee.

Speaking of computers and kids... *Blink* Gail went and covered all of the letter keys with little colored dots. ALL of them. We have eight computers and none of them have visible letters! Needless to say, my typing is probably going to improve whether I want it to or not. *Mumble* *Sigh* And it looks like I may not get to do e-mail stuff this year... *Small smirk* But then, -this- isn't e-mail, is it? The problem is that kids want to fool around rather than work, which I can completely sympathize with. However... They're supposed to be -learning-, and fooling around isn't conducive to learning. And I guess I have to do my best to set a good example or something... Which they probably won't heed, but anyhow. Still haven't heard from Jack... But he's probably working as frantically as we are, trying to get ready for the new year. I'll probably hear from him on Monday.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 9:30 PM |

There is nothing quite like reading parodies or filk-song lyrics to get songs stuck in your head. So far it's been In The Space Marines, A couple of They Might Be Giants songs, and I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major-General.

Filk isn't all silly, though if you ask me the best stuff -is- silly. The lyrics to Falling Free -always- make me cry, but I love the song. (If you get the chance, head over to MP3.Com and run a search for Tom Smith, then listen to it -- it's beautiful. I don't think you have to be a fan of Lois McMaster-Bujold to appreciate it, but being one makes it even more poignant. *Sniffle* *Ahem* I'm all better, now.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 9:45 PM |

Thursday, August 24, 2000

I was reading the CAP Reports again tonight... Yeah, I know. Anyhow, I was reading them and realized that the people behind the site must have a veiw of the world that's only about .00000000000000000000000000000000001 inch wide.

I do something that they do, which is presume to know the mind of God. I presume that, by the fact that I have free will, God wants me to choose the 'good' things in life.

They presume that God wants us all to be miserable in the service of the Lord. In fact, we should be -grateful- for our suffering, because it is quite likely that someone else has been blessed by it. Ooooookay, sure. -I- know that -I- am _EVER_ so grateful for the pain that has crept into my life. Yes, thank you Jesus, gimme more! I gotta have that old-time agony, or my heart just ain't -com-PLETE-! *Cough* Yeeeeah. Okay. Whatever, man.

The only person that ever suffered to make my life better was Jesus. My mother didn't suffer much to have me, despite the complications that resulted in me being a C-section baby. My friends are not suffering to bring me joy. An acquaintence of mine did not die to buy my freedom from a life of toil. A relative didn't commit suicide so that I could have hearts and bunnies and flowers and not a single thought of mortal agony.

So maybe that makes me an atrocious person in his eyes ('he' being the CAP guy). Maybe that makes me an especially horrendous person in the eyes of Dr. Jack Hyles. But you know what? I have a pretty good feeling that I'm a fine upstandin' young lady in the eyes of the man that matters most -- God. (Well, and my dad, but... Anyhow.)

Or at least I -try- to be. It's incredibly difficult to keep faith in a world that tends to trample, ignore, or discount it. That and God's notoriously silent when it seems the most vital... And on that note, I've a question: doesn't it make sense to stick around and -explain- your rulebook once you've handed it out? I mean, the Bible's been banged, bashed, bruised, and frayed over the millenia, as scholars, pundits, the curious, and the illogical have searched it for meaning and order...

What's applicable now? Which Testament do we take as Gospel, New or Old? Do we still have to adhere to Leviticus (and if so, do I get a chance to throw rocks before I myself am stoned?); must we cling tenaciously to the measuring system; and how about building temples? What about using it (ostensibly one of the -most- Sacred books around) to back up horrors such as genocide, racism, or intolerance? You cannot possibly expect me to believe you have either -my- best interests or those of Christians at large in mind when you tell me that God loves everyone (even me!) _EXCEPT_ for these few... Why doesn't He? "Well, you see, that's because they're -different-. They have funny-colored skin. That's Bad." Stick it in your ear, genius, I ain't listenin'.

*Ahem* *Blink* I've decided that it might be time for me to start my own church. The First Church Of New Randomness, meetings to be held whenever I feel like it. Please bring a Bible (Thompson's Chain Reference if you can), something to eat (enough to share, please!), and your best singing voice. I welcome all to my church, -unless- they come with the specific intention of telling me that I am wrong, bad, immoral, or otherwise in trouble. I know the approximate content of my soul, seeing as how it's -mine- and all, thanks.

My problem is, I guess, that I simply don't get along with many other ideas... At least when it comes to faith. All I want is for people to quit telling others that they're gonna burn if they don't do this, that, and the other thing. It's so stupid! Just because I don't think it's a good idea to scream "Love Jesus or die in agony!" at complete strangers, I'm going to be tossed into the pit when my Day of Judgement comes? God's gonna leave me in Purgatory for fifty years because I didn't love Him enough to go to Mass and say Confession every day? (Never -mind- the teeny fact that I'm not Catholic... Hee.)

I just can't see it, somehow.

And now, brothers and sisters... Walk in love as Christ loved you, and may peace be with you.
And also with you.
May the Peace which passeth understanding abide with you all the days of your lives. And now, let us sing...

