Understand:

What I am looking for,
Yes... This is my first work on E2,
Is not so complicated...
But I am have been true for quite some time.

We can all agree, it is just unfair!
By May first.
Snowboarding season is over, one life has melted away.
All my friends fall asleep earily... always.

End up here for recognition? Don't I desirve more?
Please by May frist.
Not because of depression, But...
There eyes are so shut, it's devistation through popularity?

Everyone has gone through it more than enough times,
Just someone to talk to by then...
There is only one thing left to do,
Yes... I too am interested in an E2 relationship.

Understand?

I woke up at the ungodly hour of 7:45 this morning and wished I hadn't. It took me several long minutes of stretching and yawning and stretching and more yawning before I finally remembered why I was getting up so early.

Developing Effective Software Usage Requirements: Writing Use Cases.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, if you'd tricked your employer into plunking down $1395 you, too, could have participated in this exciting and groundbreaking three-day course at the Oregon Graduate Institute of Science and Technology. Not that I tricked my employer into sending me. It's the other way around, actually. Sneaky employer.

After 8 straight hours of this hardly-bearable excitement, I drove home, happily anticipating the paycheck that would be waiting under my doormat in an Airborne Express special-delivery envelope. Airborne Express, being the crappy, inefficient shipping company they are, had "attempted" to deliver my paycheck on the 27th, but had somehow failed because I wasn't home. Unlike Federal Express, Airborne Express apparently isn't smart enough to leave my packages at the apartment office.

Unfortunately for me, there was no paycheck waiting for me when I got home. After several hours of attempting to get through to Airborne Express customer service, I finally reached a helpful fellow who informed me that the van carrying my check had broken down en route. He guaranteed me it would be here tomorrow. His happy, reassuring tone reminded me of the helpful fellow who, on the 27th, guaranteed me it would be here today.

So here I sit, noding from my 24Kbps modem connection (my DSL provider went bankrupt last month), with $1.45 in my checking account (I emptied it last month paying bills and buying a new car), eating Pasta-Roni, wondering if there's enough gas in my car to get me to work tomorrow, and occasionally glancing guiltily at the pile of unpaid bills on my desk.

I am tired of responsibility. Where's my mommy?

It was my friends birthday today, we celebrated by going to the library (how dorky is that?). We decided to read Hard Times by Charles Dickens. Before going however I was sucking on a lollipop, and on that lollipop my friend had smothered cocaine over it. I put the lollipop in my mouth and swiveled it about my tongue, a bitter taste.

Later on we met up with another friend and I had to burn a cd for my boss. We went to another friends' apartment and on the way we stopped and got off into this little nook and smoked some more coke. It was interesting since I had never smoked it before. Afterwards we went to the apartment and I beat my friend at chess and we had some hamburgers. I finished what I had to do and we left. While on the way home all I heard (as I drove) was the sniffing of my two friends who were snorting even more coke.

At night I play this little game while I drive, I pretend I am in another state (ex: Oklahoma) and it feels strange. Then I went home and read and got online.

No, I didn't read the write-up.

Happy Beltane, for what it's worth.

Rebirth, fertility, yadda, yadda. I wish I felt it, I wish I felt the usual optimism the first of May brings me. I wish I had that *twang* of twidderpation everyone is rejoicing in right now. Hell, even my roommate has decided to pursue an old love interest from his past. And it's working! (slight hint of incredulousness) I'm happy for him, I am honestly am.

Um, the days are getting harder, as I knew they would. As soon as the wear-and-tear of literally throwing myself into work, well, wore off.

My brother's coming up for a convention May 6th. Man, I NEED family right now. They tell you like it is and when you fucked up. They also tell you it's going to be okay, that it'll work it's own kinks out. That stuff is at least good to hear. Then they tell you that you owe 'em money, and that's okay too.

I'm trying so hard to do all of those things I said I would do, I'm trying to lay the groundwork. But my heart isn't in it, not like it should be, and I fend off the little rainclouds just on the edges of my days. The whole thing sucks, let's just face it.

I know it sucks, because I don't have the strength to fight it off at night. Dream after dream I chase after something, someone, only to realize that even when I've caught them, I end up with arms full of air. There are some dreams that make me feel warm and relieved. The ones that let me let down my guard. The ones that make this reality feel like a horrible nightmare that I only have to jerk myself awake in order to escape. Only then, I realize it is quite the other way around. I can't believe I'm even having any of these dreams to begin with.....Ah. I hate that false hope that comes moments before the alarm goes off at five a.m.

Poppy Z. Brite almost got it right, except it's 5 a.m. that knows all of my secrets. And she had better keep a lid on 'em.

Oh God, this hurts. I keep trying everything I can to make it stop. I tried being loving, understanding, allowing.....and as the moments passed, I lost even more pieces of myself because I wasn't acting like I was worth anything. That I was worth standing up for. And I honestly believed it for so long. I had to watch, make myself, as the prescious little sand I had left sifted through my fingers and got spread out on the winds.

All my ego has been non-existant for so long, I'm just figuring out what it is that makes me, and where my breaking point is. And I found it. By golly, I fuckin' found it.

