Rememberance-- Katrina vs 9/11, I think our gov't is trying to tell us something

So, I have been watching TV, and getting newsletters from moveon.org and other places.

A few weeks ago, I noticed that a movie about 9/11 has come out. It is supposed to be a moving, true story tale of some heroes who were trapped beneath one of the towers, but survived.

Meanwhile, on discovery, the health channel, and other cable networks, shows about Katrina are popping up.

I wasn't surprised about Katrina, it's been about a year, and the media needs to be sure we haven't forgotten. That makes sense, that's why christmas is celebrated yearly, lest we forget. Humans are silly like that.

But, 9/11? Why wait only five years or so and create a sappy movie about something that still freaks us all out? Something that obviously is no longer on our President's agenda, even though he threatens us with higher alert status every time we don't seem to like him. He's obviously more interested in iraqi freedom, than punishing those that wantonly attacked us.

So why was the movie allowed to go through? Why remind us of something tragic that encourages us to take a look at what started the war on terror that has caused us to be redirected to a war on iraq? Why make us angry?

Well, consider this: Midterm elections are coming out. Katrina memoriums were bound to surface. Katrina is a definite black mark on the current administration's record. Clear proof that the powers that we pay are incompetent. It repulses us.

But, 9/11? Well, despite proof that the prez dropped the ball, that it could possibly have been stopped, that we are currently *not* doing anything to avenge our dead, it still triggers a blind, "damn those towelheads" patriotism. The "oh my god, all those innocent people died" knee jerk reaction is a good way to distract american voters from the katrina news that will be floating around the media this week and next. Katrina is undeniable proof that our current government is being run by idiots, with 9/11, there's deniability.

It's kind of like covering the smell of rotten meat with the equally repelling smell of lysol disinfectant. Both stink, but the lysol is actually more nasty and lingers longer. And, it is associated with things that *should* be good for you.

If we wanted to do right by all those that lost their lives, or those suffering without their loved ones because of 9/11, then we should have spent more time crushing osama, and less time defending our oil fields, I mean, bringing democracy to the middle east.

It's just a thought. I mean, I'm just your average joe, so what would I know?

Sick of being sick

So, as you may know, I have bunches of allergies that require me to strictly control my diet in order to be healthy.

It has also caused me to avoid my airconditioning this summer, because of the dust and mold in the ductwork of my house.

Well, winter is fast approaching, and according to my research, it may be that even getting my ductwork cleaned may not help me avoid the airborne allergens that have been such a common part of my life up until this summer. Nonetheless, I have to try.

I am going to be doing research (and cleaning the house) in order to prepare for the big day. I'll let you know what happens. All I know is, after all the work I have done to get as healthy as possible, I can't let the central air come back on this autumn without being sure that its clean.



Special Dark

So after working for about four months on various projects that required hours and hours and hours and hours in Word, I was interested when someone mentioned writely.com.

This site/company (recently purchased by google) is about doing word processing online. Originally it was probably focused on giving formatting and style tools to people who are writing online, like bloggers or page designers. But with the added option of being able to save as pdf, word, openoffice files types, as well as the standard versioning features (which anyone who has ever had to collaborate on a blog entry appreciates), make this good for those non-blog writers too.

Like me.

With this product I can write or upload a document (I am not sure about complex styles or templates though), share it with a few people, have versioning, and can even post it publicly for review. And, all in one place. I have had several hard drives crash, a power supply burn out, and a laptop fail during my recent projects, leaving me working from multiple different machines at different times, isolating my recent changes on a document on one machine or another, at risk of another crash or loss at any time. It was hard to keep it recent, or even remember which external drive I put it on at one point (lack of sleep, and too many projects going at once can be blamed for that).

This way the document is always accessible and *in one place* from start to finish. And, from a collaborative standpoint, no more emailing versions to teammates and waiting for them to email it back. You can see what's happening to it and how far they've gotten (although I fear the dreaded edit conflicts, so look but don't touch might be good).

And, of course, true to its roots, a document created at writely.com can be posted to your blog (as long as it's one of the blogs it has listed, or you know the api and path for you blog (good luck with msn spaces). That's where this entry came from (and why a not so personal entry is here).

It's been a while

It's been a while since I posted here. Some things have happened, but not much has changed. Since this past spring I have developed a heart disorder called premature ventricular contractions, or PVC (yes, like the plumbing supply) for short.

It is painful, distracting, and at its worst, life threatening. Mine seems to go away whenever I take massive doses of Magnesium, which makes sense because I get far too much calcium in my diet these days. An exact balance of calcium, magnesium, and potasium are required for proper heart health.

So that's not good. I ended up doing the network world conference. It was tough because I'd had some sort of killer virus that ate the entire month of March (yup. gobbled right up, while I remained in bed wondering if that's what it felt like to die). I barely finished prepping for the event before I got there.

Immediately after NWW, I had to write a chapter for a Server 2003 R2 book about sharepoint, which I knew somewhat, but wasn't an expert.

I am now.