...Some come a' crippled and some come lame.
And some come a' walkin' in Jesus name!
I wanna be ready, I wanna be ready... I wanna be ready t'walk in Jerusalem just like John!

I finally figured out what 'Peace that passeth understanding' -means-; and I wish I could remember all the words to Walk In Jerusalem. It's a decidedly... Militant song to sing, because the rhythym is enough to make you dance. And at St. Mary's, they don't -care- if you do. (Just make sure your shoes are clean before you climb up on the seats, please.)

Thus endeth the rant.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 10:14 PM |

Wednesday, August 23, 2000

Sheeeee-it.

*Blinkblink*

I wonder if my family would understand an emergency trip across a continent to see people they don't even know...?

Love is a funny, fragile thing. Energy is not inexhaustible. Just because things are -going- to be okay does not -make- them okay now.

How do I keep the people I care about from self-destructing with a near-audible bang?

It's not -my- responsibility. -They- are grown-ups, they can take care of themselves.

Except when they can't. Except when fear and love bind them helplessly to one another, to a place and time that they know is unhealthy, -know- it's making them utterly miserable, and yet they -can't- change anything about it.

And so I choose to take on that responsibility, or at the least take on the responsibility of being a concerned party. One that wants to help however they can, no matter what. I'm not a very physical person, so I don't fill sandbags for levies or work in a food bank toting cartons. What I do is energy stuff, listening, prayer... I'm -Meta-physical. I can't help but think that it'd be more effective if I were -there-.

Not that I'd castigate either of them for any of it. Fear is such a stupid, blind thing that keeps you prisoner when you least expect it, least want it, least need it to... Fear can be a -good- thing, in the right place and right amounts. It's what keeps us from running into traffic or going into a stranger's house.

I know fear. This last week or so I've had at least three panic attacks, all of which were uncalled for. The situations I was in were completely, perfectly, utterly normal and safe, yet all I wanted was to be at home. Either in my room or in front of the TV watching MST3K, I didn't care, just as long as it wasn't Out There.

I can write this admission out; tell everyone that has this URL that I'm beginning to have problems functioning in the outside world, but I tried to tell my brother on the way home from the beach and I couldn't. I tried to tell my mother, this afternoon, as we were on our way to reschedule my doctor's appointment again, and I couldn't.

Part of my problem is that I think I'm relatively healthier than some of the people I know. Thinking you're okay is the tricky part -- after all, -I- think I'm okay, but what do I know?

So the trick is to -know- that it may not be -okay- _now_, but it -will- be. The difference is not that subtle; being okay and a future okay are two -very- different things.

My motto is 'It's going to be okay.'. It will be. Right now, though, we must examine what IS.

What is: Anorexia whateverosa is slowly but surely warping all of the okay stuff. That's NOT okay.

What is: There is treatment. There is help. There are things that can be done. However... They must be done by the one in the epicenter. That one is not going to be willing, because it -is- scary, because it's damned terrifying to take out the bits and pieces of yourself and rearrange them, no matter -how- good for you it is.

It's okay to be scared. It's okay to hurt, to feel angry, to recognize these feelings for what they are. So many, -many- people, women in particular, are told that they must be 'nice' no matter what; that they -must- (or -should-) not ever be 'angry' or 'mean' or 'feel bad'. On the other hand, they're also told to shoulder tons of guilt for the oh-so-intangible crime of being imperfect. For not measuring up to some standard set by some arbitrary goon with their head up their ass.

Personally, I consider someone to be perfect if they can make me laugh, make me think, and make me shiver. What more do I need, if they can hold an intelligent (or not-so-intelligent) conversation with me? What more could I want than for them to be willing to share secrets and dreams with me? (Well, -besides- sex. That's a totally different topic, though, so we just won't go there, mmmkay? Good.)

I am decidedly less than perfect. I still struggle with the conflicting messages of "Who gives a shit!? Be -you- and have a nice day." and "-Everyone- gives a shit, and a big one it is, too, missy. Conform Or Else." I -can't- conform. My body won't allow it, my decided lack of willpower won't allow it, and for crying out loud clothing companies are against me from the word go. So, I won't be conforming any time soon. (Besides -that-, most of what appears 'cool' now would be insufferably -boring- if that was all I could look at/think about/discuss with friends.... I hate boredom/stagnation almost as much as I do cigarette smoke.)

But even though I can't conform, part of me wants to. I think it's because humans have always been tribal by nature, and because buried deep in our genetic memory is the imperative to breed only the best possible matches, because genetic mutations, no matter how fascinating, aren't always the safest and surest path to successful procreation and the proliferation of the spieces as a whole. It certainly goes a ways toward explaining the disapproval of homosexualtiy -- although -now-, with overpopulation and famine a distinct and sad reality, you'd think we'd be over the whole gay=bad thing.

It's a perfectly legitimate thing, being afriad of taking the next big step. Sometimes you can't just make the leap without a lot of baby-stepping. "Baby steps -onto- the bus, baby steps..." "Come on, Bob, we've got a baby schedule to keep..." All silliness aside, it's true. Sometimes you're not ready for the next lesson. Sometimes you need to finish learning the lesson you've got in front of you before you can go careening off into the next one.

