May 14, 2001

Today started with me playing Starcraft. I started playing last night and keep playing until 1:30 or so this morning. I have my brother to blame for this new addiction. He got me a copy of it and it’s all I’ve done for the past 3 days. To be honest, I used to think that the people that played this game all the time where sick. However I’m now a changed man.

Around 7:30 or so I had to take my mother to work. She had surgery on her neck about 6 weeks ago. She is going back to work for the first time today. She can’t drive yet so I have to drive her.

I have to write out a new résumé today. It’s that time to get a summer job again. I had a job all lined up. I was going to do programming with a company called Genuity. And while they are not a only dot com. It is a large part of their business and where I was going to work writing software for companies. Well, with the fall of the dot coms they can no longer afford to pay me. GRRR. They say there is still hope. I’ll find out for sure today around noon or so.

I'm short. Well, not really. I'm not tall. I'm no Gary Coleman. I'm no Shaq. But I'm not tall enough to wash my wife's SUV.

We bought a Ford Expedition. Now before I get lynched, we do need a vehicle that large. My wife hauls around 5 people, cargo, and an electric wheelchair on a fairly (daily) regular basis. We even have a power winch in the back to lift the chair. Make no mistake, this thing is huge, and yes, it does get shitty gas mileage. We did consider a mini-van converted to haul a wheelchair, but you lose three seats and all cargo capacity and about half the fuel tank. A mini-van with 10 gallon fuel tank is a joke. However, I digress.

I was okay washing the sides of the truck, but when it came to the hood, I needed to stand on the tire to be able to reach the center of the hood. The roof was a different story. If I had thought about it, I would have climed up on the roof to wash it. Instead, I opened the doors and stood on the seat to reach most of the roof. It took a good deal of stretching to reach all of the roof. A ladder would have helped with the hood, but I think I needed scafolding to properly do the roof.

Her flatmate called at about 11:30 and so she had to leave to take the car back. As she stood up she was crying a little. At the door she said she couldn't come round any more. I didnt react - neither externally or internally.
Of course I had been expecting this - but you would think I would feel something - disappointment, sadness.. even relief, but there was nothing. Oh well thats the way it is and who cares why.

I wonder what's on TV.

The sun, impetuous as ever, lit up the sky and all of Britain was a barbeque. Hand in hand with my so we traipsed our way to south Oxford to be greeted by the smell of roasting meat. A convivial crowd kept a table company, the wine and the banter brightly alighted on seasonal topics (No one mention the 'E' word).

On Friday night I increased by one the number of Indian restaurants I have visited. The Dhaka Brasserie on Cowley Road is not as renowed as the nearby Aziz but its food is no less sumptuous. We were the only patrons and I wondered at the inequity of it all. I heard tell that the Brasserie is run by former Aziz waiters who decided they could cook food just as well and for less. The chick pea curry I consumed convinced me they were right.

On Saturday, I watched Liverpool dramatically clinch the FA Cup from the grasp of Arsenal with two late goals by the irrepressible Michael Owen.

The next day my gf and I did the park thing. Improvised picnic in hand, we went to Wellington park in Jericho a trendy part of Oxford. The fashionistas and the intelligentsia sipped lattes while we, hidden behind a wall of trees, sipped pineapple smoothie and ate M&S sushi.

The weekend was topped off by an Ash gig. Snowpatrol supported to make it a Northern Ireland double bill. I was mistaken for the snowpatrol singer by someone in the audience. The place rocked. During the Ash set, I felt powerless as the swollen crowd became a trapped river and swirled from side to side, sometimes picking me and later dropping me like some glacial deposit. Crown surfers gleefully rode the crests and troughs of the human sea each finally plucked to safety by a burly security man.

My eardrums reverberated for hours after.

Where did the weekend go? Was it the revenge of the mid-week pina coladas? Was it spending too much time at my gf’s reading a book? Was it the way the whole house dreaded interacting with each other until our housemeeting Sunday evening was over and past?

The latter, I’d guess. Others were avoided in the common spaces of the kitchen and living room. For some 72 hours leading to it, we were, each of us, unsure of the roles we would play. And once there, we maneuvered so as to not seem petty, mean, and coarse or worse, next to godliness, as the topic of (the lack of) house cleanling and (the default of) chores was dealt with.

This morning at work I am given the task of writing rejection letters to applicants for my very position. It doesn't give me any big feelings of power, just a sense that it should have been handled more discretely, by having someone else do it.

