Pix from 12/21

The Water Pik

First of all, I just wanted to thank my family for the nice gifts.
Second of all, I'd like to share the story of one gift with my blog
readers, and my very personal experience with one already.

My dentist told me a few years back that I might benefit from and
enjoy a water pik. I was never really told which one specifically:
"Doesn't matter, just make sure the water comes out the tube and
splash the water through your teeth. You'd probably like it, it's
like a gadget." Or something like that. So, I put it on my mental
list of things to remember to buy myself. Well, when this Christmas
season began to peek around the corner of our lives, I decided to
update my online "wish list" for everyone. So, I did. And as I was
doing this, I remembered that I'd still neglected to get myself a
Water Pik. So, good doobie that I am, I added it to my list and
refrained from ordering it then and there off the 'net.

Kevin and Michelle did me the honour of selecting this item from my
list so I may finally appease my dentist and play with a new toy.
Now, I don't know what others do when they receive such a gift, but I
was quite excited inside, stomping down my enthusiasm so that I would
refrain from trying it out in Mary's livingroom. Mind you, there are
reasons as to why I do my best to refrain from trying out liquid-
based gadgets in others' livingrooms, one of which is about to be
revealed in this story. I did, however, put it all together in five
seconds flat so that when I got it home it would be in my mouth that
much faster.

Anywho, Dale and I got home this morning, unpacked everything, goofed
around, made a mess of the living room, be-bopped around the house,
and then I took note of the item once again. My hand snatched it up
and away we went into the bathroom to get intimately acquainted.
Much to my surprise, the battery was already charged! So, I looked
in the mirror, carefully aimed the highest-pressure tip at my
gumline, and pressed the button. Which, might I add, stays on until
you hit the button below it to shut the pulsating, mess-making,
mirror-splattering, cheek-ripping, glasses-breaking, eyelash-
drooping, gum-molesting thing off. I realized - amidst my panicked
state! - that by the time I'd found this secondary button, the mirror
had been cleaned twice over, the window had been shot, the cat was
irrevocably afraid of me, and the tingling sensation had subsided
only because my mouth had slid off my jaw into the sinkful of drool
and discarded WaterPik water.

I spit the remainder of my throat into the sink and proceeded (with
slightly more caution) to try the BLUE tip, which was stated to be
"lower pressure."

The blue tip did indeed appear to provide less pressure, but then
Dale took a bold step in to see what all the shrieks were about.
After asking what happened to the mirror, he asked just enough
additional questions to make me realize that the battery was dying.
So, I gave up for the time being, plugged it in, picked up my face,
put it back on, and wandered off to find something else to kill
myself with so I wouldn't have to go to work.

I didn't succeed in that last endeavour.

SOoooo... I got home from work a short while ago, ate Scones and
drank tea (Mary - that scone pan is awesome), goofed around some
more, checked email, wandered into the bathroom, and... saw the fully-
charged Water Pik, gently lit up by our lovely new ladybug night-
light. A beacon of enticement! I immediately unplugged the Pik,
added more water, and shot new drainage holes in the sink with it,
being blown backwards into the shelves in the process.

At that point I guessed that I'd been wrong about which tip was
which, so I switched to the clear tip and shoved the thing into my
mouth, pressing the button as I did so.

Let me just say that the lovely red jacket Kevin and Michelle gave me
is now leaving sopping wet arm-prints all over my desk as I write
this, and my dentist may have lost a customer because I can no longer
feel my teeth.

Next year for Christmas I'm going to ask for WaterPik Usage Lessons.

~nv

QsOTD

That book I got from a one-day time management course has been far
from helpful on the job as far as time management goes. However, in
addition to helping me remember what I want to do at home, it's also
been a source of inspiration for me because of the quotes at the tops
of its pages.

The 17th had this one:
"Never mistake knowledge for wisdom. One helps you make a living;
the other helps you make a life."

In response to it, I wrote: "Indeed, but... for me, they are
intertwined. By exercising my knowledge, I gain more wisdom."

The next day was pretty cool. Said they: "There is nothing final
about a mistake, except its being taken as final."

My response: "Considering Dec 17th's quote, this is very
appropriate. If you mistake knowledge for wisdom, it does not mean
you cannot change your mind about your thoughts and correct your
mistake about the subject. Assuming you consider it a mistake. I
consider these things 'learning experiences.'"

One other, from the 14th: "A ship in port is safe, but that's not
what ships are built for."

My response: "This book was once clean and neat with all its pages
of blankness. What is a blank page without feeling? Many people,
especially those who have done without, will save 'nice' things for
'nice' or 'special' occasions. It might be easy to say they are
wasting in a way. I think there's a balance to be had. Sometimes
you want to keep a ship in port if you're well aware of destructive
'bergs out at sea. The Titanic was not unsinkable, after all. On
the other hand, it certainly 'went down' in history."

BUTTERRRRR!!

Just made my second batch!! Came out a lot better this time. It was
pretty good the first time, in fact, but now I know what I did
wrong. I used a blender instead of a mixer. The mixer has it all
over that blender. (Sorry, blender.) Dump the cream in a mixing
bowl, set mixer to high, beat the pixels out of it, then when it
turns yellowish and clumpy add a bit of salt, blend at medium for a
while until you see the milk, and then dump off the buttermilk and
set to low and beat until it all clumps together, dumping off the
milk as you go.

The clumping together part is what I missed last time - I had many
clumps and simply pushed them together. It's better if you let the
mixer do it for you, it seems to get more of the milky stuff out.

Then I took the clump and pressed it into a container to extract as
much milk as I could. W00t!! BUTTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Dale - it's in the fridge in the red-topped container if you want
some. All others will either need to visit or make their own.)

~nv

The Thinker

I had a fairly good day at work. I feel I got a lot accomplished,
even if time ran out on me and I wasn't able to do everything I'd
wanted to do.

On the way home, I was listening to Ozzy Osbourne and suddenly
recalled my childhood friends, who listened to OzzY! and Metallica
and the like. I liked their all-black wardrobe and adopted it myself
for years to come. For a couple years there, I also listened to GNR
and a few other "hard rock/heavy metal" bands (as they were called at
the time) and learned how to "bang my head."

An odd sort of wistfulness struck me as I recalled those days. I
wasn't really a headbanger per se because I didn't LOVE Metallica.
To this day I can scarcely name a few hard rock songs even though I
will readily recognize quite a few. Still, I loved hanging out with
those guys and realized that I miss several sections of my life
where, for however short a time, I felt I almost belonged somewheres.

So many of my friendships have fallen by the wayside. A few have
hung in there but they've undergone significant metamorphoses - on
both sides, I suppose, but I know I've done a lot of growing and soul-
searching in the last several years which has been both liberating
and confining. I've grown into myself and continue to do so. This
has helped to strengthen my reserve and maintain an independent
nature while immersing myself in this world full of people,
experiences and ideas. On the other hand, I feel that I've grown so
fast that few people can keep up with me and lesser can understand
me. This leads me to occasionally feel like an outcast, a feeling
I'm used to but have never fully accepted despite my eccentricities.

Like my mother, I suppose; she's complex by nature and someone once
told her she was a person of many contradictions. I guess I'm just
more predictable and less outspoken about it. She states her case
whether people want to hear it or not, and I hide behind a monitor
and express myself to anyone who wants to read what I have to say.

Speaking of Mum, it's her birthday today. She's not as young as me
again. :)

And, this morning at 9:35am my friend/coworker, Laura, gave birth to
a cute fuzzy little boy named Caleb. She said Caleb is from the
Bible, and that the Biblical Caleb made the first bow and arrow. I
didn't know that. Apparently he has hair on his back, although I
didn't get to see it. He has a full head of dark, soft, fine hair,
and looks like a thinker. I'd bought him a stuffed wolf upon sight
of it and felt a strong sense that it would symbolize something along
the lines of protection and strength for him. As I watched his
little face, it seemed like he was deep in thought and it occurred to
me that he shares my mom's birthday. Perhaps on some level I got the
wolf for her without realizing it. She loves wolves.

I told Laura she has a beautiful son.

