Two weeks ago, my dog Zippy graduated from training camp.
On Saturday, I turned 33.
Today, I became a homeowner.
Four months from now, I will be looking for another job.
Life is full of new adventures!
I'll admit it, in my early 20's I was a little financially irresponsible. Mistake #1: Not understanding how to use my credit. Mistake #2: Working at a job that didn't offer health insurance. Those two mistakes, combined together, made 1997 the worst financial year of my life.
It took me a loooooong time to get my credit score to the sparkly, glistening number it is today. It took a lot of self-education, and a lot of self-discipline. The downside is now I'm a little obsessive about my credit scores, specifically maintaining the shiny, happy FICO score I have. I don't think that's necessarily a BAD thing, others think I place too much importance on it. They can eat it! :P
Anyhow, Erik and I are starting to officially consider home-ownership. "Starting", in this regard, equals many years on my part watching the housing markets, and trying to get myself as prepared as possible, and now the market seems to be turning for the better, so we're making contacts. The few people I know who have purchased homes recently (in the last 5-10 years) have remarked as it being the most confusing and stressful purchases they've made. I don't like making confusing purchases. I like to feel empowered.
So anyways, we're starting to interview real estate agents and lenders/mortgage brokers. Here's my issue, and maybe it's a non-issue, but it refers back to my sparkly credit rating. Some of you may know this already, but there's all sorts of things that can affect your credit score negatively. Sure, missing payments is one thing that will mess you up. Having maxed-out credit cards is another. Taking out a new loan will also ding you. And guess what? Paying OFF a loan (like a car loan) will decrease your score as well. Weird, ain't it?
The one thing that negatively affects your credit that I currently have the biggest problem with, in principle, is INQUIRIES. An inquiry is when a lender or service-provider checks your credit report to determine if you're worthy of their services. All those credit card pre-approvals you get in the mail? They don't count. Checking your own credit report? Not a problem for you, thankfully.
But guess what? When you put in an application to rent an apartment, THAT'S a ding (thanks, Montebello apartments!). And say you plug in your social online at one of those "Have Lenders Give You Competitive Auto Loan Quotes!". That could mean MULTIPLE dings. Sure, I don't suffer gladly those fools who apply for every department store credit card offered them, but on large purchases, like a car, or a house, the credit reporting agencies (or the Fair Isaacs Corporation's score algorithm) actually make it so a responsible person looking to find the best rate available to them will have their score REDUCED by anywhere from 5 to 50 points, in some situations.
So here's the rub. To start looking at homes, every real estate agent will recommend you get pre-approved for a loan. It helps you understand your buying power better and gives you an additional leg to stand on in a multiple-offer situation. Sure, that's reasonable. But you don't want to take the first loan you're offered. So you shop around, right? The credit reporting agencies actually allow for this (or so they SAY). They say that multiple inquiries within a 14 day period of time will only count as one. Okay, fine.
So say we shop around for two weeks and decide that a certain lender has the best rate, and we get a pre-approval letter, and start looking. Only we don't find anything for a few months. This is totally possible. But the pre-approval letter doesn't mean you're locked into a rate, or even really guaranteed a loan. These are weird times right now, and mortgage rules are really wonky. What it comes down to is that the lender MAY in-fact need to run your credit again. And then there's another ding. And say the rate is crazy, and you decide you need to shop around again.
You see where I'm going with this, right? Say my score is all shiny right now, but after a first round of shopping it drops 5-10 points. Then the next time it's checked, the score is lower because of those inquiries from before, so there might be a chance I have to take a higher rate for my lower credit score... See, my score is sufficiently high that I don't THINK this will REALLY be a problem, but what if I was on the cusp? What if I was at 722 (720 being the typical cutoff for A-grade loan offers) and the first inquiries reduced my score to 717? That could increase a loan APR by some percentage (even .25%), but that could mean THOUSANDS and THOUSANDS of additional monies paid in interest over the life of the loan.
It just bothers me. The more I learned about credit scores, and how they come up with them, and how your TransUnion score might be different from your Experian score, and that your Equifax might be different from both of those, and how paying off the rest of my auto loan, even though it will decrease my debt-to-income ratio, would make my credit score go DOWN... the more I despised the system. And now, in dealing with trying to a) determine our buying power while b) keeping our scores in tip-top shape, it's causing me a bit of trepidation.
Am I over-thinking this? *Sigh* Probably.
Not that I suspect many are still checking this site, but for the 0.5 of you who might be out there, I thought I should fill you in on this.
Other than that, not much has changed!
Driving in to work this morning, I noticed the very front of someone's yard was covered in a drizzle of white... stuff. At first I thought it was some sort of early Christmas decoration - like spraying a Christmas tree with that mock-snow stuff or something. I shrugged it off as some random bizarreness and kept driving.
About 100 yards further, both sides of the road were covered in that white stuff. And for several blocks driving next to Bridle Trails State Park, there was... snow? frost? along the edges and very center of the road. I looked at the temperature gauge in my MINI, and it showed that it was 39 degrees out. Weird - it's been a lot cooler than that in the morning without any of this white business. I guess I'd better get used to this.
Meanwhile, last night, in the extreme coziness of the living room, I was treated to not one, but two new (to me) sitcoms on CBS that I *gasp* actually enjoyed! The first was "How I Met Your Mother": a bit like "Friends", in that it was a current-day group of 20-something or 30-something, you know, friends (I need to get over it, they're probably 20-something... I just need to face the fact that I'm OLD), but the twist is that it's narrated by Bob Saget... FROM THE FUTURE. Eh, that's not really a good description - here's a better one, from Wikipedia:
Dubbed "A love story in reverse," the show is structured as the main character, Ted, in the year 2030 telling his son and daughter about the events that led to his meeting their mother, which begin in 2005.
Among the cast are Doogie Howser, Alyson Hannigan, and that guy from "Freaks and Geeks". I thought the show was pretty funny, this one highlighting the season with a reworking of Thanksgiving into Slapsgiving - where the Freaks & Geeks dude tortured poor Doogie with threats of slaps. It sounds terrifically unfunny, but believe me, it was a laugh. Or don't believe me. Whatevs.
Immediately afterwards came a show that I was just about to flip from when I saw the two main characters come out dressed as, you know, nerds. "Nerds?" I thought to myself... "I like nerds!" And so I kept it on the station. It was a new show this tv season called "The Big Bang Theory", and I can't speak for Erik, but we were both laughing maniacally at several instances during the show. Sure, the jokes are pretty hollow, but gosh, how I cackled! Luckily enough, it was a re-air of the pilot, so we had a chance to see it from the beginning. This morning I went and saw that 8 episodes had aired so far, and they're all on the CBS website available to watch, so I'll have something to do over the long holiday weekend.
Another thing over the weekend I mustn't forget --the Battlestar Galactica movie "Razor" will be airing on SciFi this Saturday. Thanks to a generous co-worker, I'm all caught up on Season 3 (I didn't catch any of it when it aired, unfortunately), and ready for another small dose.
- Reading about Richard Kelly’s upcoming Southland Tales, I wondered if the removed subplot involving Janeane Garofalo as a General will be re-introduced in the director’s cut DVD. I don’t care that it got booed at Cannes, I want to see it.
- I want to watch the third season of SciFi’s Battlestar Galactica before the 2-hour special, Razor, airs in November. The likelihood of this is far from good, as the Season 3 DVD set will probably not show up until spring of next year, there are no planned re-airings of the episodes, according to SciFi’s website, and I have no friends who have the episodes recorded (that I know of). But I’m still excited about getting into the show again.
- We’re having Halloween festivities here at work today starting at 2:30pm which will feature a screening of Shaun of the Dead. Also, tonight offers the first possibility of doling out Halloween candy to minors in costume at my own place of residence (rather, the place I share with Erik). All the time I lived in Glendale I never got trick-or-treaters, as I lived in the back garage of a small apartment complex. I hope we bought enough candy!
- Vancouver is only a 2-hour drive away. Can we go, can we go, can we go?!? Then again, what do people do when they visit Vancouver? Other than the city’s reputation for gorgeousness, I have no idea what travelers do there.
- Large set of textile art pieces ordered for the bedroom should be arriving today.
This weekend I was feeling exceptionally spry - well, let me revise that - on Sunday I was feeling exceptionally spry... on Saturday I slept in, and in, and in. Until I decided to get out of bed and watch Erik play Half-Life 2 for a few hours, then, um, how shall I put this? I MADE A FRICKIN' PIE!!!
Yeah, that's right, I baked a pumpkin pie. No frozen pie re-heated up. I mixed together pumpkin with sugar, salt, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, eggs and evaporated milk to create the filling - and I didn't buy one of those pre-made pie crusts, either. Though, I did use a box of Betty Crocker Pie Crust Mix, it wasn't from scratch. Anyways, the pumpkin pie was a huge success. It tasted wonderful. And if you don't believe me there's half of it left in the fridge just waiting to be taste-tested, if you're in the area. Not that you are. But c'mon, good pie's a reason to come up and visit me, right?
On Sunday I did what I originally hoped to do on Saturday instead of oversleeping. I had a variety of errands I wanted to get done - I needed to go to IKEA to get some picture frames and a shoe rack, and then I needed to go look for a jacket or two, as it's getting c-c-c-cold up here. I also needed to drop by work to pickup a poster I left there in my mad rush to get out on Friday, and take some prints to Aaron Brothers to get custom mats cut, and maybe pickup some other miscellaneous things for the apartment. It was a massive day spent traveling all around the Seattle area.