My mind, immediately shot down as not being smart enough. My body almost completely interchangeable with anyone else's at any given time. And now my heart finally not big enough, even though it had been scraped clean with a melon baller and was bountiful enough for a feast. Point blank, Kir, YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH!

What the hell is a person supposed to do when faced with the things I have faced, I ask you that? I've turned a brave face whenever I could, even when it killed with the effort. I turned my back and shielded my eyes from shared moments that in all reality, SHOULD HAVE BEEN MINE, but weren't. And I accepted them. Why, I couldn't tell you. Because maybe some part of me said that this too was just part of those dreams I can't wake up from anymore.

And I'm the one who should tread carefully. I'm the one trying to subvert everything.....and I can't even fathom the fuckin' unfairness of it all, so I push it farther and farther down........when I'm fucking dying! I've gotten to the point where I want nothing, want no one, and I DON"T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE. No one hears me, no one takes what I fuckin' feel seriously, so I act like I STILL DON"T MATTER. Don't mind me, I'm some chipped marble queen that's already been captured in this twisted little chess game. Sculpt a new and better one, you fuckin' lunatics, and fast before someone gets YOUR KING! I could give a flying fuck if you all get captured and get thrown to the side of the board, heavy, useless. I'm just another piece, and guess what, so are all of you.

But this wasn't a game to me. The ridiculous actions taken, and how I wish I had always taken the high road, have made this a mockery! I am done. I am hurt to the point of biting, kicking, screaming. I am SO ANGRY....particuliarily when I had the ideas, the need, the absolute want to work anything out....but could never be taken seriously.

I am at the very edge of of just toppling over. The calm is OVER, and I don't care WHERE I fall. I am undone. I want to take what tiny, miniscule piece I have left of myself and close it off, protect it from even the damage I can do to it myself. I can't breathe, I don't even have enough air to choke on. I am so empty.....I don't even have enough of me left to feel lonely. And you know what's funny, I KNOW I brought a lot of this on myself. It no longer matters a whit to me what happens because I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE. I have lost it all.

Do you understand me now?

I want to damage something.

I want to find something small and vulnerable and rip it to shreds.

I started out in a good mood this evening. Everything was going nicely. I played a little on the borrowed Gameboy Color, I did some stuff on E2, I chatted a little over ICQ, and I did some of the daily stuff on Neopets that I like. Then, I set ICQ to "away" and went to watch The Mummy on dvd. Life was good.

But when I got back it all started falling apart. Earlier I was having trouble with the java on Neopets. It wasn't a big deal as so far it had only affected one thing, and that was minor. Plus, although the java on Internet Explorer wasn't working, the java on Netscape was, so my Java Chatterbox for E2 was undisturbed. But when I returned, the problem with Neopets was larger than I'd hoped, and it turns out that nothing is working right with IE. Plus, although ICQ was fine when I'd left, it would not connect now. The hubby makes some stupid suggestions that anybody but a rank newbie to computers should know. I try to download the latest version of ICQ with IE only to have the download lock up and stop at 94%. Finally, it's too much. With Netscape the only program working right any more and my writeup safely entered after the passing of Word Galaxy, I restart.

ICQ and Netscape work fine, but IE still refuses to run java, and I can't play Neopets on Netscape as after about 10 minutes, it'll crash. Now it devolves into a nasty spat as I cattily make note that my system has become unstable and he was supposed to have reinstalled Windows several weeks ago. But for all the time he's had with my computer while I wasn't here using it, he's done nothing to update and help keep it stable.

Meanwhile, I'm here, things aren't working, and I'm so frustrated it makes me want to do damage to something that doesn't want to be damaged. It's not a pretty feeling. I'ts not a nice feeling. It's not a feeling of which I'm particularly proud, but right now I just don't care. I'm so frustrated, it's leaking out my eyes and down my cheeks. It's a lot like crying, only without the release.

Mayday mayday mayday! =)

10:28

The end of the last week and last few days weren't that great, but they weren't a complete disaster either.

My family was visiting.

This wasn't bad. Combining this with getting a CD-R drive was. =)

My revenge was sweet, though. My sister - a fine person, BTW - wanted me to burn her a CD of cool stuff I had found from Napster. OK, so I burned her a couple of game soundtracks, one tune that was distributed as a CD single but couldn't be found anymore, and other stuff like that. And then some drivel that was so bad that it was actually pretty good. I didn't put any Matti Nykänen there, though, she would have killed me if I would have done such a horrible thing. =) =)

Also, my bicycle ended up getting fixed. This was great.

Today? Well, nothing extraordinary as of yet... Time to face the challenges of the day.

Oh, the first CD-R I've made? Well, 400 megs worth of old downloads... So far, no warez - and I doubt I'll ever do such things! =)

(PS. So far, no coasters. =)

14:50

Some XHTML inferno: CGI module in Perl generates <TAGS TYPE="uppercase,nonterminated">, so XML parsers are baffled. Also, is there a Perl module for HTML/XML "normalization"?

