HAHAH HAHAH!-ahHA ha hah ah ahg heahahaHAHAha. ha. ha.

Check it out: the software process in actuality.

Where do snot and mucus come from? Why is there all of a sudden so much more when one is sick?

And when you get all stuffed up, why is one nostril invariably more stuffed up than the other? Isn't there ample snot to go around?

and I have the sense to recognize that
I don't know how to let you go
every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving
trying to escape this desire
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
but I have the sense to recognize

that I don't know how
to let you go
I don't know how
to let you go

(excerpt from Sarah McLachlan's Do What You Have To Do)

I almost never have insomnia problems. If anything, I have trouble keeping awake, not sleeping too much -- I'd happily sleep 12-16 hours/night if I could.

I really don't envy those of you who struggle with insomnia on a daily basis. It sucks. Almost as bad as this stupid ass cold, but nothing could suck quite that bad. Except a hoover. Or maybe a turbine, or a funnel-shaped vortex.

Woke up,
couldn't sleep
stupid cold
plugged up nose
lack of air
lack of breathing
so here I am
drinking menthol-laden tea
writing this.

I have never in my life done a pullup. Well, not a real one. I could do the ones at the gym on the machine that compensates for a large part of my body weight, so I wasn't really doing pullups; I was doing pull-a-percentage-of-my-weight-ups.

How do you ever do the first real one, anyway? I can't do them because I don't have the strength, but I never build up my strength because I can't do even one. I don't have access to the gym anymore to use their cheater-machine to build my strength up.

Bah.

I was so proud of myself; I hadn't been sick all winter up until now. That may not sound like much, but I have the worst immune system in the world. Well, pretty bad, at least. I had chicken pox three times before my body caught on and finally built an immunity.

Anyhow, so much for that run; I've got a nasty cold. I feel like someone hit me in the head with a hammer, funneled two or three pounds of luke-warm water in through my ears so that it would swish around in my head all day, stomped on my chest so that I can't breathe quite right, and then plugged up my nose just for fun. I hate being sick.

----- Original Message -----
From: "august.krueger"
To: Krueger@yahoogroups.com; Hulsizer@yahoogroups.com
Cc: "Nelton, Amber"
Sent: Monday, November 10, 2003 11:42 AM
Subject: [Hulsizer] Leroy

I just had a quick conversation with Leroy. He says his unit has been moving south. They are no longer in Iraq. His unit is preparing to load their equipment on ships. If everything works out well, they will finish that up in three weeks and fly back to Fort McCoy for three weeks. If there are no hitches, he will be back by Christmas. So, what what are the chances that everything will work according to plan?

Augie

SWEET!

I was in a good mood last night. I'm in a good mood this morning. I've been unusually pleasant towards Mr_X0, and he's actually been fairly pleasant in return. I think maybe we're discovering new, more effective means of interracting with each other -- things probably wouldn't be working out like this, except that I'm flying so high that nothing can phase me and the good feelings seem somewhat contagious. Good stuff, Maynard.

I can't access The New York Times Online from work today. Bugger.

I had one of my best dance nights ever last night; I was so happy. Really hit a groove, was moving better than usual and was really aware of both my body and my partners' bodies. It felt so good.

And I got to dance with Jason Christodoulou - twice! So sweet.

I didn't used to get much spam; maybe 1 or 2 spam mails / month. Then, a week or so ago, I started getting 5-10 spam messages / day.

Coincidentally, I signed up for an ebay account just a week or so ago.

Coincidence?

I think not. Ebay gave out my address! Poo on ebay.

Our ultimate opponent today forfeited, so we "won" without having to actually show up. Crazy.

It's just as well though, I guess. It's been a long day and I can use the extra downtime.

Damn traffic.

It's gotten worse over time, not better. What's up with that?

I'm so selfish I'm going to make Alex and Mary drive over to the East Side to hang out with me now, because traffic isn't bad COMING here, just leaving.

Yes, I am still at work. I took a look at traffic and decided I'd be better off sticking around and playing an online game with Mary while I waited for it to clear up a bit.

Woah. Check out The Meatrix. Somebody had way too much time on their hands.

The weekend will be busy too. I have a dance workshop that spans tonight, Saturday day, and Sunday day. Then on Saturday and Sunday evenings, I'll be busy rushing around for my ultimate team's playoffs. After that are the night time dances. In whatever freetime remains, I want to work on getting my apartment cleaned up for Alex Phelp's visit next weekend. Crazy crazy busy busy bee, buzz buzz buzz.

Busy day at work today; not much time for blogging. I'm about to head home, though -- happy, happy.

A friend wrote me email last night saying that he wonders at the way I disappear when I'm not feeling 100 percent. I wonder when I picked up that habit, and whether it was the result of Jeremy rubbing off on me? I remember back in the day, getting unbearably upset about his taking space and needing downtime. Now I'm quite liberal about taking that sort of space for myself.

I had a bad day yesterday afternoon. It was as if my body and soul filled up with negativity so that nothing else could fit in. Everything was getting to me; work, people, the world in general. I dealt very poorly with several friends, snapping at them, getting extensively irritated, and ultimately cutting the conversations short. I felt loathing for anything, everything, and didn't want to deal with anybody or anything. It was all-consuming.

I don't like when I get that way. It's scary. It hadn't happened for a long time before that, and I hope it doesn't happen again for a long while yet to come.

Today, happily, is a much better day; I'm in good spirits. Even last night, sometime during the dances, I started feeling better. I think the adrenaline was good for me.

Here's to good health and good will.

Ed was on my bus today. Somehow we got to chatting about the US vs. England, Lithuania, and much of Europe, especially as pertains to homelessness, social programs, health care, etc. It left me feeling sad about the state of our country. As Ed put it, "It's great to live here if you are young and can work, but otherwise, you'd probably be better off somewhere else."

Someone in Eden Prairie, MN, listens to my favorite radio station! w00t! Way to go, KEXP! Way to go, MN!

Only the Good Die Young was playing on the radio on the way home tonight.

I remember the first time I really listened to the lyrics of that song, back in early high school -- I was scandalized. For any of you who aren't familiar with the song, it's a series of lines directed at a young Catholic girl attempting to convince her to give up her virginity, to the point of insinuating that she'll die young if she is too much of a prude. "Woah woah woah, come out, come on, Virginia don't let me wait -- you Catholic girls start much too late. But sooner or later it comes down to fate; I might as well be the one. You know that only the good die young." I couldn't believe that something so nefarious would run main-stream, and worse, that my beloved Billy Joel might be responsible.