I still don't know what all of my lessons are. Patience is one, -that- I know for sure. It may be a virtue, but damned if I'm gonna slow down... Well, okay, so I will when I -have- to. Not letting other people talk me into doing something I don't want to. Not taking responsibility for the actions or reactions of others. That last one's a killer... -I- look this way, and -they- all think it's weird, which makes me feel bad. No, not -bad-. Humiliated, sometimes. Freakish, usually. Like a side-show attraction. Makes my stomach hurt.

But... Fuck 'em, right? I'm not here to decorate their world, right? It's not -my- fault that -they- can't deal, right? "The only way other people can control you/your reactions is if you let them.", right? Riiiiiight. It's so -hard- to keep your chin up, to keep believing in something that sounds like so much new-age Hallmark pasturized processed cheese-food crap... But what do you do, otherwise? Never leave the house? Only if you've got people that will enable you to keep being a spineless weenie. (And for the record, the 'you' in the preceeding sentences were incredibly -generic- 'you's.) I'd love to never leave unless -I- wanted to. Since I can't go an entire week without eventually wanting or needing to go somewhere, it's not -that- bad, but... It certainly does feel like fleeing when I decide I've had enough and that I want to go home.

Because that's what it is. Fleeing. Home is Safe, home is Sacred, home is where everything gets made better. That's not a Good Thing. Not that I -want- to be able to spend fifteen hours in a crowd of fifty thousand, but I mean, come on. Only being able to stay in the mall for an hour? When I'd much rather be able to just browse to my heart's content? The feeling that I've been compressed and stretched and wrung out after said hour, as if I'd spent it working out instead of just wandering around, trying to convince my brother to go to Sanrio? The avoidance of anything else that remotely smacks of 'going out' after coming home from a trip out-of-doors? (Which is what happened this afternoon -- I came home from the attempt at a doctor's visit, was given a rare phone message, and did not call the party because I didn't want to have to say no to her face if she wanted to go out. How's -THAT- for avoidance?)

So this has wandered rather far afield from its original point, which I have no thoroughly forgotten... Oh, yeah.

I'm just... Scared. I'm scared because I'm watching two people I care for tear themselves apart in very different but equally effective ways, and I don't know how to stop it. I don't have any words, I don't have any magic solutions, I don't have anything but the assurance that -something- must be done soon. That something must be effective, useful to all involved, and be deployable from a distance.

I'm not good with options. Give me too few and I'll bitch, give me too many and I'll fall apart trying to decide. I'm not fond of the options I have now.

#1) Say nothing, do nothing, effectively removing myself from both lives. Not really an option, because that's way too cold-hearted for me.
#2) Continue as I have; alternately commiserating, cheering, encouraging, and despairing for the situation and the people.
#3) Involve my mother even more than I already have -- she knows only the barest details and has of yet merely reminded Heavan to take care of them. But... She -does- have the benefit of lots of experience, a kind heart, a good head, and a way with words. (That and she's not as self-conscious when it comes to talking about energy and spirituality and the like.)

I don't even know if there's a fourth.

Number three is beginning to look the best, since she knows more about what she calls 'spiritual emergencies' than I do. I'm only the Shaman's fourth acolyte's third assistant, don't ask -me-... I sweep up and water the plants. I imagine, though, that I'll come into my own power one of these days. Probably when I turn forty. Forty seems to be the magic age for the women in my family -- my mother and my aunt both had incredible good turns of fortune when they turned forty. Things began to happen for them and to them, which, while not always sunshine and polkadots, were incredibly important and good for them.

Interesting, isn't it, how we always despise what's best for us. Spinach, broccoli, healing... It tastes bad, it hurts, but oh-so-important... It's like the tradition of eating parsely dipped in saltwater at Sedar. It's not wimpy saltwater, either. It's so salty you can almost hear the grains crunching in your teeth... And parsely's no treat, either. It's important, though. It reminds us of the tears of the Israelites trapped in Egypt, and of the promise of rich lands as God led them through the desert... We eat it so we don't forget. So we can rejoice in our current freedom. (I've long thought I was a Jew trapped in a strange, not-quite--protestant-but-not-quite-pagan/agnostic body... Or something like that.)

I must admit to liking raw spinach and raw broccoli, disguised with lots of lettuce (for the former) and lots of dressing (for the latter). I like them, though, because I was allowed to try them myself and decide if I liked it or not. It's all right to choose things for yourself, to choose to be happy and healthy. If -anything-, everyone deserves the right to choose happiness. Their -own-, NOT dependent on someone else's approval. It doesn't matter how -I- feel about Bill Gates. If it makes you happy to worship him, go right ahead. It doesn't matter if -I- approve of you getting off on the idea of your lover in rubber and silk. You want to fantasize that way? Cool. Be my guest; get your lover to indulge you. The only reason you could -ever- need my approval for something like that would be either A) -I- am the lover or B) you want to use my bed while I'm in it.

I could care less if you want to dress like Wonder Woman on your days off. I might be a little leery at first, but it's not -my- responsibility to make you wear normal clothes, just like it's not -your- week to watch what _I_ wear.

