*blah.*
That is my state of mind today.
I'm not in a good place.
I really should be accomplishing things, but alas I cannot.
I'm going to go to the gym and make myself tired...
so I can feel okay about laying down and sleeping.
Monday, October 27, 2003
Thursday, October 23, 2003
a list...
Build Webpage
1. Review HTML coding
2. Teach myself Dreamweaver
3. Create artwork for webpage
a. photos
--ask John if i can borrow digital camera
--find "models"
b. buttons
--make MA branch buttons
--make buttons for bands
--ask Simon if i can showcase the "Meredith buttons"
4. Create templates for webpage
Note to self: Steal from Busy Beaver while trying not to steal too much from Busy Beaver
Write.
a. Weblog poignancy
b. Record reviews
Work on basslines
Contact Matt
Work on basslines.
Contact Franta
Paint.
a. tutorial from John
b. by squads
Read.
Films to see:
Lost in Translation
Texas Chainsaw Massacre (old and new)
Magnolia (finish watching)
Kill Bill (ahh, Tarantino... shall you fail?)
Mystic River
School of Rock
Run Ronnie Run
Music to accquire:
Matmos - Civil War
Jackie-O-Motherfucker - The Magick Fire Music / Wow!
Do Make Say Think - Winter..., Country..., Secret Hymn
v/a - Staeditzism 4 (~scape)
Build Webpage
1. Review HTML coding
2. Teach myself Dreamweaver
3. Create artwork for webpage
a. photos
--ask John if i can borrow digital camera
--find "models"
b. buttons
--make MA branch buttons
--make buttons for bands
--ask Simon if i can showcase the "Meredith buttons"
4. Create templates for webpage
Note to self: Steal from Busy Beaver while trying not to steal too much from Busy Beaver
Write.
a. Weblog poignancy
b. Record reviews
Work on basslines
Contact Matt
Work on basslines.
Contact Franta
Paint.
a. tutorial from John
b. by squads
Read.
Films to see:
Lost in Translation
Texas Chainsaw Massacre (old and new)
Magnolia (finish watching)
Kill Bill (ahh, Tarantino... shall you fail?)
Mystic River
School of Rock
Run Ronnie Run
Music to accquire:
Matmos - Civil War
Jackie-O-Motherfucker - The Magick Fire Music / Wow!
Do Make Say Think - Winter..., Country..., Secret Hymn
v/a - Staeditzism 4 (~scape)
Monday, October 20, 2003
First off, let me preface this post with the fact that I admire those who are able to eliminate or reduce the amount of dairy and or meat from their diet. I would never be able to do it successfully. As I love the taste of both cheese and flesh
WAY TOO MUCH!
My good friend Simon noted in his blog, that he and his girlfriend would be celebrating her birthday in Chicago. They would be going to a resturant that features... veggie duck.
Now I love duck, don't get me wrong...
and I'm assuming that veggie duck is probably pretty spectacular...
however, if it's veggie... how is it duck?
If you are a vegetarian and if you don't like eating meat... especially because the thought of eating meat as murderous... why would you want the meal to be refered to as duck?
Why don't vegetarians have new terms designated for their entrees?
Are they afraid that they'll be viewed as larger elitists than they already probably are made to feel like if they have special names for their food?
Does it make them seem or feel more "normal" to refer to non-meat products with their meat-esque counterparts?
I just don't get it.
If you want to eat duck, real duck... and your choice in vegetarianism is a health choice... I'd like to remind you that it's possible to be a meat eater and to be healthy.
Moderation in all things.
I won't even get into the countless vegetarians... not any that I know, per say... but those that don't want to eat meat... and yet are more unhealthy than tons of carnivores I know.
The other question that I have, due to ads that I saw in Herbivore magazine...
(otherwise a great magazine... just causes this carnivore confusion...)
Why would a vegan or vegetarian want fake fur?
If they don't agree with the killing of the animal to make a clothing or fashion item...
why would they want to pretend that they are wearing it? Is faking it cool?
'Cause it still looks like animal... and that ain't cool.
WAY TOO MUCH!
My good friend Simon noted in his blog, that he and his girlfriend would be celebrating her birthday in Chicago. They would be going to a resturant that features... veggie duck.
Now I love duck, don't get me wrong...
and I'm assuming that veggie duck is probably pretty spectacular...
however, if it's veggie... how is it duck?
If you are a vegetarian and if you don't like eating meat... especially because the thought of eating meat as murderous... why would you want the meal to be refered to as duck?
Why don't vegetarians have new terms designated for their entrees?
Are they afraid that they'll be viewed as larger elitists than they already probably are made to feel like if they have special names for their food?
Does it make them seem or feel more "normal" to refer to non-meat products with their meat-esque counterparts?
I just don't get it.
