I'm such a geek - the story of my life. Over the weekend, I decided not to write an idea I had for Yahnna, because I didn't feel like rewriting a story that I thought I had laid to rest over ten years ago. So, of course, I got whomped with another one - Duplicitous Dealings is a short prequel vignette, but I think it's a solid character moment.
As I promised yesterday, a little more about my trip to the east coast and musings provoked thereby.
on my Palm Pilot as I headed eastwards...
It's very odd to be going somewhere without Alex. Even worse, though is watching the airplane's wings bounce as we jounce over the tarmac of SFO's runway. The potholes must be the size of Volkswagens...
I seem to have a sane woman sitting next next to me, the obligatory screaming child is about fifteen rows ahead and they're promising me booze as soon as the plane is level enough for the vodka not to land in the passengers' laps. The joys of modern travel.
Whee! the engines are powering up....Ahh the sheer screaming force of Pratt and Whitney's finest brings a lump to my throat...makes me proud to be an American. Wait I'm not American.. Well, maybe these are Rolls Royce engines.
Please pardon the gibbering, I'm a bit of a nervous flyer. I can't even drive for crissakes. Wow the moonlight on the bay sure is pretty... I'm going to look out the window a bit
Oh boy snack time Maybe I can induce a carbo coma with this vile croissant thing they just gave me...and there's the liquor cart...
The so-called food certainly made me wish for unconsciousness, but it had little to do with my eventually wedging myself in to my tiny seat and crashing out - pardon the phrase - for most of the trip.
Sitting in Logan
airport, wondering where the HELL the CT shuttle is, and I've already
received a painful reminder why I don't miss New England that much -
humidity. Humidity aggravates my arthritis, and my knees are already out of
whack from the flight.
Damn, still no shuttle. At this point, I'm willing to consider forking out for another service…
Half an hour later: Yep, that's what I'm going to have to do. The van will be here in five minutes - Glastonbury, ho!
I managed to see
the usual gang - Stephen, Asha, Brian,
and a few others besides, and much catching up and showing-off of
photographs was done. I spent a lot of time talking with Stephen and Brian
about comparative salaries, cost of living, etc, and have come to the
conclusion that while living is a fair bit cheaper out there, Alex and I
would be taking a serious hit to our salaries, too - like 30%. That's enough
to make one stop and think. I know I'm close to overpaid in my job, but I
don't see much point to moving 3,000 miles with no appreciable improvement
in my standard of living.
Of course, there are other advantages to the area of Connecticut I'm perusing - much lower crime, rather better schools and peace and quiet. I'm bloody sick of hearing nothing but airplanes, sirens and motor cars while I'm sitting in my apartment. The sound of crickets and cicadias in New England was positively soothing. Shame I can't say the same for the humidity...
So, the jury's still out on the idea of moving eastwards. Jennifer is trying to sell me on the idea of Portland, and I suppose it's worth checking out. I hear that it's far too late to move to Seattle, as the exodus-to-date has made the cost of living comparable to the Bay Area. So much for Seattle.
And then there was
the near-concussion... Saturday night, Brian, Jon, Sarah and Lori - a friend
of Sarah's - got together for dinner and quite a few drinks. After the
obligatory viewing of Real Genius, I declared I wanted to go for a
walk through the graveyard next door to Brian's apartment - no wonder his
rent is so cheap.
The walk was very pleasant, in an Addams Family kind of way. It was when I got the bright idea to climb a tree that I nearly killed myself. The gravestone I was using for a footrest fell over, tumbling me out of the tree (no damage to the stone, fortunately). My leg hit the stone - I have a beaut of a bruise - and my head slammed into the tree as I came down. No concussion, but I had the screaming heebie-jeebies about subdural hematomas for the rest of my trip. That's what I get for reading medical thrillers...and it didn't help that one of my pupils was blown for the next day or so...
One of the more
productive side-effects of the trip was catching up with my buddy Jon, who
I've left drift off my radar in the past few years, and talking about
starting up an online writers' circle. I've roughed out a site on another
spot of the web, but with Brian offering to host it at his
place, it might not be my headache.
Jon also has the cutest kittens in New England - Trillian and Dante. They're a new breed that I've never heard of, and they looked a lot like the classic Egyptian (non-hairless) cat, the name of which also escapes me. But they were adorable - fluffy, talkative and brave. Trillian climbed all over me, curiously sniffing and muttering, while the apparently-ravenous Dante made an awful lot of noise for being such a tiny fuzzball.
The best revenge is living well...but why save it for revenge?
Not much to report today, kids. I'll be spending most of today preparing for a gaming convention this weekend - making fliers for the RPG Anti Defamation League and personal cards for me and Alex. I'm not in a strong conventioneering mood - I've long since outgrown staying up for 36 hours at a stretch and subsisting on Cheezy Poofs, but Alex really wants to go, and I figure I'll be able to hang out with friends that I don't see too often...
The only other news is that I'll be spending tonight regressing and watching Duran Duran over at the Pavilion. This makes the fourth time I've seen 'em in twelve years. I'm such a fangirl...Fortunately, Jennifer will be with me, as well as a whole bunch of buddies and co-workers from vivid and Organic - the chances for a web-joint catfight during the encores are nigh-limitless... ;)
Insert your favorite Europop band's signature tune here...
Well, kids, I went
to go see the ol' favorite, Duran Duran, last night and had a very good
time. I managed to hold on to my dignity clear until the fifth bar of the
opening song (Girls on Film) before I regressed into a bouncing maniac.
Still, my behavior was a distinct improvement over the last few times I've
seen the lads, as I didn't yell "I love you!" at the stage, not
I must admit, I'm somewhat baffled by the collective urge to sing along with the performers. Sure, it's fun, but didn't we come to hear them sing? Although I've heard it told that there's nothing quite like ten-thousand people singing "Dead Man's Party" at an Oingo Boingo concert. Whatever...
More baffling, though, are those concert attendees who insist upon yelling inanities as if the performers can actually hear them. Take last night, for example: two ladies in front of me took every opportunity to suggest - at the top of their lungs - that Mr. LeBon remove his pants. After the fifth imprecation, I was ready to swat them. Well, actually, I wanted to point out to them that since the wireless mike pickup was tucked into his waistband, the likelihood of Mr. LeBon removing said trousers ranked up there with my chances of getting invited on stage to jam with Nick Rhodes. Sigh... Literal girl strikes again!
Still, those females weren't nearly as annoying as the girls who yelled "Fuck me, Trent!" all through Closer, last time I saw Nine Inch Nails...They managed to drown out the band - no mean feat...
