So I survived Vegas. I didn't do nearly as well as I wanted to. Let's face it- I didn't get to prep enough, I didn't have trustworthy equipment (I ended up using the Macbook pro to do my demos), and I simply was not emotionally in the right place to do a kick ass presentation in front of 300 people like I was supposed to.
I won't say it completely sucked, but it wasn't good. I am crushed. I feel I blew my one big chance to do well. To blow the socks off the power players and cement my place amongst the big guys.
Instead, I cemented my place amongst the wannabees. It's sad.
But I also learned something important. Maybe I don't want to do that kind of work that badly.
Maybe it's not for me. Maybe the airport, hotel, conference, expensive food, exhaustion thing isn't for me. I dunno. We'll see if anyone calls me back.
Meanwhile, it's back to writing.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Catching up on everything at once (holding your breath is not advised)
I've been awfully busy over the last few weeks, so here's a bit of a catch-up:
-Got my hair re-cut at this well recommended place at the galleria called "zarelli & company," by none other than the zarelli himself, jason. He was pretty workman-like. Listened to me, and gave me basically what I wanted. I say basically only because I wanted symmetry between both sides of my head, but because of the damage pam did from la pompenne, he could only do a good job on one side, while try to not make the bad side look worse...
...sigh.
So at least on one side of my head I have a Mandy Moore layered cut. On the other side, well, it's like some decided that I needed two layers of bangs starting at my part and going to the left, with the top layer being thicker, longer, and off center of the real layer of bangs. This means that where the layers fall on the right side of my head, I have just a chunk missing on the left side of my head from my bangs to my ear. Then some half hearted layers start after that.
Remember folks, I had hair, all one length, all the way down to my butt when this started, and only a light fringe of bangs. Now, well, let's say that I will be wearing barrettes for the frickin' conference that I wasted all this time trying to be pretty for.
-Then, there's the glasses.
As you probably know, my eyesight is a problem. I always will need glasses (cannot wear contacts, believe me) unless I get lasix (or my corneas blow and need to be replaced, which is a possibility). So, I need glasses. My old ones were not working well and looked dated.
So, I went to lenscrafters because I had a coupon and they would be done in an hour. Note, 1 hour. Let me stress how I do not have time to waste on this stuff. I just need an update to my perscription, pick out some frames, and bang, I'm done.
Long story short, I went back four times. Then I had to go see *another* doctor because the first one apparently is known to be careless about perscriptions (wtf?!). They never got it right. I had to return the lovely frameless glasses that I wanted to be able to wear in front of everyone in vegas, something chic, something attractive... because it took two weeks (actually just over a week, but now it is too late) to come in and were way off.
Does this mean I have to go back to my old glasses after taking two weeks to get used to the new ones? Well, I did get a spare pair of glasses with the new perscription as back up. They were forty dollars. Just clear lenses in some square sunglass frames. I ended up keeping them because I am desperate. I can't go back, the previous glasses gave me headaches on the best of days, nevermind having to overcome the conditioning of getting used to the new glasses.
So now my hair is worse than it was if I left it alone, and the glasses are not much better than my originals. I spent about two to three weeks dealing with these things for nothing. I should have focused on my work.
The moral of the story--- it's hopeless. Don't try. And certainly don't expect anything to happen in a timely manner, without grueling weeks even months of repeated attempts. There is a reason that almost forty years have gone by and no miracle of hip coolness has happened to my appearance. It's not rocket science, if I have tried again and again, and the best the stylists can say is "It would look nice in a bun," then maybe it would.
But, I haven't given up entirely. I will seriously consider lasix and I plan to get braces. So here's the score:
Hair-- 4.5 from the russian judge. definitely not what I had hoped. This will require a real, gifted professional (you know the one, they're retiring next month...). Until then...well at least I am not bald.
Glasses-- 5.5 from the russian. The french judge abstains due to fashion differences. $660+ later, and now it seems there is something mysterious and possibly serious wrong with my left eye. I will have to spend some (potentially extensive) time dealing with it. Lasix, at $2500 an eye might be an option--- only I do have to write a book soon (more on that in a moment) and can't afford to go blind and get used to it while working. Actually the glasses I have are smaller and square, so they are a little trendier. But they are obviously cheap, a little oversized (the only size they had...figures), and slightly crooked because my left eye is having problems that tilting seems to help). So I looked a little like a deranged naughty librarian with silly hair. Weee.
-Now about work.
I finished the chapter for that guy about vista's control panel. I am super glad he liked it, but it took a week longer than I expected. I am so thoroughly sick of Microsoft's crappy piece of monkey dung they call vista (I am afraid it makes ME look like OS X). I cannot believe they have so completely brainwashed themselves into thinking that the average joe is going to embrace this OS. I hear bells tolling.
Anyway, I had crashes, problems with screenshots, problems with video drivers, three different builds coming out in the time I was working on the chapter. Two physical machines had hardware issues, and I had two weird problems with screenshots in VMs (running VPC 2004sp1 with the beta2 additions). What was most frustrating were the undocumented changes that occurred between builds. I was trying to take screenshots that would match the book, which apparently was really going to be done with the last, best build they could get before production. Also, they wanted me to take screenshots in Aero Glass with transparency off. Uh, I am a server grrl, focused on business machines. I only have one computer out of ten that can run Aero Glass and I was beta testing Office 2007 on it.
Needless to say, in the end, in desperation, I wiped and installed Vista RC2 on that machine (with the screenshot software, which is another story), so I could get screenshots as close to the final book's screenshots as possible. And found that certain applets in control panel functioned *differently* in that last build than the did in the previous builds. Dammit. That meant that not only were my screenshots significantly different, but my *text* was different (and now incorrect). So, due to having to have aero glass running as the theme, and the fact that several significant applets were significantly different, I had to retake *every single* screenshot-- *and* rewrite content to match the new changes.
Okay, so I finished that, right on the toes of the next thing that I had to do under a tight deadline-- Technical Review of the third module of MOC for the indians.
Bottom line on them--- they kept changing the schedule, making it impossible for me to do my other jobs and still work for them. In addition, they changed the VMs and didn't clearly give me an activation key. Also, I got the module a little late because I was finishing the control panel chapter, so I was blindsided by the fact that I was supposed to be doing six hours of review on one 50page (apx) document which turned into (and I am not making this up) *five* different documents of varying lengths written (very, very redundantly) about the same topic, approximately.