~nv

Canon

I just glanced over and saw my dead S5 on the table. Then I looked
away lest the tears fill my eyes again, and happened upon the SD card
I removed from said evil dead camera last night upon the camera's
indeterminable demise. This is not the first time I've thought of my
camera this morning. It's a part of my hand, after all. Knowing
it's been amputated from my limb is enough in and of itself to be
noticed repeatedly regardless of my need to take a picture.

Four of the five Canon cameras that have been in our family in the
past few years HAVE ALL HAD PROBLEMS. Three have outright died in
under two years. (This is one of those three, and it's just barely
six months old!)

Seriously considering a brand-change as I settle myself for a
potential battle to get this thing fixed (however temporarily).

If I had more time before work, I'd write a bit more emotionally
about this, but it's probably best I don't allow those particular
feelings to rise again. I came pretty close to throwing that thing
through a window last night as it is and would prefer to have it
fixed than destroyed, considering the amount I paid for it.

The little $100 critters seem to take fairly good pictures... maybe I
don't need all the bells and whistles... (yeah right)

~nv

gah, we're gonna die of plastics poisoning!

http://www.burlingtonfreepress.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2007712140309

Bottom line of that article:  EVERYTHING will eventually kill us no matter what.  I'd heard about the plastics vs cancer issue a long time ago and neither dispute nor refute it.  I'm sure plastic has its problems, since it comes from an ancient fuel by-product, but it's also a very convenient, relatively cheap material to utilize in so many of the ways we do.  It's only one thing we choose to help us be lazy in some ways so we can focus on other things.

My philosophy is this.  Minimize exposure to everything - cook your own food using non-radiated fruits, veggies, meats, etc.  Use as much natural stuff as possible under the assumption that it's got to be better for you, or at least as nature intended it.  Anything you use should be as close to nature as possible!  Exercise by going out and finding some grass and rolling around in it or sprinting through some tall weeds.  Get in the dirt and play, taking care not to wash your hands immediately afterward for fear of germs.  Fear not the folks with colds!  Dance!!  Laugh!!  Work hard and eat like you mean it.  Take time out for yourself.  Help others in some way every day.

For me, the world is so focused on what's going to harm them and others that they don't stop and smell the roses in their own back yard for fear of pesticide poisoning.  My back yard won't have any pesticides when I have one.  It'll probably have dandelions sprouting all over it, bright and sunlike all over the yard, and the few plants I attempt to grow on purpose will likely be half-eaten by some sort of hungry bug, but that's okay.  At least I will be able to sniff at them without worrying about poisoning myself and anyone I breathe on.  One more thing I've resolved to do is to stop taking my work so darned seriously.  It's a hard habit to break, but one I vow I will break so that I can focus on the most important things in my life:  Dale, the critters, and of course, my spirituality.  Not to mention myself.  How can I help others if I'm unbalanced and blurry myself?  Gotta take care of myself above all others or I'll be of no use to the world.

And you know what?  I'm still going to die some day.  Currently I hope this experience will not occur for quite some time, as I've got some strong ties here now, but I'm still looking forward to finding out what the big deal is.  I just hope I don't suffer long beforehand.  Relief from a prolonged illness can byte my arse.  Quick and sweet, baby.  If it's prolonged just enough for me to take care of things, though, I'll take that over being hit by a bus.  Got peeps to worry about, now, you know.

~w

"and when I'm gone, just carry on, don't mourn.  Just rejoice and hear the sound of my voice and know that I'm looking down and smiling so don't feel no pain just smile back" (Eminem)

old friend

Wow, I just found my old school friend, Julie, through
Classmates.com. Emailed her, hopefully she's paying attention to
however people contact people this way, and maybe she'll write back.
I hope so. I've often wondered how that girl is doing. Apparently
she's still doing her flowers and still loving it. I remember when
she first told me what she so wanted to do in life, I thought,
"Flowers?! What's so cool about flowers?!" But now, it's like,
cool! Flowers!! She's still doing flowers!!! Weird how accepting
I've become of such things... haha

Well, off to find food before it finds me... that's what I came up
here for, I was going to see if garlic and corn mush might go good
with leftover corned beef...

~nv

okay, so now that the fog has lifted...

...work isn't so bad again.

I had a rather positive talking/listening to and felt backed and
liked and respected and supported today, so now I can't hate the
whole place. Not that I really did, but it felt like I did, and I
had to feel like I did because I couldn't stomach the concept of
staying there and to like any element made it difficult for me to
reach any logical conclusion as to what I should do.

The smartest thing I did was tell myself and Dale that I would not
decide ANYthing until this week, because you see, I know myself. I
need to make decisions when I'm thinking logically and am NOT upset.

Wow. I was just about to jot something in my Franklin Covey planner
under tomorrow's date... something along the lines of "I will
distance myself from emotional involvement today." Then I thought,
"Hm, that's kind of along the lines of professional growth or
something" and glanced over at the saying for tomorrow (they have a
quote on each date). It said: "Peace is the skillful management of
conflict." (Kenneth Boulding)

Last week, I had a myriad of stressful things happening: PMS, which
amplifies my emotional side; rude, unprofessional, childish behaviour
that spilled over into the life of someone I care about as well as my
own; a project that involves a scatterbrained, demanding person who
can't or won't keep facts straight; demanding work. Not to mention a
stiff, crunchy neck that had been getting worse over the course of a
few weeks (likely due to stress above all else).

All of this led me to seek out advice from friends and colleagues,
and of course, Dale. Dale was awesomely supportive. My friends have
been supportive and counselled me as best they could whilst offering
an empathetic ear. And finally, a few colleagues offered advice and
assistance from a professional standpoint as well as a friendly one.

I had told Dale, too, that I planned to get a massage on my neck, and
he reminded me of a friend of ours that does just that for a living.
So, I booked an appointment with her for yesterday morning. My neck
isn't 100% again, but I feel a significant change and I think if I
worked on it, I could get it back the rest of the way on my own.
Also, the sensations were astounding. I'd never done a massage
before. This magnificent person, through whatever magic she's aware
of, did things that caused my old friend Colour Purple to float under
my eyelids. Purples including that one as well as a deeper bluish
version, yellows, both muted and glowing but all diffused within the
purples, and even a spot of diffused green - I hadn't been that
meditative in a _long_ time. I'd read once that massage can bring
some people to tears and worried slightly that I might be affected
that way. When she first began, I knew it felt good and relaxing,
but it was more of an energy stabilizer than a release. At first.
Then, once the colours began, I felt myself touching that part of
myself that I seldom speak to anymore with all the worldly things
that occur each day. I watched my purply colour, which I've long
felt was a sort of protective, comforting one, swirl around in
greeting, a long lost friend. "Oh, hello," I told it, and I felt my
words fade out into oblivion. I was one with myself, aware of things
I'd stopped being aware of, aware that there is more to me than just
a body feeling mixtures of contentment, worry, stress, and
happiness. Then the massage person would suddenly start talking and
the colour would shift to intrusions of a perty yellow, mixing like
those oily widgets I remember as a kid. You know, the flat discs
where you push on the back and different colours appear on the
front... anywho, then she'd fall silent, her fingers would
instinctively push into the bottom of my head and stop dead in their
tracks, and I'd see tendrils of colours pour in again.

This person does, in fact, practice Reiki. I'd heard about "laying
on of hands" before but I had no idea just how much energy actually
flows through one's fingertips. I'll have to notice what colour this
person's aura is next time I see her. I'm oh-so-curious to know if
it's one of those "healing" colours I've read about.

A part of myself wonders if I'm wasting my own fingers. I know I
have an awareness of how to use my hands on people, at least
somewhat. The few people I've given instinctive massages to have
commented on my touch, and the strength of my hands. I almost feel
guilty by not offering them up a bit more frequently, but I feel odd
saying, "Hey, you want a massage?" I dunno, I like doing it just
fine for a time, but depending on the person, it can be draining.
Anywho, I digress. The massage I experienced was awesome, and it
helped me in a couple profound ways. First, I relaxed for a bit.
Second, I experienced something new. Third, I was put in touch with
something I'd forgotten I needed. And fourth, I came away with a
rather numb feeling, as though somewhere inside I'd made a decision
about something important. I couldn't say what, but it was
important. I feel more focused, less stressed, and feel like I'm
looking at things a bit differently, a way for me to get a better
view of myself and my life.