I'm out of town again, this weekend, at a gaming convention, so there'll be no entries again until Monday. If you're going to be at ConQuest, look for the guy in a blue velour robe. Kill him, whilst chanting "Die, Blue Boy! Die!", then come find me and say hello.
Back again from
the geekfest. For me, it was a nice quiet weekend for catching up with
buddies and eating junkfood - I didn't play in a single game.
I half-heartedly tried to get into a Hong Kong Action Theater game on Saturday. The 8AM starting time scared me off, but I have been re-inspired to write up my I'm-going-to-do-it-one-day HKAT idea for an adventure revolving around Iron Chef. Not only do you have to stop Takashi from taking over the world, but you have to create and present five dishes within the given time limit. I'm going to call it Battle: Bullets and if you don't know Iron Chef, just don't ask me to explain it. The whole thing boggles the mind.
Alex played in an AD&D game that he enjoyed, and ran a quick pick-up of Tales of the Iridium Rose for me, Jennifer and our buddy, Britt. Britt might be joining the group permanently, playing a character described as "The James Bond of Mon-Calmar" - yes, he's a squid-faced thing like Admiral Akbar, but a very smooth talking squid-faced thing. He'll fit in just fine...
On the subject of re-inspiration, I have also been reinspired to create the aborted Call of Cthulhu LARP Valley of The Kings, to run as an eight-hour event at DunDraCon next year. Alex has suggested that I ask his pal, Kirk Eichler, to help out, as Kirk is a bigger research nut than I am - I knew there was one out there! - and he could be a big help in pre-game prep and leave me with more time for plot-crafting.
In order to avoid unpleasantness with Terry, I will not be calling it a Serious Moonlight game. Lame gamer-unpleasantness with Terry is the last thing I want right now - despite my lingering peevedness - as I have just learned that one of his cats, the utterly adorable Hercules, died yesterday. Apparently the cause might have been poison put down by a neighbor to kill raccoons. And, gosh, gamer-peevedness just fades into insignificance...
Why are people such idiots when it comes to wildlife? Every year, hundreds of household pets and other innocent animals die by poison because some nimrod was too stupid to call Animal Control, or to bother to learn if there's an organic way to deal with whatever is eating the roses - eg, put down wood-ash around your plants, rather than slug pellets...Sigh...
I had dinner with
the family last night, plus Christopher's friend, Hillary, who is visiting
from the UK, and Susan's friends Mike and Chenita. Susan pulled all the
stops out, menu-wise, and we all ate far too much of yummy crabcakes,
homemade foccaccia, chocolate cake and the like. Poor Alex nearly fell into
a food-coma on the way home, and I was a bit over-stuffed myself, but it was
a great antidote to a weekend of gamer-food.
We'll be seeing Hillary and the 'rents again tonight, when we take over our tape of Iron Chef to introduces Hillary to the phenomena. :)
Insert your favorite Europop band's signature tune here...
Labor Day was
commemorated in the Mead household by some serious lazing and loafing. All I
have to show for the day are some revived ideas for Valley of the The
Kings and Busted.
Alex, at least, earned some good household karma by cleaning up our messy den. Meanwhile, I was on the computer trying to find a copy of Cosmic Encounter on e-bay that was going for less than $50. No luck, so far. Oh well, I don't need to be spending the money, anyway...
This week's expenditure is going to be renewing my passport. The nightly dreams I've having about the damn thing are really starting to get on my nerves, so I'm going to cave in to that not-so-subtle voice and take care of it. Now I've just got to find someone who fits the exceedingly narrow requirements to testify to my picture being a genuine likeness of myself. Said proclaimant must be a British subject in a 'professional' (read: well paying) field, or an American of roughly the same rank as the Vice President of the United States...Do Americans have to go through this rigmarole? Bah.
Look at him, a rhinestone in the rough - Dorothy Parker
Silly me. When I
was young, I expected that by my mid-20's, I would be made over by a
nigh-magickal transformation. I would have style, poise, and dishes that
matched each other. I know now that everyone had that same belief
right up until that morning when they awoke in a crowded apartment furnished
in late-bachelor-college-student, with the bills overdue as usual and
nothing to wear but a ratty pair of Levis and a free failed-startup
tee-shirt, because the clothing budget got spent on food, again.
How could we all be wrong? Tell me that at there's at least one Gen-X kid in the neighborhood who doesn't feel like they're living the life of a lab rat, hoping that the strange noises that dominate their life will bring a food pellet and not an electrical shock...
At this point in my unreasonably bitter, middle-class life, I'll settle for a dramatic renewal of purpose in any area - career, self-esteem, house-cleaning - just something to give me a reason to be a little more hopeful and a little less disgusted and disappointed with the world in general and myself in particular.
'Scuse me, I woke up feeling a bit out of sorts, this morning. I'm sure once the mid-month paycheck comes in, I'll be much more cheerful. When lacking a greater purpose, a bit of ready cash is a fine momentary substitute.
For fans of Johanna's
Everyday World, we'll now return to the regularly scheduled programming.
I spent most of yesterday giving the RPG
Anti-Defamation League site a much-needed polish, and added a list
of supporters to supplement the webring.
I also spent entirely too much time on e-bay, scoring a copy of Circus Maximus for Alex. I managed to lay my hands on a brand-new set for $25, and I consider that quite the bargain, thankyerverymuch. But to counteract that, I've made a couple of impulse bids, and now I'm really hoping I get outbid. I don't really need a PVC dress, no matter how cute it is...Not until Operation Fifteen Pounds reaches a successful conclusion, at least. :)
It's either a thunderstorm or an alien ray-gun invasion... - Calvin and Hobbes.
kick-in-the-butt was provided by Mother Nature, in the shape of a
thunderstorm of a few - but very loud - words, and surprising staying
power. Fourteen hours later, it's still rumbling and flashing over the East
Bay. The SF Bay Area doesn't get many storms - something to do with having
too many hills, or not enough in the right place or something - so it
requires a real corker of a pressure system to cook one up.
Me, I love thunder, in moderate doses, and yesterday was great fun, except for when the first - admittedly unexpected - crash almost startled me out of my shoes. It sounded like the storm was about fifteen feet overhead. Yowza!
I got bitten by the Redesign Bug again, so keep your eyeballs peeled for new silliness on Rough Cut's front page. And if you've noticed the Rambling's front page loading a little quicker lately, that's because my pal Stephen noticed that the title gif was about 47K (ow!) and he scrunched it down to 10K for me. Much better...
