Today is another day.

I've spent the past two days inundated by the media, keeping track of which datum appeared on which network, while also monitoring a large network of servers.

I've lost one. That's one, at one degree of separation. At two degrees of separation, I know of 4 already. The one who was on floor 102 of one of the towers, knew he wouldn't get out, and called his wife to spend his last minutes alive on the phone with her - while she could watch the tower on TV - was heartrending. I can only imagine her loss as the phone went dead as the tower collapsed.

There are still a half-dozen former co-workers who haven't checked into the mailing list we maintain; we are praying for them.

I'd guess most of us have at least one person at two degrees of separation. Possibly more. That's why the whole country is howling for blood, I suppose. I am too, but I would have been even if I didn't know anyone. I could ask why, but I know why. Why is because people are weak.

When I started this, I didn't want to talk about what I've been feeling the last two days. I wanted to talk about anything else, but lately, everything comes back to this. I could talk about my upcoming trip to California (oh, wait, when will I fly? I was supposed to be on the plane today), or something else, but everything has been derailed.

Good luck to those still hanging on under the rubble. Good luck to those who haven't found their loved ones.

/me misses Danny

I teach school, 6th, 7th and 8th grade, in Marin County, an upscale area just north of San Francisco and the Golden Gate. School has been surreal since I arrived at work on the 11th.

It was a day I would never have imagined having to do, not in my wildest dreams. As a teacher, it was my job yesterday to talk to our kids, to try and help them to make sense of this event. Explaining morality, why we do not negotiate with terrorists, what an act of terror is, and why ... not to mention how we proceed, how to discern information from rumor, what are reasonable and unreasonable fears and precautions... and so on. The kids asked me about germ warfare, about atomic weapons, about Islam and domestic terror, about possible targets in the Bay Area, about where they'd sleep if the bridges were closed and their parents could not get home. When was I licensed for this job? When did the mores of my heart and mind become the basis for interpretation of reality to these children? Did the state forsee this sort of lesson?

It was all day, and all day today. The casualties are starting to be recognized, and my students are begining to tell me of cousins, uncles, family friends dead, and many others missing. I can see that the fingers of this damage are reaching slowly across the country, and will touch our kids more seriously in the weeks to come. For the moment we are isolated, insulated from the immediacy of death and destruction, but this day has changed our lives, and the psyches of our children, forever. This is not what they prep you for in Liberal Studies classes.

The things I keep having to say to my friends and family to describe these days have been like words spoken by someone else, another. It's not that the words are wrong, or not expressive of my mind, but that I would have to say them. That I would have to say them.

I've been arguing with a long-time friend of mine and fellow Everythingian about the future of freedom in the United States...

He was in a lecture today with about 120 students, and the professor asked who among them would give up significant personal freedoms to feel more secure.

Half the class raised their hands, uttering things like, "totally."

Congressmen on the tee-vee have been saying things like "I would support legislation that provides security in exchange for personal freedom." Halspal informs me that this is in the context of tightening airport security a few years ago, which makes me feel slightly better.

Still, jumping Jesus on a pogo stick... Half the class? Assuming this isn't some fluke, and, by extension, half the nation would raise their hands and say "I'd give up my personal freedoms to feel secure" does not make me feel confident about my fellow Americans. Well, not that half of them, anyway...

I'm sorry, but, living in the midwest as I do, I really don't feel any more directly threatened by terrorists today than I did last weekend. That's not very smart. Even I think that. But what I think, and what I feel are different. This upsets me deeply. Time for some serious introspection.

I don't want to go further on some political rant. Not even in a daylog. I'll leave that to professionals, like Michael Moore.

But I will not say, "Baaa."

In other news:

The literary magazine I edit has found a new printer who will give us higher quality at lower prices and a faster turn-around time.

I am one step closer to getting that internship at Argonne National Laboratories.

I like dance class. So much so that I'm going to go out and buy me some dancin' shoes tomorrow.

Today was strange, no kidding. School went by as normal... or as normal as it can be after something like this. But after school I was on my way to Tower Records to get the new Bob Dylan album. On the way there, it started to rain. The sun was still shining, the rain clouds had not blocked it out. This isn't something that had never happened before, but it's still always strange. The rain drop were cold, like winter drops, in the 100+ degree Arizona weather. They would evaporate literally seconds after hitting the ground.

I got the album, the Limited Edition one, with an extra disc which has "I Was Young When I Left Home" and an alternate version of "The Times, They Are A-Changin'"

We listened to "The Times They Are A-Changin'" as we pulled into another plaza, but left the player running as we got out of the car. There were two rainbows out, one right above the other and slightly faded, the other one bright as anything. We stared at them as Dylan played in the background.

The lyrics have stayed with me all day. It was just one of those perfect melancholy moments.

Listen to the song or read the lyrics to it. How fitting.

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."
Benjamin Franklin, Historical Review of Pennsylvania, 1759.

I am still in shock at the horrific events of the past 36 hours, at the overwhelming loss and awful impact on so many innocent people. The attack on the World Trade Center has left me confused, uncertain of the future of the world. I've watched with a real sense of anxiety the powerful figures lining up on TV to espouse, advertise and almost celebrate the "irreversable change" that this atrocity has generated. President Bush has asked for, and may well get a blank check to spend on bringing the terrorists to whatever justice he wishes to dispense.

I am fearful of the long term consequences. When the leaders of the most powerful nation on earth talk about limiting freedom, that scares me immensely. It worries me that the erosion of the liberty of the US citizen won't stop at the airport or train station. Will stop and searches become more common? Will non-governmental agencies now have the right to demand identification from anyone who crosses their path? Will face-recognising closed-circuit cameras become the norm, as they have in some parts of London in the UK? Will any agency or organisation have the right to compile a record of your movements and prevent your travel if you fit a profile of suspicion? Will the sort of detentions that the UK's Prevention of Terrorism act legalised become commonplace in the USA? Will other parties, such as the RIAA or the anti-drug or anti-abortion supporters, piggyback their interests onto the laws that are sure to be passed in the wake of this crisis.

