Archive for March, 2004

Mar 24 2004

Boring shit.

Published by under Education,Friends,Work

I’m still tired.  I went to bed early last night, slept in late this morning.  And I’m still tired.  It’s driving me MAD, I tell you.  MAAAAAAAAAD!

Tonight I’ve got my business law class and I get to find out how I did on my last test.  I didn’t have any weirdo dreams this time about my prof only giving me 50% and writing “Crap!” under the grade, but I’m wondering if all that studying really paid off with a good score, or if I shall be Merely Adequate.  Either way, I don’t know if I’m staying for the whole class tonight.  Did I mention that I’m tired?

Haven’t heard from Mackers in a few days.  She was supposed to call me Monday night, but that didn’t happen for one reason or another.  I’m sure it’s hard for her to find a quiet time to call, since she’s still living with her ex and they are not friendly (to say the least).  And I haven’t talked to The Prodigal in awhile either. . . I don’t even know where the hell she’s living right now, because the last time we spoke she said she was moving home in February.  I guess I’ll try her Colorado cell number and see if she picks up or not.  Vicki is another one I haven’t talked to lately.  Everyone’s so busy!  Including me!  I don’t want to be busy!  I want to see (or at least talk to) some of my friends.

I’m back-and-forthing about the new template.  I put it up for comments in the diary-x forums, and one person showed me a screenshot of how it looks in IE for a Mac.  Ooky.  I’m wondering what else it looks ooky in.  I don’t want to put it up if it’s going to cause people problems.  My problem is that I don’t know all the little “exceptions”.  Like what browsers can’t handle certain types of code.  Or “all things look crappy in Mac IE”.  Or “Mozilla only handles two colors: black and white”.  Of course I know those things aren’t true, but there are strangenesses out there that elude me.

I used three big vocab words yesterday:
I just realized they all end in -ous.  That’s weird.

The Company Morale Boosters came around yesterday and gave me a new plant.  Just what I needed. I don’t even have enough room for the plants I have.  But I took it home and repotted it anyway.  I’m a sucker for plants.  My grandma is heartless – if she doesn’t like a plant or doesn’t want it anymore she throws it out (summer) or lets it sit outside and freeze to death (winter).  She like a plant hitman.

I have nothing else to say.  That must mean the entry is at an end.  Copiously, amorphously, gluttonously at an end.  Yeah.

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Mar 23 2004

Scared, Schizophrenic, Tired.

Published by under Computing,Pets,Stupidity

How I feel this morning can be summed up in two succinct words: dragging ass.

Fun and games last night at the homestead where my big fear of things that go bump in the night decided to rear its ugly head. I was reading upstairs, the boys were watching movies downstairs. I’m happily reading away and then I hear the STRANGEST noise outside my bedroom window. It sounds like a cross between a hawk cry and someone cutting a window screen with a razor blade. Very not sweet. So, being the brave and independent woman that I am, I book it downstairs to get The Man so he can look outside and tell me what is trying to get through the window to kill me. Except there was nothing there. Of course.

Couple hours later, The Man had to go back to work to finish something up, and Chris and I watched a couple more episodes of Buffy. About 11 PM I started getting ready for bed, but Fate was freaking me out because she kept walking out and staring into the kitchen, then coming back into the bathroom to scream at me, then walking out and staring into the kitchen. . . eep. I like my cats and everything but sometimes they piss me off. Because they act so strangely that it freaks me out, when to them, they’re just making sure I know the kitchen is still there. But I’m a stupidhead so I take the most crazy path of reason I can and come to the conclusion that there is OBVIOUSLY something outside the kitchen window that my cat wants me to look at. Finally I got sick of my own stupidity, marched into the kitchen, and looked all around. Except there was nothing there. Of course.

But I was still so freaked out that I didn’t turn off the lights and stop reading until I was so tired that I was sure I’d fall asleep almost immediately after laying down. That must have been about 1 AM. This morning the alarm went off at 6:30 and I was not happy. I’m still not happy. I’m too tired to be anything except tired.