This evening I came home and emptied the fridge and the freezer and
the pantry of anything I found that was old. Then I put the garbage
out. On my way back inside, I heard a little girl's words in my
mind: "Mommy, I feel bad for you, having to carry that heavy garbage
can out like that." I replied in the voice of her mother: "Oh, I
don't mind. Putting out the garbage means we have food to eat and
things to throw away." It was something I'd read in Readers' Digest,
I think, and I always remembered it. My mind is like that. Throw
out the garbage now and again, because it means I've taken enough in
to have something to throw out. I'm far from poor.

~nv

Carpe el diem!!

Off to have my first massage ever. Perfect day for it, too. It's a
Moanday. Makes my work day a bit shorter (2.5 hours, in fact) which
is good 'cause I still don't wanna go. Maybe I'll even leave early
tonight, if other people are there and it's safe to do so. Yah! I'm
gonna attempt some minor hooky action this week!!

Carpe el diem!!

(Right by its throat, then shake vigorously until it behaves!!)

~nv

i soooooo don't want to goooooo

really REALLY don't want to go... why did I just read the email from
that hideous place...

thanked for doing something to enable someone to do something they
shoulda and coulda done in first place.. yeah, that's great...

dammit, I need a vacation...

~nv

don't wanna go

don't want don't want don't want

Don't want to go to work

Don't want don't want don't want don't want

Don't want to go to work...

Whiney spleeney wimpy selfish ittle widdle crappy job

Don't want don't want don't want don't want

'nuff said...

~nv

rapid weaver...

...is gonna get it...

...I'm frustrated...

...and resigned...

...to...

REDOING MOUNT 9 FROM @)#*()#*$)*&$*%& SCRATCH

NOT happy

~nv

BUTTER!!

I almost forgot to blog about this!! I made my own butter last
night!! Bought some heavy cream (thankfully I had foresight and
bought a whole quart, good since now I want to make more butter).
I'm reading up on butter-making now and realize I didn't do it quite
right, but... it came out awesome!!

What I did was put heavy cream in the blender, and blend the
fizzlesticks out of it. Then it got too thick to blend thoroughly in
the bottom, so I had to dump off some of the whipped cream. I added
some salt at that point but had to stir down into the blades, and
keep doing the stir/blend routine for about 10-15 minutes, because it
kept going up the sides away from the blades. Finally some milky
substance started oozing from this lumpy yellowish glob and I
realized I'd made... BUTTER!! So I dumped off the milky stuff -
after tasting it of course; it was pretty good! - and then stirred
the butter more until I got more milky stuff out of it. Finally I
got to scrape it out of the bottom of the blender, all around the
blades, until I got it all into a container. It oozed more milky
stuff. Now I know why they call it buttermilk. It's milk that comes
from butter.

Anywho, it's very creamy, just mildy salty, and tastes like cream. I
wonder why butter would taste like cream...

haha.

~nv

My new favourite pasttime

Kicking boxes down the stairs.

'nuff said.

QOTD

Quote of the Day: "All that we send into the lives of others comes
back into our own." (Edwin Markham)

Methinks so. Dr. Wayne Dyer seems to think attitude has a lot to do
with how we're treated by most people. One of the stories he has
told is how he was travelling on some airline and he had an extra
piece of luggage. This lady wouldn't let him take that one piece of
luggage, and he was running out of time. He knew from the look on
her face that she wasn't about to budge. I can't remember exactly
what he said to her or whatever, but in the end, his attitude about
the situation was so positive that she eventually succumbed and
allowed an exception rather than hanging upon technicality.

Witness to this in my own life has been me. It's both attitude and
perception in a person that enables happy or sad thoughts. You ever
hear of a person being "negative" all the time? What about a person
who's always "so positive" or "bubbly" or whatnot? The eternal
optimist. The pessimist. We have all sorts of labels to place on
people who tend towards one extreme or the other. I know both types
of people and find my spirits instantly coiled up whenever they sense
negativity, and they seem to soar when around a happy person. This
can occur even before anything is said.

Indeed, the human element is so very aware of its surroundings. You
ever walk into a room and suddenly feel this weight in the air? Your
neck hairs prickle and you feel wary. Come to find out an argument
had just occurred, or someone is in a bad mood. You don't have to
see the angry person to feel the vibe.

Then there's "like attracts like." If you're somewhat neutral, or
perhaps even positive, and hang around a negative person, you feel
bad. Eventually you want to get away from that person, or you end up
being negative, too. It almost can't be helped. A negative person
will in turn either be lifted in spirits around or absolutely detest
a happy person. "You're so f***ing happy," they might say. "You
make me sick!" Thus is stands to reason that if you're positive most
of the time, you'll attract positive people into your life, and vice-
versa.

So, yes, what goes around comes around.

~nv

internal terror

I'm kinda stuck in a rut at the moment, or maybe I have been and am so far gone that I'm starting to pull out of it.  It's mostly work, although I admit perhaps I just need a vacation and a good chunk of "me" time.  Not the kind where I shut myself in my den and ask Dale to stay away, but the kind where he's at work and I'm not and I'm just home alone, no one here but the cats.  I had a lot of that at one time and the past year, since I was put on first shift, has been taxing in some ways even though I'm glad to be home with Dale at night.  Still, all that being said, work is the focus of this rant.

I know I hold my peers to higher standards than maybe I should, and therefore I'm always getting disappointed, but lately it's beyond that.  There is this one person whom I feel nauseous even listening to now, and I want desperately for her to just disappear, or whatever it takes to avoid being anywhere near her.  I was coping just fine (okay, barely) with her around, but the other day I just couldn't overlook a comment she made.

I have tried to make this work, I've adapted to the people I could adapt to.  I've learned better ways to manage my time more effectively, I've become more streamlined, more knowledgeable, more organized.  I enjoy taking on new things and on occasion have reluctantly said no to some people when I absolutely had no additional time or energy to give.  I've found ways to adapt to some of the noise by pushing for headphones for my phone.  It helped tremendously because at the highest volume, most of the noise can be drowned out, and thus I can actually hear my customers.  I have tried to tune out the incessant chatter and cattiness that abounds in that dysfunctional team which I cannot, with any honesty, consider myself an integral part of right now.  I've tried to teach and I've been blown off half the time.  I've tried to explain.  I've tried to document.  The things I say and write are often overlooked, argued with, outright ignored or blatantly disrespected or laughed at.

When I have particular troubles with someone or something and I cannot figure out how to cope with it, my boss tells me to fix it myself, to talk to the person(s) I'm having the trouble with, or to go to a class.  He seems to think he's being a good leader by simply telling us what we need to do, and sending all our complaints back to the origins.  I think it makes him appear to be idealist bullshitter who has no control over his employees.  Thus I respect his ideas and his brains but have no confidence in him as a leader so therefore I keep everything to myself and/or a select group of individuals which understand where I'm coming from.  And then my boss seems to think that just because no one has vented to him in a while, everything must be fine and dandy.

Of course everything is fine and dandy.  We've all figured out that you don't give a shit about us, so we stopped caring about each other and are just working for ourselves in one big room.  We're still getting something done, but the vision to be great?  That illusion disappeared the moment he chided me for being angry about having things thrown at me by a 19-year-old "employee."

So, I'm at the point now where I've been considering a few things.  I could find another job, but truth be told I'm not just comfortable with what I do now, I happen to enjoy most of what I do.  Not everyone can say that.  So I don't really WANT to quit my job, even if it's entirely possible I'd be just as happy if not happier somewhere else, even if it meant commuting or a cut in pay.  When it comes to what I want, money is only there because I need to survive.  I grew up poor, I'm fine with struggle if it means I feel good about my work.

My second thought is to switch shifts.  This would obviously require approval, but if I played it right and thought from a business perspective, I might be able to pull it off.  The inherent problems there are that a) I'm really not good at staying up so late and b) I almost feel like I'd be running away from a problem.

My third thought is, "I want my own office."  That, unfortunately, is not an option.  I can't even get partitions to help block out some of the unnecessary personal conversations and arguments that go on.