16:23

I just made a Golgotha soundtrack CD. This thing rocks. It opens with the motivational quote (see Golgotha node) said by satanic Dave Taylor, and is crowned finally by the epic battle music of Finland, and the "Floyd" track - and ends with the Mix '98.

16:35

Oh, yeah, one thing:

nighthowl:~$ uname -a
Linux nighthowl 2.4.4 #1 ma huhti  30 16:28:24 EEST 2001 i686 unknown

Also, USB stuff got fixed so QuickCam Express driver actually works! So now everyone can see my face when they look at my web cam... well, maybe that isn't so cool thought afterall. =)

20:19

Argh. This day has not been too eventful afterall.

I have a couple of interesting ideas for articles, though, but most of my time has gone to... doing nothing significant.

More Noding This Night... I hope...

00:32

Doesn't look like a wild noding spree, more like a wild update spree. =)


Other day logs o' mine...

Noded today by y.t.: sox ecasound

Updated: Crack Dot Com HTML unlinker for Emacs SVI 318

Oh gods, what the hell was I thinking? With the layoffs at work today, my group had the enviable task of changing passwords on all network devices. The routers, switches, other such things go off without a hitch. But first, we had to lock down the biggest security hole - terminal servers. After a total of 26 hours in the office working continuously on these things, I am convinced that Bay Networks is a tool of Evil. I and my cow-orker tried for 10 hours to automate the process of password changes on these infernal devices. Eventually, giving in to mental and physical exhaustion, coupled with the constant questions along the lines of "Have you guys finished $site yet?" and "Why are you changing the passwords?", we had to polish off over 270 of these instruments of dementia by hand. If I never have to do this again, it will be too soon. 26 hours of nonstop work. Gods, WHAT WAS I THINKING???

And what a way to celebrate Beltane.

M'aidez!

Today is May Day, or Beltane. One of the great Celtic/European Fire Festivals. It is also, by the declaration of somebody or other, International Workers' Day. Today, therefore, the workers will try to get to work and work, while the so-called Anarchists and their valiant leaders try to break stuff. Also present will be a large number of sincere anti-globalisation demonstrators, some of whom will probably be injured by either the rioters, or the police, or potentially both.

One anarchist, challenged on a recent Channel 4 News about the dangers of flying broken glass to the employees of Mc Donald's, claimed that there was no such thing as flying broken glass, a claim which I sure any number of bomb survivors would love to discuss with him.

To save the world, improve it. Destruction only empowers the well-protected.

Mottoes for the day:

Vae Victis!
Liberty, equality, fraternity or death!

And my own suggestion for today's anthem: Jerusalem, by Blake. Read it carefully. (And think of an idealised Jerusalem, not the current shambles.) Here is a call to peaceful protest against child labour, pollution and all the other evils of capitalism.
Today, again, was a day that I hope only happens once in a blue moon. While not a day of complete physical exhaustion, it was a day of complete mental breakdown. Some know how it is, with the throbbing migraine and shaky hands. But at least it was a profitable day in the least.

The night was very dry but very cold. The wind blew in from the west, and made a stiff wind that made it seem like winter again. From the little crevasse made in my patio window, it made a slightly whistling noise, sort of harmonious in the dark, where I sat brooding. I was still on my cell phone, talking to a lady friend, long removed. We haven't talked to each other for months, simply because we drifted apart. She had her own life to lead, and with her boyfriend around, I didn't want to interfere. But finally, I wound up calling her anyways, because I missed her, sentimentally and because I used to like her. We spoke, small talk, then it started getting into tense topics so I decided to make her laugh. I always could do that. I guess my mix of dirty jokes with my own witty repertoire made me funny to her. I just hope that she was laughing with me, not laughing at me.

Today was Dawadeving's birthday so I called him at about 12:40AM. The guy was sleeping so I wound up waking his mom up. I felt bad and apologized and hope that she understood. I got him his beer too but I have an idea what to get him his present. But I'll work on it another time. I don't have the time nor the patience to get it right now.

I stayed up until about 6 AM, listening to Fin.K.L. and S.E.S.. It was too cold to be outside, but I looked out through my balcony door. I placed both of my hands on the glass and could feel the heat from my hand flow through my palms into the glass. I glimpse to the left, and then to the right. The sky was cloudy, but the moon was shining through the clouds. It was an unusual day, one that happens once in a blue moon.

I wake up about noontime. Great. Work in 2 hours. I head over to work an hour later. It was a split shift, where I would work in one department the first part of my shift then another department the last half. During my breaks, I did work for my home department because I didn't want to leave all the work to my co-worker. I wanted to be a nice guy but everyone was talking to me while I was working. They wanted me to relax. While it was a nice gesture, I didn't want to stop. It showed me how tense I was, getting annoyed at such a simple gesture.

I finished work, tired but tense. I saw some old friends there, a couple of lady friends just shopping, not knowing that I worked there. Sort of nice actually, as a surprise. I think its called a pleasant surprise. I was working, then someone hugged me from behind. Then the giggling ruined their surprise. We spoke for about 30 minutes before a manager told me to get back to work, at least kiddingly. It was a nice surprise, but after they left, I started thinking about how much I missed them and all the times that we used to hang out and talk. My feet dragged along the laminated flooring, with my head down. By the end the night, my mind was drained of all interesting conversational material or any intelligent content.