It was too much. I asked to be taken off the project. The PM complied. But during the conference call, in order to see what went wrong and how to fix it, the PM's buddy (who I *still* don't know what his real involvement was) actually said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but what made you feel you were qualified to do this job if it takes you so long to do...?"
Ha, how about, if I were not qualified for the job, I would not have *found any* errors. I would have thought is was all fine and therefore would not have taken so long trying to fix and double check the supposed SME's (subject matter expert) work. If I were not *better* than the SME on staff, then we would not have been having that conversation. *That's* what makes me think I am qualified, jack@ss.--- of course I didn't say that. The SME's friend was another person on the call, and the SME had just been in a bad car accident, so I didn't think it was prudent to bring up. Instead, I said that I was naturally cautious about criticizing another expert's work without double checking and making absolutely sure that I was correct. That I was honestly giving that SME the benefit of the doubt befitting someone of their rank.
LOL. Yay me! I am free of the indians. Oh, and here is what I learned--- That the indians *are not* the bad guys. Oh, okay, I was poorly managed by them. They still have not paid me the last 200$ they owe me and fully expect them not to. The management lied to me, tried to make me do extra work, and lied about scheduling. But, they are only a smalll percentage of the people on the project-- those whacky managers. The real people, the writers, experts, designers, and such-- they are real people, trying to do a good job in absolutely no time. MS is insane, demanding fundamental design changes on the fly, in production, from people who don't speak our language that well, that are 9.5 hours ahead of us, who are being paid peanuts, worked extremely long hours, and probably (because they are being managed by the same people I was--God help them) not clearly told what they are supposed to do in time to *do* it.
Those people were good people who bent over backwards to accomodate me. When I asked for the lab virtual machines that go with the courseware, they complied, they went *way* out of their way to painstakingly upload 22 GBs of data to an FTP server for me to use.-- AND here is the point I wasn't aware of until the exit interview-- despite the *express* instructions from MS *not* to do so (gee, I wonder who did that?).
So who is at fault here? Why is the courseware so bad, so slipshod, so rushed, so faulty contentwise? Why are the reviewers not communicated with properly, given adequate time to their jobs, adequate tools, and given conflicting instructions concerning their responsibilities?
It's not because of the indians. It is not because they don't care. It is *because* of Microsoft. Or at least one significant person, the key person in each review interaction with the indians. He explicitly wants to undermine anything the reviewers do. Insisting on short turnover times, insisting on *no* access to the virtual machines the entire courserware is *based* on. He doesn't want the reviewers to really *review* and edit the courseware. He just wants them to quickly read over it. Not check the accuracy of the labs, practices, or demos. Not to double check or challenge the errors found-- just "flag" them to be fixed later (which, if anyone has ever taken an MOC class, knows they aren't). I guess if we really find errors, it would put a crimp in the schedule because now they have to deal with them. Oh, the horror.
He, and therefore MS, is the root cause of the lack of quality in the process of technical review of the microsoft official courseware. The indians simply want to do the job. They know that if it is bad, they either have to do it over, or they won't get paid (okay, maybe they are hoping that it's not that bad...). They want it right as quickly and easily as possible. They don't want the hassle. It is MS that doesn't want the job to be done right. I don't know exactly why-- but now you know.
In all of this, I was supposed to be working on my presentations for the conference in Las Vegas *NEXT WEEK.* Hello, yes, that soon. I have the leg work done for my preconference session. I need to finish building (oh the long, painstaking process) the labs for deployment.
Then, and this is how behind I am, I need to build the labs for the network access protection session, and resurrect and run through the labs for my network access quarantine control session. Yes those sessions are only an hour or so long, but to demo any of it, I have to build all of it, regardless of length. ( I am writing this while I am backing up my external drive to free up space so I can *defrag* the drive. Yes, it is so full I can't defrag it, and I still have to build about eight to nine VMs in there) Later this week (on Wednesday) I need to drive out to Zelie to present my sessions to some really great, patient people so I can see how they go (gahd, those people are great. Really, I need to put them in the acknowledgements of my life somewhere...).
And here's something funny- my slides need to be done and turned in (in the correct format) tomorrow. That's it or game over (it's written into the contract). (I am now defragging the drive--- it should take an estimated three hours...sigh)
When I get back from the conference (assuming I survive it), I have to start on the book. That's right (for those of you who have heard this story), I signed the scary contract that might be a mistake to write an 800 page book about Windows Sharepoint Services 3.0 (the thing I taught at TechEd and tech reviewed a course on). The schedule is impossibly tight and I may well be getting set up to fail. But I can't know until I try, right?
That means, as soon as I get back I need to get my life in order; deal with my eyes, start on the process of getting braces, get the d@rned ducts cleaned (yes, we put thick filters over all of the duct vents in the house in order to turn on the heat-- we both were sick for a few days after, but at least we are not freezing), deal with the car (OMG the car-- the GM who was supposed to fix my brakes in August was *fired* and now they are not returning my calls), and more, then get started on the book. I have a week to straighten out my life, then back to work.
That means that I have very, very little time to rest, if you call catching up on all that life stuff resting. I have five days for the first section- the introduction- and that's solid (no give backs, no lifelines). I will be writing five pages a day for the next six months. That's it. No break unless it's a conference (which the editor encourages, maybe it increases sales).
Wish me luck.
So now you are caught up.
Oh, except for my heelys. I bought heely shoes so I could skate around the conference instead of walk. It would be great, fast, no impact, and fun. Okay, so I might look silly, until someone realizes how convenient it is. I really, really wish I had that for TechEd last June. I would have been *so* much less tired.
But this is the problem. You have to learn them. Like riding a bike, but more like skiing, it takes some skills (some non-instinctive skills) and muscles to heely. So it takes practice. I have had none. Zip. Zilch. So, I have heelys and no time to learn them. This means that I probably cannot use them for las vegas. Maybe in April at the networkworld gig...
And *now* you are caught up.
I guess I'll go do laundry while I defrag.
It's going to be a long, long night.
-Got my hair re-cut at this well recommended place at the galleria called "zarelli & company," by none other than the zarelli himself, jason. He was pretty workman-like. Listened to me, and gave me basically what I wanted. I say basically only because I wanted symmetry between both sides of my head, but because of the damage pam did from la pompenne, he could only do a good job on one side, while try to not make the bad side look worse...
...sigh.
So at least on one side of my head I have a Mandy Moore layered cut. On the other side, well, it's like some decided that I needed two layers of bangs starting at my part and going to the left, with the top layer being thicker, longer, and off center of the real layer of bangs. This means that where the layers fall on the right side of my head, I have just a chunk missing on the left side of my head from my bangs to my ear. Then some half hearted layers start after that.