I missed my deadline by two weeks because the chapter went from fifty pages to one hundred and seventy (without pictures). I was called about two weeks after turning it in by the primary author and told that the style was all wrong ("I could only read about twenty pages before I just couldn't take it anymore..."). At that point I was prepping (and late to do that also, due to the chapter deadline overrun) for a big conference in Boston, so I couldn't do anything about the chapter until I got back.

Well, I'm back, it's been weeks, and I have only one week left before I simply have ruined the Server 2003 R2 book because I missed the drop dead, must go to press deadline trying to rewrite my monster of a chapter.

And, I have to continue beta testing vista/longhorn/office 2007 because I have to present these things in November in las vegas.

Argh.

Not to mention I still can't turn on my airconditioning because my ducts still need cleaned (hello, July in pgh), my car needs inspected and its registration renewed, my medical insurance is up for renewal, and I need to clean the house simply so I can have guests over before there is snow on the deck.

Life. Sigh.

Mmmm, pancakes

I made pancakes today. They weren't half bad.

Now, for most people, pancakes aren't that big a deal. But I can't do wheat, and I can't do too many carbs (that whole ketogenic diet thing), so generally, pancakes are out.

But you see, I was seasoning a new cast iron skillet and needed to cook something on it. I thought about bacon and eggs, maybe some chicken or hamburger. But no, I needed something else. Something light, something sweet, something traditional, something to bless the pan and bring it luck.

Pancakes. Pancakes need fat to fry, are good cooked in a skillet, can test the non-stick properties of a properly seasoned or "cured" skillet, and are tasty. I don't need to possibly cook in any taste I don't want spread to other meals.

So, I ran out to the local health food store and paid outrageous prices for some soy flour, almond flour, a little quinoa (just cuz), and some stevia.

Then I went home, used the low carb pancake recipe from foodtv, and voila, I had pancakes.

Okay, I couldn't do maple syrup (but I bet I can make some with some stevia, maple extract, and guar gum) and soy isn't quite as yummy as wheat, but it was still good. Real good. I think the stevia really helped.

So, I had pancakes, made on my new cast iron skillet (really for my boyfriend to make tortillas...). So far it has been a good day.

Hmmm, you don't say... (deer followup)

Check out this link: CNN story about Top 10 states for auto-deer collisions

It basically says it all. So Pennsylvania has a super, flaming, assload of accidents due to collisions with deer. Number one in the nation between July 1, 2004 and June 30, 2005. Huh. Ain't that a surprise...

And, on the deer carcass damage front, there is good news. The following day, after the accident, I decided not to take any chances and chose to visit my favorite Jiffy Lube (as opposed to the guy's I hate). I know those guys, in particular, are not idiots (a boast not befitting many other people employed by that franchise) and decided to play it safe. That being said, I felt I still needed to wash the car one more time (that would make three for those of you who are counting), before handing the car over. So I headed over to the ducky wash to pay ten bucks for another underbody super, laser spectacular. Then right over next door to the 'lube. My Jiffy Lube guy seemed amused by my sincere attempts to wash off the gore when I told him about the carcass. I asked him to check my tranny fluid and please check the underside of the car for damage.

Personally, for he would not ask his men to do anything that he himself could not do, my Jiffy buddy (who's name, despite being embroidered on his shirt, I cannot remember. Who was that masked mechanic?) checked over my car himself. After a few tense moments in the waiting room, he asked me to come see what he had found. Fearing the worst, I followed him meekly into the mechanics' bay.

It turns out that he was worried about the crunched bumper (something I had discovered the night before). Otherwise, there was no other visible damage. When I asked him how bad the gore was, he actually laughed. He'd seen worse (?!) but that there were some serious chunks of deer wedged up under the muffler (aha, I knew that was going to happen, otherwise the muffler looked okay), and in some of the other deeper nooks and crannies. His suggestion (since he flatly stated he was not going to touch it), was to just let it rot away naturally.

Huh, rot away. Yummy. Well, at least the weather is going to turn cold soon, so maybe no one will smell it...

Anyway, that is my story. My car, after driving over a giant deer carcass at near highway speeds, turns out to be okay but gory. He told me that I was really, really lucky. He's seen cars totalled from hitting dead deer. So the moral of this story is, live deer are really bad, but watch out for the dead ones too.


Oh, and my tranny, according to Jiffy buddy, is "cherry." Apparently that is a good thing. To top it all off, there was no fee. So except for all those car washes, the accident cost me nothing. (yes, I know I have a damaged bumper, but I don't want to have my insurance rates go up if I claim it. So I am going to wait until I need to trade it in and fix it then.)

Yay, happy ending to a gory story. Goodnight.

Eew, drove over a deer tonight

Eeww, icky, stinky gross. The smell of dead venison, cooking hair, bloody metal. I feared for my car, my life, while struggling to control a little honda usually so docile and willing. Scary, nasty, a strange disconnected mix of organic and mechanical, of primative and high tech.

When I mean I drove over a deer, I'm serious. It was late, I'd met some people over at Red Bull Inn for some steaks. I was driving home, it was dark, the onramp was newly opened. It had been raining, the roads were steaming, visiblity was poor. I was driving down the ramp, the darkness was almost solid between street lights. I noticed up ahead, at the most important merge point between the ramp and the highway, that two cars had stopped, not quite pulled off the road.

