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.

I had the strangest bus experience this afternoon. I was waiting for my bus, the 545, when another bus drove up. This bus had no number; it was simply marked "To Terminal". The driver asked everyone at the stop if we wanted a ride - "Nonstop to downtown, might save you a few minutes," he cheerfully told us all.

Well, downtown is where I wanted to be, so I and three other folk hopped on. Sure enough, we skipped all stops along 520. Yay! The driver whistled all the way; he was having a jolly afternoon.

None of us knew quite where he was going to drop us off until we got there. He drove us into the Convention Center transit station, down into the lower bus lanes where no pedestrians are supposed to venture. He then hopped off the bus to escort us all out of the no access area, still cheerfully whistling all the while. Some driver from another bus, amused to see riders out in a no-rider area and perhaps thinking we looked rather touristy, announced at us over his intercom, "Welcome to Seattle!"

I was happy to find that the final destination was actually closer to home than my normal afternoon stop. Two others on the bus were less enchanted, however; the Convention Center stop was apparently not where they wished to end up.

I'm still not sure what bus I was on.

The shizzle is flying. Someone at Company_B found out about Company_A's poor practice of sharing one Company_A network account among multiple active employees while they are all waiting to get their own accounts, and people on high are not happy about it. Still waiting to see where all the fallout lands.

1. Who is 'm'?
2. What's wrong with shizzle?

I dreampt about my birds again last night. I was in my childhoood bedroom. It was dark outside, and the room was dimly lit, so I didn't notice that the window was partially open. We had the birds out playing with us, but something startled them and they bolted for the window. All flew out before I could do anything about it, but as I reached frantically after them I managed to grab Cricket and pull her back in. I can still remember the feel of her chest in my hand, her quickly beating heart, her ruffled feathers.

I called for the rest of my birds, but none came back. When it got light the next day I searched the neighborhood for them, high and low, but I was never able to recover any of the others.

Everything is so backwards in my dreams. In actuality, Cricket is the one who is gone. The others still remain.

I don't know what the dream means. Maybe I'm trying to come to grips with the fact that I'll lose all of them at some point in time, and trying to come to terms with that impending loss now. But then why was Cricket alive in the dream? Why does she keep coming back?

More days than not, lately, I get to my bus stop just after my bus has left. I then have to wait a full quarter of an hour for the next bus. I guess I need to work on that whole timing thing.

On our morning walk today, Louie and I saw what looked to be a flock of pigeons eating a pile of puke. Ick. I guess you eat what you can find when you're a wild(?) animal living in the city, but still...

Netflix is awesome, by the way. I ordered my moveis in the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday, they shipped the movies during the day that same day, and the movies were in my mailbox by Wednesday afternoon. Kick ass.

Taking the bus is dangerous. I mean, I have to walk to the bus stop, a whole half mile or something. And then I roll my ankle, fall, skin my knee, and catch the attention of everyone within a full block radius. That never happened when I was driving.

"Are you okay?" yells some guy from down the hill over on the other side of the street.

"Yeah," I call back, standing to dust myself off and survey the damage. The fall wore a weak spot in the knee of my pants that will probably turn into a full-blown hole within one or two washings -- and these were nice pants, too. Bummer. My knee is a little bloodied up. My ankle hurts from rolling it. And more than anything, my pride is bruised.

Then, to make matters worse, the fall slowed me down just enough so that I missed my bus by 30 seconds. It drove past me as I was briskly walking the last block to the stop, so I had to sit and wait another 15 minutes for the next one.

I want to see The Annihilation of Fish. I was browsing Seattle CitySearch in my quest last night to remember all the recent movies I've been wanting to see so that I could put them on my netflix list, and I came across this one. I had never heard of it, but the reviews on the site raved about it. Since then, I've found any number of positive, rave reviews while searching the web. But, despite listing it under their current movies, CitySearch doesn't list any showtimes for the movie, anywhere.

Amazon knows about the movie, but doesn't have it in stock.

It's not even on Ebay.

Nobody has it in stock.