Remember folks, I had hair, all one length, all the way down to my butt when this started, and only a light fringe of bangs. Now, well, let's say that I will be wearing barrettes for the frickin' conference that I wasted all this time trying to be pretty for.
-Then, there's the glasses.
As you probably know, my eyesight is a problem. I always will need glasses (cannot wear contacts, believe me) unless I get lasix (or my corneas blow and need to be replaced, which is a possibility). So, I need glasses. My old ones were not working well and looked dated.
So, I went to lenscrafters because I had a coupon and they would be done in an hour. Note, 1 hour. Let me stress how I do not have time to waste on this stuff. I just need an update to my perscription, pick out some frames, and bang, I'm done.
Long story short, I went back four times. Then I had to go see *another* doctor because the first one apparently is known to be careless about perscriptions (wtf?!). They never got it right. I had to return the lovely frameless glasses that I wanted to be able to wear in front of everyone in vegas, something chic, something attractive... because it took two weeks (actually just over a week, but now it is too late) to come in and were way off.
Does this mean I have to go back to my old glasses after taking two weeks to get used to the new ones? Well, I did get a spare pair of glasses with the new perscription as back up. They were forty dollars. Just clear lenses in some square sunglass frames. I ended up keeping them because I am desperate. I can't go back, the previous glasses gave me headaches on the best of days, nevermind having to overcome the conditioning of getting used to the new glasses.
So now my hair is worse than it was if I left it alone, and the glasses are not much better than my originals. I spent about two to three weeks dealing with these things for nothing. I should have focused on my work.
The moral of the story--- it's hopeless. Don't try. And certainly don't expect anything to happen in a timely manner, without grueling weeks even months of repeated attempts. There is a reason that almost forty years have gone by and no miracle of hip coolness has happened to my appearance. It's not rocket science, if I have tried again and again, and the best the stylists can say is "It would look nice in a bun," then maybe it would.
But, I haven't given up entirely. I will seriously consider lasix and I plan to get braces. So here's the score:
Hair-- 4.5 from the russian judge. definitely not what I had hoped. This will require a real, gifted professional (you know the one, they're retiring next month...). Until then...well at least I am not bald.
Glasses-- 5.5 from the russian. The french judge abstains due to fashion differences. $660+ later, and now it seems there is something mysterious and possibly serious wrong with my left eye. I will have to spend some (potentially extensive) time dealing with it. Lasix, at $2500 an eye might be an option--- only I do have to write a book soon (more on that in a moment) and can't afford to go blind and get used to it while working. Actually the glasses I have are smaller and square, so they are a little trendier. But they are obviously cheap, a little oversized (the only size they had...figures), and slightly crooked because my left eye is having problems that tilting seems to help). So I looked a little like a deranged naughty librarian with silly hair. Weee.
-Now about work.
I finished the chapter for that guy about vista's control panel. I am super glad he liked it, but it took a week longer than I expected. I am so thoroughly sick of Microsoft's crappy piece of monkey dung they call vista (I am afraid it makes ME look like OS X). I cannot believe they have so completely brainwashed themselves into thinking that the average joe is going to embrace this OS. I hear bells tolling.
Anyway, I had crashes, problems with screenshots, problems with video drivers, three different builds coming out in the time I was working on the chapter. Two physical machines had hardware issues, and I had two weird problems with screenshots in VMs (running VPC 2004sp1 with the beta2 additions). What was most frustrating were the undocumented changes that occurred between builds. I was trying to take screenshots that would match the book, which apparently was really going to be done with the last, best build they could get before production. Also, they wanted me to take screenshots in Aero Glass with transparency off. Uh, I am a server grrl, focused on business machines. I only have one computer out of ten that can run Aero Glass and I was beta testing Office 2007 on it.
Needless to say, in the end, in desperation, I wiped and installed Vista RC2 on that machine (with the screenshot software, which is another story), so I could get screenshots as close to the final book's screenshots as possible. And found that certain applets in control panel functioned *differently* in that last build than the did in the previous builds. Dammit. That meant that not only were my screenshots significantly different, but my *text* was different (and now incorrect). So, due to having to have aero glass running as the theme, and the fact that several significant applets were significantly different, I had to retake *every single* screenshot-- *and* rewrite content to match the new changes.
Okay, so I finished that, right on the toes of the next thing that I had to do under a tight deadline-- Technical Review of the third module of MOC for the indians.
Bottom line on them--- they kept changing the schedule, making it impossible for me to do my other jobs and still work for them. In addition, they changed the VMs and didn't clearly give me an activation key. Also, I got the module a little late because I was finishing the control panel chapter, so I was blindsided by the fact that I was supposed to be doing six hours of review on one 50page (apx) document which turned into (and I am not making this up) *five* different documents of varying lengths written (very, very redundantly) about the same topic, approximately.
It was too much. I asked to be taken off the project. The PM complied. But during the conference call, in order to see what went wrong and how to fix it, the PM's buddy (who I *still* don't know what his real involvement was) actually said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but what made you feel you were qualified to do this job if it takes you so long to do...?"
Ha, how about, if I were not qualified for the job, I would not have *found any* errors. I would have thought is was all fine and therefore would not have taken so long trying to fix and double check the supposed SME's (subject matter expert) work. If I were not *better* than the SME on staff, then we would not have been having that conversation. *That's* what makes me think I am qualified, jack@ss.--- of course I didn't say that. The SME's friend was another person on the call, and the SME had just been in a bad car accident, so I didn't think it was prudent to bring up. Instead, I said that I was naturally cautious about criticizing another expert's work without double checking and making absolutely sure that I was correct. That I was honestly giving that SME the benefit of the doubt befitting someone of their rank.
LOL. Yay me! I am free of the indians. Oh, and here is what I learned--- That the indians *are not* the bad guys. Oh, okay, I was poorly managed by them. They still have not paid me the last 200$ they owe me and fully expect them not to. The management lied to me, tried to make me do extra work, and lied about scheduling. But, they are only a smalll percentage of the people on the project-- those whacky managers. The real people, the writers, experts, designers, and such-- they are real people, trying to do a good job in absolutely no time. MS is insane, demanding fundamental design changes on the fly, in production, from people who don't speak our language that well, that are 9.5 hours ahead of us, who are being paid peanuts, worked extremely long hours, and probably (because they are being managed by the same people I was--God help them) not clearly told what they are supposed to do in time to *do* it.