But what I'd like to talk about is apartment-decorating. Specifically, artwork. Erik and I had virtually no eye-candy for our many walls, so acquiring some new stuff was necessary to make our place not seem so empty. We started by getting a couple of prints from Flatstock at Bumbershoot back in September. Then we (erm, I) got in a bit of a kick and started ordering prints galore. I got this really cool Camilla Engman set of four prints, and a few prints from the peeps at Noferin. And I found a poster print of the Death Cab show Erik and I saw down in L.A. awhile back.
The first two prints from Flatstock were a breeze to frame - they're 18"x24", which is a standard size for frames. The other prints, so far, have been a little less-easy to come up with framing solutions for. I contacted Ms. Engman for advice on framing her prints, and IKEA's RIBBA frame was the fortunate answer to that. But the Noferin prints and the Death Cab poster print are all non-standard sizes. Which means I need to either a) have custom frames made, or b) buy larger frames and have custom mats cut to order.
Fun, fun, fun! As if framing isn't costly-enough! But I guess it's something that just needs to be factored in when purchasing something you want to display in a non-ghetto fashion. I went to Aaron Brothers to see if one of their framing professionals could offer me up some helpful advise/guidance. What I got was a girl who a) could hardly be bothered, and b) wanted to push her own expensive aesthetic onto me without regard for my stated low-budget requirements.
I walked out of there ordering three custom mats cut for my three Noferin prints ( at a cost which neared $100 *gasp*), and a decision to just cut-down my Death Cab print from 19x25 to 18x24 to fit into a standard poster frame. It has just under a half-inch border on each side, so I don't feel too bad about that. But I have to cut it myself, as Aaron Brothers won't touch that. Again, VERY. HELPFUL! Especially since I don't have an artist's hand, and me taking scissors or an exacto knife to something where a straight edge is required will likely end in disaster.
I'm running into the same problems with my personal photos. They're shot in the Canon DSLR's aspect ratio, but then for printing they need to be cropped to be 4x6 or 5x7. But then when I purchase a 5x7 frame for it, it only actually displays 4.6" x 6.5" of the print, further diminishing the image area. Why does this have to be so difficult?!?
Things are going well-enough up here. Just a few tidbits to keep anyone still reading up-to-date:
Erik and I have been maxing out our Netflix viewings. I have a whole list of reviews I'd like to give, but, you know, that's time away from the insanely-awesome new lcd hdtv! It feels like we're being economically-sound by watching all these Netflix rentals instead of going to the movies and having dinner out, but the unfortunate side-effect of that is that we never leave the apartment.
Also, we booked our flight to L.A. for a brief Christmas visit. Plane tickets are expensive! While seeing family is fun and all, I am most eager to visit Kitty and go eat some Freebirds. Does that make me lame? If so, I don't care!
Work is going... alright. The honeymoon definitely feels like it's over, and I'm troubled by how early that's happened. I'm trudging through, though. Don't know if the job's just a wrong fit for me, or if it's just me and ANY job right now is a wrong fit.
Honestly, I've been in the doldrums a bit, lately. Sure, the dark weather might be an influence, or maybe the whole new job, new living arrangement, new state, new LIFE thing is just catching up to me and pounding my spirit into submission. These sorts of things are supposed to be stressful. I find myself really lethargic, prone to headaches and overeating and mild stomach-distress from the overeating and just an overall malaise. I went and had a physical a few weeks ago, and while a white blood cell count registered a tad high on the initial test (leading me to presume, you know, the worst: acute leukemia or something (I blame my nurse-mother)), a follow-up two weeks later proved everything alright. Supposedly I'm healthy. But I don't feel it much. And it's not just me - Erik is feeling a bit down as well, and that makes for a swell pairing; the two of us, confessing our depression to one another. A fun night at the Peterson/Garren house!
Last night my spirit was lifted greatly when Erik surprised me with a dozen gorgeous orange tulips after work. I had been whining about how pretty I thought orange tulips were awhile back, and lo and behold, he goes and makes special arrangements to surprise me with them (I guess they're special order only up here). I think that's pretty awesome. I took a bunch of photos and hopefully I'll post them at some point. They're really very pretty.
I cannot imagine setting up a residence from scratch without having a massive amount of stored-up money in the bank. I'm trying to remember back to when I was around 21 years old and just moving out of my parents' house for the first time, pulling in a sweet $8.00 an hour. I bought a futon, and spent maybe $1000 near the beginning to furnish my tiny little studio apartment.... on credit. Awesome.
And now, around ten years on, Erik and I just moved up to Seattle and I'm WAY too embarrassed to relate how much money we've put into it. Sure, the Microsoft move-up package was pretty sweet, but it doesn't account for all the stuff you're gonna need (or want, let's be honest here) when you're doing your first real bit of nesting. Oh, the furniture! Oh, the appliances! Oh, the large huge "replacement" HDTV for the HDTV you just got a few months ago that's now a bit too small for the living room (but would work quite nicely in the bedroom, thankyouverymuch)!
It's fine, though. We have both been really good about spending previous to this, and building up our savings to a very healthy level (and goodness, Erik did this while paying for grad school!). I, myself, have been so tenacious with my savings that spending it now in large clumps feels painful.
But I think we're getting really close to being done with transferring money from our savings to checking accounts and ALMOST back in the black, as the finance-oriented people like to say. It's not going to happen this month, but maybe next. Overall it's worth it, I think. We just bought some frames for the cool posters we picked up at Flatstock over at Bumbershoot this year, and they're going to make the living room look like an actual living room as opposed to a corporate apartment. I'm getting excited at the prospect of having people over. So please, all my friends, feel free to make a journey up here to visit us! We need friends!
We've settled into our new apartment in Kirkland, WA - "settled" meaning we've moved in and stuff, but we still have quite a bit of work to start feeling really settled. Right now I'm home alone (Erik is jetting down to Berkeley for the weekend to be the best man at a friend's wedding), sitting at our new dining table on my laptop, listening to KEXP.
The relative tidiness of the dining room and kitchen area betrays the absolute MESS we are living in right now. There are boxes in every possible variation of fullness and intactness strewn all over the living room and office areas. We have our excellent tv stand/entertainment "center" and coffee table(s) put together and functioning, but we haven't yet received our über-comfy La-Z-Boy Kiefer sofa and chair set yet. We're left sitting on a pair of kinda-sorta-comfortable-but-not-really-and-certainly-not-for-any-long-length-of-time IKEA chairs I brought up, which is something, I guess. I really, really, really can't wait to have our real seating arrive, though!
So yeah, the boxes. Most of them are filled with books or DVDs. We have way too many books and DVDs. So much so that I'm embarrassed about how much money we're about to spend getting shelving units for most of them. Oh, the money! It's going fast. At a breakneck (or break-the-bank) pace. I'm normally really frugal and that's all gone to hell in an effort to pull this whole apartment together. It's not all happening as quickly as I'd like it to be, I really want to have the place setup and clean and tidy, but I think we're still a few weeks away from that.
In the meantime, I've started my job. It's here where a couple of the things I'm really loving about Seattle come into play. See, I only live about seven miles from work - down in L.A. my commute was FIVE TIMES that length. I can leave a half-hour before work and get there with plenty of time to spare. And the drive itself is, gosh, wonderful. I'm taking surface streets, and a long stretch of it is through the Bridle Trails neighborhood, which borders on Bridle Trails State Park, a lowland forest filled with "Douglas-fir and western hemlock, with some western red cedar, big-leaf maple, and alder mixed in". So on one side of me there's a bunch of forest, and on the other side are huge equestrian estates that also have the big trees out front... along with horsies running around in their front yards (yes, I used the word "horsies" because I'm THAT excited about it!).
And then there's the radio up here. When we first got up here I did a quick scan of the stations and really only found one alternative rock station (107.7 The End). And, of course, the local NPR affiliate. Then Erik and I went over to Bainbridge Island to visit with his very-cool cousins and they hooked us up with a list of some stations to check out. We left their house that night and tried them out, and we spent the ferry-ride back listening to blocks of punk rock music on 2 of the 3 stations. My favorite so far has been KEXP, which I guess is very popular online as well. A really good mix of stuff and it's exposed me to a lot more of what I like. Hurrah.
So there's an update for you. As I mentioned, I have the weekend to myself, and I'm going to try my hardest to actually get some stuff accomplished. We have a list of "things" we still need to purchase (a dresser, nightstands, some speakers, another television(!!!), some lamps and lighting, etc.), and there's a lot of bulk trash in here that I can try to remove. But part of me just wants to sit on one of those not really at ALL comfortable red IKEA chairs, relax, and watch some bad tv all day while snacking on ice cream, all bundled up under Erik's shocking Spongebob Squarepants fleece blanket. Decisions, decisions.
I started work at my new job today. The first day at work is always a whirlwind, and today was no exception. I'm in a new industry now (tabletop games/consumer products), so I'm unable to rely on the knowledge I acquired in the tv/film post-production industry to help make things easier to comprehend. And let me tell you, it makes for a lot of newbie-confusion!
There are so many acronyms and verbiage that I'm completely in-the-dark about. As this is a new position for this already-in-reorg company, there are a lot of processes that haven't been completely planned out. Sure, that gives me a lot of opportunity to bring something extra to the proverbial table, but it's also really intimidating, not being able to fall back on established protocols.