I come home, then head over to the tub. Soaking in the water like a sponge, my body felt great afterwards, and since then I've been online. Its 4:30 AM now, with Dragonball Z on TV. I have my Fin.K.L. on my winamp, and I just finished playing Super Nintendo using my emulator. I finally finished my Fin.K.L. node. That's how starstruck I've been about them. Damn them sexy young adult asian women. Getting my hopes up by letting me see them scantily clad knowing that people like me can't get them. The loveliness continues.

I'm finally off to bed and with no time to lose. My mind has lost itself within the void which is my consciousness. I work in about 4.5 hours, and hope that tomorrow will be a day unlike today.

Let it drift, let it slide. I walk out with open arms, waiting for my baby to come to me. When she gets here, I'll look her in the eyes and clasp hands with her. I'll whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and her sweet giggles will send shivers of pure ecstacy down my spine. It is only a dream, but let it be a waking dream, a reality that I don't have to wake up to. I blink, I pray, I cry, I sleep..

Update from April 30, 2001.

Yesterday, I went to the casting agent's office in the meatpacking district at 4:30 right after mathematical physics.

I was not really taking this too seriously.. until I walked in. The office was a loft space with one wall covered completely with polaroids of people they've cast for shows and shoots before, the same type of polariods that they took of me-- except these people were famous. Gisele was on the wall, in a green shirt, flashing the peace sign to the camera. Laetitia Casta in a mens undershirt looking moody.

The casting director recognized me as I walked in, I assumed from my polaroids, because I've never met him before. I scope out the competition-- About 10 other people are in for the castings.

These are the tallest Asian women I've ever seen.

At about 5'6, I'm almost the shortest one there. I take a look at the sign in sheet, and I am nearly the only one with more than one name. Ahead of me in line is Mayuko, the famous Japanese model. Intimidating. Everybody has a strange British accent.

There's a line to put the phone number of your agent-- I just put my home phone number. They tell me it will be about a 20 minute wait, so I started figuring out a Diffusion Equation in a bar or slab problem for the final on Wednesday.

I visit the bathroom--- there is no mirror or reflective surface of any type-- which could say a lot, or could say very little.

When they called my name, I went into a room with a white background, and realize it's the same room that all of the photos on the wall were taken in. I stripped down to a bathing suit and they took pictures of my front, back, sides, and face. Suddenly, the photographer whipped out a tiny digital video recorder, and started asking me questions. It was kind of wierd-- her voice sounded rather disembodied as she asked me questions like, "What's your name?" "How old are you?" "What's your nationality?" "What are your plans for this year?"

So I started going on about crew, and how I was going to give it a go at sculling flyweight this summer, and how I wanted to make a good showing at St. Catherines (Royal Canadian Henley) this summer. I talked about mathematics, all while standing in a white room nearly naked.

I got out, and checked out everybody else-- even though they're really good-looking, they look totally like regular people, completely unlike their pictures in Vogue or on runways. I didn't really feel like I belonged there.

It's rather unnerving to know that is what these people do for a living.

So don't think I'm shallow, or blame me for doing this by voting it down-- you must realize that there are all sorts of people on e2 and this is what I did yesterday. It's not as if I ran over a cute puppy and laughed about it. Am I the only person who doesn't use daylogs to whine and bitch about how depressed I am, in the hopes that the cheap votes will lift me out of said depression?
This is Nobody Loves Me Week. Bottomless, thick rage swirls in my head like an electric storm, with only the occasional lightning bolt to illuminate the darkness.

I no longer understand myself, nor am I in control. Something has taken over and is propelling me to the brink of violence and into lethargy, over and over again every second. A vibrating zigzag of despair and confusion. I can't get a handle on it. I'm lost, adrift in my own misery, livid, trembling, incoherent. Loathesome and pitiful.

Og, what a rat-bastard week. I was diagnosed with depression a few months back, but this week I was taken off the medication I've been taking because of some weird (potential) side effects, and I've been in and out of clinics and labs all week gettings tests to find out if the symptoms are related to the drug and if not, what they are caused by. Meanwhile, stopping the drugs has been an experience not unlike triple PMS plus tax. Crying, random mood swings, boy o boy. Meanwhile, I've been fasting for several days for one of the tests, making me a grumpy spacecase. Meanwhile, our choir had our spring concert, which I attended despite my weak, weak state.

Ahhh. The concert was beautiful. We sang Rutter's hauntingly beautiful Requiem, and we damn well haunted the place. Oh, god, I love to sing. I had my last (I hope) test yesterday, so I can eat again. I had some soggy, overcooked perogies with chunky sour cream and stale bacon bits and 2 year old barbecue sauce, and god almighty was it the best meal of my life. Then I went to monsoon, a wonderful local restaurant, and had a very nice reintroduction to solid food. I've been exercising. Yay for me! Took a little break during my fast and while my leg was gimpy the gimpiest gimp in gimpland, but I'm going to ease my way back in to the swing of it. I saw a psychiatrist yesterday. He's a funny fellow, but he seems to have good advice. I'll take it.