Against all common
sense - and because we have free tickets - Alex and I will be going to the Renaissance
Faire on Saturday... We're telling ourselves that we're just
going to check out the doublet we want to get for him, and maybe do a little
window shopping for a new bodice for me. Yeah, suuuuuure. I'll be taking my
checkbook with me and seeing if the doublet dealer will take a post-dated
check...After all, it's Alex's b-day present from me, and if I can get it
for him a few days early that would be extra-nice... ;)
Besides, I'm not going to pass up a chance to show off my Shakespearian turn of phrase and the chance to make exceedingly bawdy jokes in public... Wait, I do that, anyways...
And I've found my guild - The Wenches' Union - Local 69. The distinct downside to most Faire guilds is that they expect you to be a noble or, at worst, a middle class trader. To heck with that, I just want to be a run-of-the-mill wench. But not a peasant, goodness me, no. What's the fun in that?
Mesmerized by the candle flame...She knows the violations, lovers' arms without occasion. - Arcadia, Lady Ice
Oh dear, I think the recent thunder-and-lightening has made my synaptic connections even more haphazard than usual. I've made an impulse bid on a rather, um, daring dress for sale on Ebay. Frankly, I can't imagine where I'm going to wear it, outside of vampire games (and I'm not playing any sex kittens right now) or the occasional club. But Alex keeps mumbling that he thinks I'd look good in it, and when one's husband gets that look in their eyes...well, I know what's good for the marriage. :)
The other sign of
brain scrambling has to be that the Deadly Triangle bug is really
yelling for attention. Deadly Triangle is an idea for a 1950's-era
James Bond fanfic that I scraped up a few months ago and then put aside when
I couldn't find the needed data about Australia's atom program and the state
of the opium/heroin market during the same period. I'm such a wonk for
research, I really hate writing without the proper information - when
such information is needed - and I put the story on the compost heap,
figuring it would die of starvation, sooner or later.
I think the idea must have eaten my Matrix ideas to survive (Simon, I swear I'm not going to let that go, honest!) or something, because it's alive, thriving and has been kicking my frontal lobes for the past three days. I've started an outline, although my beginning is rough, and we'll see if I can get that together in the next few days.
At the moment, my grandest vexation (aside from my lack of accurate history) is that I'm so familiar with Fleming's work that I've identified all of my plot devices as being akin to something that was done before. Sure, sure, that doesn't stop authors - after all, there are only seven original plots in the world - but I'm shooting myself in the foot when I think "The chick is out of Thunderball, the ruse is too much like On Her Majesty's Secret Service and sidekick is just From Russia With Love, all over again..." Sigh. I'm my own worst enemy for getting these things done...
But the bloody idea won't shut up. Probably because I've come to the conclusion that my best-writing-style - which I must admit, is not the one I usually use and you can keep smart comments about this journal to yourself - came about forty years too late for me to be a success. Nowadays, everyone wants nice thick books that detail every follicle and emotional ripple of three dozen characters. I think Doug Adams presents a good rant on the subject in one of the Hitchhiker books. Me, give me razor sharp words and intelligent readers...
Yeah, yeah, dream on, Johanna.
When in panic, or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout.
Vicarious living without consequences. The Star
Wars game happened last. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice
to say that it ended with the Broken Spanner - Yahnna's
ship - about a mile underwater, hiding in a coral reef and hoping that the
Imperial Star Destroyer Relentless would satisfy itself by bombing
the bejeezus out of the tracker we had jettisoned a few miles back.
Tonight will be a severe turnabout, as Rob runs another chapter of Concordia Alliance. I just hope Rob's kids are feeling sleepy tonight, and want to turn in early. They're nice kids, it's just impossible to roleplay with them around. The sooner we get them hooked on the hobby, the better! Chortle...Kirsten, the seven year-old daughter of my friend Shaunna, taught herself to read with the express intention of joining Mommy's roleplaying group. That's motivation! I don't think Kirsten's made her first character yet, but it's just a matter of time...
Hands up who out there has been more motivated by the provocations of
jealousy, greed and lust than they ever were by nobler sentiments? Oh good,
I'm not the only one. Sure, I'm not never motivated by altruism,
love, the silly urge to make a friend happy, etc, but I've noticed that the
negative emotions encourage a far higher level of craftiness while they spur
a person on, and those ugly encouragements can hang around for years.
Don't believe me? Oh, come now, anyone who says they've never held a grudge
in their life is lying...
I think fear of humiliation and rampant jealousy are the two most significant motivators in my life. The fear of humiliation is from my English side I think - just watch A Fish Called Wanda and you'll know what I mean. The jealousy/greed part is definitely my American side coming to the fore. Lovely people, these Americans, but they want everything now and it had better be the best, dammit!
One of the few joys of being mid-Atlantic - god knows there are few enough - is that one can change affiliation at a whim. When I want to have a go at the Yanks and their tendency to indulge in cultural imperialism as an attempt to counteract a lack of history, my Brit accent will crawl out of remission and I'll go find the local expatriate's pub. Contrariwise, when I suddenly rail against European silliness in general and bad food in particular, I'll gleefully wrap myself up in the Stars and Stripes.
(Ack! Yes, I know the state of everyday cuisine in England is far better than it used to be! Spare me the indignant e-mails! Would you rather I made some kind of catty comment about orthodontics, instead? But I'm not apologizing for the cultural imperialism comment...)
I had better get offline before I get deported or disenfranchised...
No, the bidding for the dress isn't over yet...I'll let you know tomorrow.
I don't know about you, Miss Kitty, but I'm feeling so much yummier...
A quiet day
yesterday, a busy day today. More tomorrow, I'm sure.
I didn't get the dress, alas. So I'm consoling myself by bidding on other, equally useless things. :)
"Yes, we're blooming like roses
"I'm not surprised, given all the manure..."
need a weekend to get over my weekend. Last night was Bedlam's
Rest and, even though the turnout was small, it was a good game. I
wasn't playing Rebecca
as usual, but an exceedingly bitchy Toreador Primogen from San Francisco,
Debra Vaughn. Debra was there to be as catty a bitch as possible, while
reminding Alameda that they were the sticks as far as San Francisco
was concerned. I think I succeeded quite well - the quote above was one of
Of course, the outfit I was wearing assured my bitchy demeanor. It looked fabulous, but the combo of Victorian corset, latex miniskirt and pantyhose nearly killed me when I realized that I couldn't indefinitely ignore the call of nature. The things I'll do for LARPs...
In similar news, Rob ran a chapter of Concordia on Saturday. The group took a while to warm up - mostly because I think everyone is trying to be the strong silent type - but we managed to get cooking before we completely slagged Rob's plot. The next chapter promises to be good silly fun, since the group is going adventuring in the Hollow Earth. Alex and I are already brushing up on our Edgar Rice Burroughs...