It has frigging James Earl Jones in it! Talk about big names... why can't I find it anywhere?

I found the official website. It looks like it played at all sorts of film festivals when it first came out, back in 1999 and in 2000, and then I don't know what happened to it. People saw it -- all sorts of folks talk about it on the web -- but it's not available ANYWHERE. I even tried Kazaa, and nothing there.

Bah.

Stupid limited releases.

Stupid CitySearch, what a tease.

I set up an account with netflix last night. w00t! I think I'm going to start both a book journal and a movie journal, to keep up with everything I'm reading and watching these days.

I dreamed last night that Amber moved out here, and that my brother's tour of duty ended and he came back as well. Amber, Mary, Leroy and I were all together. In the dream, I remembered having dreamed not long before that everything would happen that way. It seemed right and good and even destined.

In real life, though, my brother's tour just got extended. Up until 3 days ago, they thought they were coming home. Now they find that they are "needed someplace else" and their release date has been moved out to March. Leroy is allowed to take two weeks leave time, but because he would have to pay his own travel expenses and because he doesn't want to leave only to have to go back, he is not going to leave.

Sometimes waking up really sucks.

Mary and my father got in on Saturday. It's the first time my father has been out here since I moved to Washington.

Last night, we went dancing. Mary and I danced, and my father, my aunt, and my cousin Andy all actually came and watched for a little bit. On the one hand, it was nice that one of my parents got to see what has become a large and important part of my life. On the other hand, he didn't seem very interested or excited about it, which made me a little sad. Oh well; I guess you can't ever win all battles.

I went to a series of dance workshops this weekend. Some of the courses were better than others. There were a 20's Charleston and a Balboa course that I really liked. We learned some nifty solo-stuff in the 20's Charleston course, and it made me decide that I'd like to work some on my solo dancing. It'll give me something to do when the music moves me, but there's nobody that wants to dance with me or nobody I want to dance with.

Now I'm at work. Tired. I rode the bus again. I wanted to take a nap, but decided that wouldn't be smart; would suck to miss my stop. Now I'm sipping on a coffee I just grabbed from the kitchen, trying to gather my wits about me so that I can start getting things done.

*yawn*

Martin Sheen sent me email! Kick ass!

Well, kinda.

From: "Martin Sheen" [info @ deanforamerica.com]
To: Kathryn [kkrueger @ exmsft.com]
Subject: A special message from Martin Sheen
Date: Fri, 26 Sep 2003 18:31:10 -0400

Dear Kathryn,

I am writing you today as a fellow supporter of Howard Dean. It is now more important than ever that we stand up with him.

At yesterday's presidential debate in New York City, the Washington candidates continued their relentless attacks on Howard Dean. For the past month, the establishment candidates have been conducting orchestrated assaults on Dean's character, employing radio ads, speeches, direct mail, and a whisper campaign questioning the Governor's commitment to key Democratic values -- one of them has even created a website devoted exclusively to criticizing Howard Dean.

As Howard Dean said at the debate, "We need to remember that the enemy here is George Bush, not each other."

We need Howard Dean's bold leadership in the White House. Strong fundraising keeps our campaign's momentum going; it pays for much-needed media buys in key battleground states and it attracts new supporters to Howard Dean. And continuing strong fundraising will also help with the campaign's latest bold move: hiring a coordinator for each of Iowa's 99 counties.

There are five days left before the FEC filing deadline. I urge you to make a contribution now to help Governor Dean:

http://www.deanforamerica.com/contributetoday

I know that you have done a great deal to get Howard Dean to where he is today. But today and for the next five days the most important thing he needs is your financial support. Please join more than 150,000 Americans who have already contributed:

http://www.deanforamerica.com/contributetoday

Thank you for taking the time today to support Howard Dean.

Sincerely,
Martin Sheen

I guess he likes Dean too. Yay for Dean. Yay for Martin Sheen, the would-be-Canadian Dean-supporter best-ever-fictional-president (West Wing kicks ass!) who sent me email.

I finally rode the bus to work today!