I'm not an American, yet. I'm an immigrant, from the UK. I don't know whether to stand when the US national anthem is played, and I feel strange when I refer to "our response" to this evil act. I feel disgust when elected representatives of the US people appear on TV and say that no more immigration should be allowed. That the USA should close it's borders, should treat everyone outside as evil. That the USA should invade every Arab or middle eastern nation on Earth. That they should do it now.

This isn't my main worry. None of this really impacts upon my psyche as much as the knowledge that we have hard times ahead. I am completely certain that the economic recession will hit the USA and the world hard. I am sure that we will feel the repercussions of September 11, 2001 for years, if not decades to come. We won't do anything except focus on retribution and anger, instead we should try to do what we can to lessen the hardship ahead.

I admit, it's a completely selfish attitude to take. I'm angry and saddened that mine and my wife's plans for children, for a happy life together, for a house, friends and laughter, that those plans are now on hold indefinitely because a group of people decided to kill US citizens.

It's been forever since my last daylog, so this will be a bit of an update.

First off, I'd like to give my condolences to any friends of hermetic. I myself did not know him, but I know he was friend to many and loved by many, and my thoughts and prayers will be with his family.

I would also like to send similar thoughts to those who knew anyone affected by the New York and DC tragedy (all of us in other words). I myself have a friend at NYU, who is fine but very shook up, and I hope he is ok.

Now that all the sadness is taken care of, I would love to describe the wonderfully happy week I've had (as of a week ago yesterday), not to draw light from the series of happenings Tuesday, but someone has to be happy right?

On Tuesday I met an incredible woman - Kristin (not the one mentioned on July 8, 2001 or August 14, 2001). She's about 6 months younger than me with gorgeous blonde hair, smooth skin, and beautiful slate gray eyes. On top of all this, she's frighteningly smart (1590 SAT, I don't really care, but damn it's impressive ain't it?). After knowing her a week we're already officially at "boyfriend/girlfriend" status (we kinda skipped dating entirely and just went on mutual attraction).

Friday night, after watching a few foreign films at a festival we attended on campus, we kissed. It was my, and - as I later found out - her(s?), first kiss and it was amazing (as were the hundred some odd that followed in the next day or two).

The only downside to this is that I got a little behind in classes by ignoring them to be with her. So I have to play a little catch up in Physics, Cal II, and American History - especially if I'm going to go with her to this anime-fest thing she wants me to go to.

On a technical note - I have fixed all problems with my DVD player. As mentioned on August 21, 2001, my new motherboard was having odd conflicts with my Ricoh CDRW/DVD drive. These have been fixed with a simple update patch which I received after my network was fixed today around noon. I don't know WHY it started working, I simply uninstalled my NIC and reinstalled it and the school's network allows me access now. I don't understand it, but then again I don't care. I'm just glad to be back with the E2 community after 3 weeks of computer solitude :)

I am also in the market for a new burner (probably a QPS 24X16X40, maybe a DVD-RAM if I feel like splurging) and I'll give an update on that when it is purchased.

That's all for now, my physics homework beckons. Life on campus may have stopped on Tuesday (all classes were canceled per the university chancellor's orders), but it's back in full force now.

Farewell all, and once again - keep in your thoughts those affected by the terrorist acts that have been brought against our nation (USA). Take heart in the fact they may have hurt us, but we won't be taken by surprise again. Attacking the world's most powerful country is never a good idea.

I am still sick. Sicker and sicker, in fact... I have come down with the obligatory sinus infection that always follows any remotely sinus-related malady of mine, like a hurricane after a shower.

I spoke with Joel today... he was on the north end of the island, packing some things from his apartment before exiting the city again. He didn't sound strained and alien, like he did last night, but... very grim. He said that the wind was blowing northwards, and carrying the smell from the south end of the island up to where he was.

My mother has already sent me a few Nostradamus quatrains to debunk for the benefit of her friends.

I fear that S is having a rough time of it right now... his parents, as far as I know, are still living in Saudi. I have to restrain myself from telling him, "Tell them to get the hell out of there!! America is going to fall on that region like a tree trunk, they have got to go NOW!" What right do I have to tell him that his parents should leave their home?

I wore black today. A quiet voice in my mind warned me that it might be a little offensive, considering I hadn't lost any family members or close friends. No color suited, though. I kept thinking about the videos and pictures of the New Yorkers, and a single thought echoed over and over again my mind, Those are OUR New Yorkers. I recognized each of them without ever having seen them before. I could not wear color, my countrymen have been massacred.

I do not believe in vengeance, but I'll go ahead and admit right now that it's only because I don't find it tempting. I do believe in prevention, and the fact is, if your foe is willing to die to kill you, the only possible way to stop them from doing so is to kill them first. If someone else can think of a better idea, I'm all ears... because the idea of our entire country hunting down and martyring a small group of zealots (let's face it, you can't kill zealots, you can only martyr them) doesn't appeal to me, even if they are guilty.

I feel that the country is sick, like I am. All of our medics and emergency personnel are rushing to the wounds, like white blood cells en masse. The brain is dizzy and confused. The body of the country is not eating, sleeping, working... it is functioning at a minimal level, while it works to heal the horrible damage. I am not ashamed to say this, and I don't think that it means the terrorists have won.

I do think that it means we need to be patient with ourselves, and wait until the brain of the body is fully functional again before making big decisions that could make us sicker...

But, then, I'm feverish and confused myself.

And frightened.

Well, it's been quite a while sence I've written a day log, so I thought, "Why not now?"

Life has been pretty uneventful. Well, I mean with out the September 11th "Modern Day Pearl Harbor" and all. I graduated in June, yeah, and I went to New Orleans, ( Note to New Orleans Noders: I applaud you for putting up with the summer time humidity...) in late July. After that trip, I began to work 30 hour days and 'begin' a life for myself before I left to the United States Air Force. Some life, working all day, eating Ramen 90% of my meals, and surfing all night... the web that is. Atempting to start video encoding, my first try was on "Umbreakable". Funny try though. It was to be a DVD rip.... it came out as a 453Mb, no audio, piece of s***. I'll try again later. I still have no $$$ even after working so much. It just funnels everywhere but my wallet. Oh, well, I guess that's life.