Those people were good people who bent over backwards to accomodate me. When I asked for the lab virtual machines that go with the courseware, they complied, they went *way* out of their way to painstakingly upload 22 GBs of data to an FTP server for me to use.-- AND here is the point I wasn't aware of until the exit interview-- despite the *express* instructions from MS *not* to do so (gee, I wonder who did that?
So who is at fault here? Why is the courseware so bad, so slipshod, so rushed, so faulty contentwise? Why are the reviewers not communicated with properly, given adequate time to their jobs, adequate tools, and given conflicting instructions concerning their responsibilities?
It's not because of the indians. It is not because they don't care. It is *because* of Microsoft. Or at least one significant person, the key person in each review interaction with the indians. He explicitly wants to undermine anything the reviewers do. Insisting on short turnover times, insisting on *no* access to the virtual machines the entire courserware is *based* on. He doesn't want the reviewers to really *review* and edit the courseware. He just wants them to quickly read over it. Not check the accuracy of the labs, practices, or demos. Not to double check or challenge the errors found-- just "flag" them to be fixed later (which, if anyone has ever taken an MOC class, knows they aren't). I guess if we really find errors, it would put a crimp in the schedule because now they have to deal with them. Oh, the horror.
He, and therefore MS, is the root cause of the lack of quality in the process of technical review of the microsoft official courseware. The indians simply want to do the job. They know that if it is bad, they either have to do it over, or they won't get paid (okay, maybe they are hoping that it's not that bad...). They want it right as quickly and easily as possible. They don't want the hassle. It is MS that doesn't want the job to be done right. I don't know exactly why-- but now you know.
In all of this, I was supposed to be working on my presentations for the conference in Las Vegas *NEXT WEEK.* Hello, yes, that soon. I have the leg work done for my preconference session. I need to finish building (oh the long, painstaking process) the labs for deployment.
Then, and this is how behind I am, I need to build the labs for the network access protection session, and resurrect and run through the labs for my network access quarantine control session. Yes those sessions are only an hour or so long, but to demo any of it, I have to build all of it, regardless of length. ( I am writing this while I am backing up my external drive to free up space so I can *defrag* the drive. Yes, it is so full I can't defrag it, and I still have to build about eight to nine VMs in there) Later this week (on Wednesday) I need to drive out to Zelie to present my sessions to some really great, patient people so I can see how they go (gahd, those people are great. Really, I need to put them in the acknowledgements of my life somewhere...).
And here's something funny- my slides need to be done and turned in (in the correct format) tomorrow. That's it or game over (it's written into the contract). (I am now defragging the drive--- it should take an estimated three hours...sigh)
When I get back from the conference (assuming I survive it), I have to start on the book. That's right (for those of you who have heard this story), I signed the scary contract that might be a mistake to write an 800 page book about Windows Sharepoint Services 3.0 (the thing I taught at TechEd and tech reviewed a course on). The schedule is impossibly tight and I may well be getting set up to fail. But I can't know until I try, right?
That means, as soon as I get back I need to get my life in order; deal with my eyes, start on the process of getting braces, get the d@rned ducts cleaned (yes, we put thick filters over all of the duct vents in the house in order to turn on the heat-- we both were sick for a few days after, but at least we are not freezing), deal with the car (OMG the car-- the GM who was supposed to fix my brakes in August was *fired* and now they are not returning my calls), and more, then get started on the book. I have a week to straighten out my life, then back to work.
That means that I have very, very little time to rest, if you call catching up on all that life stuff resting. I have five days for the first section- the introduction- and that's solid (no give backs, no lifelines). I will be writing five pages a day for the next six months. That's it. No break unless it's a conference (which the editor encourages, maybe it increases sales).
Wish me luck.
So now you are caught up.
Oh, except for my heelys. I bought heely shoes so I could skate around the conference instead of walk. It would be great, fast, no impact, and fun. Okay, so I might look silly, until someone realizes how convenient it is. I really, really wish I had that for TechEd last June. I would have been *so* much less tired.
But this is the problem. You have to learn them. Like riding a bike, but more like skiing, it takes some skills (some non-instinctive skills) and muscles to heely. So it takes practice. I have had none. Zip. Zilch. So, I have heelys and no time to learn them. This means that I probably cannot use them for las vegas. Maybe in April at the networkworld gig...
And *now* you are caught up.
I guess I'll go do laundry while I defrag.
It's going to be a long, long night.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Okay, so that's just creepy-- or how blogsearch loves me
So, I posted an entry a few days ago about being lazy. I mentioned the things that were hanging over my head that I needed to do.
I hate laziness, I hate being late, I hate it, I hate it.
Okay, enough about me...
...And, I happened to mention someone by name (no, lol, I am not doing it again).
Within hours, he'd emailed me. He wanted me to cheer up and (as far as I could tell) get back to work.
Wow.
Well. Hum. I let him know that, yes, I was working on his chapter. And that no, his chapter was not exactly the sole cause of my despair (actually, NAP and system image manager are my real problems, oh and my hair, and my car, and... why am I so tired?).
I do know this. Up until recently, until I used someone else's name on my blog actually (figures the name of the guy who wrote "Blogging for dummies" would be so totally, easily, findable) no one could find my blog on google, ask.com, dogpile, or yahoo. It just wouldn't list.
Well, that was before Google BlogSearch.
OMG. I think that engine loves me.
Or maybe I would be more accurate to say, it loves blogspot.
When I searched "Callahan Teched," my blog was the third list entry. When searching by the only full name listed on my blog, plus my name, my blogentry was the second list item.
I came up again and again. But never, ever, my MSN spaces blog. Those entries, that address never came up.
Funny that.
So what does this mean? That I am not as anonymous as I thought. That this is the internet. That the more entries you make, the more data you create, the more likely that something will be listed somewhere.
Am I okay with that? Yeah, I guess I am. This is a free internet right? If you don't want to read it, click away. And if you want to stay (like watching a trainwreck) feel free to do that too.
Thanks for stopping by. Y'all come back now, ya hear?
I hate laziness, I hate being late, I hate it, I hate it.
Okay, enough about me...
...And, I happened to mention someone by name (no, lol, I am not doing it again).
Within hours, he'd emailed me. He wanted me to cheer up and (as far as I could tell) get back to work.
Wow.
Well. Hum. I let him know that, yes, I was working on his chapter. And that no, his chapter was not exactly the sole cause of my despair (actually, NAP and system image manager are my real problems, oh and my hair, and my car, and... why am I so tired?).
