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12.28.2004
Mary Poppins

I had some good dreams over my Christmas vacation. In one, I was running away from a very adorable but obnoxious jelly-fish. The creature was like an over-exited Labrador Retriever and unfortunately for me, he was not confined to just water.

In another dream, I might have been Mary Poppins in a pastel colored candyland. I had a large umbrella that I would hold over my head cuing the wind to blow me upwards. The wind would carry me in any direction and at any height I wanted and I would float softly downwards, landing gracefully on a bell tower. From there, I leapt upon tree limbs and rooftops. It was more exiting than a day at the carnival.

What a great disapointment waking life can be sometimes! Ah well, dreamland is always a sundown away...



12.21.2004
Dust to dust

Rest in Space.

This is being offered today... what will it be like 50 years from now? Considering the enthusiasm for private space tourism lately, I imagine more elaborate services will be available by the time I die. Blast me to Europa or Titan, I say. Or scatter me over the basin of Mare Imbrium where I may forever enjoy the shadows of the Alps.

If I never make it into space alive, I can be content with 7 grams of my ashes forever orbiting the earth. Scatter some more at Deception Pass or Mount Baker and my soul can rest at ease.

Oh, my Mother says she wants whatever is left to fertilize her garden!



12.17.2004
Blue City

Angela shifted into gear and buzzed the small pick-up truck up the steep logging road. Absently humming under her breath, she crested the slope and rounded the sharp corners with ease, driving as though it was all routine and paying very little attention to the dangerous sheer ravine to her left. She smiled, unconcerned. There was no reason to be cautious. Angela was supposed to be here.

She headed west when she reached the bottom of the mountain and drove a short distance to a vacant gravel parking lot. She parked the truck nearest to the beach-white petrified footpath and stepped out, gazing at a quiet reposed estuary. Angela frowned. Unless her memory was failing her, there should have been cropland here. Acres of produce that once stretched out as far as the eye could see. Hay, beans, corn and berries. All of it was gone now, like it never existed.

She closed her eyes and shivered. The entire environment was alien and new. She had received the acquaintance of the warm summer glow on her skin and the sea currents through her hair a million times before. This time it was striking and exotic. It seemed the sun and the wind she had known all her life was somehow different today. Like Christmas is different then Easter.

A moment later, she opened her eyes. Odd as it was, it really didn't matter and she shrugged. She wasn't here to speculate, she was here to see.

She strode on and followed the footpath until it led her to a marbled highway that lined the sun-speckled glittering waters of the bay. She turned right at this junction and continued walking, hardly alarmed that the road was completely devoid of people. There was only her and the sparrows that chirped in the green animated pastures on her right and the seagulls flying overhead. She was cheerful, jubilant and enchanted as she wandered about, stopping to study strange memorials and other stone shrines. Angela arched her neck to study a high-reaching white pillar and was reminded of the Washington monument.

She leaned against the monolith and sighed. There was much to see, she realized and her eyes skipped across the many other structures yet to be examined and halted finally on the most alluring site she had ever seen.

An illuminated blue-colored city flanked the Western Sky. It was majestic and also estranged, like it was crafted from some subsequent time. Her skin prickled and a thrill of delight and discovery lanced through her. Angela had never seen anything of the like. A crystal and glass metropolis from a sublime legend; it might have been Atlantis rebuilt.

Angela's heart ached to go there and she imagined wandering its streets delighting in all the new things to see and taste and smell. Would the people understand English or would there be a new language to learn? Was there religion? Sensitive social norms? Customs and traditions similar to the ones she knew? A thousand questions swelled in her mind like popcorn and her hands clasped together with an enthusiasm to explore and learn.

She took a few eager steps towards the city and then stopped abruptly, her smile slowly fading. As much as she yearned to visit, she was confronted with a feeling that now was not the time. Indeed, she could not deny the sudden heaviness of the air and a gentle urging, a sympathetic tug from the East calling her back.

It's time to go home, Angela. The wind seemed to say as it exhaled over the prairie grasses. Angela understood and gazed wistfully at the sapphire wonder a few minutes more before turning on her heel to slowly pace back to her vehicle.

She took her time walking back, reluctant to leave this lovely dazzling country. She hungrily absorbed the tender rocking sea and the bright vibrant meadows that buzzed with bees, butterflies and other life. The obscure memorials she'd fathom in her mind until next time, whenever that was.

Angela stood by her truck at last. Her hand hesitated on the door and she stared at the mountains that awaited her return. Those mountains would take her home and to what? To the grinding stone! To the ordinary! To a world, she realized sadly, already discovered and explored. A world rocked with war and scandal.

She kicked at a few rocks and sighed, knowing she was being a childish. Her world, though ugly at times, was full of beauty and hope and compassion. For every act of brutality against the weak there were greater feats of heroism and benevolence. Sometimes, it was hard to see these things. The nation's cameras chose to focus on the vulgar and sadistic while great accomplishments as large as the liberation of an oppressed people or small as a hand out to the homeless went often times ignored. Many in Angela's world, particularly the intellectual elite, did not believe in heroes and scoffed at virtue.

Regardless of them, she believed in heroes and wanted to be among them again. So she said her goodbyes to the brilliant estuary and the Blue City, faint now against the horizon. As the engine turned, Angela smiled a secret smile and she knew she'd be back someday. After a few turns of the wheel, she soon found herself back on the lonely logging road, back in the mountains and finally back in her bed awake.

***

Three posts in one day, I'm on a roll!

This version 2 of a story based on a dream I had, perhaps the most wonderful dream ever. Several months later I dreamt again of this strange world but I never made it to the Blue City. I dare say, I feel like Randolph Carter!