A couple of entries ago I mentioned that I wanted a new template. I also said that I was tired of the big picture of myself at the top because it seemed narcissistic to me. So, I started working on a new template, but somehow instead of one big picture of me I ended up with eight small pictures of me. Someone explain this. Oh wait, I can explain it. I’m vain. Vain with low self-esteem is quite the combination. It’s almost schizophrenia.

The real issue is that I hate reading someone’s journal, getting a picture of him/her in my head because they don’t have any pictures on their site. . . then comes the day when they do post a picture and they look totally different from what I imagined. Then it’s almost like the person is a stranger to me again (okay they were always a stranger, but you know what I mean). It’s like when they make movies out of books, and you get to see your favorite character up there on the screen, and the first words you think are “That’s not how I pictured her looking at ALL.” You feel kind of cheated. I don’t like to do that to people because I hate it when it happens to me. If I have something to go on in the beginning, I never go to all the work of making up a face for someone. I just picture them as they look. Much more comfortable that way.

I had planned on having the new template up yesterday, but I didn’t get a chance to monkey with my video card this weekend, so it still buzzes alarmingly when I boot my computer. I can’t stand working HTML with a buzzy video card. I need a new video card anyway because I’ve been suspicious of this one ever since the fan on The Man’s went belly-up. I have the same video card and I would rather replace it BEFORE it tries to induce nuclear meltdown on my motherboard.

I just realized I’ve been drinking Sprite all morning. Sprite has no caffeine. Gah!!!

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Mar 22 2004

Crayola yellow tears.

Published by under Health,Media

I had an eye appointment today. I’ve been going to this same place (DOC) for a few years now, but today I got two new tests: the vision field test which is kind of like a video game, and the glaucoma test which is kind of like getting your eyes gummed up. I was quietly freaking out when he told me that in order to get the glaucoma test he had to put drops in my eyes, because the only “eye doctor drops” I’ve ever heard of are the ones that sting like hell and dilate your eyes, but he told me that these ones wouldn’t hurt and would make me feel “like I’ve spent a good night partying”. Uh, what? He put the drops in and my eyes started feeling sticky. Then he handed me a Kleenex and I daubed at the corner of my eyes. I was crying Crayola yellow tears! (That would make a good New Wave song title – “Crayola Yellow Tears”) It freaked me out, both because colored stuff is not supposed to be coming out of my eyes, and because I didn’t know if I would be going back to work with yellow streaks down my face.

Chris did a bad thing and brought home the first season of Buffy on DVD. Last night he and I watched the first four episodes. I’m constantly getting into things much later than everyone else. Buffy is just the latest incarnation. The show makes me laugh, so far. It’s good, but it makes me laugh. Especially Giles. He rules.

I was up until late o’clock on Saturday sitting by the fire with The Man, D–, and Chris. I really am looking forward to the time where we can sit by our fire WITHOUT winter jackets on.

If you want to make me happy, buy me this book. I have birds at my feeders that I don’t recognize. Plus, I’m being mobbed by chickadees. They’re cute, so I don’t mind. So far I’ve seen cardinals, chickadees, sparrows (my grandma calls them sputzies), woodpeckers, mourning doves, and at least two kinds of birds I’ve never seen before. I think one of them is a titmouse. It’s neat to live in the country. The birds aren’t afraid of us, so we can stand on the porch and watch them. My woodpeckers are going to town on the dead tree by the road, but I don’t care because it’s dead, yo. They sure are stripping the bark off it, though.

If you want to make me laugh, you can buy me this book. Nuff said.

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Mar 18 2004

I want my MTV, and internet, and a new template.

I had a test in Business Law last night, which I studied and studied and STUDIED for.  Seriously.  I was deep into the law.  I was so tired of reading about contracts on Tuesday night that I started talking to myself in weird voices.  Like with my really horrible Hillbilly accent.  “I’m spending’ mah time readin’ law, so’s I kin defend mah Pa aginst the city-folk.”  It’s not as funny when I write it out.  Actually, it probably wasn’t funny at all.  Except to me.  Anyway, I was worried about the test, but I think I did okay.  I probably got one or two True/False things wrong, and I probably missed a couple fill in the blanks, and I’m sure that I won’t get full points for my essay questions, but I’m still hoping to pull a low A out of it.