That brings me to, well, today. I knew no one in NYC... and well I do hate to see acts of terrorism, it didn't hit me as hard as I thought it would. My buddy claims that he knew something was going to happen on Monday... not that the action was to happen, just that he had the knowledge then. He knew because he happened to live in Afghanistan and gained missionary friends there. He got a phone call on Sunday from them saying that if they don't leave the country by Monday, they will be killed. They left ofcourse, but they knew something was wrong. So did my friend. It's just sad to know that for atleast 5 years, that there will be no WTC Towers in NYC... that's sad for me because I think of places by their landmarks, and there's two less in New York now. (I've already herd rebuild plans for them.)

On lighter news... I've vowed a new leaf on E2. After finially caught for a massive NFN crime, I'm back to level 3 with 2 C!'s left over, and I'm ready to reach level 6 again with Zero snapfo's. I've also devoloped the new Online alias 'Xero' and I hope that I could have Nate change my name... again... that is if it's not too much trouble. Oh well. I also hope that this name has not been, overly used?

I am reminded of another thought..... we, the generation-Xer's have now lived through a large, 'World Desaster', if you will. The tapes that we viewed Live about the WTC Towers will be shown for years and years to come... I think its just wierd that stuff I watched live will be shown when I'm a grandpa.... just wierd...

P.S. I'm connected to AOL at 60k and still not getting bandwidth...


Happy Birthday, Marlene. Wherever you are. [I haven't seen her in about seven years :(]

I just sent this letter to Nolan.

Hi, Nolan.

I wanted to let you know that I plan to stop my therapy with Joanna tomorrow (unless I totally wimp out -- it will be hard). It's become somewhat repetitive, and I don't think much is happening. Though I've made some real progress in the last six months -- more than probably anyone realizes, except for WolfDaddy, with whom I've shared almost everything -- I would say that it is, for the most part, external change in a sense. You said once that you think I need to be able to be happy with myself before I try to be with someone else, and I don't know that I've changed much in that regard, although, while I know what you mean from a self-esteem point of view and things like that, I'm not so sure that I am unable to have a successful close relationship. (And while I don't want to sabotage my efforts, I am 40 years old after all; I don't have forever to get things in order.) Nonetheless, I think about that every day, because I value your opinion greatly. And, while I have to say that I've been doing all this "for me" so as not to offend the self-esteem police, I really want you to be proud of me as well.

I'm not unhappy with how things have gone with Joanna (and I very much appreciate you suggesting therapy, and connecting me up with her). Even if there haven't been changes deep down, or amazing secrets revealed [I got nothing out of the Bradshaw work that I did :)], she did presumably have something to do with the social progress I've made. Starting with talking to strangers a little bit, and my attempts at socializing with Rebecca (the Red Robin waitress), up through taking a dance class. But I think I can continue on that path without her, and I don't know that anything would ever happen along the other direction.

Perhaps most significantly, she made me look at my relationship with you differently ("the friendship test"). While I obviously still wish I could be the person you want to share your life with, I think I'm dealing with it, and you, better on a day to day basis; even through the couple of times that it was uncomfortable (and during which you were so mature and patient -- I wish you could know how much I respect you for that). In fact, though it's still a bit difficult, I was actually going to tell you all this not via a letter, but you weren't home when I called. As usual, of course, I think it's more coherent having been written down. :)

I don't mean to sound like I'm asking your permission; I just hope you're not disappointed in me, or think that I'm giving up. (In fact, I have a date Sunday with a woman I was talking to (okay, she started the talking, but I contacted her and asked to see her again) at Tony's party!)

See ya, my friend

Tonight my family and I went to a nearby lake, half because it was lovely at twilight, half because we needed an escape. I still find it hard to maintain any degree of joviality after what happened yesterday. "How can I be happy?" I asked myself. It seems such a selfish endeavor. Why should I have joy when thousands, millions of people mourn such a great loss. My facade is inneffective, I am sad within.

I was mulling over it by the waterside when a young girl came up to my dad and asked for a lesson on how to skip rocks. Her innocence touches me as deep as the tragedy that surrounds me. Her mother came to take her swimming, her mother knew it would be too cold, she was escaping, just as I was. She gave this little girl her wish, knowing the fragility of life. Knowing that that would be a memory. And memories are sometimes all we have.
She got to swim, and she learned to skip rocks, I can't think of a better way to spend an evening.

I've been meaning to write about this for a while. I don't know if there is a node about it already or not, but I am still pretty bad at finding what I am looking for on e2. So, I am going to put it in a daylog. Forgive me.

My father is a public safety officer.

No, that doesn't mean he's a rent a cop. He is a real cop, carries a real gun. Yes, he arrests people. He is a real fireman, too. He puts out fires. You see, in our town, you have to be both. You also have to know everything the paramedics know.
On top of this, he is on the Hazmat Team for our city. He deals with chemical spills and suchlike. He is also a teacher in terrorist prevention, "Terrorist Prevention Instructor for Law Enforcement."

All my life, I've heard things such as below:
are cops completely fucking useless?
i just got fucked over by the cops
cops are stupid
fuck tha police
why some cops are completely fucking useless.
Not to mention, I was teased and taunted by the kids in my high school. They called me Bacon Bits because it was so funny to them that my father was a cop. They couldn't fathom that he was also a firefighter, though I tried to explain it to them on numerous ocassions. I felt ashamed. Ashamed that my father was a cop. To everyone around me, that is all he was. And I was the daughter of a cop. No one wanted to be my friend because they thought I would snitch on them.

September 11, 2001. We have lost 300+ firefighters. We have lost 80+ cops. And numerous other lifesavers.

I hope, I honestly hope that after this you will all realize why there are cops. Why there are firefighters.

They are here to save your asses

Though we don't live in NY, something like that could happen here. That could be my father. He could die. He puts his life on the line to save people... the same people that call him pig, bacon, useless. I am proud of you, father.

Well this has certainly been the oddest (and arguably the worst) week of my life.