Anyway, criticism is welcome. After all, it was criticism that made me rewrite it.



Final Frontier

Americans for Space

Yes, yes. Absolutely. Let's do whatever it takes! I don't care. I want interstellar travel! Bring it to me now!



12.16.2004
Dishwasher fears

Growing up in a large family always meant there were lots of dishes to be washed. Six members of the family meant a bare minimum of six plates, glasses, knives and forks needing to be cleansed two or three times a day. My parents did not believe in those fancy mechanical dishwashers. Why should they? They had four warm and fleshy dishwashers to employ instead.

Looking back, I can recall with almost perfect clarity, how I came to labor daily over soapy water. I was 8 or 9 and I wanted to help Mommy with the dishes.

"Of course, my darling!" She cooed. I was too young, too innocent to suspect foul play, much less notice the mischievous tone to her voice and the sly smirk on her face.

Alas, because of a moment of charity and conviction, dish duties fell first to me. It is worth a mention that I earned the chore of stacking wood in a much similar fashion. I'll help you with the wood, Dad! Oh how they exploited my good nature!

At 20, I moved out of the nest and out into the cold, cruel world. My first house I shared with Bryn, her mother and some other escentric lady. No dishwasher. A few months later I moved in with my then-boyfriend to a nice cottage in the country. No dishwasher. A year later, then-boyfriend and I moved a mile away to a tiny cabin near a logging road. Guess what? No dishwasher and I continued to scrub dishes by hand, my fingers pruining and my skin drying out.

Two years later, here I am, living with my idiosyncratic, tree-hugging, bohemian sister. We have a dishwasher (also, as an additional bonus, a garbage compressor). I'm afraid to say that I am at a loss. I regard the machine with a certain sort of contempt and despair. I had been doing dishes by hand for so long that I have learned to love it. I admit, it is a love that frightens me in some freakish Orwellian sort of way.

So now what do I do? Nothing! And doing nothing has proven to be pretty effective. The dishes will stack up in the sink for a couple days until they are magically transported into the machine a mere two feet away! I have also chosen not to wonder at this phenomenon but to simply accept it like I've come to accept my sisters dark scowl as she passes through the TV room and into the kitchen.

Eventually, I'll snap out of this dish-washing sloth and go back to being an obsessive-compulsive kitchen nazi. Until then, I am in no hurry.



12.15.2004
Micky Ds

The other day, my friend Bryn asked me if I had seen Supersize Me. I hadn't and she started to go on about the horrors of weight gain and french fries that don't mold. She'll never eat at Mcdonalds again. Sill, I really don't care to see the movie. I don't have a problem with Mcdonalds (those cheeseburgers rule) and would sooner eat at Taco Bell for cheap but tasty burritos. Just how badly can a company screw up tortias and refried beans?

Yesterday I met her for her dinner break at the mall. I was getting kinda hungry and it was 6:40pm. Bryn breaks at 7:00pm. There's a Mcdonalds in the mall. I could walk over to the foodcourt and scarf down a goomer in 20 minutes, she'll never know!

So I walk past her workstation at Bon Macys and tell her I'll be back promptly at 7pm, to which she replies, "Oh I can take break early today!"

Damn.

We walk to the food court and I say to her, "What do you feel like eating tonight? I know you don't want to eat Mcdonalds."

"Actually," She said, smiling sheepishly. "I could really go for Mcdonalds."

She even ate some of my evil fries.

Ah Mcdonalds, we love to hate it but it just can't be taken down. I guess its just one of those things we'll have to learn to live with... like Walmart.



12.08.2004
Annoyances at Humble ISP

Over the years, I've managed to develop several pet peeves while working for Humble ISP. At the top of the list is being asked if 'there's a problem with the server.' Grrr....

A distanct second is a customer's careless disregard and almost intentional ignorance of their machine. When I say intentional, I mean the customer has not bothered to learn anything about their computer at all.

Me: So what version of Windows are you running?
Customer: I don't know.
Me: You don't know?
Customer: No, I'm not very computer savvy.
Me: How long have you had the computer?
Customer: Two years.
Me: .....
Customer: Hello?
Me: So... Windows XP perhaps?
Customer: I don't know....uh, maybe. Yeah! XP. That sounds right. Oh wait, maybe its Windows 98....

Two years is a considerable length of time. How can someone fail to notice "Windows 98" or "Windows XP" dashed across the screen upon bootup for that long!? Imagine a similar analogy with automobiles:

Some guy: So, you drive a Honda? What model?
Me: I don't know.
Some guy: You don't know what kind of car you drive!?
Me: No, I'm not a mechanic. I can't even check my oil.

When you need to get a point across, computer to car comparisons can be pretty effective with many people. Like the time I refused a lady who called for help with Word Perfect.

Lady: You guys are my ISP and you're supposed to help me with my computer!
Me: Ma'am, our service does not include assistance with office software.
Lady: (Sharp intake of breath) Well, what exactly do you help with!?
Me: Internet related issues. Problems with connectivity, email and websites. We are, after all, an Internet Service Provider.
Lady: I don't understand.
Me: Okay, I'll put it this way. Would you go to Les Schwab for help with your car stereo?
Lady: No, I wouldn't. Oh...

Ah, the woes of tech support. Sigh.



12.06.2004
Facelift

So I got a new blogger template! Thank you Beau!

However, I managed to delete my blog, which is why everything is a bit blank. Thankfully my posts are archived, they can be viewed here until I figure out a way to reinsert them.



12.01.2004

Since I left you...
I found the world so new...
Everyday!

Lyrics from my new theme song, by the Avalanches.