I've been writing up Yahnna's reaction to the Iridium Rose episode on Friday, but I just haven't had time to finish it, yet. With luck, it'll get done later tonight.
In slightly - only
slightly - more meaningful news, I had a minor wave of sartori at the
bus-stop this morning and I think I can finally start writing Cutting
the Cord, my next Matrix fanfic. I had gotten completely stalled on the
beginning of the dam' thing and had since managed to build myself a dandy
little block to making any other progress. But a good introductory scene
fell into my head while I was waiting for the bus, and I think I can get
cracking on it later today.
Deadly Triangle is a bit annoyed that I'm shunting energy away from it, but the fact is that I know people are waiting for Cutting The Cord and I would much rather get that story finished, first. Deadly Triangle is going to take a lot of time to outline and craft properly - especially as I intend to broadly imitate Fleming's own style of writing - and I want to approach it with a clear head. And, of course, the research wonk in me wants to do a little more looking into the period at hand...
Georgie Davis is coming out - no more heroes, we twist and shout.
Oh no, not me, I'm not to blame and I know that I'm not taking any more...
- Duran Duran during their infamous "What the hell does that mean?" phase...
I should really
know better than to go cruising on ebay while listening to a fistful of
Duran Duran MP3s. Next thing I knew, I had just bought a used '45 of Union
of The Snake - actually bought for Secret Oktober on the flip side - and
I'm bidding on about $60 worth of other long-lost vinyl and assorted "Ohmigod
I didn't know that was out on CD..." goods. Fortunately, I've
been able to resist jumping into an auction for Simon LeBon's apparently
mediocre solo album - the bidding was at over $100 when I looked. Ouch!
I just wish I never gave away my extensive collection of posters and pictures of the lads from Birmingham. They'd be worth a bloody fortune by now. You hear that, Meredith? Meredith is the one I gave most of my collection to when I no longer felt the need to paper my walls and ceiling with the band's likeness. Truth be told, all those eyes staring back at me were starting to creep me out...
A word to the wise
and wary. Operation Fifteen Pounds is commencing this week, so the entries
for the next month or so are probably going to be a little cranky and
preoccupied with food. Although that's assuming that I can type this journal
with my nose, as I'm sure I'm going to be too sore to move for this first
two weeks of my exercise routine. I've been through all this before. Just
this time, I intend to stick to it.
I'm also resolved to not talk about it too much in the journal, as I doubt anyone is going to find the details of my diet to be terribly interesting. Less fattening food, more exercise. That's it. Next bulletin will be in 30 days.
Had a nice online-meeting with KT, yesterday. I only stumbled across her journal because Jennifer happened to find a link from her journal to both of ours - and she even had nice things to say about us - isn't that luvly? :) KT is another gamer-gal with a serious writing habit, so it's nice to find that there's more than two of us online...
Johanna's Gaming News
not-so-popular demand! I've discovered that even when I'm not doing a lot of
game-writing, I still want to talk about my favorite hobby, so nyaah!
Despite the game-heavy weekend, there's not much to report. Yahnna's latest misadventures have been recorded in Another Day, Another Crisis. The silliness quotient is risking going off the scale as Jenn and I are finding pictures of various hunks and asking Alex "Can we have an NPC who looks like this?", when we both know damned well that if he agrees, the NPC in question will be an absolute rat-bastard who will no-doubt be more interested in the droids than in our apparently under-sexed characters...
As for Mercy, well, I'm trying to make her a woman of few words - although she's positively chatty when compared to the rest of the group. I'm still working on her Awakening prequel, although I've kind of lost my zeal for the story. I'm sure I'll be reinspired in a couple of weeks.
Hey, you could be Harlan Ellison's love-child, you never know... - Alex's mom, Joanne, yesterday.
I know I
appreciate little karmic kicks-in-the-butt when I get whiny, but I've been
fairly chipper lately, and I think yesterday's kick-in-the-butt was
Alex's mom, Joanne, collapsed again, very early Tuesday morning. In fact, the only reason she's still alive is because the paramedics didn't know of her standing 'do not resuscitate' order. Unsurprisingly, Alex's dad didn't mention it to them. Actually, the DNR order is only in event of cardiac arrest, I believe, but by the time the paramedics reached the scene last night, Joanne had stopped breathing and I believe she would have been satisfied - as far as she could be - if they had let her go.
Joanne's at the hospital and actually very comfortable. With luck, she will be going home later today, but the increasing frequency of her respiratory attacks has severely curtailed her life expectancy - at this point it's between two weeks and two months. Joanne says she's quite ready for it. It turns out that she's had emphysema for the past nine years, but she chose not to tell Alex until he returned to the Bay Area, three years ago, so she says she's had plenty of time to get used to the notion of dying.
So yesterday afternoon, Alex and I visited Joanne in the the hospital and had The Talk. She told us what she would like for a memorial service - she wants us to take care of the music - and she wants us to have a big party for her, get terribly drunk and say lots of nice things about her. That shouldn't be too hard on one level, at least...
We've also been charged with opening communication with Alex's dad, Dan - particularly about his intentions after Joanne dies. He's been in denial about her condition for a long time, but it's finally coming home to him - especially after Joanne had a few strong words with him on the subject of extreme measures, yesterday afternoon. I get the distinct impression she didn't appreciate Dan's allowing the paramedics to revive her - but of course, he doesn't want to lose his wife if there's any chance of saving her...
Getting Dan to talk to us will be tough. Alex is certainly his favorite child - Dan and Alex's sister, Melissa, don't get along very well - and if Dan's going to talk to anyone, it'll be Alex. But Dan is a very shy and private person. We don't want to harass him during this time, but Joanne wants assurance that he's going to be able to cope after she's gone, so we're obligated to try.
I know that the
rest of the world is continuing unabated, and I even managed to take enough
notice of it yesterday to spare a sympathetic pang for the southeastern
states getting pounded by Hurricane Floyd - but you're going to have to
forgive me and put up with a bit of rampant self indulgence for the next few
days. Yes, more so than usual. Mutter...wise ass readers...
And it's far from over. As Joanne told us yesterday. "After doing all this tender farewell stuff, watch me last for three more years.". Not that we're going to object in that case, but her expectancy - while still variable - is pretty damned short. Every time the phone rings, I'm going to suffer an attack of nerves.
God knows what it's doing to Alex. He's holding up pretty well - externally. We're both very good and stuffing our own feelings into a box and being the grown-ups when we have to be. We both have hysteria prone friends/relatives and have learned about that emergency store of sixty minutes of adult behavior that everyone seems to have. But it's going to break some time, and I just don't know what we're going to do at that point. I'm no good at comforting the bereaved, I'm too self-centered for to be much comfort.