So yeah, I'm really tired! I wore some fancy-schmancy shoes, so my feet were hurting when I got home (thank you Erik for the afterwork footrub!), I was hungry, and my head was kinda hurting from all the over-stimulation. It was SO NICE plopping down on the couch and having Erik wait on me this evening! I know that won't be a regular luxury, but I'll take it while I can get it!
The only thing I'd like for my birthday this year is for all my friends to get "creative" and show me some lolcats love. Swiped, or of your own creation (like my little ditty above).
Update: Who knew I would get all poetic in my old age... (love... above... i made a rhymie!)
If a job posting asks for someone who's detail-oriented, and you notice in their ad that they've clearly misspelled something - do you point it out?
Sloth. Gluttony. Were there any others?
I'm still hurting from this weekend. No, I didn't go out and party or anything (those who know me know that I just don't do that), but I spent almost the entire weekend in bed, watching two seasons of the wonderful show on SciFi, "Battlestar Galactica", and doing little else. And my bed isn't the best, so my back is a little store from all the LYING AROUND AND DOING NOTHING ha ha ha ha ha!
Oh, I spent a little time eating the wonderful steak and potato dinners my dad made, and eating some ice cream... for breakfast... And I spent some quality time with Kitty - I'll be moving away in 4.5 weeks so I need to get as much cuddle-time with the kitty as possible!
At the end of it I was exhausted - you know - that specific brand of tired one can only feel after doing absolutely nothing for an extended period of time. I'm in shock that I've no bed sores to show for it! It's nice to be able to do this every once in awhile, but gosh, I can't do that every weekend! Besides, the move is quickly approaching and I need to get some things in order!
This morning, while putting on my shoes, I spent a little over fifteen seconds (count 'em!) searching for my left sock, even standing up and walking around the room looking for the errant foot-covering, before noticing it was already on.
Got this shot on Saturday at the Santa Barbara Zoo. I'm feeling a lot like this crazy lemur right now - ready at a moment's notice to pounce on the next person who comes round to bother me. Everytime I come home after work on Monday nights after having spent the weekend up at Erik's place, I get overwhelmed at home with all sorts of random dramas that have fallen upon the household in my absence. Leave me alone, or let me at least get unpacked, guys!
**releases the tension**
Ahhhh... that's better. Now I'm feeling a lot more like my NORMAL totem animal:
Anyhoo, you can see a few more select photos from my trip to the Santa Barbara Zoo here.
Fact: I am not one to let a problem persist while I sit idle. At least at work. If something's up, I try to make it known to those who should know so it can be acted upon. Whether they want to hear about it or not. And heck, I might even proffer a solution on occasion. This doesn't come easy to me, and I often struggle with the decision to bring touchy issues to the attention of my superiors. I only mean to help the situation, and the company as a whole, not to cause trouble. Some might call this a flaw, or some sort of martyr-complex that makes me inclined to speak up when it's "safer" to keep my mouth shut. I'm sorry, but things can be better.
And that's all I'll say about that.
Over two-and-a-half years ago I met a wonderful guy named Erik. He liked MINIs and road trips, was a computer engineer at JPL, was handsome... when I found out that he "liked" me back, well, I was over the moon! While we were still in the very early getting-to-know-you stage, he was planning a return to school for his masters degree. At the time I didn't really give his going back to school much thought other than thinking it was cool that he was making the effort.
It wasn't until shortly after our relationship had evolved into a romantic one a few months later, when he was accepted, that the idea of it maybe being a strain on us popped into my head. And even then, I wasn't too worried. I was totally head over heels for this guy, and I just knew we'd work it out.
After a wonderful spring and summer full of travel and adventure, Erik packed up his things and drove 100 miles north to this new "home" at his single-dorm at UC Santa Barbara. I drove up the next weekend to visit him, and have made the same trip up nearly every weekend ever since. Every Friday night after work I made the 100-mile trip up, grab us some dinner, and stay until Sunday night or Monday morning, in the latter case getting up VERY early in the morning to make the 2 hour+ drive down to Universal.
I'd be lying if I told you it didn't exhaust me sometimes. I had a rough go of it at the beginning. We had been spending a LOT of time together during the first six months of our relationship - having dinner together once or twice during the work week and then hanging out all weekend. And then all at once I couldn't see him during the week, and I had a hard time of that. My work-weeks were spent counting down the elapsed time before getting to hug him again.
For over a year-and-a-half, with a respite during the summer, this has been the case. It's gotten easier - not a lot - but slightly easier. The weeks don't seem as long as they used to, thankfully. As Erik was finishing up his last two quarters, we got to think about the future a bit more as he was interviewing at many exciting software companies. And when he accepted a job at Microsoft, I got something new to obsess about: relocating with him to Seattle. It has helped to pass the time.
So it's been a countdown of sorts - counting down the days until he graduates, the days until we leave for Seattle, the miles left on my MINI warranty (because a weekly 300-mile work commute plus a 200-mile weekend commute will tick off those miles like nothing else). Sometimes it's really been agonizing. If Erik wasn't such the fantastic, lovable guy he is, I don't know if I would have been able to survive it, relationship-wise.
But I'm very, very proud to announce that this morning, Erik finished his masters studies by frickin' NAILING his thesis defense. I've watched him go through so much through his two-year grad school career: the good times of learning new, interesting stuff; the negative thoughts and worrying about various projects; and, ultimately, the absolute high of acing PWNZING his exams and projects - ALL of them. He's worked so hard and has done so well, I just couldn't be more proud of him right now.
For all intents and purposes, he's now done. He's going to be printing out and turning in his thesis, and then that's it - no more classes, no more studying. He gets to spend his last couple of weeks on the beautiful UCSB campus relaxedly attending his labmates' own thesis defenses, catching up on some recreational reading, doing whatever he wants - and gosh, does he deserve it!
What I'm really happy about is that I have been fortunate enough to be able to take this journey with him - him driving, me the passenger (to use a bad analogy). We've had our ups and downs - goodness knows I've been a horribly overdramatic brat on more than a few occasions - but we're still together, still in love, still excited. And that makes me so so so so happy.
Last night, shortly before work was over, I made the requisite call to the house to find out what was on the dinner menu. My youngest brother Matt answered, and I asked him how he was, how things were going, etc. - I was bored out of my skull at work, so I was intentionally trying to prolong the conversation. I asked him if he had heard anything from Berklee, not expecting him to have heard anything... "Yeah, I got in."
WHAT?!?
See, Matt auditioned for admission to the elite music college, Berklee College of Music, way back in January. Originally he was supposed to hear if he was accepted back in March - then when he didn't hear anything, he checked back and they said May. Bizarre. So as it passed the half-way mark in the month of May, I really didn't expect him to hear anything. Part of me thought they had sent him an unfortunate decline letter, and that my father might have hidden it to shield him from the discouragement, but thank goodness I was way off!
Matt received an email on Friday evening that he had gained admission. Woo hoo! I called my brother Kevin after I got off the phone with Matt. Kevin had attended a summer session at Berklee and is a professional musician, so naturally he'd be the next one to call... and he had already heard the news... and he didn't seem too excited... and that kinda pissed me off.
So I raced home afterwards, I wanted to get my eyes on that email asap to see what was what. Berklee is a very expensive school, and it had sounded like Matt had already settled himself on the fact that he wasn't going to be able to go - that everyone around him all weekend might have talked him down about it. Urgh! So I got home, and before sitting down to eat I made him log into his email account.
Funny, there was a NEW message from the school. He opened it and we read together that in addition to being accepted, they were also extending him a yearly-renewing $7000 merit-scholarship. O.M.G! Matt seemed in a daze as we got the unexcited Kevin back on the phone. His response? "Are you fucking kidding me? That's fucking great!" Kevin changed his tune, and we then went to our respective dinners and lingered in the waft of Matt's glory for awhile.
Then, I sprung into action.
I noticed Matt had FINALLY hunted down the necessary financial aid form (the infamous FAFSA, which normally gets turned in months before now). So we spent the evening hunting through all my father's personal paperwork for his tax forms, info on when he and our mother were divorced, etc. etc. - heck, when the tax forms proved incomplete, I even called our tax preparer to have him help with the numbers! I was unstoppable!
We got to a place where we could find no more of the necessary information, and I fell asleep with the financial aid process on my brain. When I woke up I went right back to it, requesting my father spend a little time getting his savings & checking account balance information for us. Then at work I phoned the school to speak with someone in admissions. I managed to succeed in acquiring the name and phone number of his admissions counselor, and left her a voicemail - alas, I have yet to hear back. And then I went and signed Matt up for a Department of Education PIN number, which we'll need to turn in the FAFSA online (which quickens the process two-fold). And now I wait, with my list of questions and contact numbers and a spring in my step. And this isn't even for ME! This is for Matt!
So, as you can see, I've gone a little nutty. This happens to me a lot. I get a goal in my head, and I just push-push-push until it's dealt with in some manner. It's probably not good for my blood pressure! But I have a feeling that if I weren't here to push like this, Matt wouldn't have a chance of getting the necessary stuff done to make actually attending the school (or any other, for that matter) a reality. And this is too important.
I was just reading an excerpt from Al Gore's new book The Assault On Reason that's posted up at Time.com, and it got me to thinking about marketing and the media, and my own stake in it.
With my upcoming move to Seattle, I'm in a position where I will have the relative freedom to pick which direction I want to take, career-wise. Sure, I have entertainment industry-specific knowledge that I've accumulated over the last 14 years that could help me break into the extremely tight market in Seattle, but the question for me remains: Do I want to?