I spent Walpurgisnacht washing bottles in preparation for my most recent batch of homebrew. This one was brewed from a base of wheat malt extract, with a little crystal malt (whole grain) for body. At the end of the boil, I threw in a few cinnamon sticks and a small handful of cloves. I am hoping that the spices will cover the banana-like smell that lurks in many wheat ales. The fermentation is still going steadily. It will be five weeks or so until we find out how it is.

Back home (in the ole' Communist Czechoslovakia), May 1 was a big holiday. Everyone gathered for a big parade. No one cared about the symbolism of the parade, but it somehow always happened to be a gorgeous day, and an occasion to socialize with friends many of whom you had not seen for a whole year.

Anyway, no such tradition here in the US.

But I did get out this morning even though I seem to be spending most of my time at home and by myself, as my diabetic neuropathy is getting worse and worse, and I have lost all feeling in both feet, which makes walking hard and dangerous (I am now at the point of having recently stepped on a staple injuring my foot sole, but not noticing it--just to wonder later on why I had two bitemarks there).

Of course, it was not a parade I went to, though at the end I was just as happy as I used to be at those parades, especially in my childhood.

Anyway, I take Glucophage, three 500 mg pills a day. If I did not, I would probably be dead (I was certainly very ill before the ER doctor discovered my diabetes.

Of course, I have no health insurance, and get paid near-minimum wage. And Glucophage is quite expensive. Luckily, Bristol-Meyers Squibb Company (BMS) is quite decent: They have a program for people too poor to afford Glucophage but not poor enough to have Uncle Sam pay for it.

I have to contact Pat at Rhinelander Medical Center. She is their patient advocate. She takes care of the paperwork, has Dr. Swank sign it, sends it to BMS, then calls me when the three-month supply arrives.

I always call her when I have one-month's worth of Glucophage left, as the whole process takes 3-4 weeks.

But somehow, this time I called her about a week late. She said she would take care of it, but this time I might need to sign the papers. If so, she'd contact me.

Well, she did contact me. By mail, unfortunately. In an attempt to make it easier on me, she mailed me the paperwork, highlighted what I needed to fill out, and enclosed an envelope.

For a normal person this would be easier than having to drive to the clinic. But not for me: I live on a rural road. My mail box is across the street. It is hard for me to walk to it. I only go there once in two-three weeks, usually when it is so full that the delivery person leaves its door open (I have told the Postmaster many times I was disabled, but the standard answer is it is up to the delivery person to decide whether to drop off anything at my door--alas, she even decides to place a "you weren't home" notice in the box even when I am home--which is almost always--even when I get registered mail from another Continent).

So, I have discovered the paperwork there, and I had only two pills left this morning. I drove to the clinic, gave the paperwork to Pat and told her about the problem.

She told me to go to Pam, Dr. Swank's nurse and see if she had any free samples. She did. She had just enough to last me for about a month. She said if I ran out of them before I get my regular supply, to come back. She gave me all she had, but by then she may have more.

I told her how happy I was because the prospect of not having Glucophage for a month was not too appealing. She just smiled and said Dr. Swank would never let that happen (Dr. Swank volunteers at the local free clinic a lot).

So, I suppose, you can see why this trip, while no parade, still felt like a big holiday!

i'm so tough, really. i'm sure i am. i am sure i don't care that people who mean everything to me can live without my presence so easily. i'm sure of it. really.

and it doesn't hurt at all, not at all.
Whoo-Hoo! Beltane! May Day! A day for fun, sitting in the sun, leaping the bonfires, and greeting a long-awaited summer. The earth is in bloom, fully awake, reaching it's yearly zenith on Midsummer, only to slide back towards the darkness of Samhain and Yule. But for now, we are in the Golden Age, basking in the sun's glory.

Beltane is the perfect time for joy, happiness, peace, and sex. Especially sex.

Watching the news right now on the May Day protest in London. The media has featured ridiculously hyped stories about 'secret anarchist organisations' and 'armed organised gangs of eco-warriors', all primed up to invade the city, which has resulted in the largest number of police I've seen since 1990's poll tax demo. They've managed to contain the protest, preventing any damage to Nike Town and its ilk, and the remaining protesters are as I write all jammed into Oxford Circus, cold and wet and probably gagging for a wee. Most shots show the protesters as skipping loonies or dodgy thugs with funny haircuts. The usual stuff.

One thing strikes me particularly here: where the hell have all these police come from? You never see police on the streets any more in London: it's rare to spot cops on the beat outside the West End, and as the stats on muggings in Leicester Square and the surrounding area show, there aren't any round there when you want them. When my family were burgled last year it took hours for police to arrive on the scene. The media, until very recently, were bleating heavily about the lack of police on the streets and the recruitment crisis. So how come thousands and thousands of police are currently out in the city? And how much crime has there consequently been elsewhere?