My, how times change. The song seems almost tame to me now.

I just took The Hell Test. Here is a list of possible scores:

• 0-20: A life with the church is too corrupt for you.


• 21-40: You barely make our scale.


• 41-60: Approaching normal, you aren't much fun on a date.


• 61-100: Normal, you use your right hand like everyone else.


• 101-130: Above average, you've got a few tricks below the belt.


• 131-160: You're enjoying life to the max.


• 161-200: You're a danger to society. Who let you out on a day pass?


• 200+: You're going straight to hell.

With a score of 148, I am having a jolly time here on earth. What's your score?

It's 4:00 pm and I'm going home for the day. Kick-ass!

I just finished up some stuff that's been pretty hot at work for the last few weeks. Now, all of a sudden, there's nothing really important left to do. I'm not behind on anything. I can do background maintenance on my servers, prepare for upcoming bugs and such, but - there won't be any focus on me for a while now. Feels strange. On the bright side, work should be zero stress for all of the conceivable near future.

My boss at Company_A wrote me an email yesterday asking me to call her, so that she could "discreetly inquire" whether or not my officemate came to work yesterday and report results to his Company_A boss. That company is so messed up.

It's hard to work when you've had your eyes dilated.

Today on KUOW's The Conversation: Infidelity.

. . .are we talking about the same thing when we talk about infidelity? The boundaries can vary from relationship to relationship. Do our attitudes about infidelity change over time? Is there a degree of physical intimacy that stops short of infidelity? Is there such a thing as emotional infidelity? If you have a relationship outside your marriage or partnership where you share everything about your inner life, are you betraying your spouse or partner?

I caught a bit of this show on my way back to work after an eye exam today. Interesting topic; it feels very personally relevant. I'm going to have to listen to the entire show once they post the archive online.

I dreampt last night that my Jeremy passed away. I'm not quite sure what the dream meant. Perhaps my subconscious was trying to tell me that he is no longer a part of the life that I live now, and I need to finish moving on and letting him go? I don't know. I felt sad in the dream, though.

It is so cold here lately, and not even the consolation of snow to make it all worthwhile!

I just gave my dog his first bath in over a year. Boy, did he need it. From the way he shivered and cowered the whole time, though, you woulda thought the world was coming to an end.

It was better than the last bath though. Last time, I had to physically hold him in the tub to keep him from bolting. It was a showdown between he and myself, and we both lost out -- I think it was one of the most tramautic experiences we have ever shared. He was so upset and unhappy that he wouldn't eat BACON that Jon had made for him. Freshly made, human-grade bacon.

Anyhow, this time was better. Not great, but better, and he smells much less offensive now than he did before.

Crazy patent stuff going on lately.

I have a had a number of dreams over the last few months set in an apartment that, in the dreams, is "my" apartment. Only it's not the apartment I live in right now. It is always the same in the dreams; a bottom corner unit in the lower level of a small building, perhaps just a house. Large and roomy. A beautiful living room, kitchen, bedroom, and then a screened in patio area, as well. The floor of the patio sits just a step or two lower than the floor in the rest of the unit. There is some intricate laticework in that room that I love looking at and touching.

The unit doesn't correspond to any place I've ever lived. I can't even remember ever having visited a place similar to it. But I dream it again and again.

I don't know why I dream things like that.

Last night, Louie was in my dream. And so was a puppy; his puppy, just a few months old. He was playing with it, romping around, having a great time. They were so cute together. The puppy looked very similar, but would grow to be a bit bigger than Louie, with less peach coloring, as the mother was a full blood Pyranees. I felt so happy to have both he and the pup, knowing that even after he passed on I would still have dogs around that carried on his line.

But Louie is fixed. He will never father any puppies.

Louie is such an awesome dog. I will have a hard time letting him go, whenever he does pass on, so I can understand at least that portion of the dream.

Do I have a mark on me on me that says, "Hey, if you're married, I'd be great for an affair"? I just don't get it.

Why would you even want an affair when you've not yet been married more than a month? Why would you get married when you'd rather be sleeping around? Or if you feel you must do both, why wouldn't you marry someone who you could communicate that to, and come to an understanding together about how it might work? Why sneak around?

Or if you've been married for years, have remained relatively faithful for all of that time, and wish to remain with your spouse, why would you choose to look for sex outside the marriage now?

And why do you think you're going to do it with me?

Smoosh. Oh my - SO cute!

Two singing sisters make up the Seattle band Smoosh. 11 year-old Asya is on keys, and 9 year-old Chloe plays drums. Join them for a live set of indie-pop with elements of rap and jazz.

He (my English-challenged friend, whose name, by the way, is Ed) really is an interesting person. Here is a longer excerpt from our conversation:

Ed says: Would you like to live forever and never get old?

Kathryn says: I don't think so. I would be too sad when all my friends began to get old and I was left behind.

Ed says: That is true.

But you would try everything in this world and you would be such a wise person.

Ed says: How old is your body?

Kathryn says: 25.

Kathryn says: How old are you?

Ed says: How old is your soul? :)

The mystery of my new English-challenged friend's accent is solved; apparently he is from Lithuania, and has also lived in Scandanavia and Germany in addition to the UK and the US.

He and I have been chatting over IM today. We were talking about foods that we each enjoyed and in response to a list that I sent, he asked, "Do you kook at home all these dishes?"

So cute!

My building manager decorated my building for Halloween. Several pumpkins sit in the front foyer, right in front of the big window by the door. All week, I have been wanting to "borrow" one, turn it into a jack-o-lantern, and put it back where I found it. I'm running out of time, though.

Yesterday on the way home from work I saw some guy smoking in his car. He was inhaling deeply, pulling all that tar and nicotine and crap deep into his lungs. It left me feeling nauseated, even just seeing it from the other side of the street. I don't know how I used to do that to myself.

Every morning, as soon as he gets any indication that I am waking up, my dog starts to spaz. He runs in frantic circles around the apartment. In the course of one circle, he grabs his leash and brings it over to drop it at the foot of the bed. Often, in the course of another, he finds a plastic bag sitting here or there and brings that, as well. All the other circles are just an outlet for energy and a reminder to me -- he knows what he wants, and he knows this is the time for it.