I've been told in the past that if I have a big project to work on, I could request to work from home for a few hours or a day or whatever, so long as I could coordinate with my peers and make sure I'd not be doing such a thing when there wasn't enough help there.  It was the most enjoyable experience!  I sat here on Shady, completely immersed in code, working out problems I'd have absolutely no possibility of ever figuring out in the office.  It would have been perfect if Darth (my work computer) was actually in such an environment, whether at home or not, but the fact is that without the constant interruptions and noise, I was at peak efficiency of mind and body.  I could actually _think_.  Imagine that.

In conclusion, I still have no definite answers right now.  I'm still considering the schedule change as a possibility because I so desire silence, and second/third shift allows for that.  What I do know in my head and in my heart is that no matter what the external force is, the internal one should be ruling over me now, and it isn't.  I have, in the past, been able to simply stop caring what other people were doing, and just circumvent problems caused by them by slipping around things and correcting them myself to the best of my abilities.  I guess my biggest problem right now is that I'm too damned _busy_ to be doing this.  I have no time to think about how to keep outsmarting everyone so that things they'd like to screw up can still run smoothly.  I'm sick of hearing about how wonderful I am and how deficient half my team is every day.  I don't mind praise, but I want it only when it's deserved _only_ of my own accord, not out of some comparison to people that don't give a damn and reflect badly on the rest of us.

Why the actions of others are not corrected, I don't know.  It's not my call, which has been painfully made clear to me.  But I've GOT to figure out how to take corrective action on my feelings about the matter, because I don't want to come home every night in tears or anger and miss out on the love at home.

Rant done.

~nv

Opportunity

Doug Larson: "Sometimes opportunity knocks, but most of the time it
sneaks up and then quietly steals away."

Does it? Maybe the biggest opportunities. I know I've taken some
big opportunities. My job and a couple promotions in that job. I
had to make special efforts for these things. Marrying Dale - he
asked, I said yes. Even dating him! I'm so fortunate I realized
that holding myself back from a relationship with him was stupid.
There was the opportunity - the perfect person for me, dangled before
my eyes by his own will. I took the opportunity to go to a Red Sox
game with him. I'd never been, he offered to drag me there. I'm not
really a baseball fan, and I feel someone who was would have not only
said "Sure" but would have JUMPED at the chance. But how often do
you get the chance to go to something like that? It was a memorable,
enjoyable experience, one that I'll always remember, not just for its
uniqueness but also because I was with Dale when I went and because
we enjoyed each other's company while there. He wanted me there, and
that meant a lot to me. Of course I'd take that opportunity.

How many little opportunities do people take advantage of? A pause
between phone calls for a bathroom break, or a quick chat with a
friend/coworker, a moment to check email, to write oneself a note,
close one's eyes and breathe deeply for a moment. Walking past a
speaker, hearing a song, and taking a moment to wiggle your arse to a
good tune even though you're in a hurry.

Some might say things like this are part of the thing called
"stopping to smell the roses." But those roses are all opportunities
to be enjoyed.

I think it depends on the person.

~nv

Quest

Eugene S. Wilson: "Only the curious will learn and only the resolute
overcome the obstacles to learning. The quest quotient has always
excited me more than the intelligence quotient."

This brought to mind the many folks I've been exposed to in my short
time here on Planet Earth, and how some seem "bright" while others
are, well, less so. I can't help but wonder why that is. So I asked
myself: Why do I learn?

I learn, typically, because I /want/ to. Why do I want to? I'm
curious. I like the rush of adrenaline at times when knowledge is
absorbed into my brain like a sponge. I enjoy the sensation of it
scrambling along whatever paths it's treading on as it reaches the
little memory cells. I love reading something and simply
understanding it, drawing conclusions of my own, wiping them out with
new ones as I learn more, figuring things out, acquiring new tools to
figure more things out on my own. I like thinking. I take my head
with me everywhere I go, so it's a wonderful toy to have around at
all times. I'm never bored. So learning, for me, gives me plenty to
do.

I also learn because I'm required to. The problem with that is that
I don't remember as well when I'm not interested, no matter what I
do, so I have to keep notes and then try to remember where I've kept
THOSE. Thankfully my curiosity will kick in at some point despite
the subject and SOMEthing will strike me as interesting, so at least
I remember enough of that piece to muddle my way through.

My biggest complaint is that there is not enough time to learn
everything.

Yet despite all these wonderful feelings that I experience as a
byproduct of brain growth, there are people who refuse to learn. I
never understood those people. Nor do I understand those who can't
seem to learn. Are they not interested enough? Am I really all that
smart, or am I simply highly curious? Is it my attitude? Where does
the attitude come from? Where does intelligence come from? Why do
some people find reasons to absorb knowledge while others avoid it at
any cost?

Like everything else, intellectual variety helps to keep the world
spinning, but I still can't help but wonder about these things, as I
do not yet understand them. That is curiosity.

One of my ponderings for the day.

~nv

happy and blue

I was just enjoying today... got a lot done so far... did two loads
of laundry, made some calls, cleaned off desk again, tweaked a couple
of my websites, took care of four clients in some way shape or form
(which reminds me I need to visit ebay after I finish this), had
lunch with Dale, did a couple errands, and took care of the dry itchy
skin on my legs (olive oil ROCKS). Then, as one computer sat
cranking away, I glanced over at the sewing machine and thought, "I'm
on a roll. Maybe tomorrow at some point, I'll work on that dress
thing I wanted to do, and do some dancing in between frustrated
screams!" I started feeling all excited until another thought came
to mind: "I wish I had Sunday off. This day's already flown by!"
With that I had a vision of work and this sense of dread and weight
suddenly settled upon my shoulders.

My next thought: "Wow, that was fast. I had no idea I felt so
strongly about work... that's it, then, I won't think about it until
I have to wake up and go that morning." Easier said than done, of
course, but with the realization that I could so easily succumb to
feelings of battle fatigue and do nothing at all simply because of
one overwhelming thought, I figured I would do just that - snap out
of it before "it" starts and I can't get motivated 1.5 days before I
have to return to battle.

SCORE TODAY:
Self: one
Work: NONE!!

hehheh

~nv

Parallels is sooooooooooo awesome

Yeah, I'm on that again. I've been cleaning and neatening and such,
you see. I found some papers that needed scanning, and scanning
takes forEVER on just one scanner. Not to mention, I hate the new
scanner's software, because it's inefficient. So I whipped out my
old scanner and hooked it up to Shady. Imagine:

Shady = iMac running OS X v10.4 (Tiger)
Old Scanner = Canon CanoScan LIDE 30, which does not work with OS X
but will work with XP.
Soran, my old PDA = Handspring Visor Edge, which works with XP but
not OS X.
Parallels v3.0 = "virtual computer" software for the Mac that allows
me to run XP as a "virtual computer" - i.e., it runs on top of OS X,
as if it were its own little program that can run its own little
programs.

I "boot" Windows, tell Parallels to connect the scanner to it, and
whammo, I'm scanning from two devices into the same computer, one in
OS X, the other in Windows.

It gets better.

I decided to open one of the "windows" scanjobs with ACDSee. Whilst
doing this, I saw "Xee.app." Xee.app?! That's a MAC app!! Why is
that showing up in Windows, I wondered?? So I selected it. The
document actually opened in Xee!! From Windows!! ba ba ba ba ba, I
say...

So I finish my scans and such, and say to myself, "It's been a while
since I synched my PDA." I pull it from its case, dock it, and hit
its little button. The pda software inside my Windows session goes,
"Oh, hey, you're synching.... done."

I LOVE technology.

The coolest thing is my dock while I'm running Windows in Coherency
mode. The only sign of Windows actually running is the Start bar
that spans the bottom of the screen. Tiger's dock appears to be
sitting on top of it!! :D

~nv

poor mum

Last visit to see Mum went well, but she's still trying to convince
us that Maine is better than Vermont and that we should move there so
she can have me near her again.