The only obligations I have to my employers is that I'll try to do my job to the best of my abilities. That's it. I don't -have- to make them happy. I don't have to make the kids happy. I don't have to spend my life running around pleasing others. For one thing, there are waaaaay too many people in this world. For another, what about -me-? I have plans too, ya know. I have things I like to do, places I want to go, stuff I wanna see. So my time slots for pleasing others are pretty narrow. Since I am me, and my employers are who they are, I choose to try to please them. I want to do a good job anyhow, because otherwise I feel guilty for slacking off. (This is totally self-induced guilt of a rather mild nature, something I tend to think of as natural (that is, guilt brought on as a result of knowing I'm -supposed- to do something and I haven't), until I remember that not everyone has a conscience.) But everyone else can go hang, for the most part.

There's a difference between doing things for friends out of love and/or friendship and doing them because you feel obligated to. I never feel obligated to send anyone anything that I write. I do it, though, because I know that the recipients enjoy and appreciate it. I'm not obligated to go to church, but I do, on occasion. I'm not obligated to like *N'Sync, but I do, because they're catchy and kitschy and not terribly depressing. I'm not obligated to rent PlayStation games at Video Update, but I do... Because I recently discovered that not only do they rent them for a week, but they'll give you one free if you rent two. Nice. I'm not at all obligated to shop at Wal-Mart or Value Village. I'm not obligated to shop at Zumiez or Mr. Rags or The Gap. I'm not obligated to dress like I spend every free minute I have shopping and applying makeup.

I am not obligated to get up at five 'til whenever the sun rises to make sure it does. I'm not obligated to take a summer job on the lawn crew with my brother to make sure he doesn't get hurt or drinks or smokes or whatever. I'm not obligated to chaparone him whenever he's off with his latest girlfriend. I'm not obligated to do a lot of things, and still the world turns. The sun comes up, the sun goes down, and Tori Amos still has legions of fans. The moon goes through its phases, my brother goes to work, and I spend time with a very unusual 14 year old.

The government grinds along without my input; tabloids and insipid magazines still print stupid, useless articles; The Dukes Of Hazzard are still in reruns.

'It's going to be okay' is something to get you through the darkness. It's something to remind you that there's light at the end of the tunnel, despite the fact that there doesn't seem to be any, or that it's a few steep corkscrews down and over to the left. It's not the light itself -- that you have to find yourself. It's so much easier to say it than to do it... But it's possible.

Mmmph. It's late and I'm tired. I'm gonna go watch Eegah or something, and then go to bed... Technically, I should go to bed -now-, but I'm not that great at starting a bedtime ritual in time to get me to sleep at the right time. I forsee lots of naps in my future.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:27 AM |

One last little thing before I go... *Pokes stuff* There. I -hate- it when it updates upside-down.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 12:32 AM |

Today's Post Is Brought To You By The Letter 'R', For 'Random'.

Happy birthday to Blogger, then.

I've long harbored the sneaking suspicion that Martha Stewart was a lesbian. I think, though, that I'm merely forever confusing her face with that of Ellen DeGeneres (or however it's spelled) and that it's not actually me picking up on some subtle vibe. *Blink* *Shrug*

I gotta go pay the light bill or else I won't be able to turn on my computer any more.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 3:31 PM |

God, I fucking HATE people sometimes.

Today, I had no fewer than three people attempt to end my life (and/or their own) by deciding to pull out in front of me while I was moving at approximately 40+ miles an hour. I had at least three people block my vision while I was waiting to make a turn, a guy honk at me because I refused to endanger myself by making a blind right-hand turn on red, and a reporter ignore me when I held the door for him.

I also had the opportunity to think up snappy comebacks, all of which were of course far too late to be of any use...

"No, I mail-ordered it from Lena's House O' Wigs 'N' Stuff."
"Maybe I -like- looking like this. Did you ever think of that?"
"I don't watch TV and this is the first time I've left the house in the last fifteen years."
"Magic."
"Your mother wears Army boots!"

Okay, so the last one isn't exactly the greatest. But it would have been something to say... It happened like this:

Me, after having put gas in my car: "Ten-oh-five on pump number three."
Clerk #1: "Ten-oh-five on pump number three. You wanna sticker?"
Me: "Please." (If you collect their stickers, you eventually get five bucks off your next 8+ gallon fillup. I don't collect them, 'cause I'm horrible about sticking them in the booklet, but mom does.)
C#1 [To clerk #2]: "Would you get her a sticker, please?"
C#1 rings up the sale and is in the process of getting my change while #2 finds a sticker for me. I thank 2 and wait for my change.
C#2: "How'd you get that?"
Me [Belatedly noticing the flapping of her fingers near her chin, coolly]: "It's a horomone problem."
C#2 [Incredulous, wierdly enough...]: "Really?"
Me [Even more icily]: "Yes."
C#2: "Hey, y'know that lady? On the TV? With the Nads..."
C#1 [Chiming in while shaking her head]: "Oh, I'd -never- wanna shave it, uhn-uhnh..."
Me: "..." as I flee for their health and mine.