Some nights are good, and some nights aren't as good. And some nights are up and down and up and down -- a veritible roller coaster ride, all contained within a few short hours. At least none are boring, I suppose.

Of the two songs I posted before, Never Too Late is by far the stronger one. It just moves and grooves... makes me want to get up and move myself.

Music makes me so happy.

I can hardly imagine life before recordings.

Or even worse, life before the invention of musical instruments.

Mr_X0 is OOF for the rest of the day. w00t!

Sorry for wasting your time
Five long months on the telephone line
Hours of asking if you were fine
and saying I was fine, too
Sorry, but I've got to go
The birth was quick, but the death was slow
there was so much I didn't know
so much I never knew about you

And so we disconnect
the room goes quiet around us
It's called the life effect
and it always surrounds us

Who made you happy last night?
I don't know his name
but Christ, can he fight
as I fell he told me you had a light
a light that shone inside you

I found myself a decent man, now
I love him because I can
The bravest that I've ever been -
was when I ran away from you

And so we disconnect
the room grows quiet around us
It's called the life effect
well, it always surrounds us
And so we disconnect
the room grows quiet around us
Nothing left to protect
the end has finally found us

The day is almost over
it's almost time for bed
so now you've finally lost me,
rest your weary head


-- Stars, Life Effect, from another in-studio live KEXP performance

Music of the moment: Michael Franti & Spearhead, Never Too Late. Such an awesome driving beat.

It's never too late to start the day - over
It's never too late to pick up the phone,
pick up the phone and call me
Never too late to lay your head down on my shoulders
never too late to come on home,
come on home

Here's a link to several of his songs, including Never Too Late, performed live at KEXP. Sweeeeet...

Mr_X0 is back today.

Work without him was so nice while it lasted... too bad nothing lasts forever.

A year ago this October, I baked an apple pie. I gave a piece to Alex. He kept it in his refridgerator all this time because he loved me. But then, last night, he threw it away.

Sad.

The random guy I met at the bus stop last night was randomly on my bus again this morning, and it turns out that he works in my building on my floor.

I'm not sure where he's from. He hasn't been in the US long. I know he lived in London for a while as well, but he's not a native english speaker and I can't quite place his accent.

Anyhow, we decided, since we are so close together anyway, that we should eat together in the cafeteria sometime. I sent him a note so that he would have my alias, and he responded. The last line of his email said, "I wish you to enjoy your work. :)" I LOVE stuff like that. So cute. The thought is there, and the awkward translation just adds to the charm.

The lesson with Jaimes tonight was awesome. Tangolicious!

Jaimes' friend Randy showed up towards the end of it; he was going to film Jaimes and Rachel practicing together after my lesson was done. The three of us sat around chatting for a bit while they waited for Rachel to show up. Randy remembered off the cuff exactly how many days it had been since he had last seen me -- 27. Kind of crazy, that.

Then I got to Patrick's house for practicing, but he wasn't there. Sat around for a while, but still no Patrick. I found a phone message after I gave up and came home; it turns out he had to stay late at work and didn't know how to get ahold of me. Oh well. The extra time to myself is nice.

The bus this afternoon is full; standing room only. As I was settling into place in the aisle just now, some random guy tapped me on the shoulder and offered me his seat. "Oh, no, that's alright," I said, but he insisted. I actually don't mind standing on the bus -- it is an exercise in balance and will, and a chance to feel rebellious, standing in a moving vehicle -- but I took the seat because he was so nice and I did not want to wound his sense of chivalry. So here I sit, writing this on a scrap of paper, while he stands and tries to hold his bag between his knees, read a book, and keep his balance all at the same time.

A complete stranger talked to me at the bus stop today - that's a barrier nobody had broken up until now. I was practicing movement, and he came up to talk to me about dance.

Japanorama used to be one of my favorite internet radio shows, but Antenna Internet Radio seems to be no more. I can't even look at the cache on Google because it's been overwritten by stupid BuyDomains. I'm guessing they were scared off by the RIAA, since they did archived programming as opposed to live stream (they did not correspond to any actual non-internet station) and the RIAA doesn't tend to like that. Stupid RIAA. Suckorama.

Some kids in Boca Raton, FL, were out playing ding-dong-ditch -- ringing neighbors' doorbells and running away -- when one neighbor, armed with a handgun, opened his door, shot, and killed one of the boys. Great. Freaking wacko. Glad he thought things through before pulling the trigger -- oh, wait. That's right. He didn't think at all.

Yesterday, the power was off in my work building in the morning. I was around when it came back on and I didn't have anything better to do, so I decided to just stick around and work even though everybody else was gone and I could have taken the day off too.

Early in the afternoon Jaimes called me to ask if I wanted to do a private lesson that night. I couldn't, but it turned out he was sitting around bored right then, so I took the rest of the day off and went to hang with him. It felt crazy just up and leaving so early in the day, but good. Sometimes I need a little craziness in my life. The buses aren't as regular in the middle of the day, so I ran over a mile to my stop to catch the next bus into the city -- otherwise I would have had to wait another 30 minutes -- and I got to the stop JUST as the bus was pulling in. I was really proud of myself. Figured out the transfers and such to get to the place Jaimes and Rachel are staying, and then hung out with him for a long time.

Jaimes is staying with some of Rachel's extended family and playing nanny to the kids while he and she live there. After I'd been over half an hour or so, we went to pick Nathaniel, the 8 year old, up from school. Such a cute kid! Played with him a while, then we went to drop him off at choir practice. While he was practicing, Jaimes and I went to a guitar store. Apparently Nathaniel wants to be a "rock star" for Halloween and maybe even for life, so Jaimes and a friend are going in together to get the kid a guitar. Fun fun fun. We also went to see the house that Jaimes, Rachel, and John are going to move into soon. There's an extra bedroom, and Jaimes was trying to convince me that I should move in and take it -- part of me really wishes that I didn't have the menagerie tying me down so that I could do things like that. Ah well. Always constrained later on by the choices we make, and I've made some crazy choices.

It was a really nice afternoon. Then that night Kristi and I had dinner together and watched Haibane Renmei. Good times all over.

Mary slept over last night. It's so fun waking up with her around in the morning.

There were some nice memorials for Paul Wellstone in MN this last weekend. I wish I could have attended.