If you want to eat duck, real duck... and your choice in vegetarianism is a health choice... I'd like to remind you that it's possible to be a meat eater and to be healthy.
Moderation in all things.
I won't even get into the countless vegetarians... not any that I know, per say... but those that don't want to eat meat... and yet are more unhealthy than tons of carnivores I know.
The other question that I have, due to ads that I saw in Herbivore magazine...
(otherwise a great magazine... just causes this carnivore confusion...)
Why would a vegan or vegetarian want fake fur?
If they don't agree with the killing of the animal to make a clothing or fashion item...
why would they want to pretend that they are wearing it? Is faking it cool?
'Cause it still looks like animal... and that ain't cool.
Thursday, October 16, 2003
I really need to learn how to do mechanical repair.
I think it's time to get some books and learn to do so.
Cars are unbelievably expensive to get fixed at the regular mechanic in a shop.
I'm going to end up having to spend around $500 to have a damn tune up and some fluids changed. Maybe some other work has been done as well, but I'll be goddamned if the mechanic at the place gave me any other information other than, "Well, the car won't be ready until tomorrow because we need to order you 'the fancy sparkplugs.'"
I guess that's what a Saab takes. "Fancy" sparkplugs. Hmmm.
I wonder if I can go to Pep Boys and buy me some "fancy" sparkplugs.
These better have a portion of Dale Earnhardt's soul in each of them and bestow fanastical powers on my vehicle for how "fancy" priced their going to end up being…
and his soul better hum in the key of C-sharp.
See, I've been lucky to have a wife whose father is a mechanic.
He's saved me several thousands of dollars worth of labor on car repairs that he has done rather than having to go to the aforementioned regular mechanic. I’m surprised he didn’t look me over the first time he did repair on my ailing VW Fox, shake his head, and forbid me from seeing his daughter ever again.
…But he didn’t.
So, why not go to him all of the time?
Well, first there's the distance. To have any repairs done, I have to drive back to Clarkston to get work done. That's two hours away from Kalamazoo. Although, if I take it to Curt, I know that the work will be done the same day. He does his diagnosis, gets the parts, and does the work in the amount of time it takes a regular mechanic to figure out how many hours of labor he can rape you for without you screaming about it. So the time it takes to get to Clarkston isn't a big deal.
The other fact is that in having to take a vehicle back to Curt, there's the chance that it won't make it. Cars know when you're worried about them. They like to make you sweat. They like to clunk, shimmy, and wheeze all the more when they know you're looking at 30 miles to go on a 150 mile trip. We whip them like dogs. Mistreated and unloved until they begin to fail us… we rush them to repair. “Please, please, please don’t die! I promise to take better care of you, “ we cry, petting their steering wheel.
They see the lies but, Oh! How they love to see us sweat.
The final obstacle is the hardest to overcome. The guilt.
First, let me explain that I feel no ill will towards my mother-in-law. Deb is awesome. She’s a straight shooter whose kid gloves are always off. She doesn’t like something, * BAM * You’ll know it.
So, its been said that we make Curt do a lot of work and we don’t appreciate it. Also, that the only reason that we come over is to get work done on the car. I think that there is issue to be raised at those thoughts. While not a scientific study, I’d say it’s probably 1 in 3 visits that include the need for work to be done on a car. I think that’s a pretty good number.
If I were a daring man, I could also remind her that we live two hours away, busy people that work weekends, and that in the grand scheme of things – we visit them more in Detroit than they visit us in Kalamazoo.
AND, it's not as if we don't pay him. Sure, he just charges us for parts, but I've tried to give him money at times and he won't take it. So sometimes I overpay him. Then the next time he won't take any money. It's futile to argue with him. He just doesn't care because at the top of the heap of reasons to take advantage of my father-in-laws mechanical skills...
I know Curt loves to work on cars and I know Curt loves to help his daughter - and to a lesser extent, his inept son-in-law.
I will figure out what I need to do to have Deb not be pissed at me while Curt ‘slaves away’ in the garage if I can avoid “the mechanic.”
I will vacuum her living room carpet with concentric circle patterns, paint the kitchen… whatever it takes.
I think it's time to get some books and learn to do so.
Cars are unbelievably expensive to get fixed at the regular mechanic in a shop.
I'm going to end up having to spend around $500 to have a damn tune up and some fluids changed. Maybe some other work has been done as well, but I'll be goddamned if the mechanic at the place gave me any other information other than, "Well, the car won't be ready until tomorrow because we need to order you 'the fancy sparkplugs.'"
I guess that's what a Saab takes. "Fancy" sparkplugs. Hmmm.
I wonder if I can go to Pep Boys and buy me some "fancy" sparkplugs.
These better have a portion of Dale Earnhardt's soul in each of them and bestow fanastical powers on my vehicle for how "fancy" priced their going to end up being…
and his soul better hum in the key of C-sharp.