I was slowing down a little as I commented to my boyfriend, "Look, what the heck do they think they're doing?" At the same time both he and I noticed the bloody stains on the dark pavement, then brake, *brake*, then chunks, then crunch, thunk, bump, bump as my poor little hatchback tried valiantly, mindlessly, to drive over the mount everest of deer carcasses.

Unable to stop with traffic behind me, people already parked in front of me, I slid onto the highway like I'd planned it. Moving forward at just barely the speed limit, I tried to take stock, while, with perfect timing, my boyfriend is taking a call from someone from dinner. "Oh, shit that's right. Okay, where can we meet...?" It seems, while I am still afraid the car is broken, that we are going to die if we don't stop, and if we stop we may never make it home, he's talking to someone who has his laptop bag in their car.

Without skipping a beat, as if the carcass impact had never happened, he starts haggling with the guy on the phone about where to meet so he can get his bag. Meanwhile I am trying to find a bright place to pull over. Somewhere I can see the damage, and possibly wait for AAA, or maybe the police. Of course, he has decided that we are going to pull off onto another highway, turn around, drive a couple exits in the opposite direction, pull off into a King's parking lot, and meet there. Miles out of our way on the best of nights.

...Uh, hello. Just hit a fucking deer here. Remember, the crunching? The bouncing? I am not going to continue to keep driving at highway speeds to eastkabumfuck so you can get your bag...

Sigh. While he is talking, it is obvious that the car, while jiggling at high speeds, is neither struggling, making strange noises, nor pulling in either direction. I seem able to speed up and slow down. I may make it home, but I still don't want to drive around all night. What a stupid thing to do, driving at high speeds after possibly hurting the car. What bad timing.

Dammit. He needs that bag and the phone guy doesn't seem to understand, a) that we don't live where he does, and therefore are not driving on the highway in the same direction he is, and b) we just drove over a deer that, *laying down,* is higher than my wheels are tall. You know, deer are remarkably solid. It's all that bone...

So, I do take the exit to the other highway he wants to take (it makes no difference at that point, they are both equidistant from any useful civilization), then pull off at the first exit, and find a bright parking lot.

It is at that point that he realizes that it did real damage to the car. Crunched my front bumper, did untold damage to the undercarriage, painted the front, side, and all along the underside of the car in gore, blood, meat, bones, and bits of hairy flesh, and reeks of rot and death (with a weird underscent of dog chew toy, like cow hoof or pig's ear). Really reeks, he starts retching when he tries to look under the car.

We are really, really lucky that the car is functioning, but it definitely must be washed before we get home. Unfortunately, the boyfriend must have his bag for work, and he is exhausted. Great.

After going to King's, getting the bag, borrowing a flashlight that really does nothing to clear up the mystery of what is happening under the car, we headed out to find a car wash.

At the car wash, we should have used the hoses to spray the hell out of the undercarriage. But, due to the lateness of the hour, and the exhaustion of the boyfriend, we ended up doing the "ultimate" automatic carwash twice. It is supposed to "laserwash" the undercarriage, and undercoat it with something that looks just like the "wax" they spray on the top of the car towards the end of the process.

Of course, that didn't really help entirely. The funny thing is, when we got out of the car at home, only his side of the car stank. My side smelled of wet engine, and lovely, clean, car wax. No meat, no cooking hair, no cow hooves. Hmm, it seems that the corpse was a bit closer to the passenger side....

That being said, his is also the side my nearly brand new muffler is on. It did sound a little odd on the way home...

So, instead of working on abstracts for a conference I need attend as a presenter next april(the boyfriend would really like to go back next year), I will be trying to find a cheap and effective way to find out the full extent of the damage, and see if any of the existing gore will be an issue, or can I wait for it to wear away naturally.

I am thinking jiffy lube. They specialize in crawling under cars. There is two of them right down the street from my house. I bet they can tell if something is bent or broken if I pay them enough.

Now, should I go to the one I like, with the guys I can trust? They would probably give me their honest assessment of what might be life threatening, but do I want to expose them to the icky, icky, half-cooked deer parts? Or should I go to the jiffy lube I hate, maybe not get told the truth, but get to smile as they crawl out of their under-car crater, gagging from the sight and smell of dead deer bits, covered in cheap car wax?

I don't know. I think I will sleep on it, and think about it in the morning.

More later if it's interesting.

(please pardon my shifting tenses. I will fix it tomorrow, after I've slept.)

To the one who will never read this (therefore, if you are, this is not about you)

I just got done reading some of the postcards on http://postsecret.blogspot.com/. It made me think of you. Here are some of my confessions written, again, where you will never find them. Enjoy ----

I wish I had never met you. Barring that, I wish that you had died in some poignant, tragic way years ago. Then I could remember you fondly, and only feel guilty about being relieved.

You are an open wound that will not heal.

You stink of disdain, you are filled with rejection, you make me feel ugly.

Stop lying.

I do not need your approval.