Hermetic on Monday

The NYC/Pentagon terrorism on Tuesday

And today, as it directly affects my life, so far has taken the cake

Not that Hermetic and The terrorist bombings didn't affect me, or that they were unimportant, just that I barely knew Hermetic, and I didn't know anyone in the world trade center

Perhaps I should explain a little. (here we go...)

There's this girl. Her name is unimportant, but regardless, there's a girl. I've known her for years now. I kind of liked her for a while, and we sort of fooled around, but nothing too intense. Flash forward a year or two. I fall in love with her. Like, not just a crush... (After a short while of concideration, but not long enough) I tell her this, while she's dating some guy. No Response... oops!
It takes a while, but eventually I push the thoughts out of my mind (or at least out of my current view).
A few months later. This is where today comes in. We were out for coffee (as we often do) and we're talking about life (as we often do) and in that conversation, she ends up disclosing to me that when she was nine, she was raped by a 17 year old.

dot dot
How do you respond to something like that? All I could come up with is to hug her... I feel SOOO horrible

I think now I'm going to cry...

I don't want to wake up to see what tomorrow holds in store for me

Ryan, if you figgure out who it is, PLEASE don't say anything
day 2.. here's the windup!

we all knew someone who knew someone who knew someone that was involved. its like the kevin bacon game. whats your 'Bin Laden' number? mine is three. do I hear a two? or a one?

as the body count rises, i can't help but think of what will happen next. NATO has full support of any retaliation, and we already have a top 50 wishlist of people to get...

"Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld taped a message to U.S. troops: 'More -- much more -- will be asked of you in the weeks and months ahead. This is especially true of those who are in the field.'"

If you have a loved one in the armed forces, please go today and spend time with them, while you still can. Tell them "I love you" and "I care about you"...

Oh, how I wish I could hug my 4 year old sister right now and tell her that everything will be alright.. everything will be alright.. i don't want to lie to her though. tears may be the only way to get my point across.


Today (Yesterday) I conducted my first performance experiment in my upper division new genres art class. The class was just finishing the crit of Ricci's absolutely amazing video, when a terrible beeping began. It was a Radio Shack extra loud alarm clock locked in a box, and when the class got around to checking it out, and unplugged it, the backup battery kicked in and it kept going. The project consisted of a series of puzzles they had to solve to get the box open to shut off the alarm, and then to get out of the classroom (an accomplice had barred them in). They eventually got antsy, with Jessica complaining that she had to pee so badly that it hurt, that I let them out before they finished. I'm kind of upset at her for that; if I had done a "normal" performance piece, she would have walked out either during the performance or during the crit, both of which are directly insulting to the artist (me).

In my acting workshop, a girl I know (hers is the third to last vagina I've touched, if I remember the order of everything correctly), announced, for what I considered to be more than adequate reasons, that she had been raped in May. It did not change my Crowley-style anarchism, but it did convince me more thoroughly that I must tack on a "crypto-" if I don't want to lose social capital. I felt sorry for her and I wanted to express my sympathy and gratefulness for her bravery and sharing with us, but I had to go after class to pay rent for the co-ops, so I couldn't.

Design was frustrating today. I spent the whole time trying to find a house in Amber's face, and I eventually came up with the beginnings of a design, but it was much harder than the automatic drawing that we did for the teapot and cup exercise. I am more attracted than ever to Aja, and my critical mind is throwing its hands up in the air. Physically, she is exactly what society tells me to be attracted to. Consciousness of the mechanisms of control, and opposition to them in theory, does not free me from their influence.

Then, for three hours I played poker at the Convent. Ed, Gidon, Ivan, and I were the nucleus of the game, and Dave and an Israeli (Asi?) played some too. 5-card draw, of course, but also seven card stud, hi-lo (of various stripes, Omaha, headlight, Iron Cross, and Texas Hold 'em. We played penny ante, although it was rare that the pot was below a dollar or so. I lost four dollars right away and gradually won it back, so that I ended almost $1.50 ahead.

A bowl of coffee ice cream, and now home to Al Bowker's place, a daylog, and I'll be going to bed soon. I have class all day tomorrow, and plenty to do afterwards. I should be asleep already.


I didn't want to daylog again so soon, but I need to get this out of my system before I can write anything else; you see--

I read the news, today, oh boy.

Well, no--I read it on Tuesday morning, after returning home from work, turning on the TV to watch a piece of the world burn and collapse, and logging into E2. Too much in 5 minutes...all at once.

I'm new here. I didn't know Hermetic.

He C!ed my black, sarcastic write-up about employee/management communications. I wondered, as usual, if this was a sign of personal taste or just the need to use a C!.

I didn't know his real name.

His day log bothered me, but I kidded myself that Everything is a Community was a sign of hope, and wrote him a supportive message. He replied with a silly note about my name.

I didn't know he was just rehearsing his valediction.

You son of a bitch.

I don't want to write anything else about this. I can't. I didn't know him.

So I'll just add this.

I'm only mad because you didn't give me enough time to know you.

Well, that was embarrassing. When I came home from school, my 11-year-old little brother grinned knowingly and told me he knew what was on that unlabeled CD. Oops. Looks like I forgot my, cough cough, entertainment movie CD in drive. Though I felt my face turning red, with a cool of an older brother, I inquired him coolly "and?". He seemed quite fascinated by it, and now I wonder if I can ever again watch those damned movies. Maybe it's time for another attempted de-hooking. It might be a good time for other reasons too. Mmm.

Well, not to be completely egotistical, here's to all involved concerning the WTC incident: my condolences. However, I can't help but to wonder if some perspective might be required. Measured in human lives, this disaster is hardly unique. I've heard it said several times that "this is the largest deliberate, man-caused disaster ever", and every time I wonder "Oh? Do wars 'just happen'? Maybe that atomic bomb just slipped?". No, don't think I'm implying anything. Nobody deserves anything like this. But if news and history books have anything to do with reality, this is far from "nothing will ever be the same again" scale disaster.