Granted, Steve rode it also, and even walked with me to the bus stop, so it was significantly less scary.

That said, I still feel pretty proud of myself. Yay Kathryn! Way to conquer your fears.

I want to go home from work. But I'm waiting to start off a database restoration job. But I can't start it until I finish copying the database backup file over to my server, and that copy job has been going for 20 minutes already. It says "4 minutes remaining", but 10 minutes ago it said "7 minutes remaining". I don't think it knows what it's talking about.

I hate super-large files.

I hate waiting.

Oh well. Been looking at the Seattle Traffic Cameras and it looks like I'd just be leaving to sit in traffic anyhow. Bah.

I also hate bills. Why can't they just pay themselves?

I mean, I guess they can, with all those new-fangled bill-paying services. But I don't trust them. I don't like when money is automatically drawn from my accounts -- that just makes it easier to miss discrepancies.

So why can't I pay bills like, once every half year? So many bills, due so often... suckasaurus.

I hate traffic.

I meant to post at least part of this thread a while back:

________________________________________
From: Oliver Scholz
Sent: Monday, September 15, 2003 5:05 PM
To: Kathryn Krueger; Susan Boling; Former CRM Employees
Subject: RE: hmaun mnid

There is a word for that:
Dyslexia
:)
I had to go to extra classes as a kid to try to fix my dyslexia.

Welcome back Kathy! Glad to see you back at the company.
________________________________________
From: Kathryn Krueger
Sent: Monday, September 15, 2003 5:01 PM
To: Susan Boling; Former CRM Employees
Subject: RE: hmaun mnid

For me, it’s not jsut readnig – my mnid dosen’t bohrer tpynig or wirting all the letetrs in the rihgt oredr etiher. I’m alwyas misytpnig whree all the corerct ltteers are icnluedd, but not in the rgiht odrer. It eevn hapepns wehn I’m wriitng the old fasihoend way, with a pen and paepr. I don’t alawys hvae the frist and lsat lteters rgiht, thuogh – semitemos I yllatnedicca etirw sdrow sdrawkcab, os tsrif dna tsal era pilf deppolf.

________________________________________
From: Susan Boling
Sent: Monday, September 15, 2003 4:29 PM
To: Former CRM Employees
Subject: hmaun mnid

Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in
waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht
the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total
mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the
huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a
wlohe.

Then I saw that Brian had posted something almost identical to Susan's original mail on his blog in the meanwhile. Ha. I geuss geart mnids tinhk akile.

Oliver pointed a finger at me and claimed dyslexia because I accidentally type entire words backwards sometimes. I didn't think that was the sort of way in which dyslexia manifested itself. Hmm. I'll evah to research taht a tib more sometime.

Actor and activist Martin Sheen, who portrays a fictional US president on the television drama The West Wing, said when he crosses from the US to Canada he feels like he's left "the land of the lunatics".

I'm not the only one!

New processes implemented at work. I'm much busier, but much happier. They're helping smooth things out such that it's easier to get my work done and be more productive, and they're also positively affecting the way in which my officemate and I interract. Nice to have new processes actually help, instead of just bogging things down.

Happy happy me.

My name was lost, and now is found.

Another Kathryn joined my group this week. She does essentially the same job I do. And she goes by Kathryn, no nicknames. I've always preferred Kathryn at work -- I like the formality -- but now it's starting to get confusing.

So today I called up the Company_B helpdesk to have them change my display name on the network to Kathy, and I started signing my emails as Kathy, as well. Crazy. I feel like a different person.

I decided to go with Kathy at work instead of Kat, even though Kat seems to be my preferred name socially right now -- I wanted some separation from my social life. At work, I'm Kathy. And it's just my job, not my life. When I go home at the end of the day, I'll be someone else, and that's where the living will begin.

I've been having disturbing dreams lately.

The other night, I dreamed that I was on an airplane. A girl on the plane was being raped. Several people had pulled her down onto the aisle floor and were undressing her, touching her, violating her against her will. Everyone else on the plane, maybe 10-15 passengers in all, while perhaps not actively involved, were still aware of what was going on. Many were actively supporting it.