The theory is that we are going to be getting internet access today.  The doorknobs came out on Monday or something, but the guy rang our doorbell to tell us that the pitch of our roof was too steep and he’d need to come back with a special ladder and another fellow to help him.  I say:  Just put the damn receiver up there already!  I need another receiver to add to my collection!  Seriously, y’all, we have like four antennas and a dish on top of our house.  We look like we’re running a pirate radio station.

The other theory is that we are going to be getting our satellite TV today.  D–’s cousin claimed on Tuesday night that he would come out and install it today, but then we haven’t heard from him since.  If he doesn’t show up I’m going to hunt him down.  Or I’ll just ban him from playing D&D at our house until I have television stations.  That should get his ass on the move.

I’m thinking of redoing the template for this place.  I’m tired of having a big picture of me at the top of the screen.  It’s starting to strike me as a bit narcissistic.  I’ll probably take down the rest of the pictures too, or maybe I’ll revitalize Elvenlore. . . I’ve got a whole domain name sitting there, with a redirect on it to this journal.  Pathetic.  I can at least put some of the less journally things on Elvenlore and take them off of my journal template.  I need to clean this place up.  Ayup.  Speaking of pictures, yes, I’m aware that I haven’t put the house pictures up yet.  Tough shit.  I’ve had other things on my mind.

The boys brought my plants home from the trailer last night, and man did they look sad.  My African violets were all “Just let us die, lady” and my drachania (I know that’s spelled wrong) was all droopy too.  Amazingly my ivys and my hoya were okay.  I guess they are hardier than those pussy violets.  Does anyone know if my poisonous lead water will hurt my plants?  I know that I can’t give it to kids (and I’m not giving it to the cats either), but do any plant-people out there have any idea what affect high lead levels will have on green things?

I went to PetSmart two nights ago to get new ID tags for the cats, with our new phone number on them.  I also wanted to put REWARD on the tag, because people will be much more likely to return my cats if there is money involved.  Anyway, PetSmart has this little machine that auto-engraves your tags for you, kind of like those Create-a-Card machines.  So, I’m waiting for my tags to be done, and a woman and her daughter get in line behind me.  The lady says to me “Isn’t it fun to watch it engraving?  Isn’t it neat?”  I just smiled and nodded, but I’m sure she could see the horror in my eyes because she shut up after that.  I find it painful and sad that there are people who marvel at the engraving machine.

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Mar 15 2004

Big Fat Scaredy Cat

Published by under Introspection

I find it more than mildly amusing – and also more than mildly disturbing – that I live in the country, considering that I am afraid of the dark.

Yes, I said it.  I’m afraid of the dark!  I’m not going to deny my big wussiness any more.  I do not like the dark.

But, as always, there is more to the story than me just not liking the dark, because that statement is not entirely true.  I love the dark – as long as I’m not alone in it.  That’s the key thing, right there.  Got a friend (or a fiance) with me, and I’m okay!  I’m all good!  Yay, dark!  Hello, moon, aren’t you shiny and silver tonight?!  Hello, Orion, favorite of all constellations!  Hello. . . shining eyes.  I suppose you must belong to a raccoon or something, because I’ve got my friend (or fiance) here with me.  If I were alone, I’m sure you would be a scary, mean monsterman come to GET me, but since I’m not alone, you are benign.

BUT, if you remove the friend (or fiance) from the equation, I’m not so happy anymore.  Actually, I’m not so happy at all.  And I know that there is really nothing to be afraid of.  I have told myself this many times, over and over.  While smoking a cigarette on the front porch.  While laying in bed.  While spot-checking the back seat of the car for axe-murderers.  I KNOW that there is nothing there, nothing is going to get me.  But I can’t convince my heart of that – it pounds.  I can’t convince the more instinctual parts of my brain – it releases adrenaline.  I can’t convince my lungs – they start to take in air more quickly.  Soon, I have to get away from the dark.  Go inside.  Hide under the covers.  Turn all the lights on.  Something.

