In the Rear with a Gear

In school I studied computer programming, bookkeeping, philosophy and writing. I thought that in the business world I'd be in the rear with a gear. Now that I realize they have no intention of keeping me gainfully employed there, I find myself pursuing internships as a means to a "poor man's MBA." There must be a lot of people in that boat. I hope it doesn't sink.

I had another vision when I was young -- Walden. That still has its appeal. But I spent seven years doing my best Walden and I know I'd need to do it differently next time.

Pursuant to Previous Post

I can write for a few more minutes while Russ is in the shower. (This is his computer.) Time to get my head together. What I need to do is this:

-- vote
-- grocery shop (tonite)
-- file away all my paper flotsam (tonite)
-- do the laundry (tonite)
-- clean up my room (tonite)
-- pay the allergy clinic $5 to hold them off (I've discontinued treatment.)
-- go to tomorrow's job interview (and that means setting a loud alarm tonite)
-- go to the chocolate place with my resume (maybe tonite; I could use the chocolate)
-- do tons more laundry
-- call some bureaucrats to straighten something out
-- do my accounting coursework
-- apply for two specific jobs that I want
-- write a post about certain business ethics
-- get chocolate (tonite -- I need my fix)

Lonely Without My Sweetheart

I feel lonely and blue without Anwar. He's gone to Egypt to visit his family.

For the third day in a row I've been laid back and not very productive, but not entirely unproductive. I've applied for some jobs. And last nite I forced myself to exercise. Today it hit me how much I miss Anwar. I wish we would hurry up and get every dispensation we need from the Church and get married. Then next time he flew someplace I'd be with him.

Russ came home so I have to sign off.

Lady Godiva

You know that pop song, "Lady Godiva?" Well, so far, that's how my hair sale is shaping up. People who contact me want me to make videos of my hair being cut. A friend of mine got enthusiastic. He said forget cutting your hair; just make videos! I'm not gonna do it. I just thought that was a silly outcome for that situation.

Souffle

Oh, poor me! I tried to bake a cake but ran out of flour. Quel surprise -- I haven't run out of flour in many months. I took it for granted that I had more than I could ever use. Then suddenly I went to add flour to the other cake ingredients and voila un tasse et demi! I'm afraid I will have souffle. I'm afraid je n'aime pas souffle.

Hair for Sale

It's a crazy plan to pay my taxes by the end of the year. Please send any bids to kittylane167@gmail.com. What I'm selling is, all but an inch, the bangs, and less than .01 percent near my right ear for a french tendril.

A Humming Bird Likes Me

Wow. Lots of things I want to write about seem to fly right past me. But this one hovered in my face and demanded to be noticed.

A couple of hours ago I sat on the veranda, probably smelling of the grapes I had eaten, and holding/sipping an aromatic mug of honeyed yerba mate. A humming bird hovered about two feet from my face and looked at me inquisitively. I think he wanted some of the goodies. For what seemed like two or three seconds I was so intent on not startling the creature that I didn't study him as much as I might have. Then he flew off.

Then just now I looked out the window and saw the bird foraging in the garden below. I whistled at him in such a way as he could probably tell he was being whistled *at* because of the way sound waves ripple out from a center. "Hey, buddy!" I called. And he came back to me, just a yard away, for a split second before he flew away.

I've got to tell my gardening neighbors that the bird wants honeyed yerba mate. I hope it's good for him. (I'll research it first.) Then if they put the stuff out for him, the bird will know I got the message!

Brain Dump Plus

Russ solved Rubik's Cube [the other day, the day I penned this.] He got to talking and I got to thinking a little about how he did it but, if you've ever given it half a thought, you can imagine what a P.I.T.A. it would be to write about!


What's beautiful is oceans, shells, beaches, skies, and those dangling, resonant blue glass figures that recall all of the above as they dance in the ocean's breeze -- all served up together with tea.


This dump is being done in a notebook because Russ' computer is off limits for the time being.


When I studied computer technology in school I had much better intuition about that day's technology than I do today about the current technology.


I never thought I'd see George W. Bush unfairly scapegoated. I never voted for him. I always thought he was up to not-enough-good and way too much counterproductivity. But there are some people who just blame *everything* on "W," and who once voted for his father -- or *twice* voted for his father. (I never once voted for any Bush.) People will say, for example, that real wages have decreased over the last 8 years as though it's a fluke, a caprice and a mistake. In fact, real wages have been in decline for almost 30 years by design -- and the people who brought us George Senior are hypocrites to complain.

Well, I suppose that if they've learned their lesson they're not hypocrites, but one sign of a reformed, penitent Republican is one who speaks of the fallout of a generation of supply-side economics, not just the last 8 years!


When I blog to a notebook I'm always afraid I won't want to bother transcribing it to an official post.


My appetite seems to have been re-awakened by a half pint of ice cream.