It's nice to see, at least, that people are carrying on his work. Camp Wellstone sounds pretty awesome.

Had a bit of a sore throat this morning, so I brought in honey and lemon juice for my tea. I love honey! With all the buzz about sugar being so bad for you, I don't understand why people don't use honey more often as a sweetener, instead of sugar. It doesn't cause the same rapid rise and fall of blood sugar levels as white sugar does -- it has actually has very beneficial properties. Apparently it is also effective as a balm, acting an anti-inflamitory and assisting healing when applied directly to wounds. Hooray for bees.

I should also maybe look into sea salt as a salt alternative, and olive oil as a butter substitute. Actually, in general, I'd like to think more about all of the foods I eat, and all of the ingredients in the food I prepare. I've just been too lazy up to this point. I should stock up on some healthful reading for my morning and afternoon bus trips and really use that time.

We picked up the headphones at Frys. Frys -- oh my -- what a wonderful place. Only in my dreams had I imagined such a wonderland of electronics and mechanics.

Mary and I saw a clock radio that we were just enthralled with. Its shape, its colors, the way it felt in our hands, its levers and dials -- exquisite, all of it! Perfecto!

I managed to pick up one of the clocks, carry it with us to the check out, sneak it into my checkout pile, and pay for it -- all without her noticing. I was so sneaky! It was going to be a happy scrappy Christmas present, a delicious surprise. That is, until Alex looked at the pile and said really loudly, "HEY, you got the CLOCK!" Thanks Alex.

Good:

I finally picked up a pair of headphones this weekend! They are sweet headphones. My life at work will be so much happier.

Better:

I don't actually need the headphones today, as it appears I have the office to myself. There was a mysterious power outage in my building today, and all power and ventilation was off. There was a note on our doors from our manager advising us to just go home.

I took my time getting to work today, so I actually got here just as the power was coming back on. I'm going to stay here and work after all -- I'm hourly, so that's really in my best interests -- but it appears that all my Company_A coworkers, including Mr_X0, are out. Oh happy, happy day.

Morbid thoughts:

Have you ever wondered how long it would take for you to be found, were you to slip in the bathroom, crack your head on the sink, and knock yourself unconscious? How long it would take for someone to miss you? Worse, if you disappeared and were not physically in your apartment where you could be found, how long then would it take for somebody to report you missing?

These days, I don't see any one person every single day. There's not even anyone that I talk to every day on the phone or online. Sure, if I went missing on a work day my employers might miss me, but they're not entirely on the ball anyway and I don't think they'd come looking for me for a while.

With Mary and Alex, these days, and our weekend routines, I think it might be a week or so for me. Sunday brunch would roll around and they'd be wondering and worrying and looking.

All things considered, I guess that's not so bad. Half the reason the Green River serial killer here and the Picktons up in Vancouver got away with what they did for so long was because they preyed on a population segment that wasn't quickly missed -- many of the girls were not reported missing until months or years after their disappearances, and some, never at all. A week is much better than that.

A week is an incredibly long time, though. If I'm bleeding, unconscious on the bathroom floor -- a week would be an enternity, and would possibly be far too long to ever bring me back.

I was wrong about George; he does seem to like me just as much as before. I, however, have decided that I dislike him. Perhaps I was just projecting my own distaste yesterday.

When did I get to be so critical of people? I didn't always like everyone I met, but I don't remember strongly disliking many people. Now there are a fair number of folk that make that list.

Hoshi no Koe is quickly becoming one of my all time favorite films. I watched it again last night while Mar and I were falling asleep... such a poignant story, and the animation is breathtaking. Beloved by me.

I just had a weird deja-vu sort of moment: I was stressing about a problem when all of a sudden I felt certainty that this same moment had happened before, that I had handled it exactly as I was handling it now, that everything had turned out okay, and that I could stop stressing because I already knew what the outcome would be. I've had deja-vu before, but not quite like that; never a harbinger of relief, known outcomes to current problems.

Today in Tango we learned a lot about keeping our axis straight up and down and about counter-body mechanics. Mario also talked to me specifically about thinking about the relationship between upper body movement and lower body movement, and advised me to work on only moving my lower body as much as my upper body's movement warrants. I applied all of what I learned to swing tonight, and wow - it made a huge difference. Tonight might have been my best dance night ever.

Then we went out with the Lorraine-Joon-Leigh-Shannon-Josh-etc crew for a bite to eat. That was fun. It was the first time I've ever hung out or really talked to any of them.

Realized at the end though that I had completely forgotten about the blues party tonight. Suck. Sorry about that, Andy. :(

Then I got home to find that I had accidentally left my new phone in the bird room, and they chewed up all the buttons. Suck again.

The workshop today was awesome! I am so sore now. A good sore, though. I learned a lot, and Mario and Cynthia showed us a number of exercises that, if I start doing them regularly, should help me to become more responsive with my dancing and to have more control over my movent.

A little while into the workshop, I got into a tiff with the new Tango buddy over rotating. He didn't want to rotate partners. I did. I can see his point of view. He says he can see mine as it applies to Swing or Salsa, but claims that Tango is different.

We did rotate.

He seemed to really like me the other night. At the end of the night, after the Salsa dance, he tried to kiss me. Between me not being receptive then and the difference of opinion today, I don't think he likes me quite as much now. He is still friendly and civil, though.

I close my eyes, only for a moment
and the moment's gone.
All my dreams
pass before my eyes -
a curiousity.

Jaimes and I were talking about friendship tonight. I asked if he kept in touch with old friends that live far away, and he said, "No, I don't need to." He told me that the friendships feel like they extend outside this lifetime, that whenever they do see other again and it's like they were never apart. They don't need the communication for the times between because those times don't matter -- they are only part of this life, and the friendship is more than that.

I don't know why, but I really liked the way he described it. I'm hardly doing his words justice -- I wish my memory were better so that I could more aptly convey the beauty of his idea and the way he described it.

Fried calamari - yum. I had it for the first time tonight.

Unfortunately, I was allergic to something at dinner, and being a new food, the calamari is a good bet. Oh well. It was so good it was worth it.

I'm clean and happy this morning. I love the feeling where my face is all tight from a recent washing. Adding to that, my hair smells good from this morning's shampoo, and my new conditioner has made it extra-soft. Clothes all clean and soft, everything smells good and feels good. It's a great way to start the day.