We had a silent couple of minutes in school for you know why. I was silent. Death is not good, and I must admit it's still pretty stunning to think that there actually is a huge pile of rubble where used to stand a building I visited 6 years ago. Strange, though, how I can be properly respectful and the next heartbeat snicker about it. On that tuesday, while the news trickled about the building being hit, then hit, then collapsing and hits, I was chatting with a rather spiritual and almost religious friend in a way that, well, was far from nice. Thought it was a virtual environment, it felt like we were grinning madly and making bad jokes. As far as I know, neither of us is particularly opposed to USA, but I do know this was the most exciting news event for years I can think of, and, well, if I can't fake concern I won't. Sorry. If that makes me evil, then so be it. Consider this writeup to be at the mercy of your pain.

So. k. I have taken a job. as a Lan Admin. A big shocker to me first because a fat job just threw itself at me and two because I talked so much shit about not doing this type of work again. I dont really want to be a Lan Admin, I want to be an Artist. I want to make shit and look for something brilliant. I take this job with my brain telling me I will stay for a year and I will work hard and it will go by fast and then I will have more money to take another 4 or 5 months off. Who knows though. Who knows if its all going to work out, they might change there minds, which would be crazy sleazy but who knows, and I wont have this job anymore and I will have to adapt and say that it is for the best and take some temp jobs and throw myself harder into making something (or just wasting the time away depending on your perspective). I think it will go through. It beter I spent a weeks bedget in like two days depending on reentering the world of money. money money. I was a egotisticall prick last time I had this type of job and I became way to materlistic and quit and things felt a lot beter. There were different challenges but things felt more whole and living off of nothing for a long time was actually beter for me overall. so why go back? I guess I am scared of not working. Of getting a pay check and not having some structure in my life. I have no structure right now. I still get up early at around 700 or 730 and I still go tot bed late though sometimes since monika sleeps so early I enjoy a full nights sleep. I am eating beter for sure. I bike one day or just hang around China Town or the Lake and read a lot a just do nothing really. Learn a little about metal working draw some pictures. Try and figure out what has a low combustion rate and doesnt give off toxic smoke. Just fart around and do nothing and wait for monika to come home. It was a blast and I guess its over. I hate work. fuck work. The Abolition of Work.

If you have something to fall back on, you always will -Rosie O

Trying too hard...

What I have been doing here on everything2 for some time, I guess...

With 17 writeups, and only 14 XP, it seems that maybe I have wanted that level 2 a bit too much. Of course, I have written a number of writeups that are resting in node heaven. When I look back on many of them, I usually think "What the flying finn was I thinking... that writeup has crapola stamped all over it". But some of them, the ones that I have given the most thought of all, the ones that I think are really, really good... they're in node heaven too!

Obviously my talents as a writer is not appreciated. But I can live with that... it's not as if people usually agree with my views, so I'm used to it. I'll just continue to write harmless writeups that doesn't really mean anything to anybody, except a small smirk perhaps, and get the usual +4/-1 response.

That's totally OK by me, really :)

Perhaps I should have mentioned the sad news from the USA, but I just don't know what to say...

This is not the end of the world. Let me state that right away.

I'm certain one of the desired effects of this attack was to scare the American people into submission. I've been reading posts in the Penny Arcade forums and other places about how afraid people are of there being a draft.

After this, do you honestly think we'll have to force people into military service? If we go to war, and the DOD or the White House indicate that we're suffering a shortage of man-power in any way, you can rest assured that motherfuckers will be lined up around the block to kick some ass.

Tuesday night, people were going nuts to get gas. Fights broke out, and in some cases guns were pulled. Wednesday morning the government setup a hotline to report price gouging. Why? Because we're an intelligent nation.

I'm not trying to lessen the impact that this attack will have on our country. I'm saying remain calm.

Numerous bomb threats have been called in to several locations. The Pentagon several times, in fact. These threats are most likely either diversionary tactics employed by the terrorists, or pranks perpetrated by senseless mongoloids who can't appreciate what's going on. It's one thing to crash an airplane into the Pentagon, it's another thing to casually sneak a bomb in. And if there were a bomb, it would have been detonated yesterday while the President was there.

Folks, remain calm. Let's show these fuckers our mettle and rise to the occasion. Volunteer anything you can to help. There's been more than enough blood donated, but don't rule it out. But most importantly, trust in your leaders. The President, Congress, the military, and civil authorities need your help and cooperation. This goes beyond party lines and politics. This is personal.

Love your neighbors.


I haven’t noded in six months, though it has probably gone unnoticed. I have been riding out the few remaining months of my system administration job with nothing but e2, megatokyo and pepsi one to keep me together. Shanoyu told me Tuesday morning that Hermetic killed himself. I read his nodes, hell I have probably read at least one node by everyone in the last year. I feel it now, the essence of everything as a community and this is one for the few things that has pulled me through the stress, confusion and anger of the last few days. It seems like such an idiotic thing to focus on as death rides across the east coast, this silly web site and all it’s strange, strange denizens. I can’t understand it, however I am thankful for anything at this moment in time.

Though I feel I am one of the more or less unknown everythingians, and perhaps my ego precedes me, I simply want to express something towards the community as a whole as well as extend my own thanks to everyone, however miniscule their contribution.

I’m not so sure this makes a lot of sense, I am in a bad space right now and perhaps sometime in the future I will return to this sad node and revise it.


-- Steve “rad” Simensen

Like everyone else I'm still a bit in shock from the events that happened September 11, 2001. I have this horrible image in my head of people jumping out of the World Trade Center. I can't get it out of my head sometimes. My heart jumps up into my throat when I think about this.

I can't imagine the absolute horror that would be required for someone to jump out. I don't want to imagine either, but images keep jumping into my head. I hope and pray that these people were in the company of friends or at least people that they came to love in such a traumatic time. I hope that like in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon they didn't fall but instead flew softly and happily into the clouds below. My heart is still in my throat, but maybe now these images will be at peace in my head, as I hope the people in these images are at peace.

The Ray's Pizza on 6th Avenue and 11th Street in the West Village has got to be the saddest thing I've ever seen in my life. All through downtown people have started to put up pictures of 'missing' loved ones, color photocopies blown up from wedding pictures, passport photos, a recent vacation, an office party, all with explanatory text: height: 5'10", 150 pounds, blonde hair, brown eyes, wearing charm pendant, worked for Cantor Fitzgerald, 104th story of Tower One.