I remember right after my paternal grandfather died, my father broke down for just a few moments, then took a deep breath, 'pulled himself together' and went shopping. I think shopping is some kind of shock-reaction in my family, as I remember it happening several times after we received bad news, such as the death of a friend. I suppose it's actually an attempt to get out of the house, to distance oneself from the reception of bad news, and a quick way to try to take one's mind off matters, but I remember thinking how bloody callous it was for my father to go traipsing off to the mall an hour after hearing his father had died. Forgive me, I was fifteen and not terribly perceptive...
I suppose I can only hope I'll be well composed enough to consider shopping after Joanne finally leaves us. As it is, I damn near had hysterics in the office yesterday morning - proving, I suppose, that there are some things too big to be stuffed into a box.
Ad hoc, ad stoc and quid pro quo. So little time, so much to know! - Jeremy
that I am, I ran out and bought a copy of the newly re-released version of Yellow
Submarine, yesterday. I sometimes think that all shreds of happiness and
whimsy in my nature - as well as the desire to mix melodrama and psychotic
exhibitionism - can be attributed to that film.
Don't ask me to explain why, but the Blue Meanies make me shriek with laughter and if I had absolutely no shame, I'd be dressing up as one for Halloween...But I draw the line at making myself even pudgier for a Halloween costume.
Besides, my Halloween is going to spent at Bedlam's Rest, so I have to come up with a costume for Rebecca as much as myself. *Giggle* I may go with Alex's idea and dress up as a stereotypical Giovanni, Bela Lugosi accent and all...
yesterday started a bit shakily. My co-workers are a very considerate bunch,
and they asked after Alex's mother and gave me a lot of room, besides. I
felt alright, most of the time... But every now and then, I could feel the
shakes just below the surface, threatening to break out. Not hysteria or
anything, just physical tension looking for a place to go.
So, when meeting time rolled around, I was completely unable to focus. It's going to take a bit of creative re-construction to get the notes from the Stonecutters' meeting together. Yeah, yeah, I work at a goofy place. Any other office would have called the assemblage the Technology Steering Group, but the engineers wanted to be part of something that sounded spooky and Illuminati-like...
Visited Alex's mom
again, last night. She had to stay in the hospital another night, for
observation. She knows the ICU staff there too well, at this point.
She told Alex and I that she's contacted a hospice and will be making full
use of them, so when the time comes, she can die at home. Optimism aside,
Joanne is quite convinced that it's going to happen within a month. The more
I speak with her, the worse I feel.
As far as dying goes, I suppose this current situation is one of the most preferable...but, of course, I would rather it wasn't happening at all. I'm only just starting to know her well, and now she's going to leave, damn it.
*grin* On the lighter side, Joanne got a wicked line off on Alex. The context is too convoluted to explain - suffice to say Alex was apologizing for making Joanne laugh too hard (it wears her out). The line was: "It's not like I have to worry about laughing myself into an early grave..." Alex looked like he had just swallowed a pint of gasoline while Joanne chortled about some straight-lines being too easy to resist.
Dinner with my
parents tonight. Either it'll go well, or it'll be a paroxysm of
awkwardness. I've tried, before, to bring up the subject of what they want
done in the event of their death - and have they made a will, etc - and
being inveterate Baby Boomers, they don't want to hear about it, let alone
talk about it. Maybe this situation will act as a bit of a wake-up call. I
know I momentarily got through to Susan when I mentioned that if Christopher
dies inestate, I'm fine, but she's screwed - after all, there's a big
mortgage on their house... It was a heartless thing to say, I know, but I
was trying to make a point.
But the subject's not been mentioned since. I don't want to push it - not now - but it's going to have to be done, some time. Just because most of my family is long lived is no guarantee of the future.
You have the nicest refrigerator. No, really! It just told me to have a great day! - Phoebe.
Alright, I admit
it. I wanna be Phoebe. Y'know, the character from Friends. No, not
because I want to be tall, blonde and too thin - although I wouldn't object
too much to that - but because I want to be the whimsical goofy chick who
can say outrageous - and usually honest - things and get away with it.
That's the reason behind the show's success, I'm sure. Every viewer can identify with/fantasize about at least one of the characters. I happened to catch the season finale last night, where Phoebe was talking about wandering around her apartment naked like it was the most natural thing in the world. Meanwhile I'm thinking "Right on! If it's on a sitcom, it must mean I'm not the only person on the planet that does it. Woo-hoo!"
Sure, maybe there are better places than sitcoms to look for lifestyle validation. What's your point?
Anyways, I want the freedom to be mercurial, whimsical, and a little odd, without risking social censure and involuntary committal to a state institution. Is that too much to ask? It certainly seems to be in today's "For god's sake, don't rock the boat" society.
Somewhere along the line - ninth grade I think it was - I chose to cultivate the image and attitude of Arrogant Cynical Chick. It was a good idea at the time. I wasn't dumb and/or pretty enough to be popular, not scientific enough to be a full blown geek and I knew too much about recreational pharmaceuticals and venereal disease to be a deadhead.
Cynics are rarely disappointed, and we encounter pleasant surprises far more often than our optimistic counterparts... But there are times when it gets terribly wearying. It takes a hell of a lot of energy to maintain the 'tude. There are times when I really want to believe in the potential of my fellow-man, that the stranger talking to me on the street doesn't have an ulterior motive, that the rat-bastard with the upper-hand won't feel the need to crush the lesser-man just because they can, but what's the point? Mine is one voice in the hurricane, and I lack the optimism to find enough others to drown out the storm.
Bloody hell, time to change the subject.
So, I followed the Mead family tradition mentioned on Wednesday and went out shopping last night. I bought a pair of kicky shoes - black patent platform heels, perfect for Gothic Friday in my office - a pretty-but-daring office satchel (shiny silver!) and a yet another pair of fishnets - all for less than fifty bucks. I may be reacting badly to shock, but I can still find bargains at the local over-the-counter-culture store.
Of course, it doesn't make things any better. Nothing will. This bloody helplessness thing is the worst. I can't help Joanne, and I feel like I'm miles away from Alex. All I can do is get angry and frustrated and that helps absolutely nobody. I'm dumping it into my own personal landfill, where it can be ignored, while simultaneously knowing that that's no good either, but what else do I have left? Screaming and shouting might feel very good, but that'll just get any incidental witnesses upset and leave things exactly as they were before. Frankly, I'd rather just keep going on as usual and avoid looking like a fool, thanks.