I have always assumed you would be appalled, but it still hurts to see it on your face. It sucks to be so right.

I wish I could forget you. But like any victim of a catastrophy, I am obligated to remember so I will recognize the danger in the future. You have become one of the great tragedies of my life.

You are so shallow, you judge with your eyes because your mind is closed. I am not what I appear to be.

You are wrong. Everything you say, everything you do, approaches wrong like a speeding train. The fact that it doesn't ever quite smack you in the face can only be explained by using calculus.

I hate calculus.

The things you say are so perfectly cruel it is uncanny. Do you practice that stuff in front of a mirror?

How can you be so clever, but so stupid? How can you be so incredibly insecure, yet so immensely arrogant?

Talking about ethics does not make you ethical.

You are correct to refer to yourself in the lower case. I know you are only trying to be trendy and deep, but accidentally you have stumbled upon the truth. How uncommon for you.

Do you actually think I want to sleep with you? How can you possibly imagine that? What part of "you scare me" do you not understand? If I don't trust you, why would I want you to touch me?

There is more, but it will have to wait. Right now I have discovered something better to do. When I feel the need to vent again, I will revisit this entry. Sayonara.

So it's a quarter after midnight

And here I am, surfing the beta news groups, messing with my servers, and generally doing work.

Why do I do this? Why do I wait until I am going to bed to get involved with work that can take hours to complete? Why do I get a sudden burst of the do-ies this late at night? Why am I so much more productive after 11pm than I am any other time of day?

And what does this say about my love life?

The time of heat and darkness

Okay, so basically the summer has passed without nary a peep from yours truly. I could make excuses, I could whine.

But why? The time is lost. What's done is done. I blew off my personal blog like I have blown off my personal life.

That's the way it is.

I had hopes, I had plans. You know, like most people. But instead, I spent the summer in a little 6'x5' room, installing operating system after operating system, diligently beta testing software after software. Working for the edification of no one.

I don't know who I was trying to impress, what I was trying to accomplish. All that really happened is I got no exercise, no fresh air, had no adventures while doing humongous amounts of work for free. Go Microsoft.

In the end though, it does give me a big boost when it comes to knowledge and comfort with the new operating systems. I have danced with R2, fought with Vista, manhandled One Care.

Yeah, I have some scars, some stories to tell. But are they for you? I dunno. I don't think I am currently prepared to go into the gory details. I doubt you can handle it, gentle reader.

I spent my summer in a dark little cave, filled with heat belching servers scorching my back, deafening my ears with their incessant fan modulation, and blinding my eyes with hours upon hours of flatscreen brightness.

Oh the heat. Oh the tedious technical heat....

Hotel images

So, when I went to TechEd 2005 I stayed at the Renaissance hotel. One of the more expensive places, no doubt. However, I had never gone to teched before, and wasn't sure whether staying in the official MCT hotel would be a strategic necessity or not.

Nonetheless, I decided to play it safe and stay at the renaissance for the conference. I was lucky to get a room for the whole week apparently because it sold out more than a month before the event.

When I got to the airport in orlando, I tried to take the shuttle to the hotel (17$ vs $37 for a taxi). There is apparently a gov't driven monoploy in the transportation of the area. But take it from me, if you can avoid it--- DO NOT take Mears! I repeat-- avoid Mears transportation services. You wait forty minutes in line at their desk, then *another* forty minutes outside in the heat before your crowded shuttle actually shows up. I used the alternative, the only desperate, determined competition to Mears, the Beeline. I waited about twenty minutes (not good, I got there during a shift change) and *less than* two minutes for the shuttle. Seriously, I got my ticket and the shuttle showed up before I really got out of the building. Support those Beeline people, they really are doing a good job.

Oh, btw, it's the d@mn Mears shuttle service that trapped me at the renaissance hotel for an hour while I waited to be taken to the Universal Studios party. The buses started running at 6:45p, but I opted to eat a full dinner before going, so I opted to take a later bus (they were supposed to be running every fifteen minutes until 11pm). By the time I got done (new waiter, backed up kitchen, the usual) it was after 8p. I ended up taking a twenty dollar taxi to get to spend a little over an hour at universal, I got to ride one ride. Then, on the way back, Mears, who had buses for teched hotels organized by "route" number, had one bus number one (my route), and seven route elevens, four sevens, etc.,. Basically, just as there had been no buses to pick me up to take me to universal, there were actually none assigned to get any of us home. Thus, the people who were going to my hotel (and those nearby) stood outside in the parking lot for an hour, while all the other people got to go home. Finally, Richard Civil went and spoke to a couple of the eleven buses, and commandeered them for our sake, getting two busloads of people home. Hooray Richard.

Anyway, back to the hotel. Wow, whatta big place. Huge atrium style hotel. Like most atriums, there were two elevators, and inevitably my room was as far from the elevators as it possiby could be. Sigh. In the middle right of the lobby, there was a split level bar/lounge with attached waterfall/koi pond,
dead center was a large aviary, containing five birds, two of which were those loud australian birds that screamed only around 2 am,

and right is a nice little cabana, coffee shop. Very nice.