I do know this. Up until recently, until I used someone else's name on my blog actually (figures the name of the guy who wrote "Blogging for dummies" would be so totally, easily, findable) no one could find my blog on google, ask.com, dogpile, or yahoo. It just wouldn't list.
Well, that was before Google BlogSearch.
OMG. I think that engine loves me.
Or maybe I would be more accurate to say, it loves blogspot.
When I searched "Callahan Teched," my blog was the third list entry. When searching by the only full name listed on my blog, plus my name, my blogentry was the second list item.
I came up again and again. But never, ever, my MSN spaces blog. Those entries, that address never came up.
Funny that.
So what does this mean? That I am not as anonymous as I thought. That this is the internet. That the more entries you make, the more data you create, the more likely that something will be listed somewhere.
Am I okay with that? Yeah, I guess I am. This is a free internet right? If you don't want to read it, click away. And if you want to stay (like watching a trainwreck) feel free to do that too.
Thanks for stopping by. Y'all come back now, ya hear?
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Beautification and other forms of humiliation
In the midst of all the other things I must do, I managed to accomplish steps one (and one point five) of my prep for the November conference today.
Yup, I went to the spa.
You see, I've been desperately needing to make over my neglect and inertia driven "look." I just need to face the fact that I can no longer avoid getting my picture taken. People are asking for my "headshot" for this or that event or publication, and I have run out of excuses. It's time to get with the program. It's time to ditch the little house on the prairie look and join the 21st century.
So, a long time ago, the boyfriend gave me a $150 gift certificate to a hoity toity spa up in the expensive part of my neighborhood. Of course, it was almost a joke gift, as I have never been to a spa, and wouldn't know what to do there if you quizzed me. So, the certificate sat on the mantle for more than a year (nearly two), unused, gathering dust, waiting for a "good time" to come up to use it.
Now the spa in question does the normal spa stuff; hot stone massages, pedicures, manicures, wedding makeup and updos, as well as walk-in useful stuff; like eyebrow shaping, manicures, and haircuts.
So, since the certificate wasn't getting any younger, I decided to use it to get a bit of a appearance improvement.
LOL. Cue the laugh track-- hilarity ensued. Well, a dark comedy, tragic kind of hilarity. But hey, this is 2006, we've got to get our laughs where we can find them.
As for the hair, let's just say after almost three hours, the best the stylist felt she could safely do was give me the same hairstyle I have always had.
Yes, the same shapeless, "Cousin It" look. It took her forever. Snip, snip, snip, look critically, snip, snip. Microscopic bits falling to the floor (and my clothes, and my eyes...). I swear that, once she realized that I am blind without my glasses, she just held the scissors close to my head and made snipping motions. Then, with a flourish, pronounced her masterpiece finished, making loud proclamations as to how much better I looked after her work, while handing me my glasses so I can see no difference whatsoever in the style of my hair except that it is well over a foot shorter than it was when I started.
I am doomed. It is official. Nothing can be done to my hair, because, apparently, any worthwhile cut would require massive amounts of "product" and lengthy efforts with the blowdryer and curling iron daily to look any different than it does. I am stuck with hair from little house on the prairie. They stylist kept suggesting, over and over, that I put my hair in a bun on the back of my head. She kept demonstrating with her own curly, well trained coif (carefully never trying it on my actual hair, which would never submit to such slavish constraints).
"It's a good look for you."
Meaning, "Your hair is a bland, dark curtain of biotin. There is nothing to be done short of shaving it and getting a more attractive wig."
And besides, when I do finally take the bun down (assuming I can actually put the bun up), it will be all wavy.
Yeah. Wavy. Woo hoo.
Sigh. So, that was the hair. On to part 1.5 of the adventure: The eyebrows.
Yes I also got my eyebrows done. Pluck, pluck, smear of warm wax, rip of the tape (which felt exactly like taking off a bandaid). Very earnest young lady inches from my face, smelling faintly of tide, dove, and lilac, staring at my 'brows like she could puzzle out the answer to the meaning of life there. When she finished the less than ten minute process, she sincerely explained the reasoning behind her design choice, as if I were going to complain. They're eyebrows. If you screw them up it only takes a few weeks to grow them back in. So they're still a little bushy, no big deal. At least they're not now going to have to be painted on.
Otherwise, it was kind of low key and nice. It was nice to be treated like a piece of art, like an important piece of work in that young lady's day. It didn't hurt, and in my opinion, they came out pretty well. Crocked, and funky looking behind my glasses (yes, one eyebrow is above my frames, the other is below it. Ha ha, the glasses are straight, so guess who's asymetrical?), but nicely shaped.
It seemed pretty easy to do. I think, should I ever find myself in need of a eyebrow trim, I will try using a bandaid. Can't hurt right?
Why are eyebrows supposed to be a big ouchy deal? It didn't really hurt, it took seconds, and it looks okay (especially since, between my glasses and my bangs, you can't see them). I guess not everyone feels pain the same way. I would prefer the eyebrow thing to the makeup torture that the hairstylist (and all girly girls in my life) insisted I go through.
After the eyebrows, I checked my doo before leaving, and felt that I couldn't honestly pay for something I could have done myself with safety scissors. I asked to have the stylist take some more off the front. "I would like to see more of my face," I said (I am not kidding). Off with the glasses, more snipping, some wispy layers appear... finally I give up.
Following the second phase of the hair debacle (consider it 1.5.1 of the overall adventure), the stylist, sensing my unhappiness (and a potential loss of tip), bustled me into the makeup room for a makeover. What is it with women? They are always trying to slather me with makeup. And the stylist (and her posse) were no different. They could not resist. "You have good bones." "You need to bring out your eyes." Which means, in reality, "You are just one of those people that needs to be painted in some foul smelling goo in order to avoid fading into the background. No, seriously, put on the eyeliner, I can't see you."
So I got heavily painted in flesh colored "moisturizer," pink powder on the "apple" of my cheeks (because, I guess, there are other places to put it), three different colors of eyeshadow (uh, does no one remember the glasses?), and some really gluey, shiny, thick lip stuff that exactly matches the color of my existing lips. Seriously, no difference, except now the color extends to my teeth.
Meanwhile, all the women in the room ooo'd and ahh'd over the remarkable painted transformation.
What could I do? I cooed and fawned and tried not to seem in a hurry to leave and shower. So grateful for the laborious ministrations, another ugly duckling turned into a swan, off I went, stinking of strange hair product (hypo-allergenic my ass), sporting itchy, smelly makeup (yikes, is it supposed to come off in stripes like that?!).