By some odd coincidence, there's a national general election planned in a few weeks' time. Big business, having been saved from damage by all these miraculous instant police, will presumably now keep the government in power for another term. The opposing party, purveyors of an even more noxious form of capitalism, splatter the city with posters. YOU PAID YOUR TAX (insert picture of worried old lady) SO WHERE ARE THE POLICE? and other such questions which we all ask, but which the Tories are unlikely to give us any answers to. Last week our current Labour government, according to the Metro paper, got a little wrist slap for spending £62 million (no, that's not a typing error) on advertising to combat it. Meanwhile, teachers strike and there are 94 kids in one class; doctors strike; the tube workers threaten another strike; the farming industry is in ruins, and it seems there are only police when something more important than ordinary people is threatened.

And somehow there are still people out there - probably even in here - who think that voting for one side or the other is going to change anything. Protest may not seem to achieve much. But you have to admire the protesters for at least getting off their arses to do something.

For more comprehensive news coverage of the protest try http://uk.indymedia.org/

Strange things happen to those with class. Two nights ago while at a bar, I saw a girl with a group of people. She wasn't with anyone there, so I mosied over and offered to buy her a drink (cliche, but it's a fucking bar). She accepted so I sat down with her.....got the name she got mine. Eventually, I asked her if she had a man. Shot down, that's OK...I said something cheesy, said it was nice to meet her, and told her she could join my friends and I at the pool table.

She didn't.....

Last night, I'm at the same bar shooting pool with a couple people, we've all got a good amount of Blue Vs in us. Everything is moving in slow motion. Out of nowhere, someone hugs me from the back, covers my eyes , and asks, "Guess Who?" I didn't recognize the perfume, but she held me with a nice firm grip. I turned around to find the girl from the previous night. She looks at me with these dark brown eyes while her cheeks rise up to form such a comfortable smile. Right as I'm about to say something back, another person hugs me from the back and covers my eyes. With the same question asked, I was baffled.....different perfume and a voice I've never heard. I turn around to find a really cute girl whos asks, "This is the guy from last night? Well I approve." The two girls hugged each other and started kissing. My "what the fuck look" made them both laugh wildly. I offered them a drink and came back with three Pacifico's.

There is a scene in Chasing Amy where Jason Lee and Joey Lauren Adams discuss going down on women. For roughly an hour, the three of us spoke in the same type of conversation. We all compared techniques, I got a few pointers but told them I hold my own. So I got berrated for that, they needed an explanation. So the simple fact I listen and respond to different moans and body movements with each thing I do, and knowing that every girl is different. I guess I passed their test or something for they started sharing tricks of the trade. I never really thought of using my nose, I always exploited a softly shaven gotee(for which I got props.) Anyway, I've got a big ole grin today, they're bisexual actually, I didn't even attempt a suggestion. Instead, I took them back to my house and we smoked a joint. Nothing like a finely rolled spliff after a thorough conversation about eating pussy.

New parenting...hmmm. Half the days I'm on top of the world. The other half, I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller.

Yesterday was a top of the world day. M kicked me out of the house in the afternoon. With 120 ml (1 1/2 feedings worth) of expressed milk in the fridge, we felt it was time to try B on the bottle. The standard condition for introducing a bottle is that "breastfeeding is well established", to avoid nipple confusion. With B, breastfeeding has been established since Day 1.

So I went out shopping. We're going to a wedding in 3 weeks or so, and I haven't a thing to wear at this size (I've lost about 15 pounds since the birth, but there's at least twice that to go). I didn't want to spend too much, since I do not intend the clothing to fit for long. The additional complication, of course, is that whatever I wear has to be suitable for breastfeeding. So it either needs to be a 2-piece garment so the shirt can be raised, or it must button up the front.

Didn't find anything. Some of that is because I don't like my current size, so everything I tried on looked awful. So I went to the tanning salon, which gave me the sort of lift that only bright light can.

Came home to find B doing just fine. I knew M would have called if the Source of All Milk was needed at home, but it was good to see the baby sleepy and well-fed. When he woke up and nursed without any objection, I was even more delighted. Now if I can persuade M to do the late night feeding, I can sleep through the night sometime! Wow.

Today was a steamroller day. Not enough sleep last night, plus the exertions of shopping to recover from. When B didn't settle again after food at 6am, I apparently got really grumpy (I have no memory of this - I was talking in my sleep). M took him into the guest room to fuss, and I got a few more hours' rest.

Still felt shattered today. But the weather was so nice that we went out for a walk. There were errands to run - posting the Child Benefit claim form, registering B with the local doctor's surgery, getting some food. In addition, we went by the two nurseries nearest the house, to scout them out for when I go back to work.

The first one, Mother Goose, is in a fairly small house right next to the surgery. There are 3 rooms, one for babies, one for toddlers, and one for pre-school age kids, plus a back garden for good days. We were by right at midday, when the half day kids are coming and going, so there was lots of tiny traffic (plus parents). The place felt...happy. All of the kids were bright and active, the carers were friendly and cheerful...we just liked it. In some ways, it reminded me of Louise's, the place we used to take my younger brother and sister, though (unlike Louise), all the carers were sighted.

The other one, The Little Drummer, was larger but more...austere. I didn't feel comfortable talking to the staff (though they were as attentive to B as I could wish). The kids were more solemn. The vibe wasn't bad - it just wasn't as warm and delightful as Mother Goose. I think our choice is made.