Her: "You know, you don't have to live in Portland if you hate
driving in it..."
Me: "Portland driving is not the reason I won't move, Mom."
Her: "You could live in Westbrook."
Me: "I don't like Westbrook."
Her: "You could live inland elsewhere, then."
Me: "I don't want to move."
Her: "But there are hiking trails here!"
Me: "Vermont has those too."
Her: "There are lakes and ponds everywhere here!!"
Me: "I like the pond where we live."
Her: "Vermont doesn't have ocean!"
Me: "Good reason to visit you."
Her: "If you lived here you could see the ocean all the time!"
Me: "Yeah, colder in the winter because of that."
Her: "But it's not as cold inland, you wouldn't have to live ON the
ocean..."
Me: "Then the ocean view is a moot point."
Her: "People are nice here!"
Me: "I like the folks where we live."
Her: "There are better jobs!!"
Me: "And just as much stress, and higher cost of living."
Her: "I'm here!"
Me: "Your choice."
Her: "By what's so special about Vermont, anyway??"
Me: "Family, friends, and my happy little hometown."
Her: "Tell them to move!!"
Me: "The town won't move."
Her: "Well, what's so special about it?! It's just a little town!!"
Me: "Yep, but nowhere else have I felt such a wonderful sense of
belonging until the day I drove my truck over its gleaming bridge of
charm."
Her: "Dammit!"

Then I said, "Mother, the grass is not always greener. Tell you
what. Convince Dale, his mom, his brother and his wife, his dad, and
his stepmom amongst a few other people to move to Maine, and I'll
consider moving. It's not exactly easy to convince them myself when
I like it just fine where I am."

Poor lady. Even if I wanted to move, a huge detterent is the hassle
involved with such a thing. Imagine ripping such deeply embedded
roots from the ground after years of struggle to get them planted.
Not to mention finding another job, finding a place to live, packing,
etc! I mean, I've nothing much against Maine (other than the colder
weather right on the ocean, similar to being on Lake Champlain in my
book). I just happen to like it fine here. So does Dale.

Her closing statement was, "You convince them!"

And this lady purports to understand that I am only convincing when I
believe something myself!!

LOL

speaking of alcohol

I've made the decision to avoid social drinking for a while. This is
because I found myself happily spending time at a friend's house not
just for the company, but also out of a "need" to get plastered. I
do not appreciate this desire to drink solely for its fuzz-inducing
properties. Once in a while it can be fun, and I enjoy the
incredulous comments some people make when I inadvertently
demonstrate the ability to "hold liquor." I won't dispute these
things. But with alcoholism on both sides of my family, I need to
set myself straight: Any time I feel a "need" to drink is a very
good time to avoid drinking altogether. Especially when I'm well
aware of a decent element of stress. Which I was encountering at
work for a good while there.

Awareness, I reflect, is a very good thing to have of one's familial
history. Armed with this knowledge, I hope that I'll always be able
to enjoy the taste of my favourite alcoholic beverages without worry
of turning into an irresponsible blemish on the face of my life. If
I ever head in that direction, God, I hope someone informs me of it
in time and that I listen!

~nv

If you're happy and you know it...

Stay where you are!

Mum is still trying to get us to move to Maine. She argues that my
reasons for not wanting to move there are based solely upon my
driving experience in Portland. Will she not listen to me? I
actually _love_ my adopted hometown here. It's nothing personal
against her state of Maine. It's that I'm happy where I am. I don't
care about better jobs there, I don't care about "better people" or
different 'tudes or "better" trails or lakes or ponds or whatever
else she tries to dangle before my satisfied eyes. I simply don't
agree with the "grass is always greener" concept. My life is great.
It's awesome. When I drive into my little town, I feel renewed. I
feel love, happiness, and a sense of community that I've never, ever
felt anywhere in my whole life. I've not felt this in Maine. Yeah,
Maine feels different from much of my state, but the places I've
visited there do not equate to this fulfillment I've encountered in
this tiny little niche.

I feel for Mum, I really do. I know she misses me. I miss her,
too. In all honesty, though, she needs to accept my personal joys
and stop badgering me about succumbing to her wishes.

Whoo, I love Meade... I wish they could make it without the side-
effects of fuzziness, though. I already had half a brain due to the
flubug that's trying to invade my body. Now my brain is down to a
quarter... love this rice dish I made, though.

~nv

idocracy

Hehheh, I just have to mention this...

There's a company that is telling its peoples they can no longer put
two spaces after a period. Something about creating an image for
itself or something. Yeah, some image. "We never reached second
grade."

Then there's Portland, Maine. Apparently the school committee
decided to hand out birth control pills to kids in middle school.
Yeah, real smart. While they're at it, why not just hand them some
lithium, too? Anyone having sex at age twelve must have some serious
instability problems. The school committee OBVIOUSLY knows what's
best for all the little childrens of the world and are seeing to it
that they're all raised under the appropriate thumb. Hitler all the
way, baby.

On that subject, Mum and I were discussing that the other day and
came up with a couple ideas I think should be incorporated into every
American school. American Sign Language and Braille should be taught
to each child starting from first grade onward. Seriously!! If the
world wants to be so preoccupied with preventative everything, then
why not look toward each individual potentially going deaf or blind?
Kids soak up these things best when they're young, and if every
teacher knew these two subjects inside and out, the classes all the
way through high school could utilize Sign Language and Braille to
make sure the students had a firm, lifelong grasp of this valuable
knowledge. Then, even if they themselves do not go deaf or blind,
they can still communicate with those that have.

An added bonus is cultural tolerance through understanding. A child
would be less likely to make fun of a deaf person if they understood
the language that person uses. Think about it. Seeing someone sign
without understanding what it's about or what it means lends cause to
intolerance. Not only understanding the reason for the gestures but
also the meanings behind them, however, prevents the viewer from
being an outcast in their own right.

Of course, I'm biased, since I love both Sign and Braille. Still,
looking at it from a logical perspective, it DOES make some sense,
doesn't it? :)

My rants for the day.

~nv

Oxygen

Dale got me hooked on this artist named Colbie Caillat. She's pretty
darned good. A couple of songs have quickly stood out for me -
"Bubbly" and "Oxygen." Regarding the latter, I've learned most of it
already, having listened to it approximately six times today, three
to work and three back.

The song is pretty poppish and for the most part doesn't have that
strong emotion I so adore. However, when I sing along, the words
invoke that very sensation of feeling. When I intone the words, "How
am I supposed to tell you how I feel? I need oxygen," well, I feel
like I've been slammed up against a watery wall that's reflecting a
million rainbows, singing with the angels, and displaying movies of
the last two years of my life, all at once. This is an
understatement and a horribly insufficient way of putting the
feeling, but perhaps you get the idea that the song pretty much
reminds me of my relationship with Dale. YAY!! I say. YAYYY!!!

I feel lucky, sooooo lucky, soooooo happy. I don't realize it often
enough. I'm swept up in the day-to-day transgressions of effort,
success, and folly, so easily consumed by exhaustion, irritability
and annoyances with the world at large. My inward reflection is
postponed until such a thing as a simple song or a loving look might
chance upon my attention. At these wondrously illustrious moments, I
remember with striking clarity the soft looks between Dale and I.
Vivid memories of the little things he says and does cascade around
me, a million little sparkles of light floating down upon my
shoulders and catching my hair in their happy reverie.

Indeed, I am happy. I thought, on the way home tonight, that while I
don't care to dwell upon the parting we'll inevitably face (for we
are human, and death will one day strike us), I don't mind thinking
about all the happy times we've had and will have. I welcome the
challenges we'll face together and look forward to working things out
if and when things ever need working out. If any human relationship
in my whole life will ever be worth pursuing, maintaining, and
keeping, I know that I have it in my grasp right now.

I don't know the reason behind the song. Only its writer will ever
know that with any certainty. I can say, however, that I need oxygen
for a particular reason: One breath cannot hold the words necessary
to convey the love, respect, and admiration that I feel for my best
friend and life partner.

~nv

New recipe: Stir-fry egg 'n rice

From Thai-Cuisine-In-A-Box I have gleaned a new recipe. Adapted, of
course. Some pad thai noodle thing had these instructions that said
to "lightly scramble an egg" in oil, then add chicken or whatever,
then the noodles, and then peanuts/scallions/etc with the sauce, and
then of course garnish. I really liked the fried egg in the
resulting dish, so I applied the concept to my beloved rice
creations. Tonight is my first truly successful attempt at the new
concept.

First, I put a cup of minute rice in a bowl, added a cup of water,
and microwaved it for a couple minutes (until water was hot). Then I
stirred and covered it and set it aside.