In addition there were two restaurants and store in there. Nifty really, especially at night. I have a bunch of photos. I really couldn't do the koi pond justice, especially at night. It was nice to be sitting on the edge of the pond, listening to the waterfall, and watching the fish. Peaceful.






Overall really nice place. I wish I could've gotten a room on the concierge level, I just didn't get the chance.





Night shots:

photos of TechEd and Universal Studios

So I told you that I would post a bunch of photos of my adventures at TechEd 2005. Mind you, all photos were taken with a cheesy motorola cell phone camera. Quality cannot be expected.

The above photo was taken at universal studios on the night of the attendee party. I got to attend about an hour of that event, but more on that fiasco later. I got to go on the MIB ride (very cool, slightly lame, but worthy as far as realtime video gaming is concerned. I like the interactivity of it, the fact that you got rewarded by hitting "secret" targets or getting a higher score), but forgot to take any photos of it. I also learned to cha cha a little from my wonderful dance instructor, Richard Civil (another photo I forgot to take). I then had to walk the half mile back to the buses to go to my hotel (the second part of the evening's fiascoes), so I took photos on the way. I am actually impressed on how they came out.

Walking back-- crowds, lights, florida in June, Universal, universal studio store




Also, on the hot, crowded walk back through universal studios I came across the standard universal icon, the globe with the word "univeral" circling. I couldn't believe the number of people just standing there around the base of that thing. Idly, confused and wandering like a cloud of landbound gnats. I did, somehow manage to get some decent images of the icon, despite the lighting, crowding and unnecessary smoke effects.



At this same event I became embroiled in a camera battle. While taking a picture of the movie marquee, I ended up catching the attention of some guys with a camcorder, then someone else with a digital camera. Mind you, I show up as my evil twin, mildly deformed and photo-impaired girl, on film, so I completely not happy when they just would not leave me alone. Imagine, if you will, it is about 11pm on the fifth day of little or no sleep, sweaty, dirty, exhausted. Beer in my hand, melting in the humidity, and these guys literally chase me around. I finally turned my little phone camera on them and refused to speak when they tried to "interview" me. I can only hope that they will edit me out as soon as they get home. Here is an idea of what was going on, the person I "shot" with my phone is actually to the left of the guy with the camcorder, but you can still see the shoulder and hand of that evildoer. Damn camcorder man.


Next entry, images from the renaissance....

Duh, Just realized I can add photos to a blogentry...

Wooo. So, I was given to believe that, in order to have pics in my posts, I would have to use Hello or Flickr. I have been reluctant to create yet another account somewhere and install yet another third party app of dubious provenance in order to have pictures here.

But no, there's an upload pics button right on the frickin' toolbar of the createpost window. So expect some pictures of TechEd, the renaissance hotel, and other random stuff....

Post TechEd Stress Disorder

So I have been back from TechEd 2005 for a couple of weeks now and seem to be suffering from Post TechEd Stress Disorder. This disorder is identified as the ennui and loss that one feels after the excitement and activity abruptly ends at the end of a particularly funfilled conference. Especially when a large amount of money was spent to accomplish nothing more than a good time.

You would think it was no big deal, a relaxing vacation in Orlando, surrounded by friends, things to do, people to see....

But no. For some reason, it has taken me weeks to really get back into the swing of things here. I've travelled extensively before. Training for several weeks at a time, spending four days a week on the road, I've even been to other conferences. Never have I had such a hard time getting it together.

Why?

I have no idea really. Maybe because I didn't expect to have so much fun? Maybe because for months, even years really, I have built up expectations of how it would go, what I would do, what would come of it, that when I got home I expected something to change. Something. Anything.

And yet, silence. Yeah, I've gotten to know people (in person as it were) that I only knew from the newsboards. Yeah, I now recognize the punchlines of several inside jokes. But otherwise, no additional leads, no useful contacts.

The point is, I had hoped for something I hadn't even put a name to. In the past, each conference I went to, each event I paid for, has turned into a job or opportunity. Then, this year, I busted my butt for several months to carry a track at a conference. Finally reaching the pinnacle of success, able to check another thing off my dream to do list, I was a presenter at a technical conference. Heck, not just a presenter, I carried a track.

You would think someone might be impressed by that. That the attendees might give me a callback, seeing as they seemed so goshdarned impressed. But nuthin. They were not obligated and too much of the event (other than my part) was in shambles. When they got home, the overall affect of the conference left too much of a bad taste to allow me to be remembered fondly enough to trust with their business. Note: All conferences are not created equal. Be careful which you associate with, as they can actually hurt your rep, rather than help it.

Then, TechEd came. I was already down from the waste of time and effort that the previous conference netted me, so I wasn't too surprised when nothing really came of TechEd either.

You see, the TechEd conference is about the networking for the long game. Not for immediate gratification. Unfortunately, a person could starve to death waiting for the long game to finish, for the prizes to be presented.

So here I sit. Having come home to the silence and inactivity I left. A vacuum of ennui, entropy, and boredom. It has taken me weeks to get used to the idle, silent hours after only a week of activity and excitement. I obviously was not cut out for silence.