Anyone who wouldn't love my sweetheart has a cold heart.


Sweetheart, do you read my blog?

Pursuant to Previous Post

As often happens when I do my phone chores, I'm on hold. This gives me the chance to correct some things I said half an hour ago (see last post.)

First and foremost, God be praised. God gets the glory for everything good about my health, because He made my body and He made the food and He authors everything. "My" diet is vindicated, but originally and ultimately and through it all, it is God's doing. God be thanked and praised.

Also, the people who get the credit for helping me wake up today are: Anwar, my father, Russ and, most of all, God.

Yeah, I know I have a problem with my circadian rythm. I've had it all my life. But it can be treated, corrected, worked with and worked around. I fight it the way people fight alcoholism. I realized how ingrained it was 24 years ago when I took my temperature every hour to discern my native sleep schedule. I don't remember exactly what it was, but it was way out of wack -- "inverted," said the PHD who arranged the test.

Finally, regarding what I said about kids and jobs -- My opinion is just my opinion. Everyone has valid opinions about kids because everyone has been one, and everyone knows someone who has been one. My opinions are based on my own experience and on secondhand experience, particularly on anecdotes from people who worked at a young age and grew up to be so work-oriented that leisure held little appeal for them. The business about making sure your kid has the right reasons for wanting to work at an early age came from a magazine -- don't remember which. The author of said article opined that getting a job "because it's fun" or "because my friend does it" is not a decision based on a good enough reason. Frankly, I disagree. But you'd know a truly bad reason if it came from your own kid.

brain flotsam

It's time to dig out from a month's accumulation of unfinished chores. Anwar and I have been keeping horrendous hours together and we just realized that we have to stop the midnight madness. Now, I've always had a tendancy to sleep and wake at unusual times, but it has never been worse than in the last two days. I realized I needed intervention so I asked three friends to call me and wake me up, which pretty much worked. Now I'm at bat and there's work to do.


On another note, I got some bloodwork done and all the numbers were completely optimal and perfect. Perfect lipids, perfect otherstuff... The doctor said, "[This] is amazing... You must not have eaten anything fun." My diet is vindicated. My diet is perfect.

...And my brain is waking up, so this exercise is working. Let's see what else floats up to the top...

Ah, yes, diet. I'm my father's and mother's daughter, very diet-minded. See, now, Nicola, you should never eat fried chicken.

In the '60's, '70's and '80's nobody knew that certain things were bad for us. So we ate them with abandon. Bisquick was pitched as something as wholesome as flour. So I ate it 88 days in a row in 1983.

BTW, you got a kid? Eating and sleeping are important pursuits for your sweet 16. So are reading, writing and play. A camp with an academic theme is a great place to stick the kid for a couple of weeks. He's probably not ready for a job with all this personal development going on. If he wants a job, make sure he has the right reasons and is personally ready.

2:30. I gotta go.

Breaking the Long Silence

You may have guessed from the context of said silence that I found a real keeper in my new boyfriend.

Now that I have a stolen moment to update my blog (according to time stamp you know I should be sleeping,) here goes:


"Grease" sure blossomed into a cultural phenomenon. Anwar and I watched it a couple of times and I said, "Of all the pieces of Americana to be shipped all over the world, I'm glad 'Grease' was one of them." It really shows the world where America is coming from.


John had said that Russians had little wealth but hardly any homeless people. Anwar said that Egyptians had a robust sense of community. Seattle is certainly a step up from some other places I have been in the U.S., but that's not saying much. To John and Anwar and others, Seattle seems cold and fragmented. I related this to Russ, who expressed some surprise that I allowed John's claim that there were few homeless people in Russia, whereupon I challenged him to Google the Russian almanac, which he didn't do. Be that as it may, Russ indicated a direct relationship between wealth and snobbery. Still, when I challenged him to connect the dots he came up empty handed.

I am reminded of high society. Some kids at my school were preparing to be debutantes. One teacher declared that she hoped nobody in the class she was addressing would ever become involved in such a thing. Then I read an article by a debutante which said, in essence, this is what we do in our community; it almost certainly has its analog in your community.

It took me a long time to realize that she was implicating everybody, which doesn't excuse anybody. When cliques form in high school we tell our kids that it's wrong to form exclusive social groups. But all too often we grownups turn around and set our own bad example. Some people don't talk to strangers. Sometimes the neighbors downstairs are the "strangers!" I heard (anonymously, from my landlord) of a man who complained to the landlord about another tenant (noise complaint) without speaking directly to the tenant because he just didn't want to associate with the latter. That person just wasn't on the list of those, as they say, "with whom [he] *chose* to associate!"

Should we still tell kids that it's wrong to hang with cliques? Certainly, but let's set a better example than some of the socially immature adults around us. Should we discourage young people of wealth and privilege from becoming "debutantes?" Absolutely, but let's not embarrass our own community with analogous institutions.