Meanwhile, life continues on unabated, whether I like it or not. Some madman shot up a church in Texas on Wednesday. Somewhat north, a sixth grade boy was severely ostracized by his schoolmates - who were encouraged by their teacher - for wearing a Steelers' shirt during his school's official 'Browns' Support Day', to the point of where the boy went home in tears and his parents are on the verge of suing the school district, and lightening still hasn't struck George W. Bush or Elizabeth Dole.
Remind me why I got out of bed this morning?
How many hours have I stared at myself in the mirror? I get worried sometimes that the image will shatter.
Yesterday was a
little easier - and thank you to everyone who has sent sympathetic e-mails.
Fortunately, the biggest challenge of the day was trying not to fall off my shoes.
They're very pretty, but - like much of my wardrobe - not very practical.
Another chunk of my day was wasted adding Death and Dieting to Geekgrrl's Gothic Spot for no readily good reason. That place may become my outlet for unreasonable bitchiness. We'll see...
Dinner with the parents on Thursday went very well, although Certain Subjects were not mentioned any more than etiquette demanded. My parents taped the BBC America showing of Buddha of Suburbia, so I'm looking forward to watching that - shame I can't find my copy of the novel. 'Tis no doubt buried in my house, somewhere - right next to my signed copy of the screenplay of My Beautiful Launderette, no doubt.
Last night, Jennifer
and I went to the Heather
Alexander concert. I know her from songs she has done for a whole bunch
of Mercedes Lackey bardic tunes (Mlackey being one of my guilty little
pleasures). I was rather afraid that the audience would be the lamé-cape-wearing,
bad-middle-English-speaking, I- really-believe-in-dragons fantasy
crowd. Some of them were - I recognized them from various sci-fi cons - but
they had all left the stuffed fire-lizards and silly outfits at home, so I
was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
In fact, thanks to Gothic Friday, I was the oddest-dressed person there. Whaddya think I was wearing with those shoes, cutoffs?
The concert was good fun. It was in a Unitarian church in Los Altos - an aggressively ecumenical structure, to the point of where they even eschewed altars and crucifixes - and it had good acoustics and a small crowd, about sixty or so. I don't get to see a live musician - a good live musician - in a small venue very often, so it was a very pleasant break from canned music and large stadiums.
Heather accompanied herself with a fiddle and guitar - not simultaneously, of course! - and I was very impressed by her skill. I would have enjoyed it more if I was more familiar with Heather's material, but I think Jennifer is going to pass on a fistful of her songs ripped to MP3, so that'll be a help. :)
Well, I have to get back to housecleaning. A friend is coming over later, and the apartment is just too filthy. I've left Alex doing the dishes while I type this, and I had better get back to helping him before I accumulate too many 'bad wife' points. Although it's probably too late for that....
Hope dwells in the most unlikely places.
Well gang, I may
be slightly hungover, but I had a good day, yesterday. After Alex and I
cleaned the house, our friend Kirk came over. We had a nice lunch talked
gaming and bashed out a lot of ideas for Valley of the Kings.
Kirk is a really sharp guy who has a great grasp of the Cthulhu Mythos and
what makes a good game.
I can't divulge details because I know several might-be players read this journal, but suffice to say that we've roughed out the script, the antagonists and the protagonists at this point. Yay!
Let's see. Last
night I wrote a squeaking fangirl letter to Heather
Alexander, shortly after listening to Shadow Stalker again... As
I've said before, Mlackey's bardic music is one of my guilty pleasures...
And today, Alex and I are off to Renaissance Faire to get Alex his birthday present - a leather doublet. Renn Faire is really little more than a themed shopping mall, but it's a theme I like, so I won't hear a word against the place.
So I'm coping
alright, but every now and then, the fear and stress return. But I can't
dwell on it, I can't dedicate every moment to it. If I spend every moment
thinking "I'm about to lose Joanne any moment now...", I'll
collapse into a pile of dysfunctional goo. Life continues unabated, and I
might as well choose to continue to function. Hysteria and self-involvement
gets me nowhere, right?
It's always so much easier to plunge into self-indulgence, rather than consider how others might be feeling. But it's much more selfish, also. I can't do that - it's not fair to Alex. Whether I like it or not, I have to shove my more delicate feelings aside for the meantime. I'll fall apart when I have time to.
Chances that are one-in-a-million happen nine times out of ten.
Well, kiddies, once again, I have left writing this journal to the last minute - jammed in between an early meeting with accounting and the weekly engineering meeting. I tell ya, it's all go at the purple side of the force.
Yesterday was spent adding new links to the RPG Anti-Defamation League and a few bits to Geekgrrl's Unnecessary Gothness. In other words, I just bummed around and did practically nothing. I blame post-Faire exhaustion. I am feeling perked up enough to return to Cutting the Cord and found a very handy place over at fanfiction.net to post work for review...
And, wowsers! My friend Terry - the one with whom I had the very ugly gaming spat with a couple of months ago, followed shortly by a meltdown of his personal life - has recently rejoined the so-called real world. He dropped me an e-mail today about some poetry I had written a while ago, and raring to go to tear it to bits. I don't know whether to be thrilled or terrified... Terry's critique is always spot on and therefore rarely easy to swallow. Well, I should know better than to write poetry when dead drunk, hm? :)
Aiyee! Meetings all around me! More later, I hope!
A guy walks into a bar...Ow!
The inspiration for today's entry comes from Almost A Jester's Journal - for reason's Dan knows perfectly well. If you pop over there, dear reader, you'll get 'em, too.
elephants hide in a bowl of custard?
They paint the soles of their feet yellow and float upside down.
Have you seen an elephant in your custard lately?
That shows you how well they can hide, doesn't it?
Dan may have a great collection of frog jokes, but I've got a frightening number of elephant jokes at my command. Most of them culled from The Puffin Book of Awful Jokes, or somesuch - one of the few books that has survived the years between my first childhood and this one.
frivolity was dedicated to visiting www.lit.org,
an online place for fiction, poetry, RPG writings, etc. Hog-heaven for your
humble author. Naturally, I immediately bunged all my URLs into their search
engine. It's a small place now, but you never know when a site will take
off, and linking to them doesn't cost me a thing.
If you feel like patting Johanna's ego on the head, feel free to cruse on over there and rate something of mine, or rate the copy of Unplugged I've uploaded to fanfiction.net.
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations, instead of owned by the folk." - Henry Jenkins, director of media studies, MIT. I pulled that from a fanfic I just randomly encountered and had to share it with y'all.
Memo to myself: If
I am going to insist upon writing poetry when drunk, I absolutely must
tear my modem out of the wall before sitting down at the keyboard, lest I
again spam my long-suffering friends - and a few strangers - with whatever
intoxicated mutterings I dribble out. I've nothing against knocking back a
glass of wine or two as I write - word lubricant, I call it - but I've got
to admit that heaving back about a liter of Mondavi's mediocre-est brings
out the worst in me.