I could not get home soon enough.
I mean it. By the time I got home and washed the stuff off, I already had hives and red, itchy, burning spots. The aveda conditioner they used on me (shampure, sham-pure?! Are you kidding me?) absolutely reeks, and after washing and conditioning my hair several times, I still can't get that smell out. My boyfriend complained of the scent in the car with the windows down. What is in that stuff?
So in the end what do I have? Did I accomplish anything?
Yes, my hair got cut. It isn't the cut I really was hoping for, it isn't even the cut I wanted, but I can live with it. Frankly it is a shorter version of what I already had, so at least I know what to do with it in public. It is not a different color, it is not permed or bobbed short, so it'll do. ANd it was free.
And my eyebrows look more human than cromagnon. And I have officially been to a spa. So, altogether, it was good (and free).
Next, I need to do something about the eyes and teeth. To that end I am going to replace my glasses with something more modern (and maybe, dare I hope, more flattering), and get my teeth whitened and pulled in with some invisaligns (thanks book advance).
Speaking of books, I need to get back to work so I can continue to improve my street cred and make all this timewasting primping worth it. I am actually starting to see the light through the trees, so that is a relief.
And speaking of work, anyone have a pda they would be willing to overnight to me so I can do screenshots of the Sync Center in Vista?
That would be sooper...
Yup, I went to the spa.
You see, I've been desperately needing to make over my neglect and inertia driven "look." I just need to face the fact that I can no longer avoid getting my picture taken. People are asking for my "headshot" for this or that event or publication, and I have run out of excuses. It's time to get with the program. It's time to ditch the little house on the prairie look and join the 21st century.
So, a long time ago, the boyfriend gave me a $150 gift certificate to a hoity toity spa up in the expensive part of my neighborhood. Of course, it was almost a joke gift, as I have never been to a spa, and wouldn't know what to do there if you quizzed me. So, the certificate sat on the mantle for more than a year (nearly two), unused, gathering dust, waiting for a "good time" to come up to use it.
Now the spa in question does the normal spa stuff; hot stone massages, pedicures, manicures, wedding makeup and updos, as well as walk-in useful stuff; like eyebrow shaping, manicures, and haircuts.
So, since the certificate wasn't getting any younger, I decided to use it to get a bit of a appearance improvement.
LOL. Cue the laugh track-- hilarity ensued. Well, a dark comedy, tragic kind of hilarity. But hey, this is 2006, we've got to get our laughs where we can find them.
As for the hair, let's just say after almost three hours, the best the stylist felt she could safely do was give me the same hairstyle I have always had.
Yes, the same shapeless, "Cousin It" look. It took her forever. Snip, snip, snip, look critically, snip, snip. Microscopic bits falling to the floor (and my clothes, and my eyes...). I swear that, once she realized that I am blind without my glasses, she just held the scissors close to my head and made snipping motions. Then, with a flourish, pronounced her masterpiece finished, making loud proclamations as to how much better I looked after her work, while handing me my glasses so I can see no difference whatsoever in the style of my hair except that it is well over a foot shorter than it was when I started.
I am doomed. It is official. Nothing can be done to my hair, because, apparently, any worthwhile cut would require massive amounts of "product" and lengthy efforts with the blowdryer and curling iron daily to look any different than it does. I am stuck with hair from little house on the prairie. They stylist kept suggesting, over and over, that I put my hair in a bun on the back of my head. She kept demonstrating with her own curly, well trained coif (carefully never trying it on my actual hair, which would never submit to such slavish constraints).
"It's a good look for you."
Meaning, "Your hair is a bland, dark curtain of biotin. There is nothing to be done short of shaving it and getting a more attractive wig."
And besides, when I do finally take the bun down (assuming I can actually put the bun up), it will be all wavy.
Yeah. Wavy. Woo hoo.
Sigh. So, that was the hair. On to part 1.5 of the adventure: The eyebrows.
Yes I also got my eyebrows done. Pluck, pluck, smear of warm wax, rip of the tape (which felt exactly like taking off a bandaid). Very earnest young lady inches from my face, smelling faintly of tide, dove, and lilac, staring at my 'brows like she could puzzle out the answer to the meaning of life there. When she finished the less than ten minute process, she sincerely explained the reasoning behind her design choice, as if I were going to complain. They're eyebrows. If you screw them up it only takes a few weeks to grow them back in. So they're still a little bushy, no big deal. At least they're not now going to have to be painted on.
Otherwise, it was kind of low key and nice. It was nice to be treated like a piece of art, like an important piece of work in that young lady's day. It didn't hurt, and in my opinion, they came out pretty well. Crocked, and funky looking behind my glasses (yes, one eyebrow is above my frames, the other is below it. Ha ha, the glasses are straight, so guess who's asymetrical?), but nicely shaped.
It seemed pretty easy to do. I think, should I ever find myself in need of a eyebrow trim, I will try using a bandaid. Can't hurt right?
Why are eyebrows supposed to be a big ouchy deal? It didn't really hurt, it took seconds, and it looks okay (especially since, between my glasses and my bangs, you can't see them). I guess not everyone feels pain the same way. I would prefer the eyebrow thing to the makeup torture that the hairstylist (and all girly girls in my life) insisted I go through.
After the eyebrows, I checked my doo before leaving, and felt that I couldn't honestly pay for something I could have done myself with safety scissors. I asked to have the stylist take some more off the front. "I would like to see more of my face," I said (I am not kidding). Off with the glasses, more snipping, some wispy layers appear... finally I give up.
Following the second phase of the hair debacle (consider it 1.5.1 of the overall adventure), the stylist, sensing my unhappiness (and a potential loss of tip), bustled me into the makeup room for a makeover. What is it with women? They are always trying to slather me with makeup. And the stylist (and her posse) were no different. They could not resist. "You have good bones." "You need to bring out your eyes." Which means, in reality, "You are just one of those people that needs to be painted in some foul smelling goo in order to avoid fading into the background. No, seriously, put on the eyeliner, I can't see you."
So I got heavily painted in flesh colored "moisturizer," pink powder on the "apple" of my cheeks (because, I guess, there are other places to put it), three different colors of eyeshadow (uh, does no one remember the glasses?), and some really gluey, shiny, thick lip stuff that exactly matches the color of my existing lips. Seriously, no difference, except now the color extends to my teeth.
Meanwhile, all the women in the room ooo'd and ahh'd over the remarkable painted transformation.