Ray's is sort of a Village nexus, right in the shadow of the Old Jefferson courthouse and just close enough to NYU, and what started as a few sheets on the window has become a sort of memorial wall: the glass store window is full, stacked three or four sheets of paper high, and it's spilled over to the red brick building just west. When I stood on the street outside my apartment on Tuesday morning and watched the towers burn and then fall my wife and I were just stunned, numb. Something Jennifer said...I watched 5000 people die in 4 seconds. But it was all just surreal, just monumental, big numbers. Unthinkable. Impersonal. An earthquake in some foreign country, a statistic on the evening news transplanted in your backyard.

The moment I saw their pictures I started to cry. I've been holding it back for two days now, but it's all so fucking sad when you actually *see* their individual faces, the part in their hair, the smile, the guy who is only 31 but is already developing a bald spot, probably looks worse in the black-and-white photocopy than it actually is. The woman with her sister, or maybe it's her girlfriend, she's only 25, arms around each other and heads tilted in. The woman named Ginnie or Jennie or something with the amazing smile, the kind of magic rare photograph that captures the essence of a person and you fall in love with them instantly. A guy in a tuxedo, maybe from a wedding. Most of them seem to have worked for Cantor Fitz and Marsh McLennan and the few other companies that were unlucky enough to be housed in the 90s and 100s in tower one, at or above the first plane's impact.

They're all dead. They must be. It's just so shocking when you look at all their faces like that. I used to work up there, damn it. I know exactly what it's like up there. My desk was by the window on the 96th floor, middle of the east wall, right where the left side of the plane exited on the other side. I would have been killed instantly, or torn to bits by shrapnel, or burned to death with jet fuel if we were still working there. I read an article today which interviewed one of the original architects who said the building was designed like a tube, and the idea was that a jetliner impact would just rip through it like tissue paper; all the load is in the exterior walls, and the floors are just bladder supports to keep the steel rigid, to prevent it from bending in or out under stress. But planes are much bigger today than back then; they had modelled it for a 707 crash, and hadn't considered the heat of the jet fuel burning.

This wall is a kind of awful, sad monument to hope. All you need is a dollar for 5 color photocopies and a dream. Have you seen our Robert? Our Cynthia? I hope with every fiber in my being that even one of those people is alive, but having seen the impact and watched the tower burn, remembering where the three stairwells were, I just can't imagine those crappy exits weren't reduced to rubble by that plane, leaving those poor people trapped up there.

I stood at the corner of 6th and 11th and wept, for the first time since it happened. I don't know if that's a healthy thing or not...until today I thought that the horror I saw on Tuesday morning was the worst thing I'd ever have to witness.

Today, I got back into Manhattan since The Day the Earth Stood Still. I'll give you, the reader, a brief tour of the city...

I've taken the subway to the city, and the trains go through the Manhattan Bridge. I feel guilty seeing the clear view of the southern side of the island, with the billowing smoke rising from the ruins. The subway don't stop until 8th Ave., home of New York University. I came out of the 14th St. station to see the light of day...

Two police officers talked about the order of the avenues of Manhattan... First, second, third, Lexington, fifth, Madison, and up to the eleventh. They were standing behind barricades in 14th St. right by Union Square, with NYU security and the rest of the NYPD check ID cards and drivers' licenses. As Yossarian have said to me in #everything, you can't walk down there unless you're a resident. I guess that counts out me going to ABC No Rio for a while.

I bought a plastic flag of the ol' Stars and Stripes and wore it on my backpack. It took a while for me to keep it staying up and intact in the back pocket, but it worked.

I walked up to 31st St., to see Arci's Place - my first cabaret room and a home away from home. The first thing I did was to give Lori, the host of Arci's Place, a great big hug. I miss the folks running this place because I drank my first glass of red wine when I was 21. I told Lori to give the proprietor of the place my regards.

Dinner in the Café Edison was Matzoh Ball Soup, a Grilled Cheese Sandwich, and a glass of soda. I was sitting next to a guy from Texas who was stranded in the city. I told him to check out the cabarets if he can.

I went to the Winter Garden Theatre to see if the box office people know anything about Karen Mason and the leading ladies of the cast. No word, but I'll keep the faith on Maryann Lopinto's word that everybody in the great big Cabaret family is okay.

I also went around the city to fine the fabled "Alwyn Court." It's a luxury apartment building in 58th and 7th situated right across Carnegie Hall, and it's the home of Jamie deRoy. I did Jay's rap from Clerks right outside the building, and kept talking like Beavis.

In 1900 Echo (7:00 PM Eastern) September 14, 2001 - light up a candle for the unity of the United States of America. This message has been posted everywhere in the city. Even better, if you know what time it is to correspond to 1900 Echo in your neck of the woods, light a candle too, even a Zippo lighter.

Last night, when I was watching the AYB video, I wanted to cry in happiness when I heard "For great justice, take off every 'Zig.'" For this country, and the countries who are mired in outrage - we will launch every "Zig" right at the leaders who perpetrate the idea that cheering for mass murder of civilians is good.

"The most accurate cross-section in months"