Then an added bonus - at the supermarket, we ran into a woman I wanted to look up. She came to the breastfeeding workshop in my antenatal class, and lives around the corner from us. Her son is 4 months old. Useful to know another new parent nearby (but amazing how much babies grow in 4 months!).

Tomorrow...who knows?

My third daylog ever. Third time's the charm. This time I am not going to rant about anything. I am not going to lose my temper. I will not yell and scream. I will not throw things at the monitor this time. I will not do an evil, hateful, bile-filled core dump of my negative emotions into this little white box on my screen. I will be good, all sweetness and light.

I know I should not node about noding, but I have been thinking a lot about noding, and about E2, and since this is my daylog, I wanted to write out some of the things that have been going through my mind about this place. If I am still around here a year from now, I'm sure I will have a much different and wiser perspective on this place than I do now. It might be cool to look back and see how I was thinking when I was still trying to become oriented.

I realized today that I could probably spend every waking moment reading and voting on E2, day in and day out, and it would take months and months, maybe years, before I got around to reading all the good stuff. Even if I spent the time to read 10 days worth of old daylogs every day, how long would it take to read them all? The more I read, the more stuff would be added, so I might never catch up. So many ideas, so little time. I wonder why books don't do the same thing for me. Everything is a living novel. I can hear it breathing, and feel the beat of its heart. Sometimes I can almost hear the sound of its many, many voices. It excites me, and frightens me. It makes me want more.

I think the best thing about writing a really good node is the response you get from other noders that like it. I don't mean upvotes or C!s, though those are very cool. I like the /msgs best. I have found some really cool writeups just because someone said "Thanks" or "Hi, nice work", and I went to their home node to find out about them. And when I see the kinds of things that they write, it makes me want to write better. It makes me want to spend my votes wisely, and reward those who are trying hard like me, and those who really nailed it. I like it best when I find a noder who doesn't have very many writeups, but almost all of them are Ching!ed. They are special because they "got it" right after they walked in the door, and weren't distracted by all the noise like I was. Along with the gods and editors, they help form the bedrock that keep this place from turning into a bathroom stall in a frat house.

I don't like downvotes. I don't give them out except to newbies who come here and fire off some garbage without even knowing where they are. It's like somebody breaking into your home and spray painting graffiti on your walls. A downvote should be reserved as a rap on the head to say "You're fucking up, you should know better! Learn why this is wrong or get out of our house!" I think downvotes are abused for a lot of reasons. But I wouldn't get rid of them, because just like IRL, people have an equal potential to do good or evil. You have to give them the choice.

Time seems to move slowly here, and I don't mean the nefarious lag. It just seems like I'm here every day now and I'm not finding out about this place fast enough. The more I see, the more I want to see, and the suspense is killing me! I check on other noders that joined about the same time as me, and compare their progress and their nodes to mine. Some of them are prolific writers and are burning a path to godhead, and some have wandered off and probably won't return. And I suspect that a lot are just like me, still trying to get my bearings and regain that writer's ability that I had when I was in school. They say that if you don't use it, you lose it - it's true for most things. Being able to write is like being able to think. If you stop doing it for a long time, you kind of forget how it's done. But the more you practice, the more you remember.

And the lights are coming back on.

_________________________

My potted poinsettia that I bought before Christmas is still hanging on. I keep watering it a few times a week, and it keeps blooming and getting new leaves. I open the blinds in the morning so it gets some direct sunlight in the afternoon before I get home from work. My mom said her poinsettia was dead by the second week in January. I wonder what I'm doing right. Maybe I just didn't give up.

Shredding the day's night's endless waking with a vengeance and turning to the west with a halfhearted snicker I pour the contents of my skull into the stress bin and witness the crucible of former fantasies twisting the fated destruction into a sinister pattern of unwelcome deceit which engulfs my beliefs in an empty but flirty shroud of ennui digust and doubt. Pasts without futures spew forth remnants of suicide note love letters replete with mercurial subjectivity and starving children who stare at me with wide eyes and deserted homes as they poison the scraps of food they discover so that they can watch the greedy asphixiate in their hands while they dream of a loving afterlife. The elderly man was just fourteen years old so he draws a memorial to the passage of time on his casket and grants the wind the status of a living being so that mothers and children will surrunder to the forgetting of their existence and not waste themselves upon the shores of a sea of the mundane which keeps them transfixed long enough to miss the beauty of their collective loss. "A pity" he thinks as he slits his wrists and ends up on life support on Sweeps Week on television while a small crew of junkies and rapists tape his last breath and go to the drug store for condoms and smokes. The Dad's love for the Mom keeps him alive, but the Mom's been dead for twenty years and died hating him. I sleep cause I can't eat.

These are the visions and words which fill my empty moments so I take great pains and medicines to keep them to a minimum. It sucks, but what would you do? I'm not sad, but I'm questioning.

I was going to join the demonstrationss, and I did briefly, but I'm afraid I chickened out. Although I've for a long time felt a lot of the protesters were silly, or misguided, or in some cases evil, nevertheless this is in my blood. My grandfather marched from Aldermaston, my parents were keeping the faith at every CND march, so the least I could do is lob a few bricks at yuppies?