Next, a couple tablespoons of oil in a fry pan set at medium-high.
While the oil heated, I added some ground coriander, a bit of chicken
rub, curry, and freshly ground pepper. I let that soak in for a bit,
swished it around the fry pan, then plopped an egg in and let it fry
for a minute while I threw some wheat germ into some oil/spice
mixture off to the side. As that browned, I chopped up some scallions.

Then, I flopped the egg around and scrambled it up some, watching for
smoke as I still had it at medium-high heat and I possess a deeply
embedded desire to avoid a kitchen fire. As I flipped and chopped
it, I scrambled the browned-up wheat germ into it.

Eventually, the steam rose enough to frighten me some, so I pushed
the mixture to the side and added a bit of oil to the exposed portion
of the pan. In went the rice for a few minutes, with the occasional
stir.

Once the rice was crackling under the heat, I mixed it into the egg
concoction and added about a quarter cup of chicken broth. This I
let sit for a minute so it could evaporate some. Then I stirred it
all together and added the scallions and a few shakes of oregano.
Once it was crackling again, I added a bit of cilantro-in-a-tube and
stirred it some more, shutting off the stove.

And whammo, dish-a-la-chopsticks.

Quite tasty, too, might I add. I think the addition of pre-cooked
chicken pieces along with some frozen peppers, right after the egg is
cooked through, would be a lovely addition.

~nv

Windows XP is just as f*d up as the rest of the line!

I just got a call from a friend asking why his icons all turned into
little system-like things. You know, the boxes with the three dots,
etc etc. I'm like, "I don't know. Have you rebooted the computer?
Sometimes that'll do the trick." He's like, "No, but it just started
happening a few days ago so I did a restore back to August."

Hold it right there, I was thinking. No freakin' WAY a restore
wouldn't set that straight. But this guy doesn't lie to me about what
he does, so I carefully double-checked what I heard in case I
misunderstood. In fact, he had done as he said, as strange as it
seemed to me.

I told him how he might try getting one at a time back, and we
chuckled over the blatant misbehaviour as we hung up.

No more than three minutes later, he called back. "Hey, guess what?"
he says in an animated tone. "What?" I ask, wondering what else he
might have encountered.

"Well, I went into All Programs, and all those icons were like that, too."
"Really? That's just weird!"
"Yeah, but get this. I went all the way to the bottom, saw Outlook
Express, and thought, 'Hm, I've not checked email in a while,' so I
opened it. I had no email, closed it, and then there they were - all
my icons were back!" (He laughed as I gawked over the telephone.)

So, apparently Windows has a special feature where it decides to
modify all your icons for you, and if you don't like it, then you can
click its secret switch: Outlook Express.

And to think that XP is pretty much the flagship of the Windows line!!
I'm glad I've moved on to smaller and better things - Mac OS X, to be
sure. Of course, they've got their issues like anything, but I have
to say that the icons stay put. I just wish that when I highlight
something and drag it to the trash, it'll /drag it to the trash/
instead of re-highlighting part of my highlighted items. Score for
Windows in the draggy realm. I can honestly say Windows doesn't
regularly make me repeat mouse strokes... then again, Windows has so
many built-in keystroke functions that it's damned near impossible to
find anything where a keyboard won't get you out of a dead-mouse
pickle.

Still, the icons took the cake for me today!

~nv

learning style

I just figured it out. I'm academic in the sense that I need
questions to answer up front, and text to pore over to figure it out.

Just breezed through two chapters in 1.5 hours and have a vague, but
terminology-rich, understanding of both. Class itself is still going
through code examples but I fall asleep during lectures and wanted to
keep myself awake... I found I was still listening somewhat because
when a question was asked I recognized it as a review question and
knew the answer instantly - not just knew it, but had a basic
understanding of the answer.

So... I need questions up front. Then I go looking for their answers.
In the process I'm slightly stressed, keeps me awake; then I get
interested, my brain kicks into its multi-track tendencies, and I
learn on multiple levels. Code I learn by being told to keep writing
it in (working examples); later, I will analyze each part and look
them up to find out what they're doing. Or better yet, experiment to
get them doing things I'm controlling, teaching me intricate details.

My trick now is to make sure I have a good text, and good questions
that highlight the important things. The details will fall into place
via osmosis and interest. Excellent, to know my learning style again.
I didn't think I'd ever figure it out again.

~nv

I WANT VS.NET TO HAVE MY CHILDREN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In addition to vb.net and c# and God-knows-what-else... it does xml.

Now, not a huge deal in and of itself, I mean, xml seems
straightforward enough, but... get a huge data-filled file, and you
get sick of entering stuff. This... this... it allows you to view the
fields in a table. It's like filling in an excel spreadsheet with
your data. No more DAMNED REPETITION!!

Back to class...

VS .NET vs Brain

I'm currently in my hotel room typing up some notes on the chapters
I've read thus far. Not a bad class. In fact, I'm enjoying it quite
a bit. I still think I'd have fared better with VB .NET as far as
application goes, but this'll help down the road once I've GOT VB
under my belt. I've decided to take a college course in VB since work
wants me to work with it but doesn't appear to want me to learn it
officially. (We'll just see about that.)

The instructor offered up a good idea for a book, which I'll probably
locate and purchase. It's something about Object-oriented thought
process:

http://books.google.com/books?id=QveDqVtLFIcC&dq=object+oriented+thought+process&pg=PP1&ots=4pvssPUsfk&sig=6hIyyqm_vDESlqe_8fv4tb-adZo&prev=http://www.google.com/search%3Fhl%3Den%26q%3Dobject%2Boriented%2Bthought%2Bprocess&sa=X&oi=print&ct=title&cad=one-book-with-thumbnail

Sounds exactly like what I need, to understand methods, classes, etc.
I'm all about symbols and cryptic things that follow a logical
progression in one big long file, and as late I've been noticing more
and more how convoluted and broken up everything is getting in the
programming world. It's this object-oriented thing I think, focusing
on objects rather than pure logic, or something. Still, I do like
various components of the whole concept, such as the visual design of
forms and such. It suits me very well in fact. The trouble I have
now is with the terminology for the most part. I don't know what to
look for to obtain code to make the pretty front end do stuff!

A coworker tells me, like many others have, that my concern about
slowing down mentally is natural and that it happens with age. I'm
really not happy about this, but I'm learning - at least, I'm trying -
to get around it. It's also dawning on me that perhaps my current
academic smarts is now like that of many of my peers back in
elementary and junior high school. There was a time when I had mostly
A's and B's in elementary school, and I never tried to study
whatsoever. I was doing good if I even bothered with my homework,
although I enjoyed the exercises sometimes (on my own time of course).
For me, learning from a book was natural, easy. I never understood
the jealousy of other students who said they had to study so hard to
remember even half of what I could glean from a single interested
read.

Until now. Now, I understand somewhat. I can read something three
times before I realize what I've read; it's difficult to concentrate
on the meanings of the words unless it's written in such a manner so
as to be particularly descriptive and interesting to me. That in
and of itself slows me down exponentially. Then, I only have a vague
recollection of it, a nebulous expanse of knowledge that may come back
to me some day but no guarantees. This must be why people I knew
always had trouble with tests, while I aced them all so effortlessly.
I had a gift of some sort and by the time I figured it out, it had
evaporated. Guess you don't know what you've got until it's gone,
huh?

Still, if my brain now is like the brain of a typical 10-year-old
[from my time mind you], that's pretty good. Especially so, since
I've 20 years of experience on top of that to temper childishness and
naivete. I don't just memorize anymore, I seek to truly understand
and wrap my whole being around ideas and concepts. I can see the big
picture now and before I couldn't; I'd just focus on mundane little
details and soak up such minutia with a thirst that was never quite
quenched. Despite my frustrations these days... indeed, I am lucky my
brain is as sharp as it is, even if it's not even half as sharp as it
once was. Or so it feels...