The excerpt I mention above talks about television and the media's influence on America's ability to respect and employ logic, specifically in the realms of public policy and discourse. It references how campaigning and politicking has changed in recent history, to be less about reasoned debate and more about figuring out which psychological buttons to push. And it calls attention to how campaign tv advertisements have become a science where the amount of money you put into it directly influences (promises, even) your poll numbers.
Overall, it alluded to the dumbing-down of the nation that the field I work in propagates. And while I understand that there are media outlets out there dedicated to information and knowledge and the broadening of their audience's minds (think Discovery Channel, or better, PBS), I'm not idealistic enough to believe that I would ever be in a position where my work directly resulted in any of that. I am a tool for the man, and a lowly-one at that... and this has me embittered for the moment.
After reading the excerpt, any thought I had to the study of psychology aimed at going into user interface design sickened me. It all seems really dirty. I immediately conjured up the idea of going into health care: being a nurse, or going into the "radiological sciences" (as sonography interests me). The thought of pharmalogical studies entered my mind, but in my bitter state the thought of being a shill for "big pharma" and having to deal with sales reps coming to the pharmacy all the time didn't strike me as all that fun.
See? I'm clearly in an altered, angered state after reading Mr. Gore's excerpt. Usually I just don't care. And maybe this seed of change will not go deep enough and dry out before ever being able to sprout within the scope of my life - the plague of income and perceived necessity will comb away any political idealism - but who knows. I'm not counting anything out at this point.
I guess this blog just isn't demanding enough! At the request of one of my aunts, I have created a blog for my extended family: Marrero Family Blog. If you are a member of said family and wish to be able to post as well, you can email me and I'll hook you up.
I just had to hang up on a rather pushy volunteer for the Barack Obama Presidential Campaign. I let her talk for a little while, she was speaking from a script in that manner where there are no significant pauses - nor breaths, apparently - and the opportunity to interrupt had to be taken mid-sentence.
"I'm so sorry, you know what? I'm at work, and this is my cellphone number - and I will gladly go to the website and obtain more information there, thank you."
She seemed slightly apologetic, saying she could be more brief, and again started into her spiel, asking if I could be counted upon to support Senator Obama in his run. I again interrupted and told her I would check online later and make my decision about it from there. Then she asked if I had not yet made my decision about who I am going to support in the Democratic Party Primary elections, and just kept going and going, and I had to hang up on her.
As I firmly pressed the "End" button on my phone, I exhaled a light "Sorry". But really - points for persistence, but I'm on a minutes plan, my dear!
This weekend Erik and I were treated to a wonderful evening watching the renowned humorists David Sedaris and Sarah Vowell read some of their material at the Arlington Theatre on State Street in Santa Barbara as part of UCSB's Arts & Lectures series.
I bought the tickets back in October, fearful that I would miss this chance to see them. I can't tell you how many times I've found out that one of them was in the L.A. area only to find out the tickets were long sold out. If I had only waited until the weekend after finding out about the show, Erik could have scored tickets at a student discount (or his, at least, saving me over $20), but I could not take that chance!!
Cut to over six months later. We started Saturday evening with a great heavy dinner of Indian food at the Taj Cafe, located just a few blocks down from the Arlington. The tandoori chicken and aloo matar was delish, and I should really be eating Indian food more often. Once I was able to extract my overstuffed-self from the tight confines of the restaurant booth, we ambled back up the street, stopped for a quick coffee, and made our way to the theatre.
I was perfectly content to stay sitting out near the fountain in the theatre's pleasant outdoor atrium, but Erik urged us inside, much to my fortune. We entered to find a couple of tables set up to the left, with hundreds of books piled equally atop one of them. Ah, they had Sedaris and Vowell books for sale that could then be signed. Yay! Also, curiously, they had two books that were not penned by the two authors of the evening: The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead and World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War, both written by Max Brooks. Once I had scouted the book availability, I made my way through the thickening crowd of people to where Erik stood waiting. He uttered something about them being right behind him, and I took that to mean that, yes, the powers that be had setup the tables for later book-signing right near us. But no. He meant that Mr. Sedaris and Ms. Vowell were standing right behind him, but of course I was too transfixed with the table itself to actually get what he was alluding to.
I got my bearings though, and through a clearing I spotted the two towering powers of the modern essay seated at the table. I was immediately starstruck and shared my observation with Erik, who modestly pointed out that, um, YEAH, that's what he was TALKING about! It took me a few minutes to get my heartrate slowed down to normal as I fought with myself internally about whether or not to get in line to get them to sign.
I realized I would hate myself, overcome with regret, had I not opted to get in that line, so I grabbed Erik by the arm, urging he accompany me into the line. The next ten minutes felt like forever as the line trudged slowly across the two tables while the two authors gabbed with their fans and signed their respective books (well, really, only one of them was doing any talking, but I'm making no judgments about that!).
Erik asked me if I had anything witty planned to say to either of them, and my answer came quickly: Absolutely not! I wouldn't deign to try my hand at being witty with these two. Not only would they eat me alive at any sign of a quip, but in person, they are both quite intimidating. Sarah is quiet and sullen and wears a permafrown, looking like she'd rather be anywhere but here. And David is, well David freakin' Sedaris! I imagine him sizing me up and ripping me apart behind those calm eyes.
So by the time it was my turn to hand Ms. Vowell the paperback copy of her latest book, Assassination Vacation, to sign, I could barely muster the pathetically-polite "Would you mind signing this for me?" She made no eye contact, took my book and answered, "Sure." Her even asking my name for addressing purposes seemed unreal, and the only thing I could do to not totally freak out was to try to get a handle on the second author, who was chatting with some executive-looking couple about the Four Seasons hotel they were staying at.
Erik later pointed out that once she finished scribbling her name on the title page, I appeared to have completely tuned her out. I don't remember it being like that. I remember being confused, worried - like everything was happening in a blur. Erik said he had to say "Thank you" for me, which made me feel like a complete tool as we sat waiting for the show to begin in the auditorium. But when that was all going down, I was just handing an extra copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day to David Sedaris. The David Sedaris. Oh. My. Gawd.
Right now, I can't remember how our brief conversation began, but it pretty much went as follows:
Me: Hi! Would you mind signing this?
David Sedaris: Not at all. What name?
Me: Julie
David Sedaris: J-u-l-i-e... and is that you?
Me: Yes.
David Sedaris: And who did you come with tonight?
Me: My boyfriend Erik.
David Sedaris: How long have you two been together?
Me: Two-and-a-half years.
David Sedaris: (gives me a bizarrely-wide, thoughtful grin, finishes signing)
Me: (notices the space between his two front teeth, wonders why he's smiling so big)
David Sedaris: Do you two live together?
Me: Very nearly.
I honestly don't remember what happened next. I'm sure he handed me back the book, and that I thanked him, and right next to us was the checkout register, where I paid by credit card, and inadvertently left one of the books on the desk. The girl at the register had to reach through the crowd to ask me if it was mine. i was clearly shaken by what had just transpired. I hadn't even had a chance to really eyeball what had been written in each book.
And now, I can't even remember when I first glanced at each signature - in that crowded pre-reading hall, or once we were sitting down. But I do remember how pleasantly surprised to read "To Julie - I'm so happy you're alive" penned by David Sedaris. What I do know is that I'm a complete wreck around any of my heroes, and thank goodness Erik was there to hang onto my arm and keep me level!
I don't think I have to say this, but the reading that came after the whole book-signing debacle (well, debacle for me) was WONDERFUL. They were both super funny. I can't wait until they both have new books of material out - though it remains to be seen how soon that will happen. Harrrrrumph.
We can all vaguely remember from when we were young times when we were asked by the adults in our lives "What do YOU want to be when you grow up?" Boys had it easy - a firefighter! I joke, but most kids answer that, or an astronaut, or a doctor, or an actor, or a marine biologist.
No one ever answers, "I think I want to be a middling administrative cog in the already-incredibly bloated entertainment industry".
But yet that's where I find myself today. Oh, I've had higher ambitions in the past - to be a musician, a screenwriter, a film director, a musical composer for films, a music producer, a sound mixer, a music editor, a sound editor, an encoding operator, and simply employed. You'll notice a devolving trend there in my list. It seems the older I get, the less ambitious I am.
Perhaps that's what growing up is. When there are other aspects of your life that you come to value over a profession, things can get blurry if you've not already found your "dream job". So as my move to Seattle creeps closer and closer, I wonder if this is that one opportunity to really "reset" my professional life. Co-workers are starting to approach me, inquiring about the move, and I can spot something unexpected in their eyes - envy. I realize I'm in an envious position that not too many people find themselves in after 30 years of age.
I'm not completely devoid of responsibility - my partner, Erik, won't be making single-income sort of money, and I would never want to imbalance our contributions by sitting back and mooching off of him. But the sense that THIS might be a great time to go back to school and get a degree and do something that really empassions me is starting to overtake my thoughts.
Don't get me wrong, I've always wanted to work in the entertainment industry for as long as I can remember. But there's not a whole lot of "the biz" up in the Pacific Northwest. There are a lot of advertising and high tech firms, but video post production facilities are in short supply. My dilemma? Narrowing down the things that interest me to a reasonable scope.