I was sitting a little ways away, to the front and to the left of everything that was happening. I have this vivid picture in my mind of the girl looking at me in a moment of utter desperation. Our eyes met...

And then I looked away. Pretended I didn't see. Kind of like when you walk by a homeless person on the street, and you walk by not making eye contact, pretending as if you don't see, so that you don't have to deal with it.

I felt so dirty. I still do, and it wasn't even real. And even now, the picture of this girl looking to me for help is burned into my mind.

I don't understand the King County Metro bus schedule pamphlets. They're like Greek to me. Only I think Greek might be slightly easier for me to translate.

This afternoon I pointed Brian to a link that I got quite a while back off of Salam Pax's blog, and then Brian linked it in one of his blog posts. I don't even know where Salam Pax got the link in the first place; I know he is an avid reader of any number of blogs, though, so it could have been anywhere. It's like Chutes and Ladders! Where will it go next?

A change of pace for Chris, who is apparently not a Lyle Lovett fan:

I don't wanna waste my time on simple little things
I'd rather stay here all the night with everyone who sings

Happy boys and happy girls will be
We are the happy boys and girls
Happy boys and happy girls will be
So happy yeah So so happy yeah
Happy boys and happy girls will be
We are the happy boys and girls
Happy boys and happy girls will be
Oh yeah
So happy

If I had a boat
I'd go out on the ocean
And if I had a pony
I'd ride him on my boat
And we could all together
Go out on the ocean
Me upon my pony on my boat

My ultimate team, ALLCAPS, had its first official game of the season today. We won, 15-10. Not a bad start.

Someone on the other team had a bad dive while defending and hurt his knee really badly. Two games so far this season -- we had a scrimage last week -- and both games, someone on the other team suffered a nasty injury. Not cool.

Both games, my left knee kept popping whenever I was running and cutting. Also not cool. I'm going to have to talk to a doctor about that, maybe.

Outside of that, today's game was good. I caught everything thrown to me, and completed all passes I made. We all started off kind of weak -- at halftime, we were only ahead 8-7 -- but we started playing pretty well together midway through the game. I'm looking forward to the rest of the season.

I've been having a bad day at work. A nasty, horrible day. Stupid ass politics -- I just want to do my job. Why should that be so hard?

Add in that I have cramps, I've been fighting with someone close to me, and Mr_X0 is being his usual pain-in-the-butt-self.

It's stupid, but when work gets bad like this I totally internalize it. If work is going poorly, I start feeling like my life sucks. I know that's uncool and irrational, but I seem to do it anyway.

Blah.

Trying to figure out the schedule for busing to work. I'm scared of the bus. A bus virgin. I wanted them to have a FAQ for people who were scared of public transit on their main page, but no such luck. I guess it isn't scary to most people.

Oh well, we'll see how it goes.

Johnny Cash died today. Brian Moore will be sad. I'm a little bummed about it.

Today is a dreary, drizzly, overcast day -- the sort that Seattle is famous for, and actually the first like it that we've had in months.

I forgot how slick the roads get. My car hydroplaned on the exit ramp this morning, coming off the highway on the way to work. I lost control and nearly spun into the edge rail, but managed to regain control before that happened, without incident. It was scary, though. I'm still just coming off the adrenaline high that comes with being scared out of one's wits.

Man, I am such a dork. I was at lunch today with Miles, and his recruiter happened to be eating at the same restaurant. After we finished we stopped by her table so that he could say hello. I was wearing my "CANADA" sweatshirt.

Miles recruiter, trying to make polite conversation, asked me, "So are you Canadian?"

"I wish I were," I replied.

Silence.

Her date coughed and attempted a smile. "Well, it's a start," she said.

Yeah. Great. Kathy is a dork.

I did a scary thing today; I braved the lurking horrors of my refridgerator to clean out all the summer's leftovers. Yes, there was stuff from June in there. No, not all of it was recognizable any longer. Some of the leftovers made me nostalgic; I remembered the meal I'd had with Mary and Laurie, and perhaps Alex or Chris or Mike. But the mold and goop made me less so, and now it is all gone.