I was really depressed earlier tonight. I left in the middle of my swing class; didn't want to be around people anymore. Came home, indulged in some self-pity, had a good cry, took the dog on a walk.

Then, instead of going back to the swing dance, I went to a tango practice. I felt I needed to get out again, but didn't want to be around too many people that I knew. Needed to break my routine, shake things up.

The first hour and a half of tango was utterly boring. There was nobody I knew there. Worse, there was hardly anyone there at all, so nobody to watch. Finally, though, people started showing. I watched some good dances. Then a friendly guy named George asked me to dance. Turns out he also works at Company_B, and knows people from both my old group and my current group. He also used to do Lindy. He liked my dancing and had a pleasant lead, so we danced for a good long while. The first few dances left room to be desired -- I'm so rusty -- but by the last few I was picking it up again. George was impressed enough that he asked me to partner with him for a fairly advanced Tango workshop this weekend. Good times. Then Jaimes showed up and he and I danced the last few dances of the night. Had some awesome, awesome dances; my best tangos so far, perhaps.

Tango ends early, so George asked if I'd like to go along Salsa dancing with him after. Jaimes teased me a little about that, saying that I have some sort of magnetism.

Honestly, I take rejection really poorly. I take it personally. I internalize it, am self-deprecating, come to believe that I'm not good enough, that nobody wants to be close to me, and that the people that are close to me won't always be; eventually they'll wise up and reject me as well. I've been doing that to myself lately. So for someone new to show interest in me -- it shocked me. I haven't been looking for new people to be close to for some time. I assumed nobody would want to be anyway, given a choice.

Then here is Jaimes, all friendly again like he never left, and now here's this new guy who likes me and wants to spend time with me. I felt like I'd finally opened my eyes after sleeping for a long time and the light was blinding me. All the constructs I've been building up recently were suddenly turned inside out, all because I put myself into a new situation and met some new people.

Anyhow, I told George that I would go Salsa dancing, but I needed to stop by the swing dance first and make sure everything was okay there, make sure someone was set to lock up and such. He decided to came with me and we hung out at the swing dance for a little while. I had some good dances there, too, but fled pretty quickly partly because I didn't want to make George wait too long, partly because I still wanted to get away from familiar situations, people I knew. Still feeling a little emotionally tumultuous, and needed the shock of a new environment to keep me from falling back into a depressive state.

So we made it to Salsa. (This was my first Salsa dance ever.) So many people, so loud, so much alcohol, such a different atmosphere. Sensory overload. It is a bit of the meat market I'd heard it rumored to be. George and I danced the rest of the evening together. It took a long time for me to catch on to the movement of Salsa -- so different from Tango or Swing -- although George said he was really impressed at how quickly I dropped the Swing movement that didn't belong and picked up the Salsa movement. By the end of the night I think I was really starting to get it. I'm sore in places that Tango and Swing never cause to be sore. My lower back hurts, maybe from all the hip movement. My legs hurt in different regions than I'm used to. I feel good now though. Tired out. Content.

I saw several people at Salsa that used to Lindy but haven't been around for months or even years. Just disappeared off the face of the planet for all we knew, but apparently just went over to Salsa. Dorks.

So I'm going to do a Tango workshop this weekend. Joy. And I have Salsa to play more with. And a new friend. And going to have lunch with Jaimes sometime soon. I'm also going to get together with Kristi again tomorrow night! Yay. And it's the weekend, so I'll see lots of Alex and Mary.

I'm still feeling down, but there's so much goodness in my life as well. Bittersweet. I'm glad for tonight.

Peeve: My officemate often locks his computer and leave the office, with his music still playing loudly over his headphones.

I deal poorly with rejection.

You know those sad, desperate figures in novels and movies who can't move on, who lose all sense of dignity in constant desperate attempts to mend relationships that are unsalvageable? You watch and you think, "What is wrong with that woman -- how can she be so stupid? Does she have no sense of reality?"

That is what I become when I am rejected.

I read some article a while back that asserted that gifted children, upon reaching adulthood, have more trouble than anyone else in dealing with failure and rejection. Because they were able to achieve anything they wanted to as children, they fail to develop adequate coping skills for coming in second or third or for being turned entirely away. Failures that wouldn't phase other adults can be devastating to the now-grown-gifted-child.

Emotionally, perhaps I am that like that. Maybe for much of my life I was always able to gain people's affection if I wanted it, to convince them that they should accept mine if I decided to give it. I was never the rejectee, only the rejector. I made the choice. And now, when all of a sudden I am in a situation where that is not the case, when I'm not able to make things work even if I want them to work, when someone makes a conscious decision to reject my affection, I wig out. I am unable to understand. It is new, uncharted territory and it scares me, so I act irrationally.

Or maybe I am over-analyzing, rationalizing, so as not to accept responsibility, and I actually am unbalanced. Maybe I tend toward the pathetic for no fathomable reason -- everyone has personality flaws, and this is one of mine.

I don't want to be this way. I want not to care. I want to be the balanced, healthy, strong character in the book that people aspire to become, instead of the desperate figure who lends drama to the story. I've had enough of drama.

A friend planned to come out and visit me in a week and a half. We haven't been getting along lately, but he had said that he might still come out to visit regardless.

I've been trying to get him to confirm since this last weekend. I expicitly asked for an answer on Tuesday, and he said I had to wait 48 hours for him to think things through. During that time something came up on the planned weekend that I'd really like to attend, but I waited in good faith for the friend to get back to me so that I could still give him the time if he came out.

I just found out that he actually cancelled the plane tickets on Monday, but didn't bother to tell me until now.

I feel hurt, angry, strung along. And he thinks I am "twisting reality", that it's unfair of me to be upset at him.

When he's not on the phone about his various ailments, he's on the phone with other firms discussing other job opportunities. Why doesn't he just take one of them and get it over with?

. . .
I may take a holiday in Spain,
leave my wings behind me
Drink my worries down the drain
and fly away to somewhere new

Hop on my choo choo -
I'll be your engine driver in a bunny suit!
If you dress me up in pink and white
we may be just a little fuzzy 'bout it later tonight..

Well, she's my angel;
she's a little better than the one that used to be with me,
'Cause she liked to scream at me
Man, it's a miracle that she's not living up in a tree

I may take a holiday in Spain,
leave my wings behind me
Drive this little girl insane
and fly away to someone new
. . .