I was thinking about this whole thing the other day – my fear of the dark and when it started.  Because I know I wasn’t always like this.  I used to love running around in the dark when I was a kid.  I played Bloody Murder and flashlight tag and all the other “run around until someone breaks a leg” games that kids play.  I used to spend nights sleeping outdoors with my friends with no tent, and I’d never worry about anything getting me, other than a curious opossum.  But one day that all changed, and the Fear of The Dark was instilled in me.

My sister was dating this guy.  I was about 11 years old, my sister was 17, and this guy was probably 21.  She must have been baby-sitting me, or maybe I was her alibi (can’t do anything too bad with baby sister tagging along), but anyway, she took me to The Guy’s house for the day.  They hung out together, and I hung out with The Guy’s Stepsister, who I’ll call Heather, because I think that was her name.  I haven’t seen her since then, so whatever.

My sister and The Guy were somewhere, probably making out or swimming in the pool or whatever.  Heather and I were hanging out under an old apple tree, talking about Barbie and My Little Pony and whatever 11 year old girls talked about back then.  I don’t know how the subject came up, but she started telling me scary stories — not particularly GOOD scary stories.  The kind of scary stories 11 year old girls tell around the campfire at Girl Scout Camp.  But, honestly, I don’t think until that point I’d been exposed to too many scary stories.  I had never been to “sleep away” camp or anything, and me and my friends had better things to do – like run wild in the woods like heathens – than tell ghost stories.

Anyway, Heather is telling me these stories, and I’m listening, but not particularly interested or impressed, until she starts telling me this one story about a spirit that would come out of the closet and kill children in their sleep, even when they were sleeping between their parents.  I do believe the name of the spirit was. . . wait for it. . . The Boogie Man.  Yes, you can laugh now.  Thank you.  Anyway, I don’t remember the particulars of the story, but the gist of it was that The Boogie Man would always come three nights in a row.  The first two nights were more of warnings, but the third night he always killed the kid.

I don’t know why that particular story got to me so bad.  No freaking idea.  But it did.  Scared the shit out of me, actually.  And I was fully aware, even at 11, that I was being stupid, getting scared of The Boogie Man, I mean how generic can you get?  But it didn’t matter.  I told Heather I didn’t want to hear anymore ghost stories, and we resumed talking about Barbies and/or My Little Pony.

That night was the first time ever that my mother had to sit with me until I fell asleep.  I literally could NOT be in my bedroom alone without crying.  She had to sit there, with a light on, holding my hand, until I passed out.  Needless to say, she was pissed.  She tried various ways of getting me to see reason — logic, threats, pleading — it didn’t matter.  If I remember correctly, she had to sit in my room for at least four nights.  After that, she cut me off and I had to deal with my newfound Fear of the Dark.

That one stupid story has left me with a few quirks and mannerisms.  Among them:

  • I do not like to leave the closet door open at night.
  • I can no longer listen to scary stories or watch scary movies.  The last time I broke this rule – to see The Blair Witch Project – I was working second shift.  After work, I would drive directly to the Youngest Miller Boy’s house and would not leave until 6 AM when the sun started to come up.
  • I do not like to walk through a dark house, so there are night lights all over the place in my house.
  • I have to have a cell phone on me at all times, because I will never walk down a dark road at night to get to a pay phone if I need to.
  • I no longer like to camp, which I used to enjoy quite a bit.

So, all this taken into consideration, it is quite amazing that I wanted a house in the country.  I actually chose to live in a place that has no streetlights.  A place where if I were to be murdered in my bedroom, the neighbors would never hear my shrieks.  A place that has a basement with a scary (but now drained) cistern, which could possibly hold dead bodies and/or zombie monsters.

But, even my fear of things that go bump in the night, I can’t regret coming back to the country.  I love to see the stars.  I love sitting with my friends around a bonfire, drinking beers and smoking cigarettes.  I love all the birds I get at my feeders.  I love the fact that we don’t get much traffic on our road.  I love the quiet night.  As long as it stays quiet.

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