Wouldn't it be cool if our eyes turned gray along with our hair? Man, talk about being a creepy-looking old person. Maybe they'd just become translucent if you lived to eighty or ninety. Hmm. I may have to get some contacts in a few years, just to freak people out.

I've seen three good movies in a row, and was just thinking that I'm due for a bad one. Which got me pondering how deeply ingrained the concept of karma is in our society. We apply karmic reasoning to things to which it cannot possibly apply. If I become rich, then someone else will suffer for it. We had a mild winter last year, so this year should be a doozy. Okay, while there may be some application for karma in economics, it does not work with weather. Yet people assume it does on a regular basis. Weather just happens. Movies just happen. Some are good, some are bad. Seeing several good ones in a row does not build up some odd vaccuum of bad that must be filled at the first available opportunity.



Perhaps the conundrum is an internal one--a guilt-complex that requires punishment. We had a mild winter last year, so we deserve to get hammered this year. I've had too much fun at the theatre, it's time for some pain. I suppose another part of it is the odd assumption that there is an over-arching intelligence in the universe, watching out for the balance of our lives. I think it's hogwash, but still I'm influenced by the concept, having been raised in a culture where our deistic assumptions go unquestioned for the most part. Sure, we ask the big questions, like "is there a god?", but do we ask the little questions, like: "how has my life been affected by a cultural belief in a god?"



That said, I think I'll go see the latest Arnie movie, and resist all karmic expectations.

A kitty secret. Something I've never told anyone in my whole life. My right foot is almost a half-size larger than my left foot.



Now you know.

I just got back from Unbreakable. I gotta tell ya, because of some of the things I'd seen on other blogs, I wasn't sure I was going to like it. I loved it. I loved every freaking minute of that wonderful movie. It captured my imagination, made me smile, made my jaw hang open in disbelief. Yes, it's true that a certain type of person is more likely to enjoy this movie. No, I really can't tell you what kind without giving anything away. Just know that I am that kind.

I've been meaning to put pithy sayings at the top of my blog for a while now. Thought the first one should be an homage to the person from whom I stole the idea.

This is delightful. Now I have somewhere to talk about finding "ewan mcgregor penis pics" and "donna pescow" in my referrer logs. Link via: Tom.

Hey Janie! I found that movie. Saw a preview for this at Billy Elliot. It's an Irish hairpiece movie. Unfortunately, it's directed by Barry Levinson. I think he's made one decent movie. Why do mediocre filmmakers just keep going like the Energizer Bunny?

Dear Diary:



Tired as hell today. Insomnia is my constant companion. Gone for a week or so when I moved to the new place, it is now back with a vengeance. I read somewhere that when you can't sleep, you should just get up and do something rather than tossing and turning. So I got a few things done. Plus a refreshing nap before coming to work.



I've been scared about some things lately. I think too much is changing, and I'm trying to get a grip on something, anything, that will remain steady. There really is nothing, so I may as well just let go and fly. Or fall. Who was it that said: "I'm not afraid of flying, I'm afraid of falling." ?



I've been working on a portfolio, sort of. Okay, I've been working on one site that will be a part of my portfolio, but I'm placing way too much emphasis on it. You see, if I actually produce a portfolio, then I have to show it to someone. If I show it to someone, they can say: "Um, wow, you suck like a Hoover." See? The falling thing.



I remind myself to just take one step at a time. If it seems like too much, make it a smaller step. "Create a portfolio" is a big step. "Create the first page"; too big again. How about <HTML>. ALT-F, S.



I can do that.

Oh, this sounds amazing. I'll try it just as soon as I figure out how much a "litre" is.

I didn't even bother looking for a site before I mentioned VioletCrumble was my fave Aussie candybar. Actually, it's my fave candybar, period. It isn't a great site, but hey, I won't hold it against them. Just wish I could order online.

Can someone tell me why all the employees at the Pioneer Place Cinnabon are stoned? I'm not kidding. I know high when I see it. Jeeze. Of course, if I had to work at Cinnabon during the holidays...

"Do you ever think about death?"



"Fuck off."



It was a day of partial successes in good company.



Though I needed to take up the sleeves on my suit-jackets Sunday, I instead opted to meet Janie at Saturday Market. Surprisingly the place was dead. I tried to find a gift or two, but a quick run through revealed nothing of interest. I did, however, find a shop that carries my favorite Australian candy bar, Violet Crumble. Mmmm.