On the subject of food, I've been craving strange combinations of food.

I am having dinner.

It is a grilled sandwich -- cheese, chicken, fried egg, and a little bit of ceasar dressing. And a glass of water. Yum. I am happy.

I realized yesterday at my ultimate game that somewhere along the line I've stopped thinking of myself as 'Kathy'.

I introduced myself as Kathryn, and some of my team mates asked me if I go by anything shorter. The first time they asked, I told them that they could call me Kathy, but it felt so foreign and strange as it rolled off my tongue. It also felt strange when they called me Kathy, because not many people do these days. The next time somebody else asked, I responded with Kat, and that's what seems to have stuck.

Jeremy always preferred Kathryn. Mike always preferred Kat. I tend to use Kathryn for formal communication anyway -- mail, email at work, etc. -- and I guess I've gotten used to most of my friends in Seattle referring to me as Kat or occasionally Kathryn.

Strange. I've somehow lost my childhood name.

Alex and I got together at 7am this morning, had breakfast, talked, and worked things out. He's been really depressed lately. I'm a little depressed. It's not a good combination. I think things are going to be okay, though, and I think we're both feeling a little better about each other.

Alex really hurt my feelings today. He was so negative towards me, and in his expectations of me. It sucked... now I feel depressed and a little lost, because he's one of the few people I've felt like I could count on unconditionally these last few months, but now he has all this negative energy directed towards me. I was crying after the phone conversation. Stupid.

---

I played my first ultimate game with my new team today. My left knee kept popping; popped on almost every step when I was running. It sucked, and it worried me. Then someone on the other team broke their ankle during play.

I'm glad, I guess, that I have health insurance again.

---

I dreampt last night that there was a fire, or something, in my apartment, and all but one of my birds got loose. When I came home and found out, I walked around the neighborhood calling for them and most of them came back to me. Pookie came right away when I called her. But I called and called for Cricket, and she never came... it made me really sad.

Somehow in the dream she wasn't dead yet, or I didn't know that she was dead. But looking for her, never finding her again... I don't know. Maybe it was some symbolic attempt on the part of my subconscious to come to terms with her death.

Even now it still makes me really sad.

:-/

I eat out a lot since I started working again. Problem is, I have all these friends at MS, and I'm there all the time so it's convenient to hang out... but there's not a lot to do in Redmond outside of going out for coffee, lunch, or dinner. It's cutting into my paycheck more than I'd like, and I'm afraid I'm starting to gain a little weight, as well. Gotta watch that.

There's a large group of folks that I used to work with, back when I was still working on MSCRM, who have all also escaped to newer and better jobs. They all have lunch together maybe once a month, and I went with them on Friday. They all looked so... happy. Much more so than I remembered them. Several of them said the same of me. It's so good not to be in that environment anymore.

You are The Cap'n!

Some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some slit the throats of any man that stands between them and the mantle of power. You never met a man you couldn't eviscerate. Not that mindless violence is the only avenue open to you - but why take an avenue when you have complete freeway access? You are the definitive Man of Action. You are James Bond in a blousy shirt and drawstring-fly pants. Your swash was buckled long ago and you have never been so sure of anything in your life as in your ability to bend everyone to your will. You will call anyone out and cut off their head if they show any sign of taking you on or backing down. You cannot be saddled with tedious underlings, but if one of your lieutenants shows an overly developed sense of ambition he may find more suitable accommodations in Davy Jones' locker. That is, of course, IF you notice him. You tend to be self absorbed - a weakness that may keep you from seeing enemies where they are and imagining them where they are not.

What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!

Yay -- I'm able to blog again. Blogger was doing strrraaannge things this morning. Following are a series of posts that I wasn't able to post at-time-of-writing:

---

My officemate was unexpectedly not here today. It's been such a nice, relaxing day. I've been mad-productive. Crazy.