Quick side note: 'word lubricant', hmm...that's gonna get me some interesting hits from the search engines... And would the joker who hit my site searching on the keywords 'latex screenplay' please stand up?
But I digress... Some people, when in their cups, call their exes on the other side of the country. Others yield to the urge to pick fights with heavily muscled strangers. But not me, nope. I have to stagger directly to the keyboard when I've had a few too many pints of ale. Perhaps it's because I can stay fairly still while writing - thus decreasing my chance of falling off the chair - or because I can continue to drink when in front of the computer... Sure, you can drink while you doing other things, too, but I've yet to see anyone get a DUI on the Information Superhighway. (Hey, Dan, there's another one for you!).
I dunno, but all I can say is that isn't really a bender if Johanna doesn't try to write something during it. It's quite a challenge when I'm seeing two keyboards and four hands...
And let's not forget the time I wrote to the President when drunk. I guess I'm really lucky that it isn't a crime to be drunk in charge of a modem..
And a checkmark for today...
I don't like
earthquakes. I absolutely cannot find within me the calm attitude that the
Californians around me have about the damned things. We had a little temblor
yesterday afternoon, 3.95 on the Richter scale, about 40 miles north of my
office. The furniture jiggled for about ten seconds, which just long enough
for me to get really worried - pounding heart, nigh-overwhelming
anxiety, the whole bag.
My trepidation is not helped by the fact that all the natives are muttering darkly about 'earthquake weather' - we've had a couple of unusual storms lately - and pointing to the recent major earthquakes elsewhere in the world as a sign that we are In For It. I'm certain that neither my office nor my apartment building are up to code and all I bloody need right now is another thing to stress over! Excuse me, I have to go crawl under my desk and suck my thumb for a few minutes...
There. All better. Sort of.
It seems that one of my bosses, Dave, helped create a quake monitoring site. He spent the afternoon telling us that if we hit the site and got a 404, either it was swamped, or the quake was centered in Menlo Park and their server fell off the desk. :)
One of my co-workers immediately called for an 'earthquake day' - as per a 'snow day' in his native Wisconsin - and went home, supposedly to store up on non-perishable goods and flashlight batteries. Those of us left behind know a guy who wants to weasel out of the weekly staff meeting when we see one...
One of my buddies flippantly declared "I like earthquakes, they remind people that Mother Earth is still boss". Frankly, one two-hour power outage can do the exact same thing, and usually has a much less traumatic effect on the local population. Heck, when a blackout is long enough, the population increases, albeit a few months later. :)
Alex and I visited
with Joanne again, last night. She wanted to tell us a bit more about the
hospice program she's with, and why she's going with that, rather than
facing a future in the hospital. It was all fairly gruesome to hear, but it
had to be said. Her visits to the hospital have been painful and
frightening, and she just doesn't want to go through that again, nor does
she really have the strength to do so, even if she wanted to... So she has
some new treatments that will help ease her through any future respiratory
attacks - providing her heart holds out - and she is much happier and
more relaxed about her situation.
On the slightly-brighter side, it looks like she might last until Christmas. Now that she's out of the hospital, and getting over a bout of post-trauma depression, both she and her doctors are feeling a bit more optimistic - just a bit. So I'll still be jumping every time the phone rings, but maybe not so high...
The accumulated stress is really starting to get to me, though. I'm even more forgetful than usual - and that's saying something - and I'm feeling tired and logy most of the time. Blugh. I know some exercise would help, but I'm having a helluva time getting motivated. I haven't been lifting weights, as I had promised myself I would, but I am watching what I eat. Maybe this weekend, I can get the effort together and get good and sore with the barbells... Hm, that's a phrase that could be misunderstood out of context. :)
gets the stress-cookie-of-the-week award. It's all too long and strange to
relate here, go take a look for yourself.
Darling, you were fabulous, you really were quite good. I enjoyed
it, though, of course, no-one understood a word of what was going on. They
didn't have a clue. They can't understand your sense of humor the way I
- Yesterday, When I Was Mad, Pet Shop Boys.
Heh. Some of my friends say the nicest things. My buddy BJ just reacted to my entry of Friday.
I've always considered you a
whimsical goofy chick who says outrageous - and usually honest - things
and gets away with it, and is highly entertaining in the process.
Besides, you write better than anyone whose ever been *near* a "Friends" script.
Wasn't that sweet of him? Thanks Beej! BJ is a dam' fine writer himself - he's got a better grasp of screenwriting than I ever will have - and I highly recommending checking out his site.
Boy, I am ready
for this week to be over. I am sick of feeling tired, cranky
and (today) very overdressed. All my other gothic garb was covered in cat
fur, so I'm sitting at my desk in a vinyl skirt, polyester rubber-look
shirt and, as I've said, the shoes... Definately not the usual
office-casual look :)
Drat and damn it. The latest chapter of The Iridium Rose was scheduled to happen tonight and it's been canceled because Alex has to work at some obscenely early hour tomorrow.
Bah, I was looking forward to it. However, I suppose it's for the best, Alex is getting a little burned out and could do with a break. As it it, we're probably going to run roughshod over him in the next chapter, so perhaps a little more prep time is a good thing... Apparently he didn't anticipate Yahnna taking the crew's ship underwater when the Relentless came thundering into the system. I tell ya... The GM puts you on a planet that's 95% water and doesn't anticipate the PC's playing submarine? *chortle*
I had a nice chat with KT yesterday, via the wonders of AOL's Instant Messenger. We just chatted on about various things - ranging from pets to sci-fi conventions, all very chummy. It's a shame she's on the other side of the country, as I suspect we'd get along quite well!
My elephants of Wednesday would like to think Dan for their donation towards the yellow-paint fund. Incidentally, they would like to tell the frogs that they're willing to host the semi-annual Object of Bad Jokes Potluck dinner over at their place. Watch out for the custard.
We've been sucked into oblivion! What are we going to do?"
- Yellow Submarine
Not much to
report today, loyal readers. A friend, Jen Brecheen, has moved in with me
and Alex while she's trying to find a new place, following the meltdown of
her marriage. Fortunately, her incipient ex-husband is willing to look
after her pets - two ferrets and two cats - until she's settled in a new
place, so I have been saved from Death By Sneezing.
As I type this, Jen is munching her breakfast and trying to explain to Sandy (my husband's dog) that he really wouldn't like peaches-and-cream flavored instant oatmeal. Sandy is, of course, countering with the argument that he doesn't know that until he's tried it.