I went out and talked things over with my guitar teacher over drinks and quesadillas. The upshot is that we're going to stop with the lessons until I get my routine down and start finding some time to practice again.

Never enough time in my day...

Dancing in the Dark

Tonight I was about to leave the dance at Sonny's when the power went out. The music died and the room went dark. We all stood there in shock, and then all of a sudden were serenaded. Kevin Buster had busted out his saxophone and played a really danceable "I'm Beginning to See the Light". So we all danced in the dark.

He only played the one song, and then people stood around again. Some got silly and danced to the tune of their cellphone ringers. Some danced to the beat of their own drum. A few did the big apple. A few enterprising souls dug up some flashlights so that the room was dimly lit.

Then Alex, who was DJing, procured a boombox and batteries, and started DJing again. The atmosphere, the feeling in the room was just awesome. I stayed a few songs more, even though I had meant to leave even before the power went out. Finally I gave up and left -- I was so tired and needed to get home -- but everyone there was still dancing away in the dark. Pretty damn cool.

On dates, if my date goes to the bathroom, I will occasionally take the time to go, as well. It's a nice little moment to myself.

That doesn't work when your date is the same sex as you.

You don't want to take a quick break to freshen up and preen in the bathroom if your date is in the bathroom with you.

Worse yet, you don't want to GO to the bathroom when your date is in the bathroom with you. What kind of crazy first date is that?

So many complications that never occurred to me prior to tonight...

". . .you need to move on. that person is not interested in your friendship. getting angry won't help," says johnboy.

It sounds so easy, but in practice is so hard. I suck at moving on.

Imagine that you're not getting along especially well with someone.

Imagine also that they've been off on a trip, travelling in a problem-ridden car that has recently been stalling a lot and has been displaying brake light problem indicators.

Imagine that you don't hear anything from them after their trip, and you start to worry a little bit about their safety. More time goes by, and still you don't hear anything. Finally you send an email and leave a phone message, both saying, "Hey, can you just send me a quick response to let me know that you got home okay?" Still, no response. Hours go by. You know that, in the course of this person's daily routine, they would have seen at least the email by this point in time.

At what point is it okay to respond with anger instead of (or in addition to) relief when you finally do hear back from them?

Is it reasonable to be angry when somebody knew that you were worried about them and did not respond so that you could stop worrying? Is it still reasonable to be angry even if you and they were not getting along, and they would have preferred to just avoid communication with you?

Yeah. So I've been worrying about someone, and finally recieved a non-chalant, vaguely cold response from them indicating that they are alright. So I'm a little mixed up about what I'm feeling, and not sure that it's all so very reasonable. Blah.

At NYU, the main campus library is a number of stories high -- 15? 20? -- with an open atrium in the middle. Each floor has a balcony surrounding the atrium so that you can look down all the way to the ground floor.

I remember the main floor of the atrium having an odd pattern. From way up high it acts as an optical illusion, making it seem as if sharp points are sticking up at you. The railings surrounding the balcony on each level have a little cross design at the top of each rail bar. Rumor had it that they had done all of this to keep people from jumping to their death from the upper levels. Students might contemplate jumping, but the crosses and the apparent spikes would make them think twice. I always thought that was bunk, just an urban legend passed around to all new freshman.

Turns out two students have leapt to their death from those balconies just this year alone, so maybe there was more to the rumors than I had thought. Creepy.

They are apparently going to install glass barriers around the balconies now, so that jumping will no longer be possible. It's sad that they have to do that -- the building was really awe-inspiring as it was and looking down from above over the railing was quite an experience -- but perhaps it is for the better.

Don't ever eat at the IHOP at 950 E Madison Street in Seattle. Sketch-city.

Mary and I ate there earlier this week. She's a big pancake fan. Most of our friends are anti-IHOP, so we figured since we were eating on our own, it would be a good opportunity to do the IHOP-thing. We went to one I'd never been to -- I didn't even know it existed, even though it's only 10 blocks or so from my home, until I looked it up on the web.

Poor choice.

First, the people there were sketchy.

Second, there was no music. That doesn't sound like anything big, but it felt so strange. No background sound. It felt almost ominous.

Despite all that, the food seemed pretty good, and we had a good time playing Canasta before and after our meal. We brought the leftovers home, gave them to my dog, and went our separate ways.

You'd think that would be the end of the story, right?

Wrong.

The next day after a really long day at work, I came home to find an explosion of dog diarrhea all over the living room floor. It took 2 hours of intense cleaning to clean it all up. First there was the dog shit, then Mike called and gave me a tremendous amount of grief on the phone. Great way to end an already rotten evening. All in all it ended up being one of the unhappiest, most unpleasant nights I can remember ever having.

What does that have to do with IHOP?

I found out the next day that Mary had spent the entire night and day after the IHOP dinner throwing up with nasty stomach cramps. We think it was the sausage, since that's the only thing I didn't eat at all that both she and the dog ate. Stupid IHOP food poisoning.

Poor sister. Poor dog. Not cool.

Oh, I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
and I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid

I remember that time that you told me,
you said, "Love is touching souls" -
Surely you touched mine,
'cause part of you pours out of me
in these lines from time to time

I meant to blog a few weeks ago about a bus experience I had. I sat down, and as the bus was taking off the man sitting next to me broke down into a series of hacking coughs. He kept coughing, over and over; the man was unwell.

I did not want to get myself sick. I felt almost some sort of revulsion. But I also did not want to appear rude. There were other open seats on the bus, and part of me wanted to just get up and move. I did not move, however. I stayed where I was for the entire bus ride, just breathing air more from the aisle than from the still coughing man beside me.

I did get off a stop or two earlier than I meant to, and just walked the extra distance.

Would it have been rude to change seats when it became apparent that the man was ill?

Was it worse to stay in the seat when I did not want to be there?

When did I get to be so discriminating? It felt out of perspective. So the man had a cold or something... I'm healthy and my immune system is working well. Sitting in the seat next to him should not have bothered me nearly as much as it did. I still feel bothered by the strength of my reaction.

I was thinking, the other day, that if I make it to 30 and there's nobody I can imagine settling down with to start a family, I might just have and raise a child on my own. Sort of my own My Best Friend's Wedding deal, but with a twist and with no man involved.