So then, somehow I must figure out how to bring on the funk, bring on the noise. Not easy I know, but otherwise I will just sink into this housewife life of emptiness and disappear.

Feeling crappy today

Haven't you ever wished that someone would love you? Someone who would be truly fascinated by you and the unique things you do? Never becoming bored or jaded, never being disappointed. Don't you wish there was someone out there like that?

There is. Adopt a dog.

Otherwise shut the f*ck up you simpering piece of rat shit. Life is tough and full of unpleasant surprises. For most of us, it's a place filled with boredom, disappointment, resentment and lies. The best we can hope for is someone who will put up with us until we die.

Get over it.

Sorry. Feeling really bitter and cranky today.....

So, here I am again

I have decided that I need two blogs-- one personal, one professional. My MSN space was becoming a bit schizophrenic, reeling from bitter exboyfriend posts, to chirpy what I plan to do at Tech Ed posts, to dry technical posts about my computers and their foibles. To that end I think my space will remain techy (appropriate, since MS likes it's technical people to use the blogging tool to talk about computers), and this will be my "real" blog. I was considering livejournal, (and if anyone feels that's a better tool, please let me know) but I liked the feel of this one. It seems right somehow. Not too diary or self involved, but not so cutesy and limited as the msn spaces.

We'll see. Thanks for being here either way. BTW, the teched stuff will probably be on the callahansspace, but the more personal reflections of the experience may end up here.

Memorials. Long past, near past, remember, rinse, repeat.

So tomorrow is memorial day. It is a day to remember those who have lost their lives for the sake of our country, ordered to by those that lead them. Regardless as to whether the leadership was doing the right thing, the smart thing, or the moral thing. For one reason or another, whether willing or not, those people found themselves soldiers and died on foreign soil for our team. They should be remembered, the horrors of war should be remembered. The loss, the tragedy should be remembered so as not to be repeated without realizing the consequences. People die. Not strangers, but friends, neighbors, relatives. Good people, hard working and dedicated. Many of them, maybe naively, believed they fought the good fight. Their bravery, their courage, their last desperate minutes should be remembered.

War is a horrible thing. Not something to be started to cover up issues at home. Not for political or financial gains, not for heroic soundbites or future statue building, not to, mistakenly, help the economy. It is not some distant thing to the parents, wives, husbands, and children of those sent away to risk death. It is not okay to cut their pay, extend their stay, or limit their benefits. War is brutal. For those willing to put their lives on the line, right or wrong, there should be a hero's welcome home, full medical benefits, lifelong, for them and their families, pensions, education, and celebration.

Yes, tomorrow I will remember those who have died, and those that are dying. I will also speak up for those who are out there now, being pushed to their limit without adequate resources, without the respect they deserve. They need us, we need them.

They are willing to die, what are we willing to do?

Lilly update, continued gratitude

It's been almost a month since I planted the lillies (the entries are sometimes held in draft for a while before posting, it delays the inevitable). I wanted to report, for the sake of Jim, that they are not only not dead, but some are actually blooming already.

An interesting thing though, they are blooming really low to the ground. Normally day lillies grow a stalk that eventually flowers well above the height of the leaves of the plant's summer foliage. My plants are blooming only a few inches above the ground, effectively hiding (heck, cramping and deforming) the flowers deep in the grassy foliage of the plant itself.

I assume that transplanting them so late in the season might be the cause, but I wonder if the unusually cold, cloudy weather could also play a part as well.

Either way, the lillies are not dead. Hurray.

Thank you Jim, for the flowers.

A bit of a ramble about empty rooms and writing to no one

It's weird to think that anyone reads this stuff. Like a notebook chained to a table somewhere public. Available for perusal and largely untouched (the occasional scribbled phone number, quick arithmatic jotted on the cover, maybe the announcement that Sally was here). Most of the time anyone is online they are there to do something else. Why they would read this is kind of beyond me.

But by the same token, why do I write here? No one is really going to read this, so why write it?

When I started this it was to post fast moving articles, reference links I like, write labs and tech stuff that wouldn't quite be appropriate for my more static website. But as I started writing, I found the temptation to say something more than "if you click here, and select advanced, then a new option will appear, allowing you to..." or some such technical drivel (complete with screenshots, hoo ha) overwhelming. I started playing with the idea that words were more than something to make money with, to inform or instruct.

I feel like someone standing in an empty auditorium in front of a live microphone. Ha Ha, testing, testing. Hello Houston. And the crowd goes wild. La La La Laaa. Me Me Me Meeee. Y-o-d-a, Yodaaaa. And so I said to the guy, screw you? Why I don't even know you...... and then the next thing I know I am doing a brilliant stand up routine in front of a dusty room growing slightly overwarm.

What is it about talking to empty rooms I wonder? Is it just the sense of potential? The room could be full of people, they could be listening. But it isn't, and they aren't. But you are there, and there's a mic, and the chance may never come again.