Off to Kell's for bangers and mash. I'd never had--it was worth it just for the sauces they serve with it. I hate mustard. I loved their dijon sauce. Go figure. Janie really wanted to see Billy Elliot, so did I, and it sounded better than altering jackets.



Tickets purchased with 45 minutes to spare, we endured a light sprinkle to hit the local toy store. I admit I spelled a slightly dirty word with the little wooden link-together letters, but it wasn't a terrible word. We read the back of the Bendy family, wound things up and let them go, and bought nickel-candies (didn't they used to be penny-candies?) and hid them in our packs for the movie.



Off to see Billy dance. It was a good movie, and I enjoyed it. Some great one-liners from the older brother. I was baffled as to why Billy would break into tap in the middle of the movie when he'd been taking ballet lessons. That strained the movie's credibility for me. But, it was good fun.



After the movie, Janie wanted to hit the mall for a few minutes. It sounded better than altering jackets. By this time it was beginning to rain, but not so much as to bother an Oregonian. We arrived at the mall a few block away, slightly damp. She bought expensive conditioner from a sweet guy with a dramatic lisp. In another shop that will remain nameless (because my friends read this) I was on the verge of finding a Christmas present when we were politely told the store was now closed.



Janie wanted to go for a drink. It sounded better than altering jackets.



A moderate rain now pelted us on our way to Paddy's, but it still wasn't wet enough for two Oregonians to admit defeat and bring out the umbrellas. We found as many awnings as possible. When we arrived at the only place Janie could get her vanilla something-something, it was closed for an employee function. Off to the Lotus, in ever more persistent rain. Alone, either one of us would have been under the cover of a bumbershoot. Together, no way were we going to admit it was bothersome. We arrived at the Lotus soaked through.



We were the only ones there. True, it was Sunday night, but I was surprised to find it quite that dead. Janie had something pretty that wasn't entirely what she wanted, but she liked it anyway. We talked about INXS, Paul Mercurio, dead relatives. I thought about trying something alcoholic, but decided a Sunday evening was probably not a good time for my first bender. In any case, I'm sure I'd get morose.



We saw three other patrons come in. We saw one of the bartenders get up on a ladder and unwind balloon strings from the ceiling fans. "He's cute" I mouth. She nods.



I got home just in time for the X-Files, to which I gave my full attention. It was better than altering jackets. I'm wearing a sweater today.

I've managed to hide out for most of the holiday weekend so far. On-call for Friday, the only time the phone rang was a friend setting a lunch dim-sum date. That was an interesting lunch. Let's just say I should learn to keep my mouth shut around people that think John Travolta is one of our greatest living actors. ::shudder:: What a film snob I am. And I like it that way.

Nothing new really, just getting my sorry ass back on Blogger.



This brief period has made me realize how dependent I am upon them. I had a lot to say, but didn't feel like hand-coding and uploading. Hee, that rhymes.

(11/20)


For the first time in years, I'm back to wearing monkey suits and clown paint. I am supremely uncomfortable. Hot, itchy, cranky. On the other hand, I look stunning. This of course poses its own problems. So far I've only run back to my office and slammed the door once. I'm getting way too much attention from a lot of well-meaning folks. That's what happens when you totally change your look I suppose, and I was prepared for a little attention--but this is overwhelming. I think I'm gonna hide for a month or so.

(11/16)



Okay, I'm not just cranky. This feeling isn't passing. At least I've figured out what it is. I've heard nebulous (okay, not that nebulous) stories of people getting badly burned out on customer service. Support has been a large part of whatever I've been doing for...you ready?...ten motherfucking years. I think the only reason I managed this long is that it hasn't been my entire job. I've had a great time putting together websites and developing apps and tons of other stuff. But I've reached my limit. I'd like to say I should have seen this coming, but really it ambushed me. Who knew? I thought I could be nice to computer-illiterate people forever. After all, it's my job to know the things, not their's. Rationalizations aren't doing it anymore. I don't care why they don't know. I don't want to stand over another person clicking a LINK in a BROWSER four times. I don't want to explain something ten times when I sent out a concise note a month ago. Worse, I'm getting mean and impatient about it. No employee of the month award for my snippy ass.



Okay, rant over. For now.

(really 11/16 again)
Oh, and one more thing on Requiem: WHAT THE HELL IS NUMBER THREE????