---

I finally got my own net-id and my badge. It's only been a month and a half... about time! It will be nice, not having to call up every morning to find someone to let me into the building.

I guess Company_B keeps everything forever, because the picture on my badge is my newhire photo from September 25, 2000. Oh, the memories.

---

Company_A gave me a new box today. No more sud<CLICK! reboot...>

Er, no more sudden reboots, one would hope. The new computer is pretty sweet. I've never had a Pentium 4 before.

I spent 4 hours of time building the new box and getting all the patches and software I need, though. Painfully long process.

I neglected to install one patch. Turns out the Media Player Critical Update patch is what keeps 89.5's internet radio player from playing for me, so I'm being a rebel and skipping that one.

Okay, going to try to just work it out with him then.

So, hey. I have a question for y'all --

It is no secret that I am less than enamoured with Mr_X0. I feel that with his constant questions, his loud, frequent non-work phone calls, and the requests he makes for me to do this or do that, he negatively affects my productivity.

Additionally, someone came to the office today to ask me a question, and he kept stepping into the conversation and trying to answer it for me. Not only was that rude and annoying, but his answer was not helpful and was even misleading. I actually had information to share with the woman to answer her question, but he made it very difficult for me to do that.

Are these things that I should bring up with my boss and/or his boss? (I'm thinking of his and my managers at the contracting firm, not our manager here at Company_B.) I don't want to be bitchy and to complain needlessly, and I don't want to come off sounding to them as if I'm just a whiner. At what point is it appropriate to escallate the problem, who should I escallate it to, and to what degree should I elaborate on the problem?

I have a commenting system. If you have any advice, please leave a comment or send me and email to let me know what you think.

He's been so quiet this afternoon. So much nicer.

WASHINGTON, DC -- The Bush administration is easing rules that say hospitals must examine and treat people who require emergency care, even if they're unable to pay.

Great.

Thanks, President Bush.

So I just went back and edited a bunch of old blog posts. I changed all references to the companies I am currently associated with into variables: Company_B and Company_A. I doubt that anyone I work with/for or anyone from the HR department at either company will ever stumble across my silly little blog, but I guess it can't hurt to be safe. It's probably for the best at least as long as I'm still working there.

Score 1 for test, score 0 for dev.

My dev was trying to push a horrid fix through for a bug. Worriesome in many ways -- risky, very time-heavy, including changes that weren't really needed, etc.

I voiced my concerns, and then he, I, my boss, and the woman responsible for rolling his changes out to the live system then had a meeting where his preferred solution was vetoed. He's now working on architecting something safer. Yay.

Long day.

I'm ready to go home.

In other, stranger news, I keep dreaming about hooking up with women. Different women every dream. Some I know in real life, some I don't.

My alarm clock wigged out last night. I set it for 6:45 am, radio setting, but it apparently decided to start its buzzer going off at 3:00 am. I was so tired that I thought it was morning and I needed to get up for work, but I was soooo tired -- so...tired... -- couldn't think -- I kept hitting snooze, and I didn't understand why I felt so tired and horrid. When I went to hit snooze for the hundredth time at 6:40 am, I woke up enough to realize, "Woah! It shouldn't even be going off yet!"

Stupid alarm.

So I spent 3 1/2 hours last night trying to sleep but waking up every 10 minutes to snooze the buzzer.

It sucked.

And now I'm tired. Go figure.

Yes! An answer to all my officemate woes! Strong Bad answers the age-old question: How do I deal with the office dullard? The office dullard is a clever foe but there are ways to beat him, and Strong Bad tells all. It's as if he were speaking directly to me.

From: SweetLindyLorraine (SLLORRAINE) 2:31 am
To: Kathryn (KATHYANNIE) (80 of 81)

2904.80 in reply to 2904.79

Hell yeah my Balboa baby~

Options Reply

Last night Lorraine came up to me at the dance, talked to me (for the first time ever), and said that she hadn't known that I did balboa but that she was impressed.

And now she called me her Balboa baby, on the public forums!

The Seattle Balboa Goddess has noticed me. This totally makes my week.