What is that saying? "Dance, dance as if no one were looking." Or something like that. Well, this is sort of talking, talking as if no one were listening. Singing only when no one is there. I dress up alone in my room, but put on baggy clothes to go downstairs just in case someone might be able to see me. Silence (hard to believe but true) and frumpiness are protective camoflage really. The world is lucky that I am as plucky as I am. Boy, if they could see me when I'm alone, well that would be something. Yessirree. They'd be impressed then, let me tell you.

But instead, really, I think I'll stay here, where most people don't realize I am writing. It's safer. Not just because no one is there to criticise, but no one even knows I can do this. That I might want to. Heck, most people don't realize what I've written even when they read it. You see, I tend to write in someone else's voice. I'm basically a stand in. I write the boring stuff that fills books between the interesting bits. So the real author, the one with their name on the cover, can focus on keynote speeches and being shmoozed by vendors. Essentially, when I stand in front of the microphone, I speak in someone else's voice, I do my best to be someone else. I don't really have a voice of my own. At least not one that would make me money. I am almost afraid to try. I am pretty sure no one will be interested. My claim to fame is my ability to emulate someone else's style, not exhibit my own.

I know that throughout school, the reason I made good grades is because I was good at figuring out what the teachers wanted and then doing just that. C'mon, everyone does it. But somehow, when they grow up, they start writing on their own. Oh, maybe only letters to siblings or friends, the church newsletter, or even reports or speeches for work, but at least they have their own voice. I, for the most part, seem to be a literary schizophrenic, swinging from one style to another, whichever one I've been exposed to most recently. Wildly reeling from T.S. Eliot to Terry Pratchet to Windows help files (eek), and back again. I don't really have an internal compass when it comes to writing what I want to write the way I want to write it.

To make matters worse, the two styles of writing that I have studied extensively are journalistic- who, what, where, when, why, how, and to what extent, and poetic-- especially stuff that is free form and doesn't rhyme. Very urban, very intense.

As you may be aware, neither journalism nor poetry tend to lend themselves to technical writing per se. Yet that's generally all I do. Funny that. But that's most of my days' work. Set up a concept, walk the reader through the details, summarize the concept. If there is a step by step, do so clearly, briefly, stay on topic, smoothly, consistantly until the end. Don't forget the figure callouts for the screenshots. Spellcheck, compress, send away. Keep it humane, introduce new terms gently, when required, reiterate them before ending. keep your word count low, sentences short, words as small as you can. Avoid redundancy but embrace repetition. Tell them what you are going to tell them, tell them, tell them what you told them. It is the mantra of the classroom, and actually translates pretty readily to the technical writing field. Although, and this is where technical writing really veers from journalistic, when doing tech writing, tell them a lot about why. Why the product does what it does, why it was "created" to do what it does. What did the programmers intend, why the windows, buttons, dialog boxes look the way they do. Why the article is being written, who is expected to read it. Why the explanations were chosen. Why, why, why. Why, What, How, to what extent. No real who, except maybe who the reader should be.

I'm not sure how poetry ties in. I'm working on it though. Maybe it lends itself to bulleted lists, powerpoint slides, or anywhere quick, relevant, but unrelated instructions might be found...

..When saving a file
Remember what you named it
And where you put it
If you ever want to open it again...

...Hmmm, actually that one sounds more like a ransom note. But I'll keep trying....

Gratitude, disappointment and lillies

So I found myself hanging out at my old school today. The weather was beautiful, the trees were in bloom, the air was sweet with the smell of fresh grass and flowers.

I took the 45 minute drive that actually took an hour to give some tshirts I had promised to the tech support staff, and maybe chat a bit. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But unfortunately, like so many things in my life, that didn't happen the way I planned.

You see, it all started with day lillies. Yes, day lillies.

My neighbor, Jim, has these really robust day lillies in his yard. A few years ago I mentioned that they were the inspiration for the front garden I started at my house. He replied that not only do those lillies grow without any effort from him, but he needs to thin them every year or they start to move out of the boundaries of his border garden and try to overtake his yard. This gave logic to his asking me, last year, if I wanted any lillies from his yard. At that time I was doing a travelling gig for Microsoft, and really didn't have time.

This year comes, and at some point, while snow was still thick on the ground, Jim asks if I want any lillies for this spring. I agreed, of course, because they are proven hardy in my region, healthy, and really cheap (ala free).

Well, time passed. I got busy doing the networkworld thing, and didn't have time...until today (well not even today, but Jim didn't know that). Jim was outside working on his truck when I happened to drive into my parking spaceafter returning from some errands. There was no getting around it, as soon as I got out he was going to ask me to take some of his lilly plants. Even though I had other things to do, I was just going to have to deal with the lillies.

I got out of the car, at which time Jim asked me if I wanted help digging out his lillies (of course). He proceeded to get his shovel and give me about (all told) a hundred pounds of lillies (the whole plants, bulbs, and their surrounding dirt). Seriously, about ten big, armload bunches of lillies. I thanked him sincerely for his efforts, grateful for the flowers but worried about timing. Once those bad boys are out of the dirt, then you've got about an hour before they start dying in the sun. So, suddenly I had a big commitment on my hands.