I don't like the way I look, surprise surprise, but why do people assume I want to talk about it? I didn't even want to discuss it with my music teacher, though I kind of needed to because my voice got deeper because of it. I don't even like talking about it with my mom or my doctor, and let's not even consider my father...

I should just get a T-shirt made up that says "Yeah, I know and no, I don't wanna talk about it." Or else maybe one that says "Just leave me alone, you neanderthal!"

"Go away and leave me alone."
"I'm a stranger. Don't talk to me."
"The wearer of this shirt is notoriously hostile. For your own safety, do not make eye contact or otherwise provoke."
"Do I look interested in you? Then why are you interested in me?"
"The wearer of this garment is supposed to be invisible. If you can read this, please pretend they are -still- invisible."
"I not only hurt the one I love, I disembowel them. Just think of what I'll do to mere acquaintences."

Okay, the last one is just a little more violent than I'd choose to wear... But it certainly might make people think twice about trying to bother me.

I've been thinking about Drag Kings again. It would be so nice, I think, if I could just swap all of my [female] secondary sexual characteristics in for a day or a week or two, just to see if being a guy is really all I percieve it to be. If I -felt- like a girly-girl; if I was totally into all the clothes and hair and makeup and boys and boy-bands and crap... Then I wouldn't be me, and I wouldn't even be agonizing over this because I'd have demanded my parents pay for laser treatment years ago.

I want to be stupid like that, sometimes. I envied the stupid girls that I went to school with, free of morals and unburdened by a conscience. Not terribly envious, and never for very long, but I always wondered why I was so unfairly singled out.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:29 PM |

Ooooi. In another of the long list of fun things that are wrong with my home, our drainage system is on the fritz. -Really- on the fritz. One-toilet-no-paper-and-try-not-to-go-too-often on the fritz. But it should be fixed within the next day or so, which is good.

In other good news, I found a shop just down the hill from my house that is willing and able to help me build my uncle's dream computer. Scott wants a computer that he can use to do music stuff with, since that's his job... He's looking at a P3 system with 256 Megs in RAM and at least 30 gigs on the HD... It's gonna be a monster when it gets built.

Computer stores around here are funny... We've got CluelessUSA (Their motto? "What's a Mac? Oh, one of those weird apple-y thingies..."); Computer Renaissance ("How can we help? Ah, those are right over here..."); PowerMac Alaska ("We don't need no steeenking Wintels!"), Alaska Computer Brokers ("Our store is confusing and our staff cryptic! We hope you have fun and come back soon.") and now PC Lan'd ("We have a bad pun for a name, but don't let it fool you."). CUSA is absolutely the last resort for me any more, unless I need something like a printer cartridge. My mother took my worn-out monitor cable (for a Mac that was about 4 and 1/2 years old!) to them and the guy laughed. -I- was in there looking for a new keyboard and the guy stood there looking at the empty shelf like one would magically appear. -And- he didn't bother to check on the approximate ETA of the next batch.

Computer Renaissance, however, has been a great place to find Mac stuff. I -should- have bought my mouse there, in retrospect, but oh well. They had my keyboard (extended Mac/standard ADB connection) for all of ten bucks. And they had my PRAM battery, too.

PowerMac Alaska has been okay. They sell mostly Apple-licensed stuff, which is pretty spendy, but they've -always- been nice to me when I've gone in there. I think it's because I must have a little 'I Love Macs!' sign floating above my head or something...

Today was the first time I'd ever been into PC Lan'd, but I liked what little I saw of the place. The guy that greeted me was helpful, attentive, not -too- friendly (or chatty, thanks be to all that's Holy), and willing to give me straight answers. All I wanted to know was if there was any extra fee for putting the parts I had on my list together, and if they even -put- them together in the first place. He told me yes indeed they'd build me whatever I wanted, have a parts list of our most popular combos, and they charged 75 dollars an hour for labor. (Personally, it'd have to be one hell of a major hassle to get me to pay that much for labor on a computer... For putting one together and all that -that- entails, I'm willing. Changing the PRAM battery or adding memory? I can do -that- myself.) He also wanted me to come back with my list so we could talk vendors and specifics, which I thought was nice. He wanted to get me the equipment I was looking for with no dinking around, which is not something I encounter too often.

The guy at AK Computer Brokers said that they'd build me the computer and gave me a parts list, but one of us was not getting the answer we needed when it came to the 'how much to put it together' part. Either I wasn't asking it correctly or he was misinterpreting it and I didn't understand the fact that -he- didn't understand. Or, and I really hope this wasn't the case, he assumed that I was the girlfriend sent out for parts and that I really didn't know what I was talking about. *Rolls eyes* No, sir, I'm only in charge of a 10-line Ethernet LAN, the network architect for a three-computer LAN, the tech support for an entire school, printer repair person (kinda), I have noooo clue as to what my uncle wants or needs in his Gigantic Music Machine...

I'm thinkin' I'll go with PCL, but I still want to go to CUSA and see what they're asking. If nothing else, it may be good for a laugh... And they -do- have iBooks there for the demoing. And I need to do some soft- and hard-ware pricing, too...