If any of y'all
are of a hankering to go the the United Kingdom before Christmas, get thee
over to Travelocity
now. British Airways are doing and end-of-the-century sale, good
for travel until the 8th of December, and the prices are amazing! San
Francisco to London roundtrip is $400 - less if you fly in the middle of
the week - but you have to buy the ticket by midnight tonight. A
round-trip from New York City is $200... One of my co-workers is taking
advantage of the offer and jaunting over there for four days in November.
Grr, mutter. There but for the lack of ready-cash and the probability that
my passport couldn't get renewed in time, go I.
This is one of the times I wish I had a credit card. I could happily sweat getting my passport renewed in time for travel in late November, but barring a sudden visit from the money-fairy, I'm going nowhere. Ah well. Maybe another major carrier will launch a sale after my next paycheck. In the meantime, I'm off to the consulate to renew my passport...
Today, Alex is off with Jennifer to their sorta-monthly it-was-AD&D-but-now-it's-Star-Wars game. I'm off to the city to go visit BJ, who you may remember from yesterday. I'm finally going to meet his girlfriend, the apparently wunnerful Beverly, and do the just-hangin'-out routine... It'll be nice, since I haven't seen BJ since April or so...
And that's really it. For more thrill, kids, click on the pretty picture below....
...Space is big, really big. You might think it's a long way down the street to the chemist's, but that's just peanuts to space... - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
By the way, Dan, it's six feet tall, dirty white, covered in magnetic poetry bits and pizza coupons and made by Whirlpool. Tell Jess that the catfur is okay, as my shrines have proven far more allergen-resistant than I ever did, and I love cats as it is.
It's going to be an oddball day, I can tell already. The tone has definitely been set by a pair of chaps who were walking down Third Street, lustily singing something in Russian. I just hope it wasn't obscene... Still, they were bubbling over with harmless joie-de-vivre and seeing 'em put a silly smile on my face.
I wish I could
give y'all a more exciting report to enliven your Monday morning, but
since I have this niggling habit of telling the truth - not always all of
it, mind you, but I am honest - in this forum, this is all you're
getting for today. I think I published another whining rant on Death
and Dieting if you're really desperate for something to read.
Must run, Mr. Prickles is making unreasonable demands of my time. I think he's jealous of all the attention I've been paying to heffalumps and frogs...
"Look, this is getting us nowhere. There's a Perkium and
Hamster Death Gulp crazed Maul running around out there, and this is an
election year, so if we don't find him fast, Palpatine's killing the lot
- Life Lessons at The Sith Academy, Part 15, by Siubhan.
(You do not want to follow the link if you're not a fan of bawdy slashfic...)
Wups, no entry yesterday! I'm getting positively lazy! Actually, I awoke yesterday unsure if I was suffering from an incipient head-cold or bad allergies. Either condition, I decided, could be helped by sleeping by noon, so I called in sick to work and pulled the covers up over my head for most of the day. I think it was for the best, especially since it's been too damned hot to sleep for the past couple of nights.
irritated. It seems that - either by accident or design - Tripod has nuked
the RPG Anti-Defamation League site. I'm waiting to hear back on which it
is (and, alas, Tripod is a bit slow in responding to customer questions,
I've discovered). In the meantime, I'm bloody relieved that I'm much more conscientious
in backing that site up, than I am in backing up this ol'
It's possible that Tripod's little content 'bots have misunderstood the site's purpose. I hope that's the case. However, this may be a good time to just quietly move the site to another host - peopleweb.com, most likely - and change the group's name. I'm hearing with increasing frequency that B'nai Brith tends to go after any organization that dares to use the phrase 'Anti-Defamation'... *sigh*. Not being a citizen makes one a little leery of any risk-taking.
Gack, that'll mean I'll have to make a boatload of new banners, alert everyone on the webring *and* update the organization's listing with the bazillion of search engines I've hooked into. Damn, that's going to be a lot of work.
Oh well. It could be worse. The webmistress of jedigrrls got her sites thoroughly hacked over the weekend and she's was ready to throw in the towel and call it quits - but she managed to reassemble her site from backups, phew. I just hope that my site has vamoosed through a mechanical or human error, not because some eejit at Tripod thinks the site is dangerous. Bah.
Well, I've just moved the site to a probably permanent home. It'll be virtual neighbors with Geekgrrl's Gothic Spot, weirdly enough.
On a lighter note...
What weighs 4
tons and is bright red?
An elephant holding its breath!
What do you
call an elephant creeping through the jungle in the middle of the night?
How do you
stop an angry elephant from charging?
Take away its credit cards!
And on the maybe-it'll-be-good-news front, it seems that one of the two couples of my acquaintance that were contemplating divorce are in the process of Serious Discussions about making the marriage work. I really hope that they can find an amicable solution and stay together... But the main dividing factor between them is religion, and we know how reasonable people can be about that. *Sigh*. Still, here's hoping!
The Anglo-Saxon conscience does not prevent the Anglo-Saxon from
sinning, it merely prevents him from enjoying his sin.
-Salvador De Madariaga
Well, campers, I
hope y'all are having a better day than I am.
Alex's mom took a turn for the worst, last night. It's all bloody horrible and I don't particularly want to write about it just yet. At the moment, Joanne has to be supervised 24 hours per day and is on a very heavy regimen of morphine and various other things... It looks like the end has suddenly gotten very close. She might pull through - miracles do occur, I'm told - but it's not likely. The current prediction is 'within a couple of days', and Alex and I were actually surprised she survived last night. Bah.
On the absolute
other end of the scale of irritants, it seems that the Jewish
Anti-Defamation League did get to Tripod, as the RPG
Defense League (formerly the The RPG Anti-Defamation League) was taken
down for 'copyright violation'. Now, those closed-mouthed folks in
membership services didn't give me any details, but seeing as how I give
credit to all the links used on the site, the logical guess would
be be that the 'legal owners' of the phrase "Anti-Defamation
League" leaned on 'em.
Nice of Tripod to let me know the site was going down, wasn't it? And how courteous of them to give me a chance to change the group's name before summararily deleting everything. And how utterly charming that I've been told that, even with a change of name of the group, I can't re-establish the account.
This is why people run web-servers out of their garage...
And by the way, loyal readers, please spare me your suggestions of fighting it in court. Not being a citizen makes me very leery of any legal confrontations. And in this particular case, the odds of being branded an anti-Semite by the Dirty Tricks team on the other side are alarmingly high. After all, if I was on their team, I'd do it... *sigh*. It's one short step from that kind of name calling, to Johanna getting told to take the next plane back to England...
August '99 Index October '99