I first draw upon my personal interests: the internet, working on the design of my website (occassionally), photography, etc. The high-tech field in Seattle is well-known for being robust, but I absolutely KNOW I don't have the math skills to become a code-monkey. As much as it fascinates me, watching Erik work makes it evident that I'm trumped in every capacity.
Then there's web design (graphics). Talk about an over-saturated field! Kids are coming out of high school doing amazing things with their websites, so I would have to be quite the superstar to be able to get my foot in that swinging door. I like to think I have an "eye", but if nothing else, I'm quite aware of my artistic limitations.
Now there are fields of study, completely different from media/new media, that I toy with the idea of venturing into more and more. I've always been interested in psychology from when I was quite young and landed my hands on one of my mother's nursing school psychology textbooks back when I was about seven years old. I could barely read the words, but remember spending more time with that book than many others. I've experienced a diverse array of mental health issues with both my family, and with myself, so I have mixed feelings on it. But I have an advisory personality - whether people want my advice or not - and sometimes I think counseling might be my bag, but again, I realize how much responsibility lays with that, and it's a little intimidating.
But there's another psychology-related field that interests me which seems to have the best of both worlds: human-computer interaction and user interface design. Companies are really into making sure their software and web presences are just as impactful as, say, their television commercials, and how a page is laid out can really unconsciously (or blatantly) influence a consumer's perception of that company and what they're selling. That's intriguing to me for some reason. But I don't really know much about the field beyond that - I don't know how much programming experience is required, etc.
And then there's a slew of other fields that I've taken interest in - I just don't have the time to delve into the plethora of reasons they have it: sonography (giving ultrasounds), teaching, law. But see? I'm overwhelmed by this entry at this point (I'm sure you, dear reader, are as well, if you've gotten this far). It's too much to think about - and too perplexing. It's at this point where I sigh, clear my head, and forget about doing something else.
Last night I woke up several times during the night with severe stomach cramping, followed by unfortunate trips to the restroom.
I woke up this morning with a really painful crick in my neck. I must have been sleeping wrong. I have no Aleve at home.
This morning, for some reason, the MiniDisc player that I'm selling would not turn on. I had just tested it last week and it was fine. I have no idea what's up with that.
At Jamba Juice this morning I was subjected to a dance mix of The Killer's "When You Were Young". That's just so wrong on so many levels.
The day's gonna get better, right?
Well, obviously it is. There are no signs of foul weather coming from my stomach area. And I plugged the MiniDisc player in at work and it is revived! I think I just have a wiggy power outlet at home. *Whew* And that crick in my neck? It's subsiding. But the horror of the "When You Were Young" dance version will just not go away. Ever.
So I've been mentioning that I want to sell off a bunch of my stuff. Well, I've gone ahead and listed my Fender Jag-Stang guitar on Craigslist. If anyone is interested, or knows of anyone who might be interested, a special deal can be made! I really need to get rid of this thing, I never play it, and we're really going to need the moolah for our move.
Also, I just posted an ad to sell my Sony MiniDisc Player/Recorder Walkman. Again, if anyone's interested...
This weekend seemed to fly by. On Saturday I lounged around the house and watched the last two seasons of Six Feet Under. I used to watch the show religiously the first few seasons, but went without HBO towards the end So I missed all that final drama. Erik bought me the entire show (all 5 seasons!) this past Christmas, and I finally made the effort to catch up. And an effort it was! I didn't get to sleep on Sunday morning until around 4am.
About 8 hours later Erik and his parents showed up with all of his things from his Studio City house. We're keeping everything at my place so that the movers can come do their survey this Friday. And then it's only about 15 weeks until the move actually takes place. And boy, am I counting down those weeks!
As I had mentioned before, I'm selling off some of my stuff. I already have a taker for my treadmill, and there's someone interested in one of my guitars. The thing is, I don't think the person interested in the guitar is actually going to buy it. I've been looking online, trying to find it's fair market value, and I've come across something on eBay that i find particularly unnerving.
Let me begin my mentioning that my guitar is an original issue, first run Fender Jag-Stang, designed by Kurt Cobain. I bought it in 1995, back when I was a huge fan of Nirvana. I saved up for months to buy it, and thought I would keep it forever as a tribute to him - heck, I didn't even play it more than a few times, lightly, before buying another guitar to actually practice on. So it's been sitting in its case for over the last ten years. Now with this move, and my priorities in an entirely different place, it's only a little sad to be parting with it.
So I'm seeing all these listings on eBay advertising to sell "1st run! Original issue!" Fender Jag-Stangs. That's all fine and good, but they're misrepresenting the guitars as the very first batch that came out, when in fact they have slightly later serial numbers. This is all fine and good, as well, because anybody can look on the Fender website's guitar dating page to verify the guitar's vintage - but here's what I have a problem with: Some listers are stating that the "original", "first run" guitars all came with two stickers affixed to the guitars, which marks them as original - one being a "Designed by Kurt Cobain" sticker, and the other being a "Fender 60th Anniversary" sticker. Not true!
Mine came with neither stickers. It came with a paper tag that read "Designed by Kurt Cobain" on it, but no sticker - and it certainly didn't come with a "Fender 50th Anniversary" sticker, as that anniversary was not until 1996, not 1995. In fact, the 2nd guitar I bought, a Fender Mustang, which I purchased that next year, came with one of those stickers. So why am I mad? Well, these listers are stating something as fact, and putting out false information that would-be purchasers will soak up. And this is bad because I want to sell and get a good price for my guitar, but when I go to sell it, this might make it harder for me. I mean, the first guy who was interested in my guitar even asked if it had all its original stickers, and I had to point out that my guitar had no stickers... who knows, he probably doesn't believe me. Ugh, ya know? Just ugh.
So there's a big fire up on the hills near Universal Studios, and I can hear the helicopters circling. The office is abuzz in fire-related talk, and the on-lot childcare center has been evacuated, so there's a flurry of co-workers' children running around the offices here, and co-workers' themselves doing a lot of ridiculous baby talk in an effort to keep the kids occupied. God, I hope they evacuate us just for the hell of it.
I took last Thursday and Friday off from work to get a number of errands out of the way. But by Thursday afternoon I was already tuckered out! The dentist visit really tired me out, i guess, because I ended up napping for most of the rest of the day, followed only by some light chores.
Friday was relaxing. I slept in. Erik came and woke me up around noon. We went out for lunch and then went looking at tv's at Best Buy. He and I just cannot shop for tv's together, because every time we try, one of us gets cranky about not being able to decide and we end up leaving with our hands empty. I think in this case it's an allowable, even practical, flaw. I really don't think we need a tv just yet. He uses his computer monitor up at school, I can just do without for a few more months. After the fruitless trip to Best Buy we came back home. More napping was done (we are like a pair of eighty year olds), and then we dragged ourselves out for a nice meal at a local steakhouse.
Saturday we drove down to Palm Springs to attend his family reunion. I couldn't believe how much information they had about his family! I only know that my family is (mostly) caucasian, I wouldn't be able to tell you who the first Garren to come over to America was, nor of what descent I am. His family is Swedish - boy are they Swedish! And let me tell you, they LOVE their Swedish food. Unfortunately, I have no love for the Swedish traditional food... Pickled herring? Head cheese? Lutefisk?!? I was raised in Simi Valley on a strict diet of Macaroni & Cheese and Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwiches - we don't do white fish soaked in lye. But all in all, it was really nice seeing this group come together to celebrate their forefathers. And his family is really, really nice.
Sunday we woke late and I had a bit of a headache. Erik had his heart set on going out to Exposition Park in L.A. to visit the California Science Center - to see an IMAX movie and a Star Wars exhibit - and to visit the Natural History Museum. We woke so late we didn't think we'd be able to get it all done, but I could not stand seeing his face all sad like that, so I popped an Advil and we raced out there. The IMAX film, Deep Sea 3D, was AMAZING. I never thought seeing something in 3D would be that cool, but the experience is far more immersive that I thought. Shots of the sunset on the ocean made me feel like I was out on a boat, and there was some footage with sharks that made me truly feel like I could reach out and touch them. Amazing!
The show was immediately followed by a trip to the Star Wars exhibit. I've never been much of a Star Wars fan, myself, but I walked around with Erik and we took blurry photo after blurry photo in the dimly-lit exhibition hall. Then it was time for lunch, and afterwards we walked down to the Natural History Museum. I wasn't too excited about this part, as I've been before in the last several years, and knew it did not live up to the glorious memory I had of going back in 1984. there's really only one word that can adequately describe the museum in its current stage: Ghetto.
The Dinosaur Hall was closed, and the displays that WERE open looked like they had last been modified in 1972. The Mammalian fossils nearby to the closed Dinosaur Hall were propped up on simple boxes and were dusty. The African and North American Stuffed Animal Halls (as I like to call them), were nothing I hadn't seen before at the Santa Barbara Natural History Museum, and going to the Zoo would have been far more entertaining (and less depressing). So our venture out ended on that down note, but the weather outside had been gorgeous, and it was really nice strolling outside from one place to the next.
I didn't really get a chance to attack any of the leftover busy work I have of packing. I had wanted to further clean up and photograph items I wanted to sell, but didn't really get around to much of that. I guess having most of the packing done has really made me comfortable with the July timetable. This weekend Erik will be bringing all of his boxes over to store in our garage, for the survey to take place at the end of next week. The scariest part of THAT is the fact that his parents are going to be helping him drive out all the stuff - meaning they'll get to meet my father for the first time {{shudder}}. Truly, truly frightening.