Maybe I'll even get really incredibly madly hysterical and talk to someone about financing the purchase of a new computer or laptop....

And then I'll go down the street and see what CR says about it. Hee.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:29 PM |

I suddenly realized something today, while pondering comebacks. If I am to force kids to adhere to the 'No Fun On Computer!' rule of business etiquette, should I not -also- expect them to hold hard and fast to 'Thou Shalt Consult Thine Employee Handbook! Do Not Bother Boss With Petty Repetitive Questions!"?

After -all-, we -are- supposed to be preparing them for the unpleasant real world and all...

I love sarcasm. It's the only thing that keeps me sane, some days.

I had another thought... I wonder what it was? If it's important, I suppose I'll remember eventually.

I wanted to see the Kevin Smith episode of eXposed or whatever it's called, on the Sci-Fi channel... There's always reruns!

I'm thirsty. But we have that little plumbing problem.... *Whimper*
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:43 PM |

I only have a savings account. I don't have a checking account, nor do I have a credit card of any (magnetic) stripe. I suck at not-spending the money I've got in my savings account already, why would I want another way to spend it? Particularly one that demands I keep a much closer eye on it?

I think most of my objection is based purely on laziness. It's a lot of work to go through and make everything match. Bleah. I got stuff to do! People to see! Places to be!

I can't help thinking, though, that the little cushion of time between obtaining whatever it is I need/want and actually having to -pay- for it would be awfully lovely to have.

With my luck, though, I'd forget about it until the "You're three months overdue, you gonna pay this or do we send Vinne 'The Claw' Skikorski over to visit?" notice, and everyone would treat me like the poor credit risk I was forever.

Of course, there -are- secured credit cards that give you a limit of whatever you send them, which is nice. That way you can't overspend. On the flipside, though, you can't charge something like an emergency room visit in excess of the limit. (Which you -also- can't do on a regular card, but it's more likely that you'll have a visit in excess of say 400 dollars, rather than 5 or 10,000 dollars.) And I only get paid for nine months of the year, pretty much.

So I still have mixed feelings on the whole thing. On one hand, it could be really convienient. On the other, it could be much _much_ too convinient.

And I still can't spell that word that means 'handy'.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 11:59 PM |

Tuesday, August 22, 2000

So today, like the good little citizen I am, I trundle myself off to the polling place nearest my domicile and go vote.

What a -joke-. In one race, there was only one woman running, which hardly made it worth the effort of filling in the circle. In the other two races were people I'd never heard of until today; people whose parties meant little to me. That wasn't the worst part, though.

The worst part was that I was not given a ballot with the option of writing anyone in. I chose the open ballot because I had no idea which one I should have chosen, and I was glad for it -- The Republican ballot had three choices in two races, no write-in slot. The write-in spot has long been the only thing that kept me from just tearing up my ballot and not bothering. Why should I vote at all if I don't get a choice between someone I -know- I don't like and the chance (however slim it may be) that someone else entirely might get picked?

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I hate politics. I hate politicians. I hate the whole damned democratic mess that this country passes off as its attempt at government. If I knew how to fix it, I would, but as it is... I'm just going to pray that November's ballots will have that beautiful write-in slot. If not, I will be forced to make a scene and no one wants that.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:37 PM |

Bwahaha... The Editing Room. Mission Impossible II. More than enough said.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:42 PM |

I'm still trying to figure out what color(s) I'm going to paint my nails for the first day of school. The Mausie part of me says go for the black/aquamarine glitter; the gothy/vampy bit says how about black and glittery dark red; and the dull, easily annoyed bit says it's too much woooooork, whinewhinewhine...

It's not -that- much work, and it -will- keep me from chewing on my thumbnails, which are starting to look a little ragged... Humpf. I'm sure I'll figure -something- out.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 7:04 PM |

Wah! The Midgar Swamp is down and has been for some time. The MST3K bits weren't -that- great, but they were usually funny... And I rented FF7 Sunday night, and I could use a hint or two.

I am gonna hunt down and kill whoever is responsible for the atrociously -slow- response time in NS 4.7. I type fast, and ninety-nine percent of all text-entry fields and word-processors can keep up with me. Not NS 4.7.... Criminy.

More Whining Ensues... Proceed at your own risk.

Fiffle. I've lost all of my Doujinshi bookmarks, all of my font bookmarks, all of my anime fanfic bookmarks, all of them. Gone. I want to know what the hell happened to them! Siiiiigh....

I stopped whining. Now, I'm gushing! Yuck.

If nothing else, I've remembered a few more ECA quotes and introduced Molly (albeit indirectly) to the wonderful, confusing and definitely creepy world of The Sandman... Hee. I re-read Brief Lives last night and finished it this morning. *Shiver* Sad and delicious. I love Dream. And Lucien, and Matthew, and Delirium, and Death... And Destruction, though I'm reserving judgement on Despair. Desire's... Well, -Desire.- And I haven't seen enough of Destiny...