Does that seem so strange? It feels... scandalous. If I chose to do that, I think it would worry my family. At least some of my friends would worry, as well. Yet, women raise children on their own in this society all the time today, many of them not nearly as well off as I am now and as I anticipate being at that point in my life.

I was digging around through some file archives for old finance files and ran across some papers Jeremy had been editing on my computer back in November of 1999 -- work was doing on his undergraduate thesis, apparently. I don't know why, but my heart got a little caught up in my throat. My, how time changes everything.

On my way home from Ultimate today, I stopped by Best Buy and purchased Quicken. I'd been planning to get it for a while, but just hadn't gotten around to it. After an hour or two playing with it I still have a number of transactions and accounts to enter into the system, but I think I've entered enough for it to be a pretty accurate high level overview of my finances.

If I owe you money (you know who you are), I've entered you into the program. It's now official. Rest assured I will pay you back, because my net worth/assets/liabilities chart makes me sad and I've got to fix it.

Today, in the grand tradition of all my ultimate games so far with ALLCAPS, someone from the other team was injured during each game. Bad Karma or something.

We played a double header and lost both games, but we played well and both games were close. The first team had great spirit. The second team was rather snipey and petty about stupid little things, which was sad considering they have some of the longest running and more visible DiscNW folk on their team.

We got jerseys today. Well, not so much "Jerseys" as "T-Shirts sporting the logo from our web page", but they were still pretty snazzy. Bright blue. Sexy. Too bad the season is almost over, with only one more regularly scheduled game and the playoffs left.

The topic of interest today is cannibalism. Why did I choose that for my lunch hour reading? I'm not sure. It wasn't entirely bright of me, as I came across one particularly nasty page detailing savage accounts of torture and cannibalism which made my stomach turn. I am not going to post a link because it was far too grotesque.

Anyhow, I recently came across the topic through the book I'm currently reading, Ahab's Wife. In the book, a whaling vessel is attacked by a giant sperm whale, and the crew left on lifeboats in the middle of the ocean. They can set one of two courses -- move toward a set of islands just several days away, or set sail for land thousands of miles away in another direction. Due to rumors of rampant cannibalism on the nearby islands and fear of being eaten, they choose the longer course.

Days pass. Weeks. There is no food. No water. They are directly exposed to direct sunlight all the day long, and they become badly burned and blistered. They begin hallucinating. Finally, on the verge of starvation, they decide to draw lots for who will live and who will die, and they begin eating one another. Eventually the few lone survivors are rescued.

This book was inspired by Moby-Dick. And Moby-Dick was inspired by a true story.

Then randomly, last night, Steve told me about a law course he'd taken a while back where they had studied a case of several sailors who had been lost at sea on a lifeboat for months. Finally, starving, burnt, hallucinating, they also decided to draw lots. Just days after they had eaten one of their own, they were rescued. They told their rescuers of their ordeal, and then, to their surprise, were prosecuted for murder. Steve also brought up the event that had inspired Moby-Dick; apparently there is a non-fiction book that documents the story, as well, which he said was quite good.

So, today during my lunch hour, I decided to search for accounts of that trial. My first hit was the horribly grotesque read, but eventually I did find some accounts of the incidents I was looking for. Human Rights Education Library: First Steps gives a good account of the sailor's ordeal that Steve had spoken of, and Compulsion & Necessity gives a good account of the trial that followed. (To find the relevant sections, search on both pages for "Mignonette".) The Custom of the Sea is a full length book about the event.

In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex appears to be the non-fiction book that Steve spoke of that documents the events that inspired Moby-Dick.

Lots of crazy reading.

---

You know, were I starving on a small boat at open sea and it came down to drawing lots, I would strongly campaign for drawing lots to be amputated -- "Let's just eat my leg?" -- as opposed to drawing lots for being eaten entirely. Yeah, there's the concern of going into shock and dying anyway, but we can at least try, right? And if I die of shock, well, eat me then.

Maybe that wouldn't go over so well, though? Sailors seem never to have approached it that way. Apparently the whole stranded-at-sea-eating-one-another-thing has happened a number of times throughout the course of history, but I've found no accounts of sailors-stranded-at-sea-eating-parts-of-themselves.

I'm not to be Kathy anymore, after all.

Throughout the day, my network identity at work has slowly and mysteriously been changing back so that my name is again displayed everywhere as "Kathryn Krueger" instead of "Kathy Krueger". I'm not sure if some of their data got restored to backups or what, but I've decided I'm going to leave well enough alone. Everyone can just deal with the confusion of having two Kathryns in a 4-person group.

I spilled coffee all over my desk and keyboard. I hate when I do stuff like that.

This morning, I had a healthy dose of chicken on my way to the bus stop.

And by chicken, I mean Peeps.

Yummy, sugary peeps.

Apparently, broken hearts DO actually cause physical pain.

Sonar "noise polution" affects quality of marine life and is possibly to blame for whale deaths. Sad. :(

Finally, my prayers have been answered:

MailOrderHusbands.Net: clickin' for love (TM)

"Have you been "Clickin' for Love" in all the wrong places?

Then look no further... We are the number one spousal-order fulfillment service for women worldwide. "

Scientists at the University of Chicago have demonstrated that sleeping has an important and previously unrecognized impact on improving people's ability to learn language.

And from that article, a bit that I found particularly interesting: ". . .the idea for the study arose from discussions Nusbaum and Fenn had with Margoliash, who studies vocal (song) learning in birds. "We were surprised several years ago to discover that birds apparently 'dream of singing' and this might be important for song learning," Margoliash said."

That's so cool! Next time I tuck my birds in at night I'll have to wish them sweet dreams.

I used to be a late sleeper. I didn't tend to go into work until at least 10:00 am or 11:00 am. Some days, not before noon. Then I'd just stay until 7:00 pm or later without thinking anything of it.

Then, a few weeks ago, my group started holding daily 9:30 am meetings. It was painful for me, at first, dragging myself out of bed early enough to make those.

Now though, I easily get here between 8:00 am and 9:30 am, sometimes even earlier. But I leave earlier, too. There are days that I leave at 4:00 pm. 4:00 pm! That's so early! It's like you've got this whole other day at the end of your day to fill with wonderful things!