I woke up a little bit ago from a nap that was entirely too long. But I had a busy morning, so I'm not too down on myself. This morning I had a dentist appointment at 9:30am for a long overdue checkup and cleaning. Last time I was there was in November of 2005, so of course I expected the lectures about coming in every six months. I forgot! I'm sorry!
Anyhow, while the appointment lasted to a little before noon, we got a lot done. X-rays & evaluation led to finding one small cavity, and the dentist's recommendation of a "gross scale with irrigation". Normally I would have quashed that second part, opting for a regular cleaning instead - but since I'll be moving and don't really know when I'll next be going to a dentist, I thought it wise.
The dentist had numbed the right side of my mouth to prepare for the cavity filling, and went to work on the cleaning next. It was a bit more intense that a regular cleaning, and while I felt virtually nothing on the right side of my mouth, the left side was an entirely different story. They have to clean up under the gums and stuff and man, sometimes that smarts!
After the leaving the dentist's office, I drove out to Thousand Oaks to apply for a duplicate social security card. I lost mine ages ago, and figured now's as good a time as any to replace it. Besides talking a little funny from having a still-numb mouth, it went smoothly. By the time I rolled back into Simi I was feeling a bit weak from not eating all morning, so I opted for drive thru fare.
At first I pulled into the Taco Bell line - but the line was long so I reversed back into the street and headed for the Jack-In-The-Box down the street instead. Erik had said their new Andes Mint Shake was da bomb, so I wanted to check it out. So I grabbed a burger, some curly fries, and a big shake. That's not bad for freshly clean teeth, is it? Sure, drinking from a straw might be a little awkward, but all that sugar can't do any damage, can it?
I promptly fell into an extended nap once I was done eating - that's always healthy as well. I woke up from that siesta just before 5pm, and now it's time to do all those other chores I had planned for earlier today. Fun stuff.
Last night I had dreams about placing work orders for a particular client. I remember that, in the dream, I was constantly going back and trying to get the order placed correctly: it needs to be this - wait, no, let's do this again, it needs to be this. It was very, very weird. It was like my brain was trying to get "it" right, but "it" didn't really have a clear definition.
Today is my last day before two days' vacation - which means a four-day weekend - woo hoo! I always handicap myself, however, because the day before vacation I've gotta scramble to make sure any loose ends get tied up, and the whole day winds into a big stress - as is evident from my dream.
I shouldn't be so uptight about this stuff, though. I take my client servicing waaaay too seriously. But I need to remember that I have a backup person - and while that person might not be as anal as I am with orders, he gets the stuff handled. So whatever doesn't get done today he can handle tomorrow. Sounds easy, right?
Anyways, I'm really looking forward to the long weekend. Thursday I have some errands to run, but other than that things should be fun. I'm going with Erik to his paternal-side family reunion in Palm Springs on Saturday - that should be only mildly painful. And then on Sunday we're going to go to the California Science museum, or a small number of museums near USC. Not quite sure. And maybe a movie or two will get thrown into the mix. Sleeping in is gonna be nice.
I don't know what it is about today, maybe it's the fact that it's a Friday, but my clients have decided to whip up a flurry of frustration by hitting me with a deluge (a deluge, I tell ya!) of rush jobs. I'm keeping everything straight, but only just barely. That's why I'm spending my union-mandated fifteen minute break writing this rant.
There's a dub room operator (or perhaps a number of them) who I'm sure wants to see me killed or injured in a most-heinous fashion right now, but it's not my fault! I don't conspire with the clients to throw all this work at our facility. My job is to make sure it gets done.
Believe me, when a client leaves a voicemail at 10:30am (while I'm in the middle of placing three other rush jobs due midday) saying he needs four rolls of film transferred to a DVD, wait, make that ELEVEN DVDs to make the FedEx cutoff, oh, and he needs the film back by 2:30pm, it doesn't give me a warm, happy feeling. You can be sure that I'M JUST AS WORRIED AS YOU.
I'm kind of glad for these sort of days, though. For one, it DOES give me that warm, fuzzy feeling when a client gives an impossible-sounding request, and somehow, it all gets done as necessary. I like that. that's called job satisfaction, right there. And secondly? Well, it's already almost lunchtime, and I have no idea where the time went! That means the weekend gets here sooner, and that's A-OK by me. Sure, it means I'm going to be a little frazzled by day's end, but walking out to my car after work is going to feel SO GOOD.
This morning I drove real fast to get from Simi Valley to Studio City in an effort to have time to make a Jamba Juice run before going to work. Success was had, and upon entering the fresh fruit smoothie establish was greeted thusly:
Girl at counter, without even looking at me: (*sigh*) "Hello."
Guy making smoothies, an awkward seven seconds (count 'em!) later, again, without looking: "Hello."
Both "hello"s were uttered as an afterthought, as if the employees were remembering that once the door opens, they're required to say something but what is it oh! i remember (in a tired, sad voice) "hello." I understand that a company may choose to enforce a policy with employees that they greet every customer, but their lackadaisical delivery has the opposite impact - I feel unwelcome, like they're not really THAT pleased to see me. An absence of a greeting at all would have been much better.
But I won't hold it against them, they make damn good smoothies.
I was feeling pretty good about this morning. I got myself all packed up for a long weekend up at Erik's, and was out of the house early. I decided to stop by Starbucks for a little caffeine-infusion, as I had a little extra time on my hands. Traffic was light - and I flew through the various freeways with ease. I arrived at work super-early, and took my time getting out of my MINI.
ID Badge? Check.
Cellphone? Check.
Nearly-empty grande mocha frappuccino cup? Check.
Wallet?
Um...
Wallet?!?!?
I've had that sinking feeling before. Usually the wayward wallet is found underneath my seat, or I left it on the passenger seat and, in the midst of a sharp, feisty turn, it's fallen over to the side. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found. Ugh. Bad, bad, bad!
The clammy feeling that accompanies a shot of adrenaline accompanied me as I walked from the parking lot to the office, trying to think of how the wallet got away from me. I had it at Starbucks, obviously, as I had to pay for my coffee. I remember holding it on the table with me as I waited for my order to be called. I don't remember if I had it with me when I walked out, or if I fumbled in placing it in my car.
I hoped against hope that someone found it and turned it into the Starbucks' staff, so that an easy phone call and trip back would be all that's required. I remembered that I had a couple of my business cards in the wallet, and thought that maybe I would have a message on my voicemail waiting for me. It was these thoughts that paced my usually-slow walk towards the office at a much urgent rate.
As I rounded the corner to my cubicle, my heart jumped when I saw the red-LED voicemail indicator on phone. Maybe I'm in luck! I clocked in immediately, and checked the voicemail right after - my breathing still labored from the quickened walk.
"Hi. My name is Teresa [surname withheld for privacy], and I came across your wallet in the Starbucks parking lot. Please give me a call so we can arrange for you to get it back."
Hot. Damn. Losing a wallet permanently is such an extreme pain - I've gone through it before about ten years ago, and had to deal with getting a new driver's license, and reporting all my credit cards as missing, and having to have those and my bank accounts closed and re-opened with different account numbers... and gosh, I still don't have a new copy of my social security card.
Fortunately, I'm going to be able to avoid all of that mess this time. At around noon today I'll be driving back out to Simi to retrieve my found wallet from a person with some integrity. We often imagine the worst when this type of scenario comes up - someone pocketing the cash and trashing the wallet. I think I got really lucky.
Bang bang bang - bang bang bang bang bang!
Not-so-mild-mannered office worker looks around her cubicle with a worried look on her face.
BANG bang bang bang BANG - bang bang bang bang!
Office worker wonders "What are they doing? More ill-timed construction work in the building?"
Bang bang!
Office worker overhears co-workers chatting about the sound - all is revealed.
----
So yeah, they're shooting the new Die Hard movie, Live Free or Die Hard, in the soundstage right next to my office, and the sound of loud, echoey gunshots can be heard every few minutes. Now that I know what the sounds are, everytime they go off, I get a tingly feeling on my back and arms. Awesome!
Working on the studio lot can be really sweet, sometimes.
My wonderful boyfriend turns, um, twenty-something today (mua ha ha ha haaaaa - I'm robbin' the cradle!), and every year he just keeps on getting cuter and cuter! Happy birthday, sweetie!
It's the night before my boyfriend, Erik's, birthday, and it was high-time for me to get to wrap some presents. I wielded my housekey and slashed the packing tape affixed to the cardboard Amazon.com box which contained his loot. I did a quick check to verify the contents included everything that was supposed to be there, and, satisfied with the quality control of Amazon's warehouse team, ventured out to the kitchen to procure some Scotch Matte Finish Magic™ Tape, and remembered that Kitty wasn't in my room yet. Kitty!
So on my way back I opened the front door and spotted her, sat down next to the recycling bin next to the garage. A call of her name had her sprinting inside and down the hall to my room. I took a quick potty break before coming back to get wrapping.
It was when I returned to my room that I discovered Kitty sitting in the opened Amazon box, atop all of Erik's hundreds and thousands of amazing, expensive gifts. Oh wait, there's only, like, four. But still. I would have maybe thought of admonishing her if she weren't so ridiculously cute.
See, I brought Kitty home when she was a mere 8-week-old kitten over 13 years ago in a shoebox, and she loved to settle herself down into any available shoeboxes long after that - even when she was almost too big to fit into them. She stopped doing it around the time when she decided she preferred being more of an outside-cat, but I always liked to think that she still preferred relaxing in a confines of a box than anywhere else. Tonight those thoughts have been verified as fact!