So there I was, standing in the sun (irish, pale, freckles, not good in direct sunlight) having to dig hole after hole in the garden to plant these damn lillies. No planning, no prepping, just dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig....you get the idea, then plant. Then water, the hose leaking everywhere, water pressure oddly intermittent. At that point, it was almost two hours later, I was thirsty, getting hungry, covered in dirt and sweat, and late.

Woo hoo. *Now* it's time to drive for an hour and go visit people. And, feeling both glad that I got the lillies done, and cranky because I had been sweating dirty in the sun for over an hour for *any* reason, I got into my car and headed out.

So I get to B-town, and find my contact deep in a long conference call (I was late getting there, of course, and she couldn't cancel), so I dropped off the tshirts discreetly, and left quietly (no chance to chat and possibly drum up new business). That left me with way too much time on my hands. It was probably going to be an hour's drive back, and I had been there a whopping five minutes. What to do, what to do? (insert jeopardy thinking music here)

Well, I hadn't put much stock in it, but why not call an old friend in the area and see what he was up to? I had mentioned to him in email that I might be stopping by. He hadn't responded to that mention, but hey, wouldn't hurt to email him again.

Mind you, this old friendship has a lot of uneasiness built into it (much, much more about that later, if requested). As a matter of fact, "friendship" is probably the wrong word to describe it, but I like to make believe I am in polite company, so I won't call it anything else for right now.

So, I planned to email him what I intended to be an informative note as to where I was, what I was going to do, when I was going to do it, and how to get in touch with me (since my cell phone was out of range in that godsforsaken town (birthplace of a disciples of christ, but still, no cell phone?!)). Unfortunately, the lab I was typing in comes equipped with MS antispyware (I do really like MSAS and us it on all of my machines). This product is pretty open about announcing any little thing that crosses its digital mind, and popped into the foreground right as I was typing. What happened at that point, from my end, was I was typing the first sentence of the email, then suddenly the email I was writing in disappeared and I ended up back at my web interface inbox. I checked my sent mail, no sign of the message (thinking maybe it sent itself somehow---this was in fact the case, but more on that later), so I thought it must have been deleted/disappeared.

Now as a computer professional, you'd think I'd know better, but this was gmail, and I have had things like this happen before because the interface can be crappy. So I thought nothing more of it (other than to be irritated).

I then decided, before going any further, I would grab a cup of tea, take a little walk around, then try the email thing again. So, that's what I did.

About forty minutes later (the campus is really hilly, and it was a pretty day, so the walk was long, ambling, and slow), I saunter back, tea in hand, to check my email again. No response. I write another post saying that I was going to be at the library, I'd give him a call. I then went there, at which time I received an email from him saying he went to the computer lab, I wasn't there, period ( I find out much later that he was responding to the aborted, completely uninformative disappearing email that did in fact post). No other response, no other ideas.

Hmmm, not taking the hint, I immediately called his home number and office to get in touch, to apologize for ducking out and see if he wanted catch some grub and chat before school let out and we both went our separate ways.

Assuming all was well, we had just humorously missed each other, I hung out at the library like I said I would in my second email. After a few hours-- I was just burned out on reading, studying (for yet another certification test), and generally not taking advantage of the beautiful weather-- I emailed him letting him know that I was leaving.

Once my phone was back in service, I checked my voicemail. No messages (from him anyway). When I got home, checked my email, no messages.

So, I guess, because I wasn't in the computer lab, he's pissed or something.

Moral of the story--

Don't try to visit old friends while hot, sweaty, tired, dirty, and hungry (by that point), without clear plans beforehand. My mistake was, after receiving no response to my warning that I'd be in the area, I should have realized that he didn't really want to hang out to begin with. That meant that the inconvenience of going to the lab and finding me not there was just more than he could bear. He didn't feel up to any more effort.

On the upside, I did get quite a bit of work done at the library, and both the locale and the weather were beautiful. Other than that odd misunderstanding, it was a really nice visit. It's good sometimes to leave home and breathe the air of a different place for a while.

I tell you one thing, now that I think of it, I am really grateful to Jim for those liliies. All things considered, they made my day (who needs to chat really?). I got something nice for free, genuine no strings attached help, and good reason to get something done in my garden that may well last a lifetime.

Yeah.

May I have the microphone please? (ahem)

Jim (who will never read this), Thank you. Thank you for being a good neighbor. Thank you for the lillies.

Second Moral of the story--- Sometimes you find friends in unexpected places, like next door. And just because a friendship is new (I moved in only a few years ago) doesn't mean it is any less real than an old one.

Oh, and sometimes you get lucky with your neighbors. It can be a rare and fleeting thing. Cherish it. For when they move, assholes are almost guaranteed to move in. Avoid regret when you can, appreciate the quiet, kind, inobtrusive people next door before it's too late. Let them help you, thank them when you can, probably as much as you do will not really be enough. Help them back whenever possible. Don't require a thank you. I bet, eventually, they will be grateful and thank you when you least expect it. That's how neighboring goes.

I promise to be sure to thank Jim more for the lillies and try my hardest to not let them die so he won't be disappointed. Amen.

Peaceout,

-callahan

intrepid presenter, human-in-training