(really from 11/16)



I was all ready to get back to using Blogger, but they're too slow to bother. Jeezus. I'm about to give up. It's a shame--a great tool. I'll never get my archives right without them.

Last night I went to see Requiem for a Dream. What a bumper-crop of wonderful female roles we're getting this year. Ellen Burstyn is fantastic as Sara Goldfarb, a woman hijacked by her dream. This movie is sticking with me. I keep replaying scenes in my head over and over again. Yes, I do get the complaint that it's yet another example of idealized junkies. I could do without that too. But hey, every movie has to have some flaw, right? I continue to love Aronofsky's method of punctuating with small actions, repeated over and over. It makes the movie more like a symphony, with movements and rhythms. Man, I've seen some good movies lately.
posted by

(really from 11/15)



What, no permalink??



Nah, I'm hand-coding for a couple days. Started yesterday when Blogger died, and now I'm too lazy to reverse the process. So because I am lazy, I'm working harder. Figure that.



I've been working on ideas for a portfolio. This is going to take some time. Just Monday I got a copy of Shockwave Director 8, and I must now learn it. Along with some other things. Of course, I'll learn it by pounding on it, trying to get it to do what I want it to do when I don't know the first thing about it. It's my way.



I'm tired and not tired of the election crap. I'm not concerned with how long it takes, only that all votes are counted. I guess I don't want to hear about it any more until they're done...so excuse me if I seem uninformed for a week or so. I'm going to bury myself in work and ignore the news for a while. This is gonna make a great book for Bob Woodward.



Looking for something deep to say this morning. Nothing comes to mind. Everything is changing. I hope nothing shifts into reverse.

It's official: I'm burned out.



I'm hoping I'm just cranky, because most of the time I love my job. Lately I've gone through my days angry. Angry at people that can't be bothered to help themselves (though they are rare), angry at the million tiny intractable problems, very angry about my extremely sub-standard salary. The latter will be remedied soon, or I'll be hunting. I have my interview suit ready.



More and more I'm thinking about developing freelance clients. The thought terrifies me in a way--it is the ultimate test of my ability to sell myself. I hate selling anything, much less myself. At the moment, the pros outweigh the cons. I need more choice in my life. I want the power to say yes, no, fuck you very much. Most of all, I just want to design web pages. I'm tired of teaching people that don't learn. I'm tired of supporting applications that defy usability.



A week ago, I planned to retire at this place. I think it's over. I think I'm cutting the strings.

The depths of my laziness: I've been in this apartment a month, and until ten minutes ago, I hadn't hooked up my stereo. Just the thought of plugging in everything, stripping new wires for the speakers...yeeg. Of course, it wasn't nearly as hard as I'd envisioned. Still, I had to wait until the pain of silence overrode the onerousness of the task. I should have done this a month ago.

I was working happily on a website (nope, still not telling), putting in all these fancy-schmancy mouseovers. I uploaded it, and discovered something very dismaying: it worked better in Netscape than in IE. I was stunned, I tell you. It worked fine offline, I couldn't figure out what the problem was. Then I looked at my browser. I hadn't updated in two years.



Forgive me, designers of the world. I'm part of the problem.



So I updated, and it works fine now. Screw everyone with old browsers.

I'm not yet ready for a man. While I'm still happily entrenched in celibacy, many things about my life have been changing. I've matured a great deal since I decided to give up the joys and horrors of romance. I know that soon, I will be ready to throw myself once more to the wolves. So I've been thinking about...

What frykitty wants from a MAN

1. He must have a body. Disembodied heads are good for a couple of jokes, but after that they're just creepy. All my guys so far have been skinny, so now I think I'd like to try a little cush or a little beef.
   
2. Short or tall, love 'em all. I love the lanky look of tall men. I love the huggability of short men. I think I'd prefer the compact at this juncture, but I'm not ruling out any particular verticality.
   
3. I have a weakness for angles. Hatchet face? I'm your woman. I love a sharply cut jaw and almond-shaped eyes. Round doesn't do it for me.
   

Okay, here's the important stuff:

4. Humor. Be funny. Smart funny, not stupid-funny.
5. Intelligence. You must know things that I don't know. If we know all the same stuff, what on earth is the point of getting to know you?
6. Glasses. For me, sometimes the glass is half-full and sometimes it's half-emtpy. I'm an optimistic cynic. If you're glass is always half-empty, or worse, dry as a bone, forget it. Gotta have me some joy, boy.
7. Passion. Be intense about something. Love something so much you forget to call me when you're involved in it.