I don't mean that seriously, by the way. I despise the violence. But I'd always hoped it was nothing more than a media exaggeration. Well, perhaps it is: I still don't know. I was only in one march for a short time. It wasn't violence that made me give up, it was the sheer silliness of it all. A few old-time trades union people under their elaborate banners; then twenty minutes of Turkish or Kurdish Marksist Leninist Komunist Party in their red bandannas and red flags and pictures of torture victime. We KNOW what it's like in Turkish jails! We know they torture people! But we also know it's only ever going to be resolved by dilpomacy, not these exiles' sad marches with their little children holding up banners.

M supported me. She took time off and joined me at the station because I felt a fool walking alone when I didn't know anyone. The Turkish guys were nice when they made simple gestures of niceness to me. They British leftists didn't seem to have the same sort of hearts in the right place. I felt I was betraying my family and my life feeling this. I hate the multinationals as much as the next person, but May Day rallies suddenly seemed so deluded and pointless.

M supported me when we were walking. Then when I said I wanted to get out, slip away, just blend into the shoppers, she supported me. No narky comments. No raised eyebrows. Just the solid love and honesty I've come to expect from her: if I felt that way, she'd help. So we left. We went shopping (as we had half a day off). We got some nice things at some nice shops. All very peaceful and civilised.

I still don't know whether I'm a cowardly appeaser or an intelligently pragmatic selective boycotter. Thankfully, with M's help, I don't have to worry so much about other people's opinions. It's only two consciences I have to square.

"Rabbit rabbit" she spoke swiftly before her feet hit the floor first thing in the morning.

So, this is my first daylog, so, forgive me if it plainly sucks.

Having said that, now I can get into the good stuff. Well, not really good. Today has been a very odd day. Translucence has made its beauty known during this slightly windy day.

Tomorrow is dead day, the day before finals begin. It is very difficult for me to believe that in ten days this will all be a thing of my past. My first year of college, Nashville, freedom. Sure, I will keep my memories of times spent and friends made, but, this will be a different chapter in my life. I am not too sure where I am heading after this, but I feel something today urging me on to find out what it is that I am rushing toward.

This is a terrible place, this Nashville because it sucks you into it. It's people are friendly and welcoming. For some strange reason, I was magnetized toward thier love and comfort this time. Me, normally cold and removed, tried to reach out this time and was met with outstretched arms, plenty of ears to listen whenever I actually felt like talking, and friends to cart me around with them in order to keep me and them company.

So, today, I don't feel like leaving here while I am still running faster than I thought I would ever run from a place. Thank you for making me feel welcome. Thank you for letting me take residence in your city. I will actually miss you.

I have a group project due in my Economics class tomorrow. There's 2 other people in the group, one of which had "work" this afternoon, leaving only me and the other person, Audie.

We decided that she'd pick me up and we'd go get a friend of hers, then go to Jim's (a restaraunt) and get the project done.

It turns out that Audie had never been to her friends' place before, so she hands me her cell phone and tells me to take down the directions that the girl is giving. I soon realize after the second or third, "Umm, did I say take a left at Judson? I meant take a right at the second street.", that the girl didn't know quite what she was doing. I got one street name (Bitter Creek) as the street she lived on, and the rest was relative location and turns.

We get to the neighborhood, and it turns out that it's full of dead-ends and badly named streets. We take every left and right according to the directions, and end up at a "Fox Creek". There's a "Silver Creek", a "Flowing Creek", hell, there's even a "Lost Creek", but to our disappointment and growing unrest, no Bitter Creek in sight. We start asking the neighborhood locals if they know where a Bitter Creek is, and nobody seems to have a clue. We circle around a few more minutes, then as a last ditch effort ask a woman who is mowing her lawn where Bitter Creek is. She walks to her car and pulls out a map (Genius!), and we find that Bitter Creek is nowhere near where the girl had said it would be. Well, to make this story short, we only got lost one more time (getting out of that god-awful neighborhood) and finally made it to the girl's house.

By this time it was about 5:20, and I had called my boyfriend to meet us up at the restaraunt at 5:00. We got there and he was waiting out front. The four of us walk inside and grab the large corner booth of the smoking section (only one smoker among us). The waitress comes and the unanimous order is water all around.

We start to work on the project as I'm throwing out ideas and figuring out how to illustrate and write the thing out (By the by, the subject was taxes). We used two menus to do our measuring when it came to mapping out a graph (as nobody had a ruler or a decent straight edge). It went something like this, "Does your menu come up to Jim's Bar-b-que Burger or the Classic BLT?" "Ok, yeah, draw the line right past the dessert menu. After the chocolate shakes." The waitress looked at us like we were crazy.

After four more hours of writing, trashing, coloring, and utter scrutiny, we put together a decent project worthy of a decent reception. The only problem that I have with all of this, is that we're putting somebody's name on there that had nothing to do with it. Freeloaders, such is life I suppose. But I am glad for the day and the interesting events it brought me.

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