Earlier today, I made a joking remark to my coworker (who is taking a
class near mine, thus we're riding together and such). It was one
I've made my whole life in some way or another; all I said was how my
mother seemed to be one of those unlucky folks sometimes; heck, look,
she gave birth to me, right? My coworker took me quite seriously and
admonished my view of myself. In all seriousness, I hadn't really
been feeling as if my mother were unlucky for having me, but as I
listened to my coworker tell me how I've done so much with my life
considering what little she knows of my background, how some in my
shoes may have become addicts or leeches on society, I felt inwardly
ashamed to have joked in such a manner. I also felt an oddly renewed
sense of pride in myself and in my accomplishments as a human being.
Yes, I have come a long way. I've come from a poverty-stricken and
emotionally abusive background and turned myself into a thriving
individual who is passionate about her beliefs and goals (what few I
have). I landed myself steady jobs, which eventually lead to my
current one - and it's not a bad job overall, let alone one I obtained
mostly with my strong desire to learn. A high school diploma, these
days, isn't exactly gold anymore. After years of fighting it, I
finally decided to get my driver's license and did so within months.
I bought myself a truck. And the best thing I've ever done aside from
getting to know God and myself was getting to know Dale. From the
ashes has risen a phoenix; the sun catches my gleaming wings and
shines in my eyes like a fire's embers flare up in the wake of a
breeze.

Yes, I'm proud of myself, no matter how many brain cells have died
over the years, no matter how difficult it becomes for me to learn new
things.

And I will learn VB, dammit.

~nv

Explicit Language

Warning: Will contain some explicit language. Not suitable for
minors or folks that take offense at such things.

I've been in a ROTTEN mood this past week or so. Far worse than I've
been in since Dale and I moved in together (and that was because I
hate moving).

First off, I have a big project due on the 19th at work, and am in
training all next week. So, I really have until a few hours ago plus
the sunday I work. No way I can get the rest of it done by then, so
my wondrous workhorse coworker has taken over for me and I bet SHE
manages to get it pretty darned close, if not all the way. I'll be
happy if I have half what I've got now and told her so. Still, I've
spent the last two weeks struggling to get to this and enduring
constant interruptions by my peers (and others) instead.

Second, Dale was gone last weekend from thursday to tuesday early
morning.

Third, I'm PMSing big-time. I've found that stress and inadequate
nutrition seem to be the biggest contributors to PMS for me. The
problem is that stress tends to LEAD to inadequate nutrition, because
I get so irritated by life that I stop eating in favour of go-go-
going so I can get everything done. So PMS was really bad this time.

Dale came back really early tuesday morning, as I said. I was
SOOOOOOOOOOO happy to see him. I remember asking if he was going
into work that day after he got some sleep and I swear he said no. I
took this to mean that when I got home from work, he'd be home and I
could hug him and be happy he was there. It didn't dawn on me he
meant he wouldn't work a full day.

I proceeded to have a horrible day at work later that day.
Horrible. I got nothing done, couldn't even think, because from the
time I walked in I had nothing but interruptions, demands, etc. In
my already-fragile state of mind, this was the worst possible time
for more bullsh**. So when everyone left for the day, I sat there
feeling twitchy, terrified of doing anything for fear someone would
say my name. The last two hours of work should have been my most
productive ones, and instead, I just sat there trying to figure out
what I was supposed to do, even though my big project was weighing
heavily on my mind.

I drove home that night, upset and holding it in, focused on driving
safely. Then, I see the house is dark, and Dale's car is missing.
Logically, I could hear myself thinking, "He may have gone to work a
half-day so he doesn't use too much time off, or he went grocery-
shopping, or he's off to a friend's house, etc." But that voice was
soft. The loud one was that of illogical, emotional panic: "Oh my
God. Dale left me." Now, to my knowledge, our marriage is doing
very very well, probably far better than many. I love him greatly
and I know he loves me as much if not more. He demonstrates it in so
many ways - most of which are facial expressions, things he says with
his eyes. So how could I _possibly_ think he'd up and leave me?
Well, it's probably because I was feeling irrational anyway, and my
deepest fear has always been that those I care about will leave me.
Thus irrational thoughts would most certainly include such a thing.
I parked my truck and sat there crying all over the steering wheel,
aware that I'd split into two people - Rational Me and LostIt Me.
But LostIt Me was, for all intents and purposes, happily content with
being a blubbering worrisome idiot, so I felt Observational Me come
out to watch the fun as Spiritual Me told LostIt Me that she
understood, and to have a nice good cry if necessary. LostIt obliged
heavily for a time and eventually wore herself out. Then WearyMe got
everyone out of the truck and went inside.

LostIt decided to lose it again, because before Rational could
explain that Dale had simply brought his bags upstairs to unpack,
LostIt assumed he'd re-packed those bags and taken off for parts
unknown. (Suitcases were missing, you see.) So Weary sat down in a
chair and waited for LostIt to finish blubbering again as Spiritual
gave a reassuring, silent hug. Then we all ventured upstairs to
check email, as Rational thought that maybe there was explanative
PROOF as to why Dale really wasn't around. Unfortunately, he'd sent
no emails whatsoever, which threw LostIt into an absolutely miserable
panic, because it was not like Dale to not email at all. Not only
that, but this "odd" behaviour further "proved" that he'd left, since
Rational had reminded everyone that Dale would have said something
that could be taken as "nothing out of the ordinary." OMG, he hadn't
emailed, therefore he DID leave and couldn't even leave a note
explaining why! THAT'S how bad it is!! Yeah. Rational, at this
point, gave up, and went to sleep.

The phone rang, and LostIt was pushed aside gently by Observational,
because otherwise the phone couldn't have been answered. It was
Dale. He was just leaving work. LostIt jumped forth and started to
spill the relief over hearing that Rational had been right all
along. Dale felt bad but Rational came to and assured him I was just
pmsing and everything. In fact, it felt more like all the sides that
had split off from each other had come back and were talking all at
once, like that episode of Star Trek where Riker was in the insane
asylum, which was really his own mind trying to avoid being
brainwashed or something. Dale asked if I wanted food, and I finally
gave him some ideas, as I realized I'd not eaten much all day due to
the stress of being at work amidst interruptions and duedates rushing
past.

I hung up, and ... was fine. For about two minutes. I sat there
alone, blinking, numb, and thinking to myself, "What on earth just
happened to me?" This finally made me feel very scared of myself,
because I hadn't felt that out of control for quite some time. So I
grabbed my book and went outside on the porch to read and wait for
Dale to come home.

As I did this, I heard Observer say, "You're still doing that?" I
was startled at the voice and whipped around inside myself, then
realized Observer was right: I was going to wait on the porch as if
I were my little self waiting for my mother to come home from
college. I thought for a moment and said, "Well, you know what? It
might be a carryover from childhood, but I want the fresh air, and so
I'm going to go do just that." So I did.

Now. After I explained all these strange things to Dale, I felt
immensely better. See, he's good about not judging people. He
simply listens, and offers support. Support is exactly what I needed
at that moment in time, and it helped me back to a state where I
could think, analyze, and control myself. However, after having a
relatively ok day yesterday (mainly because I was more level-headed,
and was dragged out of the office for a crisis), today was even worse
than Tuesday. And... today was only a half-day.

First I had a two-hour meeting. I got through that fine; my rational/
observing sides were out in full bloom, taking notes and asking
impartial questions. But when I got back to the office, I was again
pulled in a few directions at once, interruptions, etc. galore.
Within an hour, I knew I would not get to work on my big project, so
I taught Ms. Workhorse to do it in my absence. I felt so grateful
for her and thought to myself, "Good, then at least I can catch up on
email and tasks before I leave." I saw that a customer was asking
about a task I had said I'd get to (and turned out was near-
impossible this week, but I'd not even had time to stall). So I
winged it in the direction of one of my peers, thinking she could
handle it anyway, but I'd briefly give her an idea of what to do,
since I know she's not technically-oriented yet.

Before I could pop over to give her this information, staying a few
minutes late to do so, she announced that if the printer wasn't
networked, she wouldn't do it because she didn't know how and they
would just have to wait until I got back.