I picked Kitty up out of the box in order to remove its contents from underneath her, set her on the side for only that moment, and then carefully placed her back within it, hoping she wouldn't be fickle and leap out. She didn't! In fact, once she tired of regally posing for me ("See how great I am, sitting in this box?"), she laid right down in it, curling up into a rather large ball of furriness. After several moments of petting and cooing to her about how ridiculously cute she was, I wisened up and grabbed my camera.
It's going to be enormously difficult to leave Kitty behind when I move far, far away in July... wait... what? :P
There's a lot going down right about now. I can't come clean to you all now, because, well, nothing is set in stone yet - but I expect to have some really, really, really exciting adventures this year.
In other, less-fun news, I've been taking some medication that's starting to have some bizarre side effects. For the last two weeks I've been getting headaches, my eyes have had trouble focusing (and yeah, I had my eyes checked not too long ago and was fitted for glasses, so it's not that), I've had an annoying ringing in my ears, and some, well, disturbing dreams.
I've been known to have some really whacky, vivid dreams - even the occasional nightmare - but these new ones are just downright bizarre. Not scary, in that sense, and only mildly stressful. But I wake with them still clear in my head, and they leave me thinking "WTF? Where the heck did THAT come from?" I wish I could go into detail, but some of it just isn't tasteful. And it's a little embarrassing. For goodness' sakes, I wouldn't want to embarrass myself on my own website... that would be completely unlike me!
So I've got a call into my doc, and I'm pretty sure that this medicine will be going away soon. But again, I think a dose of really good medicine is coming right around the corner. Stay tuned.
What... the... eff?
I'm just going to point out what's obvious - it SAYS it's only going to get down to 30 degrees, even though it's clearly 28 degrees. This is southern California, fer christsakes, not frickin' Buffalo or something (where, for the record, it is 30 degrees right now, umyeah).
Thank goodness it's Saturday, and I can get right back under the covers and lounge in warmth all day, switching the EvoTV back and forth between the SciFi Channel and HGTV. The only thing that could make that idea any better is if Erik showed up right now with a hot pizza and a six pack of Mountain Dew.
A few days back I wrote a cryptic blog post about me being very, very frustrated about something. I was holding off on being too specific, because I wanted to surprise Erik, and now he knows about it, so I can publicly vent.
My old Samsung 32" TV died quite awhile ago - like, a LONG, LONG time ago - and I've been holding off on getting a new one until I move out of my Dad's house this summer. I have a nice little gadget that allows me to plug in my cable feed to watch tv on my computer, so not having tv wasn't a major problem.
Over new years weekend, Erik started talking about how cool it would be if I got a tv, so we could play his new Nintendo Wii on it. While I liked the idea, I wasn't really going for it. "No, sweetie - we'll get a nice one when we move out. We can wait it out."
And then, at the beginning of last week, the DVD player on my iMac started being a little bitch. While trying to watch my new Six Feet Under DVDs, it kept freezing and crashing. Many different DVDs were attempted, all with the same failures. *Sigh*. So I quietly began researching for a new TV online.
I wasn't looking for anything crazy - I don't need an HDTV, or a flat-panel plasma display - just a smallish tv for my room that will become a 2nd tv when I move out. Easy enough. Browsing through BestBuy.com, I found something that seemed to fit the bill. A Samsung SlimFit Flatscreen 27" Digital TV. It was a regular, old-timey CRT television, but it had a flat screen, and it wasn't as huge and bulky as a regular tube television. And it was priced within my budget.
I was determined to get the tv installed at my house on Friday night, so that when Erik came over on Saturday morning I could surprise him with it. I bribed my younger brother Matt into going with me to Best Buy to check it out, pick it up, and help me move it into my bedroom. We got to Best Buy and I found my way back to the aisle where it was. I found it very difficult to focus on the particular tv I was looking to purchase when a couple of really sweet looking widescreen HDTVs were displayed next to it. I even almost talked myself into spending an extra $300 to pickup a 30" 16:9 SlimFit-style HDTV, but I was a good girl. I bought the tv and Matt and I were off!
For a SlimFit television, the box it came in surely wasn't. Upon first eyeing the box, I was a bit worried that it wouldn't fit into the back of my MINI. But indeed it did, and after a bit of fussing with Matt about the proper direction of it, and a surely-comical display of us two weaklings trying to lift it into the back, we had it into the MINI, closed the hatch, and were headed home.
We got home after a few quick stops, and got the box into the house with the help of my surprisingly-helpful father. I opened up the top of the box and we started to lift it out when Matt noticed something odd about the tv. I walked around to the front and noticed the entire screen had been pushed into the set. This unit was very, very broken. I cursed, bothered by the work that lay ahead of us. I was determined to tape up the box, take it back to Best Buy, and get a replacement.
About an hour later, we had made the round trip and had the second tv in the family room, with only Matt and I left awake to unpackage it. This was quite difficult for the two of us to manage. But we did it, and we got the tv back into my bedroom, where it fit nicely on my existing tv stand. I quickly hooked up an old DVD player and chilled out to watch some more Six Feet Under.
It wasn't long before I noticed some strange stuff going on with the picture. During some of the darker scenes, I saw some horizontal lines fanning out from the sides of the screen. Plus, it seemed that the actors' heads seemed to get inexplicably wider when they were on the very right-hand side of the screen. This was not good at all.
I remembered reading some of the online reviews for the tv warning against an existing problem with a percentage of the units with this exact description. I had unwisely thought that my luck would be better, but alas, it wasn't. At this point I was beyond frustrated and was downright pissed off. So much work for Matt and myself, and I was left with a faulty television! Argh!
There was no question that I would return the tv, but at that point it was way too late. I spent the rest of what was left of my waking hours reading about the problem online... again, and looking at other tv's. At around 1pm on Saturday Erik swung by, and he was, indeed, pleasantly-surprised when he walked into my room and saw the glorious vision of a sleek new tv. I let him know immediately that I was going to return it, and showed him why. He could also see the problem, and agreed that it would need to be returned.
There was no rush, though, and we spent that afternoon and evening watching movies and playing WiiSports and designing tasteless Mii characters. Funnily-enough, the Wii looks just fine on the tv, with no noticeable distortion at all. Sometime this week I will be returning the bad, bad tv. I'm still wavering about whether to give it a third try, or to just get my money back and walk away from it altogether. I'm thinking it will probably be the latter. This whole experience has been far too troubling for what I'm ultimately getting out of it. I don't need a tv that desperately.
About a week ago my dad walked into my room with the portable phone, mumbling about some lady wanting to talk to me about Matt for an article. I rarely listen to what my father is actually saying (purely a defense mechanism, I assure you), so when he handed over the phone, I had no idea what to expect.
On the other end was a warm female voice saying she was from the local paper and she wanted to talk to me about my little brother Matt and our family of musicians. Let me step back for just a brief moment to give you some necessary info: We were raised in a musical family. From before I can even remember my dad had an acoustic guitar, and sang the family country songs (whether we wanted to hear him or not). My mother had me in piano lessons at a very young age, and then in flute lessons, and then in piano lessons again (I still was not feeling the whole "discipline" thing), and finally in drum lessons, which is the instrument that finally stuck with me. I played drums/percussion all throughout high school, and was in nearly every band class available in high school. I was actually pretty darn good at the time, winning awards and junk, but I kinda burned out on it.
All of my younger brothers play as well. Kevin started with guitar - shredding Van Halen tunes as a little kid - then picked up the saxophone in junior high. He's now a professional sax (and flute and clarinet) player, and makes his living from playing and teaching. James started thrashing about a kiddie drumset at a very young age - even before I started playing them. He, like all of us, can also play the guitar and keyboards, and a loose variety of other instruments.
Matt was a bit late to the musical game, and not just because he was seven years younger than the youngest of us. He wasn't dragged into it. Not until junior high, at least. See, in juinor high you get something called "electives", and band was the easy choice for ALL of us. I think Matt felt compelled by our legacy. He started playing drums. I don't think he was ever really into percussion, but he made a go of it - playing in a variety of school bands, and in drumline in high school. It wasn't until high school that he picked up a guitar.
Matt's graduating high school this June, and he has his heart set on attending the Berkelee School of Music in Boston, to further study the guitar. I have mixed feelings on going to college to study music, but whatever, he really wants it. So today, he has a scholarship audition for Berkelee in Hollywood. Like anyone would be, he's a ball of nerves - and to add to that is the unfortunate fact that, because of the, shall we say, interference by my brother James (who is a publicity whore, himself), Matt's whole audition ordeal is being publicized.
Which brings us back to the phone interview. It was probably one of the most humiliating, painfully-embarrassing conversations of my life. She asked about my being a musician. My father had spoken with her earlier, and he mentioned something about me in a band that played on television once (the L.A. Olympic Festival Marching Band, in 1991 - which was held at Dodger Stadium and was broadcast live on FOX), so she asked for details on that. Then she asked where I went to college (ugh), and if I got a degree (...um...), and if I still play, and what I'm doing now, etc. etc. Painful.
She then asked if she could send down a photographer to shoot all of us together for the article. She needed it to happen pretty quickly, and there was no real way to get us all together, so I offered to send her in some photos of us playing (without intending to send one of myself in, heh). I had a pic of Kevin playing, and went and shot Matt playing, but James wasn't around, so I had to find a pic of him on his computer.