Neil Gaiman (author of The Sandman) has quite a following himself, which is not all that strange... The man can Write. So far, Stardust has been my favorite novel by him (I can't seem to make myself finish Neverwhere, for some reason... Of course, having Hoffa'd the book recently, I kind of -can't- even if I _want_ to.), with Kindly Ones and Brief Lives being my favorite comics. I'm looking forward to the latest release, though... Good Omens is also fun, though it's a collaboration rather than something he did all on his own.

Here's something you don't see every day... Chibi-Endless! *Giggle*

Note: Learn the difference between a raven's cry and that of say, a crow or something else that -looks- like a raven _before_ you add the .wav to your web page. (Unless, of course, it happens to be like the call of the white-shouldered raven or European raven or whatever... In that case, I apologize.) P.S.: Said .wav file tends to scare the living daylight out of unwary visitors. Gah.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 8:05 PM |

Speaking of Chibi! *Grin* I am so completely in love with Google. I have -never- used a search engine that worked so well... *Ahem* Anyhow. I found Lively Little Hiei-Chan! Yaaaaay!
Posted by: Shannon M.: 8:08 PM |

Relatively Famous BJs, or how writing a character with the initials BJ resulted in my noticing them everywhere.

In no particular order, I present:

B. J. Surhoff. This is kind of a terrible picture of him, taken when he was still with the Orioles. He now plays for Atlanta, which is one small point in their favor.

B. J. Ketcheson wasn't the hockey player I was looking for, but he'll do.

There is a BJ's bar located in Soldotna.

Here he is! B. J. MacPherson, whom I think I've seen play in person. If nothing else, he -is- in the West Cost Hockey League, which means it's -likely- that I'll see him play, eventually.

Billie Jean King, tennis player. Yeah, she's a woman, but it's the name that counts. Or Something. *Small grin*

And B. J. Young, another hockey player... But check that birthplace! Nice to know that Sportsline rates him 'OK' for his next game... *Snicker* *Ahem* Yeah, I know. It's hard to find good/interesting hockey news in the off-season. I mean, I haven't heard from Marc and Vic for over a month!

*Blink* B. J. 'Beej' Pinchbeck, Homework Helper Extraordinare. Looks interesting, might even be informative!

That's it for right now. I'll be adding names as I discover them, though, no worries...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 9:42 PM |

Um.

I'm a dork.

Primary elections are designed to choose a few candidates from a field of many.

This means that they do not have write-in spaces.

I'm going to go soak my head, now...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 9:46 PM |

I have a kind of strange confession to make. In certain circumstances, I like it when people use English even if it isn't their first language. Shorthair.org is one of the few sites that meet whatever warped criteria I measure it against. I think it's because it's so... -Cheery-. They don't care how they sound, they just want you to know about their feelings, and invite you to share yours. (If you choose to go to the picture gallery, click on the link called deppitybob. The link labled 'cutitshort' takes you to Hair So Short, and we already know how I feel about -that-. *Ahem*)

I think I should consult someone that, oh, I dunno... Knows what they're -doing- before I go in and demand that they chop off all my hair. I'm still really waffling over the whole thing... It doesn't hurt, after all, and it -will- grow back. But... Butbutbut, I've had long hair -forever-! I'm 5'2" (and 3/4ths...), and my hair is down to the point where my buttocks begin to swell outwards (yeah, I know. Hush.). It's been down to the small of my back (at the very least) for the last three or four years.

Pros of shortness:

Easier to wash, dry and brush.
Easier to bleach and dye.
Easier to style with pin curls, gel, etc.
May make the accumulation of the mysterious waxy gunk and lint on the bristles of my hair brush(es) diminish significantly or disappear altogether...

Cons of shortness:

May make the back of my neck hot, get in my eyes/ears, and generally annoy me.
May make my face look much rounder than it already does.
May make lack of care (i.e. not brushing it before going to school, not washing it for a week, whatever) more noticable.
And last but not least, it may be harder to put up and out of the way during strenuous or hot conditions.

On the whole, I wouldn't really -mind- having less hair. Slight TMI Alert: The places where shed -long- hairs end up can be amazing, confusing, and decidedly uncomfortable. I don't ever remember that happening with shorter hair, but then, I may not have noticed, either.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 10:18 PM |

Monday, August 21, 2000

It's not the fact that my face is peeling that gets to me; it's the fact that I look like I have some sort of awful disease that I object to. And it itches. Yucky.

It's nice to know that something as simple as a bar of soap and a Pokémon figurine can make someone's day so much brighter. *Grin*

I have to start the year by teaching keyboarding to kids. I don't wanna... I hate keyboarding. I hate typing from copy, too, but I guess that's what most companies look for these days... All I can think of is the Dilbert cartoon where Nuriko and Dogbert are discussing the state of the US educational system, and one of them says that the next generation was going to grow up to be a nation of janitors and maids. I'd expand that to say '...and data-entry specialists.'. Which is not a bad position to have, if you like that kind of thing. Not that I share the rather cynical viewpoin of the strip, though some days it's definitely hard to keep any semblance of cheerful optimism