It's always an effort for me to avoid killing people when something
so simple to me is not so simple to someone else. And for me,
hooking up a local printer is one of the easiest things in the world
to do. But I'd already thought out that she'd have trouble, because
she's not me. I was prepared to guide her in the right direction,
and expected that from there, she could take over in my absence and
find other help if absolutely necessary. She's not stupid, she's
quite capable, and I know this. However, I was NOT prepared for an
attitude from her, and quite frankly, her remark re-lit the fire that
had been there for the last week. I ignited, but held myself in
check until she finished ranting like what I saw was an an
ungrateful, spoiled little brat who didn't WANT to figure anything
out for herself. See, I know that she has self-esteem issues. I
know how that feels, too. I feel stupid all the time and I know I'm
quite smart and that even when I'm feeling stupid, chances are that
I'm actually unknowledgeable through absolutely no fault of my own.
The point I've learned is that if I don't know or understand, then I
SEEK to know and understand. Learn to figure it out. Because you
see, I'm independent. I resent having to rely on anyone but myself
and God. (Now I rely on Dale for moral support, and sometimes hate
that fact, but at least it's a healthier relationship than what I'm
used to.) It's extremely difficult for me to accept that other
people will not even try to figure something out on their own,
because I'm driven by insatiable curiosity, dampened only when I have
to repeat my efforts for the sake of others who won't do it
themselves. My spirit, in essence, is inexorably crushed when I have
to stop being curious in order to do basic research on things I could
do so easily myself, just so someone else will do it themselves.
Especially when it's a habit for these people to avoid looking things
up at all costs.

I was also particularly irritated with her remark, not only because
of this or because of the week I'd been through, but also because
this assignment involves one of my customers. I'm very customer-
driven and at work this is what I stand for and I RESENT IT when my
peers do not understand that this. is. what. we. are. here. for.
Period.

Now, if I wasn't PMSing, I would have just felt inwardly irritated
and eventually think to myself, "That's fine. You can work around
her. FIND her little shit work she DOES know how to do, so much of
it that eventually she'll BEG you for something more interesting."
But because I was PMSing, I stood up, half-gently pushed my chair
into my desk, and said, "Well, you know what? I'm done. I'm in
training all next week, so all the questions everyone would normally
ask me which would deprive me of giving good customer service and
actually GETTING MY SHIT DONE so I DON'T have to pass it to someone
else... well, you know what?? YOU'RE ALL ON YOUR OWN!!" The other
two in attendance just stared at me with surprised looks on their
faces. Ms. Workhorse, one of those two, then looks terrified.
"Don't leave me," she says, obviously thinking that I'd just quit my
job.

I replied, "I have no intention of leaving. But, when I return, I
will no longer allow any interruptions from anyone. My work will get
done first, and then I will be the mentor I'm supposed to be. I'm
done with not getting my shit done. Done."

Then I left the room in silence, which I'm sure broke out into
whispers, lamentations and grumbles as soon as I was out of earshot.
I could give a rat's ass, too. I'm telling you, there are certain
people at work that need a good beating to get some sense knocked
into them.

All that aside, I drove away muttering and screaming to myself, once
more so irritated that I was beyond grief. I started thinking of all
the times I've been expected to do shit because I'm "smart" and how
more was expected of me because it COULD be expected. I said, quite
loudly, to no one: "Being smart is a goddamned CURSE. Not only do I
see all the imperfections in the world, and have to wait while people
catch up to me, but I have to UNDERSTAND everyone else!! BULLSHIT!!
Just once I'd like to not only get away with blaming my brain with my
lack of ambition but also not feel guilty about it. ASSholes!!"

I was still yelling and muttering to myself when I got home with
Lancie's crickets. This continued as I made myself some lunch and
finally ceased when I slammed my den door and sat down to write
this. As I saw my kitties' faces completely washed with odd
expressions of wonder mixed with curiosity, confusion, expectation of
food, and slight fear, I can't help thinking that I have become... my
mother.

~nv

Oxide vs. Obsidian

Yesterday I joined Mil and ShelShel up in the Kingdom. I saw lots of
photo opps whilst driving up there but Sid was safely packed away out
of reach, so I grabbed Oxide instead (he's my emergency photo camera
now). I ended up grabbing him also when we all went out to
photograph the fall foliage in the area. Not sure why I did that,
but whatever.

Well, I'm starting to suspect that Sid is not as good with colour and
detail as Oxide is. The closeups I took yesterday are what really
caught my eye. The detail is stunningly amazing with Oxide. But, I
admit I had him set to Auto and the light was far better than usual
because it was a bright sunny day with a flood of golden colours.
Both my S3 and S5 seem to do best with this type of environment
regardless of macro or wideangle usage. So, I'm probably wrong, and
I hope I am, because it would be a shame if Canon ruined an excellent
line of product in favour of the awesome new features they've added
to it.

I'm going to start dragging both cameras around and do some
comparisons with similar photos. That should give me a better idea
as to what's causing my suspicion, and whether or not it's warranted.

In other news, Lancelot has had a few treats lately. An influx of
bugs has made its way into our household, so I've been hunting and
diverting bugs into Lancelot's home. He's quite appreciative. I
wasn't sure houseflies were a good idea but he loved them and doesn't
appear to have indigestion from them. Currently he's got fruitflies
in there. They appeared after I made something with Fennel in it,
and when a friend left a box of blueberry pastries on the table
yesterday, they dove into the box. Now I refuse to eat the pastries,
but 'twas quite easy to shut the box and then reopen it in Lancie's
cage to release the fruitflies. He hasn't seemed to notice the itty
bitties yet, though. They're still clinging to the glass on the
inside of the cage. Whups, correction. He just saw one move and is
studying its movements with great detail. Snack on the way...

Speaking of snacks, I should have breakfast some time today. Maybe
after I forget about the bug carnage...

~nv

Parallels, etc.

Once again, I am floored and astounded by the awesomeness of my Mac.
Shady has a very stable and user-friendly OS. His apps are first-
rate. And, for those old archaic things that I somehow still love,
as well as the newer stuff that simply isn't Mac, there's Parallels.
I just hooked up Soran (my old Handspring Visor Edge) to Windows XP
which runs inside Parallels which runs inside Mac OSX. It actually
works, and is hotsyncing to Outlook so now I've got a usable
calendar, to do list, notes, etc.

Now. I realize I'm already impressed by Macs and their apps. But.
Parallels. Is. So. Hot. It's got this hot new feature... several
of them in fact... I want the upgrade so badly... might be worth it
in fact... Transporter first of all. You can migrate your PC TO YOUR
MAC. Okay, get this. Seriously. You have a windows pc. You'd like
to use it as a VM instead, since Virtual Machines can be backed up as
files, so that way you can still use your pc in your mac (say you
have a macbook, and wanna take your mac and your pc with you at
once!)... man, it never ends... It just never ends... I am sooooooo
smitten... anywho, you install a little appy on the pc, and run
transporter in Parallels on your Mac, and whammo, do a few clickies,
and it copies the whole system (or whatever you checked if you did
advanced - that would likely be me) to a VM in Parallels.

Now, I can think of several uses for this little ditty. Little, ha!
Okay, here goes:
01. You want to move your pc to your mac. For whatever reason. Ah
ha! Transporter!
02. You've got some old legacy programs you want to keep, but you
want to ditch the pc. Ding! Transporter.
03. You'd like to grab an image of your pc just in case PC crashes.
W00t!! Transporter.
04. You just got a new MacBook Pro and you'd like to bring your "pc"
with you, too. DING DING DING!! TRANSPORTER!!

Now I realize I'm slightly happy from the Meade I've been drinking,
but correct me if I'm wrong... in addition to Coherence (which is
just so totally cool it's not even funny) and even Assistant...
SmartSelect, 3D... I mean, you can play GAMES ON THIS NOW...
Explorer... isn't this worth the $80??? I think SO!!

My friend Paul would have SO much fun pushing a Mac to its absolute
limits. I don't think he ever could, in fact. I know I got close on
Raven, but Windows XP itself, I'd probably reached halfway. I sorta
stopped short when I discovered portable apps. This... this... well,
this takes the cake and the pudding and the cheesecake and the filet
mignon all at once. Even the Earl Grey Tea and the Cioccolati
biscotti and the port wine cheese and... Yes, even Meade. It.
Just. Rocks. My ultimate endeavour is to get myself a MacBook Pro,
install the latest Parallels and all my other favourite apps, and
migrate Raven to it so I can use all my favourite Portables with the
MacBook while still getting the awesome benefits of the Mac OS -
friendly atmosphere, stability, power... Unix! I tell ya, there's
nothing better than a Mac...

Okay, I've gotta end this happily excited rant of positivity...

~nv