I went on a campout this weekend with my son's cub scout den. We rented a rebuilt log cabin that the U.S. Forest Service rents out and had a blast. I was the den leader last year, and started this tradition. The whole thing was really fun, we swam and hiked and cooked and sang and did skits and just had fun. The thing that really is sticking with me though, is the boys' reaction to storytelling. I'm a storyteller. I love to tell stories...Indian stories, creation myths, star stories, local legends, tall tales...you name it, I like to tell it. Last year I told stories around the campfire to the boys. I got some positive feedback, but that wasn't what was important. You see, I feel very strongly that storytelling has all but disappeared from our culture, and that is a huge loss. I'm trying to reintroduce storytelling, at least in my immediate family and circle of friends. So everytime we camp, or lay outside looking at stars, or travel to a new area I tell stories.

I wasn't prepared for what happened around the campfire Saturday night. I had been asked to tell a couple of stories, so I'd prepared. After we ate dinner and everyone was kind of meandering to the fire, one of the boys asked if it was time for stories. I said it could be if they were ready. This group of 8 nine and ten year olds ran to the fire and sat down, looking at me..waiting. I wanted to shout with joy. But it got better. They began to ask for certain stories that I'd told last year, ones that they particularly liked. And even better, they asked if THEY could try their hand at re-telling the stories. They did. These ten year old boys remembered enough of the tales from last year to perform halting renditions of them. These boys, normal boys who play video games, watch endless tv, and know more about computers than I'll ever know want me to help them each learn a story for the next campout. They want to tell stories. I am so happy.

The day started with the sensation of two unraveled coat hangers inside my stomach changing positions. Not alcohol induced, I am left wondering.

Speaking of wondering, the Supreme Court's decision against the medicinal use of marijuana really bothered the shit out of me. The case, United States v. Oakland Cannabis Buyers Cooperative ended in an 8-0 decision. I guess the country would rather see people in pain use booze. Neato burrito.

Great weekend though other than last night. I couldn't hang out with my Mommy due to a second job. But the events that led up to that over the last two days tickled me rather pink. I got a number Friday night, didn't mean shit. It was a fuck them that night kind of situation, but I am trying to not meet and fuck people in the same evening. I watched my co-workers twirl fire the other night, truly a porno for pyros. Give it up for Perry Farrell's comment on the L.A. Riots!

I am digusted with myself.

The meeting at my second job was cancelled, seeing as 3/4 of the team is sick. Yup. There are four of us.....so most of us have gone home to sleep, or in my case, node.

That isn't the reason I'm upset with myself. Nope. I'm annoyed that I'm not stepping away from last week's inflamation of the groin. I don't know what's happening in my 'Travis Bickles' life, yet I deemed it necessary to ask him to photograph me by next Monday. *sigh* I needed an excuse to take him aside and figure out what the hell happened. I honestly was going to just leave it all alone, but I had a weak moment when I walked into work at 6:30 this morning, and there he was, being a cross between sweet and harsh. 'Course, this was before he and his ex-girlfriend left to take his grandma for a picnic. Hey! I didn't know that when I asked! So I guess I have to call him before the week's up. Damn....but he did ask about the bruises. Whatever, man. Whatever. And I am so goddamn unphotogenic....I kind of hope they just get back together and save me all the trouble.

I stopped off and got 2 packs of smokes, a cheap bottle of Chardonnay, and a lollipop on my way back from the bank. Today was the first 'REAL' payday....I'm only a little let down by that. I had to take off some time for this virus. Still warehouse shopping on Wednesday. Yah!

Mother's Day left me feeling weird....Mom still wants me to come back, and AZ was busy everytime I called. Certainly going to try again tonight.

I had poems dripping from my lips before I got out of the car today. Methinks I should carry one of those recorders again. They ran away before I had a chance to grab some paper and catch them.

I'm still sick today. I've been sick for over a week now, with some sort of bronchitis or sinus infection bug. It's destroying my life! I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. Ok, maybe not destroying it, just numbing it with the apathy that comes with feeling ill. I've had so little contact with anybody this past week or so; work has been so busy, and I've felt so damn rotten.

So many things I've needed and wanted to do this week that didn't get done - my art car, my house cleaned, getting laid. None of that happened. I didn't go into work today - I was ten minutes short of leaving, then decided to really check out how I felt. I walked down to the mailbox and posted a letter. I felt awful. All night I had tossed and turned, alternating between being very hot and freezing; I'm sure I ran a fever. Every little night noise woke me.

So I called in and explained to my boss why I am still sick. That I am allergic to 90% of the antibiotics in this world, and must carefully pick and choose when to take them, I can't just blithely go around and take whatever whenever I feel sick.

He was okay with it, and I am so glad I stayed home. I slept most of the day away. I am going to the store now and walk around a bit, to stir up some circulation.

Got back from San Jose last night at about one in the morning, and I had to come into work all jet-lagged. I finally fixed the bug in Submail concerning the Trash folders of the users, so now there's only two more show-stopping issues before a full source release.

Note: I don't get it. This has been up for a couple days and is already at -3 rep. This is a diary entry, how can it be voted down?