6:45 The edge of my consciousness perceives less light in the window than usual at this time of day. Maybe it will rain for once
7:30 Wake up to the sound of my roommate getting ready to go to work. For some reason, I decide this is a valid excuse to roll over and sleep for a few more minutes
7:40 Wake up and realize I have to get to class by 8:20, and since my bike has flat tires, it will take about 30 minutes to get there. 60 seconds washing hair, 90 seconds of assorted daily hygiene, 30 seconds making a lame-ass ham sandwich, 30 seconds filling up a water bottle, 60 seconds packing and unpacking y backpack, 15 seconds finding my guitar case, 60 seconds filling it with guitar, notebook, sandwich, and homework due in class at 8:20, 15 seconds locking the door on the way out, 30 seconds unlocking the house , grabbing water bottle, and relocking, and I'm on the street by 7:55
8:15 Arrive at classroom, join others sitting outside. Members of the 8:10 group realize the TA is not going to tell them when to come in, so they go in to find her waiting.
8:25 The 8:10 group stops singing and starts leaving, so I lead the 8:20 group in entering the classroom. I open my guitar case and discover the assignment I grabbed was my probability theory homework, and not my voice class homework. My group practices singing Simple Gifts a few times (an octave above middle C seems to push my vocal range), gets a few enunciation and dynamics tips, and then turns in the homework. I'm forgiven and given till the end of the day to turn mine into the TA's mailbox.
8:35 Begin the new and improved 20 minute walk to my house from the Music building
9:25 Arrive at my next class, which is closer than the Music building to my house, and briefly wonder why every trip back and forth is taking a different amount of time than I expect. The professor teaches us rudimentary MIPS assembly instructions that we all had to learn out of the book to complete the homework that was due on Monday. I pass the time playing a fighter plane game on my friend's Palm V, asking him questions about Final Fantasy V, and dozing.
10:45 Wake up and leave the classroom, to meet a friend of mine for lunch. She didn't have time to pack one herself, so we walk to a Chinese place across campus. She has to study for her Psychology of Gender class, so she practices by reading and explaining her notes for the past month to me. Interesting stuff. I take her notes, quiz her on things, and we discuss points her professor failed to account for. I could have been a Psych major, I understand it so well, she tells me. I refrain from saying that I could have been anything I wanted, if I'd realized engineering wouldn't satisfy any of my creative needs a little earlier. She stops eating and puts her napkin on her plate. I'm shocked she didn't take the opportunity to consume all the vegetables on her plate, and tell her she should do so. She gives me a look I cannot interpret, then throws her plate away a few minutes later.
12:20 Walking through campus, my friend points out a few girls who are breaking social gender norms by wearing certain articles of clothing (backwards baseball cap, for example). I tell her good for them, they're experiencing and teaching others open-mindedness, if in relatively small doses. Why should social rules dictate our behavior? She counters that when you break those kinds of rules, you're still being controlled by them... I can't phrase her reasoning very well at the moment, but you've probably heard or thought of it before. I tell her this is something my friends and I realized in high school... by choosing not to "conform", and dying your hair or wearing all black, you're just conforming to the anti-conformist camp, and you're no more individualistic than anyone else. This seemed quite a quandary at the time (we all wanted to be "cool" and non-trendy, but this logic made it seem impossible), but I recently realized (I explained to her) that there comes a point where some people stop caring about how others will perceive their clothing, and this is the catalyst that frees some of us (I like to include myself in this group) from the social rules game.
12:35 Go to work. Very little to do, as usual. I check my mail and am glad to hear my friend up in Phoenix hasn't been asphixiated due to the smog yet.
13:15 Leave for my guitar lesson. I'd been planning on walking the mile and a half, but I see a crowd of people at the bus stop and realize that the bus strike must be over. I pay my dollar and get a transfer upon boarding.
13:25 Get off the bus at Campbell. There's a girl at the corner on a bike, and she greets me, and I realize too late (1 second after my awkward "uh, hey" and 1 second before the light turns green and she rides off) that I met her at the djembe class on Monday. I sit alone at the second bus stop for 10 minutes before I remember hearing that the strike is still on, but bus service is still available on the most frequented routes... for example, the Speedway bus I was just on, but not the Campbell bus I'm waiting for now.
14:05 My guitar teacher is not there when I arrive. I sit in his room and practice Paranoid Android until he shows up, at which time he makes a comment about the WTC bombings (and the reference fails me for about 10 seconds) and then says that he's really exhausted, and would I mind just hanging out instead of having a lesson? This saves me $13, so I say it's fine, and he tells me about the recording studio he's been adding onto his house. Then we go outside, and he sucks down a cigarette while discussing the logistics of the plane crashes, and how many times he's watched the towers collapsed. I note that I've only watched two minutes of news coverage, and wonder why everyone is so glued to the TV. The same reason everyone slows down to look at car crashes, he says. After hearing that I'm about to walk back home, he offers me a lift.
14:45 Right before it's too late, I remember that I have to go back to campus to drop off my voice assignment, so he drives me to the music building instead. On the walk back to my house, I see a Korean grad student I know from work, and he asks me why my shirt is so dirty. I show him that it's not dirt, that's just what the inside of this shirt (I always wear it inside-out) looks like. He laughs heartily, as he does at anything that seems strange. Like the time he saw me standing on a grassy field, staring at a solitary Pepsi cup from 40 feet for no practical purpose (he thought I was performing some kind of wind experiment), or the time he saw me crawling up out of the wash next to my house (I didn't tell him I'd been toking down there, but he told me he'd be scared of seeing snakes or dead bodies), or the time he saw me wearing my You are dumb shirt.
15:00 Sit down at a computer in the library, get on E2, and read what Chomsky, McCain and the Dalai Lama have to say about the attack. Remembering how cool the last thing I read by Chomsky was, I read a few more nodes about him, and wrote down the call numbers of some of his books for the next time I want something to check out. Reading his interview transcripts is the best experience I've had all week. I turn to the right for some reason and catch the girl sitting next to me playing some variant on the Memory card game, entitled Fashion Addict. I want to grab her by the ears, look her in the eye and say something so insightful and simple that her fucked-up artifical value system crumbles and she realizes that there is so much more she could be doing in a LIBRARY of all places, but I have less than zero idea how to speak to her on her level. After a few minutes, I write down on a piece of scratch paper (an index card that used to be part of the library's search catalog, before its computerization) something to the tune of "you are a million times more than the sum of the dead animal skins you drape yourself with", but by the time I finish, she has grown weary of the game and left. On the way out, I walk over to where the TV has been set up to allow patrons to watch breaking news re: the attack, and watch a dozen people watch the tube. Then I take a picture of them and leave.
16:30 Home again. I eat some microwave-able Chunky Soup. I call the short-haired girl that I drank a couple (just enough) beers with at her place and toked with at my place and then watched the swarms of people leave the stadium after the game with on Saturday night, but she's not home. I do the dishes and a couple other chores.
17:30 I leave on foot for the apartment-like dorm across campus that I need to take a few more pictures of for a project in my Landscape Architecture class. The girl I just tried to call lives in this dorm, and it was on the second occassion that I shot pictures there (on Saturday) that she saw me in the parking lot and invited me to have a cigarette with her and her friend, and then hang out in her room and drink with them.
17:45 I stop at the McDonald's next to the dorm and sit down at one of the tables. I'm horrified to see that the menus are now displayed on screens which occassionally stop showing food item prices, and in their wake portray dancing, flying and swirling Double Cheeseburgers, cookies, and shakes. Two young boys come in with their mother, and while she goes to the bathroom they sit on swiveling stools and release some of their pent-up energy. Advertisements for shakes appear on the screen. They obediently confide their desire to consume shakes with no one in particular. One of them looks at me, a few times. I wish I could convey to him that this is a bad place, eating this food will make you fat, unhappy and enslaved. But, my unhappy facade only makes him spin less energetically, so I give him an enthusiastic smile and a few eyebrow-raises before walking out of the building. I'm saddened to see that the 'Industrial Waste' sticker I placed under the Golden Arches on the phone booth outside has already been removed. I pick up the phone's receiver and put it back upside-down.
18:30After wandering around the dorm and snapping pictures for a time, I sit down across the street and stare at the building. I take the second-to-last picture on the roll, and stand up to leave when suddenly I see the short-haired girl (yes, I know her name, just omitting it) ride up on her bicycle. At the same moment, a couple in an SUV pull up to ask me where Salpointe High School is. I tell them. They ask me if I'm sure, if I grew up in the neighborhood, if I've been there. Yes, I go to school here, I know this section of town. Once again, west to Mountain, then north to Glenn, you can't miss it. They tell me they're trying to get to a football game there. I let them know I'm sure they'll make it. They drive off and she's disappeared into her room. I sit down near one of the stairwells and stare at a concrete pillar. The patterns on it look like the patterns in a large sheet of wood. I ponder this, and come to the even more disturbing conclusion that I don't know how concrete pillars like this are even formed. I'm stalling, waiting for her to walk past me on her way to the permitted smoking area. But she hasn't, and she's not going to, and she probably thinks I'm stalking her, hanging out by her dorm, waiting for her to get back, but not acknowledging her when I see her (breaking social rules), and... I try to read her mind, and in my frustration, I start walking home, but get distracted by the cool-looking clouds and the trees next to the Wells Fargo building. I stare at these alternately for a while and keep trying to read her mind. I finally give up, and walk through the underpass to distance myself and stop wasting my energy worrying.
19:00 I knock on her door, and ask her for a couple favors. First, I need her to take a picture of me for my project. Also... could I bum a cigarette? Down at the smoking area, she asks me about my week, and I tell her about my bike tires going flat, and having to drop a class, and walking to my guitar lesson and having it cancelled. My bike tires probably got punctured while we were riding to my house on Saturday. She had fun that night. Conversation dries up as she puts out her cigarette, and I watch mine burn down for another 10 seconds. I've never gotten a buzz off a regular cigarette, except for the time I took a drag after breaking the filter off. She'd better get back to her paper.
19:30 I check out a short Noam Chomsky book at the library and start reading it on the way to my house.
19:45 Breaking the rules I set for myself for the nth time, I toke alone in my house.
19:50 I walk to Safeway to see if they can process film there. I pull out the third clove cigarette from the pack I bought specifically so I wouldn't have to smoke a regular cigarette (I'm not addicted yet) the next time she asked if I wanted to smoke and/or the next time I needed to smoke something to get suspicious odors off me. I get no buzz from it. Half a year without smoking cloves, and in two days my tolerance is back to where it was when I "quit".
20:10Safeway can process film, and there's even a big promotion, double prints of 24 exposure, 4" by 6" pictures, only $4.99. I don't need double prints. But single prints of the same are $5.99. I decide to try my luck at Walgreen's tomorrow... these prices seem a bit steep for a few lousy photos. It shouldn't cost as much to develop the film as it cost to buy the disposable camera ($5 from a bum downtown). Leaving the store, I realize that I'm not even high. The second time this has happened in the past month.
20:30 I eat some Cheerios. I have to use up the milk I got on sale before it spoils (two gallons for the price of one), because my roommate won't drink 2%.
20:45 I practice my guitar for the first time in a week.
21:45 I start walking to the library. How many miles have I walked today?
0:00 I finish writing my daylog