What could I do? I cooed and fawned and tried not to seem in a hurry to leave and shower. So grateful for the laborious ministrations, another ugly duckling turned into a swan, off I went, stinking of strange hair product (hypo-allergenic my ass), sporting itchy, smelly makeup (yikes, is it supposed to come off in stripes like that?!).
I could not get home soon enough.
I mean it. By the time I got home and washed the stuff off, I already had hives and red, itchy, burning spots. The aveda conditioner they used on me (shampure, sham-pure?! Are you kidding me?) absolutely reeks, and after washing and conditioning my hair several times, I still can't get that smell out. My boyfriend complained of the scent in the car with the windows down. What is in that stuff?
So in the end what do I have? Did I accomplish anything?
Yes, my hair got cut. It isn't the cut I really was hoping for, it isn't even the cut I wanted, but I can live with it. Frankly it is a shorter version of what I already had, so at least I know what to do with it in public. It is not a different color, it is not permed or bobbed short, so it'll do. ANd it was free.
And my eyebrows look more human than cromagnon. And I have officially been to a spa. So, altogether, it was good (and free).
Next, I need to do something about the eyes and teeth. To that end I am going to replace my glasses with something more modern (and maybe, dare I hope, more flattering), and get my teeth whitened and pulled in with some invisaligns (thanks book advance).
Speaking of books, I need to get back to work so I can continue to improve my street cred and make all this timewasting primping worth it. I am actually starting to see the light through the trees, so that is a relief.
And speaking of work, anyone have a pda they would be willing to overnight to me so I can do screenshots of the Sync Center in Vista?
That would be sooper...
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Arrghh, why am I so lazy?
So here I sit
writing in my blog
when I have work to do.
Real work
that means something
that others are waiting for.
And instead
I watch TV
Make a cup of tea,
maybe do some laundry.
What is wrong with me?
As deadlines loom,
when I should be getting alarmed
I can't even come up with the energy
to be concerned.
I dream about it
But I can't seem to move.
I hate procrastinating.
I hate the sense of being out of control
out of time
of having to explain or make excuses
yet still, I do it.
Why?
Things I must do--
Work on material that I will be doing in front of hundreds of people in Las Vegas in November
(but the presentations are due mid-Oct).
Re-write/update a 50 page chapter about Vista for this guy, David Pogue, by next week.
Keep up with material required to do Technical Review of MS MOC courseware on Sharepoint Services 3.0 (including remember how to log into the outsourcing company's web site).
Keep up with material that will be necessary for the 800 page book I will probably have to write starting when I get back from Las Vegas.
Clean the house and finish research, scheduling duct sanitizing so we can turn on the heat when it gets cold a few weeks from now.
Force the frickin' car dealership's general manager to remember that he promised to fix the brakes on my car.
Instead, I am here
idly posting.
Argh.
I think I really, really want to fail.
I just want to be told that I have lost this race,
that I played this game so poorly
that I might as well stop now
and maybe start over later.
Meanwhile, the weather outside is gorgeous.
Incongrously lovely, while inside I am plagued by doubt and despair.
I resent not being able to just go outside. Maybe mulch my weeds.
writing in my blog
when I have work to do.
Real work
that means something
that others are waiting for.
And instead
I watch TV
Make a cup of tea,
maybe do some laundry.
What is wrong with me?
As deadlines loom,
when I should be getting alarmed
I can't even come up with the energy
to be concerned.
I dream about it
But I can't seem to move.
I hate procrastinating.
I hate the sense of being out of control
out of time
of having to explain or make excuses
yet still, I do it.
Why?
Things I must do--
Work on material that I will be doing in front of hundreds of people in Las Vegas in November
(but the presentations are due mid-Oct).
Re-write/update a 50 page chapter about Vista for this guy, David Pogue, by next week.
Keep up with material required to do Technical Review of MS MOC courseware on Sharepoint Services 3.0 (including remember how to log into the outsourcing company's web site).
Keep up with material that will be necessary for the 800 page book I will probably have to write starting when I get back from Las Vegas.
Clean the house and finish research, scheduling duct sanitizing so we can turn on the heat when it gets cold a few weeks from now.
Force the frickin' car dealership's general manager to remember that he promised to fix the brakes on my car.
Instead, I am here
idly posting.
Argh.
I think I really, really want to fail.
I just want to be told that I have lost this race,
that I played this game so poorly
that I might as well stop now
and maybe start over later.
Meanwhile, the weather outside is gorgeous.
Incongrously lovely, while inside I am plagued by doubt and despair.
I resent not being able to just go outside. Maybe mulch my weeds.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Just one of those things
So I'm sitting here, glued to the computer, about an hour after bed time, just tiddling about.
I had read a wonderful email from a former classmate (several times removed, she was in a different sorority, but we were in the same year, and lived on the same campus. You know, we saw each other in the cafeteria sometimes...), all sentimental and nostalgic about how she'd gotten a job at the school we once went to (she went there far longer than I did), and how the ghosts of her memories haunted her.
I was tempted to post back about how I had once felt that way, about fifteen years ago. How I would wander around campus, missing my old chums, wondering where everyone was, and why I was even there. Now, twenty years after I left (give or take), I return to that campus to enjoy the silence, appreciate the architecture, study in the library (I still can't be as productive anywhere but where I created grand and silly opuses as a teen). I've created new memories there, made new friends. I go there to detox, to get work done, to smell the air (and listen to the geese flying south in the pre-autumn silence of the town).
I didn't tell her though. Because our memories were so different. Because she spoke fondly of people I never knew, never met. Because she simply got to experience so much more of that than I did. She had belonged, done her time, qualified for her nostalgia. I was just a wanna-be that lived so close by I could frequently visit.
It's kind of heartbreaking still that I ran out of money and had to leave college before I could graduate. After all these years I am still devastated. It's as if someone I loved, someone I'd planned for and expected to be a big part of my life, had died unexpectedly. Leaving a big hole, changing the course of my days, of my self completely, and leaving me forever half-finished. People to this day are stunned that I have no degree. They wonder why I don't just finish.
I don't just toss off a degree because it would not be worth it. It would not be the same. Now I am cynical, jaded, critical of the process (now that I have created and taught my own courses, now that I have taught professors how to teach my courses). I can't just get credits to get credits. It was never about that for me. It was the learning experience, whole hog. The people, the classes, the learning, and well, mostly the people. The classmates, the professors. I can teach myself from books or online, I do that all the time. I wanted the experience. I *still* want the experience.