And speaking of school... I understand the need to instill good work-enviornment skills/manners. However... I don't think that instilling a dull moratorium on everything that remotely looks like fun is the right way to do it. Hell, my -mother- can read news and weather pages at her office, and she works for a dull governement bureau! She can also send personal e-mail, provided she doesn't spend all her time doing e-mail instead of working. I think that I must be looking at the problem from a skewed perspective, because -I- am part of the front wave of the Digital generation (not to mention on the very barest coattails of GenX... But I've never felt all that close to that particular demographic) and I know just how integrated computers are going to be... We're not going to be able to function without them, which is a little dangerous and a little silly. They're just machines, yes, but if you depend upon something too heavily... But anyhow. I was sitting inthe meeting, trying to list all of the free mailservers I know of off the top of my head, and I must have had about twenty. Besides that, there are more (I'm -sure-) that I don't even know about. And I also know that if kids are willing to, they'll find ways to get around whatever rules are set. Whether that's by getting really good at swapping windows when they hear an 'adult' approaching or by returning to that time-tested standby of pen-and-paper note passing, they'll find a way to communicate.

It's not easy to care about something so dull as DCS lessons. And I'm not really asking them to care about them (or keyboarding, because I know they're going to moan and groan about -that-), but I just want them to realize that the sooner they get started on their lessons, the sooner they'll be done and the sooner they can go look at educational reptile sites or something. I think that 'Fooling around is a PRIVILEDGE, NOT a RIGHT' will be my motto for the year.

Have I turned into my mother? "The sooner you start the sooner you'll be done with it" is something she always, always said to me and my brother. Not that turning into my mother is a bad thing, I just thought it'd be delayed until I had kids of my own or something. *Blink* Of course, I -did- find my first grey hair back at the end of July, so... Maybe I'll get to hit the magic spot that the women in my family seem to come into when they turn forty -before- I turn forty. *Shrug* I have no idea.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 5:38 PM |

I don't really want to compile my birthday list. I don't want to have to figure out what I can ask for from who, which is usually how I put together my Christmas lists.

Part of it is due, I'm sure, to the fact that I was recently asked if I wanted some new pants (without holes) for my birthday.

Why can't people just be happy that I A) wear pants and B) choose to do other, quite possibly more important things with my money than spend it on clothes? It's not like it's a sin to wear thrift-store clothing, and when you're poor (or cheap, or both), it's not too big a stretch to make your two or three pairs of pants last as long as possible. If that means wearing a single pair for the course of a week, so be it. If it means wearing a pair of long shorts under a pair to keep the holes in it from getting you a ticket for indecent exposure, then so be it. I don't understand why other people spend so much time telling me that "it's what's on the -inside- that counts; appearances aren't important," out of one side of their mouths and then turn around and tell me that I need to look -better- from the other. If you're just going to contradict yourself, I think I'm probably going to stop listening...

I'm sleepy. I want a nap, and it's early evening, so I can't. This always happens to me... I want a nap, but I can't take one because if I -do- take a nap, I won't be able to sleep tonight. *Grump*

And mom made me turn Starsky and Hutch over to a baseball game. I've never seen the show! I wanted to find out who killed Helen! I only have approximately three more days of goofing off before school starts!

I'm such a big baby some times, I swear.
Posted by: Shannon M.: 5:55 PM |

Okay. I'm gonna go transcribe some Hubert and Alvie, now...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:04 PM |

I love going through my notebooks. Some quotes:

"I think Conrad loves Richard, oddly enough... I don't know -why-, but then... I'm not Conrad, either."

"EagleCrest: We're not a cult, but we're close."

"Love is not the dying moan of a violin -- It's the triumphant twang of a bedspring." -- S. J. Perelman (1904 - 1979)

"I'm -sure- Leeaster isn't dumb. She just doesn't know how to be smart."

"Thanks, Morbo. How's the family?"
"Belligerent and numerous."
"Good man! Nixon is pro-war and pro-family." -- Nixon's Head and Morbo, Futurama

"...Covered in scorpions... What're you doin' to my head?" -- Wolverine to some Morlock, X-Men TV show
Posted by: Shannon M.: 6:25 PM |

H'llo?

"Oh, there y'are." -- Crow in Eegah, one of my favorite MST3K episodes. I love Mystery Science Theater 3000, no matter what form it comes in. In the Text realm, Send Them The Post, Frank, Mystery Crossover Theater 3000, and Tom Smith Online are some of my very favorites. Website Number 9 is also a great place, but the quality varies wildly from incredible (look for Adam Cadre's Eye Of Argon, if it's still there) to so abysmal it hurts. You also have to scroll down to 'Mistings Archive' to get to the guess what, archives. Pay attention to the ratings -- six or better means it's pretty good, four or less means it's pretty painful, and anything in the middle is mediocre. Your mileage, of course, may vary.

And speaking of links that have to do with computers... (or something like that.) Axis Mutatis. Cyberpunk for cyberpunks by cyberpunks. I'm such a wanna-be...
Posted by: Shannon M.: 7:05 PM |

Sunday, August 20, 2000

Whee! I'm home! And school starts a week from tomorrow. *Sniffle*
Posted by: Shannon M.: 5:47 PM |