See, I've been lucky to have a wife whose father is a mechanic.
He's saved me several thousands of dollars worth of labor on car repairs that he has done rather than having to go to the aforementioned regular mechanic. I’m surprised he didn’t look me over the first time he did repair on my ailing VW Fox, shake his head, and forbid me from seeing his daughter ever again.
…But he didn’t.
So, why not go to him all of the time?
Well, first there's the distance. To have any repairs done, I have to drive back to Clarkston to get work done. That's two hours away from Kalamazoo. Although, if I take it to Curt, I know that the work will be done the same day. He does his diagnosis, gets the parts, and does the work in the amount of time it takes a regular mechanic to figure out how many hours of labor he can rape you for without you screaming about it. So the time it takes to get to Clarkston isn't a big deal.
The other fact is that in having to take a vehicle back to Curt, there's the chance that it won't make it. Cars know when you're worried about them. They like to make you sweat. They like to clunk, shimmy, and wheeze all the more when they know you're looking at 30 miles to go on a 150 mile trip. We whip them like dogs. Mistreated and unloved until they begin to fail us… we rush them to repair. “Please, please, please don’t die! I promise to take better care of you, “ we cry, petting their steering wheel.
They see the lies but, Oh! How they love to see us sweat.
The final obstacle is the hardest to overcome. The guilt.
First, let me explain that I feel no ill will towards my mother-in-law. Deb is awesome. She’s a straight shooter whose kid gloves are always off. She doesn’t like something, * BAM * You’ll know it.
So, its been said that we make Curt do a lot of work and we don’t appreciate it. Also, that the only reason that we come over is to get work done on the car. I think that there is issue to be raised at those thoughts. While not a scientific study, I’d say it’s probably 1 in 3 visits that include the need for work to be done on a car. I think that’s a pretty good number.
If I were a daring man, I could also remind her that we live two hours away, busy people that work weekends, and that in the grand scheme of things – we visit them more in Detroit than they visit us in Kalamazoo.
AND, it's not as if we don't pay him. Sure, he just charges us for parts, but I've tried to give him money at times and he won't take it. So sometimes I overpay him. Then the next time he won't take any money. It's futile to argue with him. He just doesn't care because at the top of the heap of reasons to take advantage of my father-in-laws mechanical skills...
I know Curt loves to work on cars and I know Curt loves to help his daughter - and to a lesser extent, his inept son-in-law.
I will figure out what I need to do to have Deb not be pissed at me while Curt ‘slaves away’ in the garage if I can avoid “the mechanic.”
I will vacuum her living room carpet with concentric circle patterns, paint the kitchen… whatever it takes.
Saturday, October 11, 2003
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
So, I haven't updated in a while... sorry.
Work has been a real bummer of late.
I still enjoy the work, but we're without a supervisor and getting hit from all sides with issues that in all honesty, can only be dealt with by an authority figure.
My interview for this position comes on Thursday. I have mixxed feelings about it. I really know I could put the extra money to good use... and seemingly more importantly, I know I could do a good job, but I don't know that I want to have to deal with some of the extra bullshit that will come with the job.
I know, I know... I should finally grow up and accept some responsibilty...
Sure, I appreciate that view, and it'd be nice... but the crap that I know I'd have to deal with from my manager. *ugh* I'm not sure that I want it.
Her main problem... she's hasty and she doesn't listen.
The other day she came down to our office to chat with us, and it took me raising my voice several decible levels and protruding neck veins before she would stop trying to interrupt me.
Then she tried to calm the situation by telling me I didn't need to "get all worked up over nothing." I wouldn't get pissed if I felt I was actually communicating with her. She's one of those people that wait for their turn to talk. Prepping their next statement without listening first. Excuse me for being frustrated. Excuse me for caring.
...more later. I've got errands.
Work has been a real bummer of late.
I still enjoy the work, but we're without a supervisor and getting hit from all sides with issues that in all honesty, can only be dealt with by an authority figure.
My interview for this position comes on Thursday. I have mixxed feelings about it. I really know I could put the extra money to good use... and seemingly more importantly, I know I could do a good job, but I don't know that I want to have to deal with some of the extra bullshit that will come with the job.
I know, I know... I should finally grow up and accept some responsibilty...
Sure, I appreciate that view, and it'd be nice... but the crap that I know I'd have to deal with from my manager. *ugh* I'm not sure that I want it.
Her main problem... she's hasty and she doesn't listen.
The other day she came down to our office to chat with us, and it took me raising my voice several decible levels and protruding neck veins before she would stop trying to interrupt me.
Then she tried to calm the situation by telling me I didn't need to "get all worked up over nothing." I wouldn't get pissed if I felt I was actually communicating with her. She's one of those people that wait for their turn to talk. Prepping their next statement without listening first. Excuse me for being frustrated. Excuse me for caring.
...more later. I've got errands.
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