I can't get excited about finishing my degree. That experience closed for me long ago. Now it will just be a stubborn, empty exercise. I will be just be going through the motions. I am too busy, too tired, too distracted, to bother with such a hollow waste of money. I don't even think I'd do it if someone paid me. It would just be more bitter than bittersweet.
But, because time is a bitch, I am getting to watch my classmates, those who got to finish, slowly trickle back to my alma mater, my vacationland, as employees. As, once again, people who unequivocably belong. As I don't, and probably never had. I get to read their heartfelt letters of gentle sorrow, as they cope with working at the place where so many critical memories were made. Like growing up to be a counselor at the camp where you spent the best summers of your life.
Ironically you really can never go back, no matter how easy it is to drive there. The place it once was is gone. And my friend (if I can call her that) is now having to make peace with how the past overlays the present, until soon, current memories will take the edge off those sharp nostalgic images. Then she will become bored, cynical, and jaded about the place, just like everyone does about where they work.
Or maybe you can go back, but not often and not for long. Not unless you are willing to let those old memories fade. She has to work there now. It will, sadly, never be the same in a way the most of us just can't understand.
Of course, I don't know if I count as most of us. I have been haunting the place like a ghost for about twenty years. I never belonged, I never finished, and I just keep getting drawn back; to watch spring rise over the hills, watch summer cook the lawns, and watch autumn drive away the geese. To just appreciate the natural, changing beauty of the place. In a way, it could be that I appreciate it like those who got to graduate never could. To really see it's value, its virtues, and never take it for granted because it's hard to take for granted what you have never quite had. I can't go back to something I never really had, I just keep going back to the place where it almost happened. It's so pretty there, so serene.
I am honored and a little baffled that I was on her mailing list of classmates and friends for her nostalgic email. I am not sure she realizes how sad it makes me that I can not ever, ever commiserate with her. I never had any close relationships or chance meetings with my professors. I don't expect anyone from the past to be coming around the corner. The place has been filled with strangers for decades now. No one I know, no one who knows me. It is a place that makes me feel safe, calm, peaceful, alone. Filled with trees, hills, and wind. It is a place that is a shadow of the campus so filled with potential long ago. It rarely echoes of loss or disappointment anymore. I had to come to terms with that ages ago.
I wish her luck in her attempts to reconcile the past with her current situation. Both she and the school have changed, and I hope that both live up to her expectations.
I had read a wonderful email from a former classmate (several times removed, she was in a different sorority, but we were in the same year, and lived on the same campus. You know, we saw each other in the cafeteria sometimes...), all sentimental and nostalgic about how she'd gotten a job at the school we once went to (she went there far longer than I did), and how the ghosts of her memories haunted her.
I was tempted to post back about how I had once felt that way, about fifteen years ago. How I would wander around campus, missing my old chums, wondering where everyone was, and why I was even there. Now, twenty years after I left (give or take), I return to that campus to enjoy the silence, appreciate the architecture, study in the library (I still can't be as productive anywhere but where I created grand and silly opuses
I didn't tell her though. Because our memories were so different. Because she spoke fondly of people I never knew, never met. Because she simply got to experience so much more of that than I did. She had belonged, done her time, qualified for her nostalgia. I was just a wanna-be that lived so close by I could frequently visit.
It's kind of heartbreaking still that I ran out of money and had to leave college before I could graduate. After all these years I am still devastated. It's as if someone I loved, someone I'd planned for and expected to be a big part of my life, had died unexpectedly. Leaving a big hole, changing the course of my days, of my self completely, and leaving me forever half-finished. People to this day are stunned that I have no degree. They wonder why I don't just finish.
I don't just toss off a degree because it would not be worth it. It would not be the same. Now I am cynical, jaded, critical of the process (now that I have created and taught my own courses, now that I have taught professors how to teach my courses). I can't just get credits to get credits. It was never about that for me. It was the learning experience, whole hog. The people, the classes, the learning, and well, mostly the people. The classmates, the professors. I can teach myself from books or online, I do that all the time. I wanted the experience. I *still* want the experience.
I can't get excited about finishing my degree. That experience closed for me long ago. Now it will just be a stubborn, empty exercise. I will be just be going through the motions. I am too busy, too tired, too distracted, to bother with such a hollow waste of money. I don't even think I'd do it if someone paid me. It would just be more bitter than bittersweet.
But, because time is a bitch, I am getting to watch my classmates, those who got to finish, slowly trickle back to my alma mater, my vacationland, as employees. As, once again, people who unequivocably belong. As I don't, and probably never had. I get to read their heartfelt letters of gentle sorrow, as they cope with working at the place where so many critical memories were made. Like growing up to be a counselor at the camp where you spent the best summers of your life.
Ironically you really can never go back, no matter how easy it is to drive there. The place it once was is gone. And my friend (if I can call her that) is now having to make peace with how the past overlays the present, until soon, current memories will take the edge off those sharp nostalgic images. Then she will become bored, cynical, and jaded about the place, just like everyone does about where they work.
Or maybe you can go back, but not often and not for long. Not unless you are willing to let those old memories fade. She has to work there now. It will, sadly, never be the same in a way the most of us just can't understand.
Of course, I don't know if I count as most of us. I have been haunting the place like a ghost for about twenty years. I never belonged, I never finished, and I just keep getting drawn back; to watch spring rise over the hills, watch summer cook the lawns, and watch autumn drive away the geese. To just appreciate the natural, changing beauty of the place. In a way, it could be that I appreciate it like those who got to graduate never could. To really see it's value, its virtues, and never take it for granted because it's hard to take for granted what you have never quite had. I can't go back to something I never really had, I just keep going back to the place where it almost happened. It's so pretty there, so serene.
I am honored and a little baffled that I was on her mailing list of classmates and friends for her nostalgic email. I am not sure she realizes how sad it makes me that I can not ever, ever commiserate with her. I never had any close relationships or chance meetings with my professors. I don't expect anyone from the past to be coming around the corner. The place has been filled with strangers for decades now. No one I know, no one who knows me. It is a place that makes me feel safe, calm, peaceful, alone. Filled with trees, hills, and wind. It is a place that is a shadow of the campus so filled with potential long ago. It rarely echoes of loss or disappointment anymore. I had to come to terms with that ages ago.
I wish her luck in her attempts to reconcile the past with her current situation. Both she and the school have changed, and I hope that both live up to her expectations.
Monday, August 28, 2006
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?
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?
Saturday, August 26, 2006
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
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
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
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).
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).
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, November 04, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
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.)
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.)
Thursday, October 13, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
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?
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?
Monday, September 19, 2005
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....
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....
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
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....
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.
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.
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