This WU was originally placed in a more innapropriate place even.

the day I met SEF

It is a typically overcast thursday, unlike any other thursday. I have an appointment for lunch with SEF.

I hear a loud car pull up outside my house. SEF drives a jeep, I thought, as I silenced the yapping little dogs and stepped onto the porch. Indeed, it is SEF; “Hello, Wurm!” she calls out.

Upon climbing into the open-topped desert-khaki off-road machine, I realized that SEF’s short haircut and heavy woolen sweater were dictated by practical considerations. “It might be a bit chill,” she warned, “but you look tough.” Even the quick little jaunt up Piedmont Avenue was thrilling in the jeep. SEF demonstrated amazing parking karma as a space opened just as we pulled into the lot behind the Long’s Drug Store.

SEF was craving Chinese food, so we went to King Yen. There, she ordered the stir-fried calamari, and I the dragon and phoenix. Over lunch we played the E2 Name Game, discussed the prevailing tragedies, talked about you all, shared stories, and argued our particular disagreement. I had a marvelous time. SEF is a strong woman who speaks with much deliberation.

SEF’s fortune cookie: You will always be surrounded by true friends.
Ouroboros’ fortune cookie: Your talents will be recognized and suitably rewarded.
SEF’s lucky numbers: 48, 26, 4, 44, 23, 39
Ouroboros’ lucky numbers: 12, 1, 4, 27, 34, 14
Interestingly enough, the ratio of the sum of SEF’s lucky numbers to that of Ouroboros’ is also that of their ages!
What are the odds of that?

SEF graciously offered to pay for our lunch.

Then, the next day, I notice in the cheddarbox that SEF is accepting bids for her daughter’s hand in marriage.
I guess I didn’t measure up.

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