8. My fantasy is to get naughty books and go through trying everything, as long as it only involves me and my partner. Of course, meat and potatoes is great too. Warning: I scream. Game?

Finally, here's the big one:

9. I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING BACKBONE. I have a lot of backbone--I can be so strong that I'm overwhelming. This attracts men who think I have enough decisiveness for both of us. Sod off. If you can't make up your own mind, be your own motivation, know what YOU want, then I don't want you. Yes, I can believe in someone and support them to the ends of the earth with my love and faith, but I'm not a goddamned sawhorse. If you need me that badly, I will run like hell.
   

A strange thing has happened in my dreams.



I often dream that one of my parents is living with me. It used to be just my mother, but since my dad died a few years ago, he shows up from time to time as well. Here's the odd thing: my old apartment had two bedrooms, so Mom or Dad would just be staying in the other room. Well, I now have only one bedroom, and my dreams have finally adjusted to take place in the new apartment. So when Mom or Dad are staying, the bathroom is suddenly a spare bedroom. Guess you don't need to pee in dreams.

Went to see Dancer in the Dark on Thursday. As a big Lars Von Trier fan, I knew the trick was to let go of my expectations and just let him do whatever he wanted to with my brain. I love that man. I would rate Dancer as his second masterpiece, along with Breaking the Waves. Waves was actually a little better, mostly because of the angular vignettes inserted between scenes. Dancer was intense, emotional, harrowing, perfect. The only flaw could be noticed by those familiar with Bjork's music--it's easy to tell she's in a melodic rut, and her tunes are difficult for anyone but her to pull off. That flaw, however, is a minor one. Though there is much Oscar noise for Joan Allen this year, expect Bjork to be nominated. Von Trier elicited a wrenching and beautiful performance from her. I defy you not to cry as she calls her son's name over and over. I got very teary-eyed, but I was fighting hard because I'd forgotten to bring tissue (and I'd been warned! Silly me). I did remain near tears for an hour after the movie. Lars Von Trier is a director of unique vision, creating transformative works that will remain important films for generations to come. Never, never miss him.

What a night. I admit I went to bed after they called it for Bush. My stomach hurt. My head hurt. I'd been a space-cadet all day. DID I NEED ANOTHER FEW DAYS OF THIS?? At least there aren't any exit polls to watch. And, I can't say I'm unhappy that the ball is still in the air.

I will not sit here all day and compulsively hit the refresh button. Sigh. Yes I will.

Attrition is getting some attention because they have a mirror of of the GOP site hack, but the best part of the site is the letters section. I'm glad I'm at lunch, because if I were laughing this hard during work hours I would be so busted.

VOTE!

Manifesta. Third-wave feminism. I tend to have more in common with second-generation feminists and have little understanding of the new definitions of feminism. This is a must-read for me.

So why is it that when I feel this way, I'm always listening to something with a Finn brother or two on it? My friends have learned to run when I crank up the Crowded House. It's not like Neil and Tim are depressing. In fact, they're darned perky. And Tim looks great in a tight black t-shirt.



Yeeg. I gotta snap outta this. Listen to something happy. Where's that Cure cd...

So geeze, fry, why haven't you updated lately? I have many reasons:

1. I've been working on a couple of sites. No, I'm not going to let you see them. Go away.
   
2. I've been busy arguing with republicans about the election. It's left me tired and cranky. Go away.
   
3. I'm in a bad fucking mood. Go away.
   

My co-worker Wendie sent this to me. I must be having a hormone peak, because I thought they were wonderful:



I thought these were neat: They are words from the Dalai Lama on the millennium (OK, so they're a bit late). Some of you may have already seen them.

Instructions for Life:

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
   
2. When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

3. Follow the three Rs: Respect for self. Respect for others and Responsibility for all your actions.
   
4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
   
5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
   
6. Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
   
7. When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
   
8. Spend some time alone every day.
   
9. Open your arms to change, but don't let go of your values.
   
10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
    
11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll be able to enjoy it a second time.
    
12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
    
13. In a disagreement with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don't bring up the past.
    
14. Share your knowledge. It's a way to achieve immortality.
    
15. Be gentle with the earth.
    
16. Once a year, go someplace you've never been before.
    
17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
    
18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.
    
19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.