I've also found that I actually like the early morning hours. Louie and I take a good walk around the neighborhood each morning, sometimes as early as 5:00 am, sometimes as late as 8:00 am. The air is fresh and crisp, the sun is just coming out; it's a pleasant time to be out and about. Then I leave him off at home and stroll to the bus stop, also a nice walk. Occassionally I stop for coffee along the way, but the walk and the wait at the bus stop are enjoyable just on their own.

Even without the meetings, now, I think I'd choose to continue this schedule. If anyone had told me half a year ago that I'd feel this way, I would have scoffed at them. Funny how things work out.

My eyes hurt from being open.

I went on an adveture last night!

I was curious to see where my bus ultimately goes. There were no bus schedules on the bus (and I have trouble reading those things anyway), so when I got to my stop I just didn't get off.

I thought that perhaps I would end off either at a stop closer to home than my normal stop, in which case I would get off and walk, or close to my sister's dorm, in which case I would track her down.

Neither happened.

I realized several stops in that I was travelling away from both destinations, but decided to stick it out anyway. Eventually, all but one other person having deboarded, the bus driver turned around and said, "Is there anyone left on the bus? If you are, you shouldn't be." We both got off.

Boom! There I was, in the middle of the international district, right next to Uwajimaya. It was raining, but what is rain to a daring adventurer? In some ways, I think the rain had fueled me on; a stormy adventure seems so much more romantic than an extended trip on a sunny evening. And, while it wasn't techinically stormy, it was as stormy as Seattle gets.

Being in the international district, I decided that I would reward myself by calling up Alex and Mary and inviting them to meet me at the dumpling place. Dumplings; yum. So I called them, arranged to meet, and began my walk to the restaurant.

Unfortunately, it turns out that the dumpling place is closed on Mondays. I sat on a stoop close to the restaurant for a while reading my book (Ahab's Wife - a great read, if you ever have time), hanging out and waiting for Alex and Mary to show so that we could rethink our plans. The rain continued and daylight faded first into dusk and finally into darkness, broken only by scattered streetlamps. With the darkness came a chill, and waiting became distinctly less pleasant.

Eventually, I decided to contact Alex and Mary to see where they were and when they might show. I walked down the street to a nearby payphone, only to find that a destructionist had been at work and had dismantled the handset, leaving just an empty shell and several disconnected wires. Thus thwarted, I walked back to the street in front of the dumpling place to wait again.

Finally they showed, and we decided to walk down to another Chinese place Alex is fond of. The food was good, but Mary seemed withdrawn and a little down. It turns out the last time she ate there was the night she found out about her Jeremy's* death. Alex and Jonathon had taken her there just after she found out. Had I known that, I might have suggested someplace else.

After dinner Alex drove me home, and then he and Mary went to the dance. I was still a little sleep deprived from my travel-filled weekend so I opted out. When I got home I grabbed my book and with the intention of reading a few chapters, but the next thing I knew it was 5am and I was awake with my book under the pillow. What a night.

* Someone asked me recently if there are two Jeremys, and the answer is yes. There is my Jeremy, who attends Georgia Tech in Atlanta and whom I dated on and off for a number of years, and there is Mary's Jeremy, who sadly passed away in a car accident not so long ago.

I'm going to leave work now and start the journey home. Later tonight, though, I will post about knives and airport security, and about mid-flight seat adjustments.

I took a trip out to CT two weeks ago, flying on Northwest Airlines. It was the first time in years that I had flown on anything other than a budget airline such as ATA, Frontier, or JetBlue. It was a disappointment.

Somehow, I expected that were I to spend the extra money to fly one of the bigger airlines, my experience would be significantly different. Better seats, better food, better customer service. It wasn't so. They don't even feed meals anymore; well, not really. On several of the flights were given the option of spending $7 on some TGIF meal they had on board, but they didn't serve any food outside of that. On one of the flights, we didn't even get a beverage service! The seats were as small as on any other plane. Two of the planes were smaller and older than any of the budget airline planes I've recently flown on.

This last weekend, I took another trip, and this time I flew United.

My faith in the bigger airlines has been restored.

We slept in and I got to the airport late. Not good. Recently, most people I know have been turned away if they get there any less than 45 minutes [rior to departure time. The desk attendants are short and curt in the turning away -- there will be no discussion about the matter.

Anyhow, today, I got to the airport about 25 minutes before departure time. Another lady hoping to make the same flight got there at the same time. The lady behind the desk was really nice. She called to the gate to see if they were still boarding and if we might make it. They weren't sure, but she checked us through anyway. "I don't know if you'll make it," she said as she handed us the tickets and advised us to hurry, "but I'll at least give you the chance to try."

So nice! The chance to try! We got stuck in security for 15 minutes, but the gate was close and they were still finishing up general boarding when we got to the plane.

That plane was okay. Nice stewardesses, reasonably comfortable seating, beverage service. No complaints at all.

We arrived early in Chicago. (Every United flight I flew this weekend arrived at its destination between 5 and 40 minutes ahead of schedule.)

The second plane I flew on this morning was a B777. It was awesome.

There were 16 rows of first class seating. Most of those rows had 7 seats -- two on each side, three in the middle, with two aisles. The extra-special first class rows had 5 seats -- one on each side, three in the middle, with two aisles.

The coach class seating had 9 seats -- two on each side, five in the middle, with two aisles. The seats were large and comfortable; I think they were they most comfortable airline seats I've ever flown in. Reasonable leg room, lots of butt room, adjustable head rests. Three quarters of my way through the flight I switched from my aisle seat into a middle seat (that's another story for another blog entry), and even that seat was more comfortable than any airline seat within memory.

When we first entered the airplane, it was playing mood music. You know the sort -- soothing nature music, often played in large arena-like echo-ey spaces. It was actually sort of nice. It seemed to fit well.

The overhead bins were roomy, and instead of the slamming latch doors, they nicely rolled down. So easy to fit luggage into, and so easy to close. Nobody had to force the things shut, and they opened such that nothing could fall out upon the opening.

Every seat was fitted with a personal TV screen. We were given a choice of four movies or five general channels to watch, and each seat was supplied with decent headphones. None of this "give me 5 dollars for a cruddy pair of headphones" shizzle that I've seen so many other airlines pull.

And they fed us food! Croissant sandwiches! Warm! Granted, the croissant was a little stale, but it was food. And it was included with my fare.

I wish I could ride B777's every time I had to fly.