A short time later, the article is published (click to read it). I was full-on expecting details to be screwed up, as I know that happens a lot in journalism. Now that the article is out, let me correct some things:
- Kevin is no longer a Band Director on the cruise ship. And it wasn't a Band Director, but a Musical Director (I guess there's a difference).
- I have only worked at Universal Studios for three years, and it's not in the audio mixing department, but in the digital services department. I think she mixed up the fact that I went to audio school and studied recording with what I'm doing now.
- I did not say I was the only girl in the drumline in the L.A. Olympic Festival Marching Band - I said I was the only girl in the SNARE line in that band.
- We do not have 16 guitars in the house. Maybe something closer to 10.
So there you have it. It's not my first time being written up in the local paper (there was an article about me and a few other students back when I made the Olympic Festival band), but it's certainly the funniest. My favorite part in it is where my father talks about how he was referred to as "Johnny Trash" (a combination of Johnny Cash and white trash, I assume). I had never heard that anecdote before, and boy did I get a good hoot out of that!
I can't go into much detail just yet, but my frustration level has reached epic proportions. This evening has been quite a mix of the up and down. While I'm ready to wave the white flag, I also find myself obsessing about how to FIX the issue/problem/fiasco. It's already been more of a pain in my arse than I was prepared for, and has surely made me a bit blue.
More details to come... once I've cooled down. Right now it's time to find the most mind-numbing television available to keep my mind off the matter of the moment and try to get some shut-eye. Mehhhh.
After spending a dreadful hour and a half in traffic slogging back to Simi from Universal City, I stopped at the local Borders Bookstore (heh, "books") to return a duplicate DVD gift and purchase a replacement with the return credit. I had little idea what I really wanted (because nearly everything I wanted I received at xmas), so I meandered back towards the DVD section.
I cruised the Comedy section briefly, and then really got down to hunting once I hit Drama. By Mystery and Science Fiction/Fantasy I had amassed a handful of DVDs that, at this point, I was only thinking of purchasing. Then I saw that ever-powerful marketing tool - the sale sign. "Buy 3 DVDs or CDs and get the 4th for Free!" Fancy that! I already had 3 DVDs picked out, now I get another one... for free!
I ended up scoring four DVDs for under $50, which I thought was a pretty good deal, and those I got were ones I've had my eyes on for awhile, but was never particularly motivated to buy:
 Gods and Monsters Starring Ian McKellen as a reclusive, gay 50's horror-movie director who is enchanted with his gardener, Brendan Fraser. Good performances all around. |
 Central Station I bought this on VHS many years back. I was so moved by the story of a lonely middle-aged Brazilian woman who reluctantly takes in an orphan boy. This movie makes me weep and weep. |
 Match Point I didn't think I'd think much of this Woody Allen film, but it totally sucked me in. It was unexpected and extremely fun to watch. |
 The Motorcycle Diaries I purchased this to share the experience of this film with Erik. The sweeping landscape photography highlighted in this film chronicling a vast road trip taken by a youthful Che Guevara will look breathtaking once I get a big HDTV! |
Upon making my purchases, I scurried back to my MINI and immediately phoned Erik, so giddy about my new DVDs. He was conspicuously unimpressed, and I was as chatty as an embarrassingly-precocious five-year-old bragging about her first day of kindergarten. A fantastic match for conversation!
So now, instead of watching these DVDs that I've been ruminating slobbering over, I'm posting a silly blog entry, fuddling around with tables and image sizes and links, and, you know what? It's just not so exciting anymore.... No, just kidding, it is - but I don't think I'll be watching any of them now. I can't believe it - I've been composing and editing this post for over an hour, what's wrong with me?!?
You may or may not have noticed, but I thought it was apropos to make Death Cab For Cutie's song "The New Year" available for download as my Mp3 of the Day today. It's been a pretty low-key New Years. I rang it in half-asleep, myself. No watching the ball drop, no toasting to the year 2007 - I believe at midnight I was tossing and turning in bed or coughing, one of the two.
"The New Year" wasn't the first Death Cab song that struck me to put onsite. I've been kinda obsessing over their track "Title and Registration" for the last hour or so (stay tuned, it'll get posted in the next few days). It reminds me of back in August, when Erik and I went to see Death Cab at the Greek Theatre in L.A., and how much I enjoyed watching them perform this song. I remember looking over at Erik and seeing him just beaming at how great that show was, and it made me feel so good to see him so happy.
Last year brought a lot of bad stuff on - the death of two family members, frustration with my lack of a career path at work, and the slow onset of a depression I'm currently fighting off. But it was full of almost-magical moments. You know them - the kind where you're standing on top of a mountain, and it's just you, a loved one, and the grandiosity of nature before you. You're breathing in the crisp, thin air, and feel more alive than you have in awhile. Or when you've stumbled upon a burst of creative energy you thought had disappeared from your life, and the sense of pride you feel from successfully putting it to use. Or when you're looking over at the man you love, within a crowd of thousands, the amazing (and loud, because you're old) music is washing over you, overwhelming you, and you're just so happy that the perma-smile on your face is starting to make your muscles hurt, but it doesn't matter, because the moment couldn't be more perfect.
I'm not going to make any New Years resolutions. I've done so in the past - to workout more, to eat better, to drink more water, to make better use of my YMCA or Netflix memberships, to take less sick days at work if I can possibly help it. But it's sort of ridiculous to do that, and only enforces an unnecessary sense of failure. Nope. Instead, I'll hope to encounter more of those moments in life that make life great, and I'll let the bad stuff stay back in 2006.
A few posts back I mentioned that I had found several sites that had been hijacking one of the images hosted on my site. Not that big a deal, but it surely was an opportunity for a bit of light-hearted online fun at their expense.
I didn't want to be too severe with my retribution, and I wanted it to be informative for people. I thought the above image would be a simple way to get my point across.
And the effect? Well, that remains to be seen, but I got a quick giggle after checking out some of the offending sites after the image update. There's this one, down in the right sidebar. And then this one and this one. But my favorite happens to be this one, for obvious reasons.
I've returned from my week in hell in Sherman Oaks puppysitting with Erik. I tell you, a 12-/13-week-old Labrador puppy is not the kind of animal you want to be hanging out with 24 hours a day. To deal with that, you need to have the knowledge that you'll have a lifelong bond with this puppy - or you just need to be CRAZY.
I must admit to missing the warm feeling of his puppy tongue licking my hand, but all I need to do is remember the important bit that comes a few seconds after - the part when he would clamp down with his tiny, sharp puppy teeth onto that vulnerable, fleshy hand of mine - to realize that puppy-rearing might not exactly be my cup of tea. And besides, I think Erik is done with the idea altogether, and goodness knows, I couldn't raise a puppy by myself!
Getting home was actually nice. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, as the brief conversations with my father were rather... tolerable. My bedroom felt open and clean and fresh (compared to the, um, animalistic scent going on in the small apartment on Dickens Street), and unpacking all the Christmas loot onto my bed, without having some knee-high rabid animal jumping up to snap at me, felt just... so... goooooood.
Speaking of my Christmas loot, this year pretty much rawked. I think Erik and I went a little overboard trying to out-gift one-another, but I wouldn't have it any other way. As much as I adore watching his face light up when he opens an unexpectedly cool gift, I have to admit that unwrapping the Gremlins Dancing Gizmo Plush Doll he got me made me smile wider than I have in a good long while. He's such a keeper! (That's Erik, I'm talking about, not Gizmo... but I'll keep him too.)
I have a big long list of gifts I went ga-ga over, but in an effort to be not completely irritating, I'll refrain... for now. I reserve the right to reference said gifts in future posts, but only for purely journalistic purposes, I assure you. I hope everyone had a fun and bountiful holiday season, and that you all got to spend this time with your favorite people. Oh, and feel free to share what your favorite moments/gifts from the holidays were in the comments - I love hearing about presents!
Erik and I have been staying at my brother's apartment and puppysitting since Saturday morning. The puppy's name is Astro, and while he was just as cute as could be earlier in the day on Saturday, by that night he had morphed into the devil-dog we now know him as.
See, Astro is a biter. Sure, it might just be playful puppy-play, but this kid's got teeth on him. Sharp teeth. Tiny, razor-sharp sharklike teeth that want nothing else than to sink into human flesh. We have browsed through all of the dog-training books that Kevin has available - stuff like The Simple Guide to Labrador Retrievers, and Puppies for Dummies. Everything we read we try - and unfortunately, everything we try fails. At that point the books recommend seeking out professional help. Ha.
It's probably just the fact that his real Mommy and Daddy are frolicking up in Canada, enjoying their holiday. Erik and I have come to the conclusion that this dog really just doesn't like us, and wants them back post haste. No matter how many hours we spend throwing him kibble, tennis balls and various chew toys, allowing him to run and fetch and run back full-speed into us, or how often we praise him for relieving himself in the proper areas (I now hear "Good Potty!" repeated over and over as I'm trying to fall asleep - a nice counterpoint to the puppy's relentless barking and whimpering as we're settling in for bed), the little monster just can't bring himself to refrain from drawing blood.
These few days, we have laughed in disbelief, wept in hopelessness, and questioned our historically successful abilities as caretakers to animals. The timeouts aren't working. No punitive measures seem to have any diminishing effect on his need to lunge forward and bite whatever bit of body part he fixes on. We feel as though we are failing...
But...
Erik and Astro in better times, with Flickr Santa Hat embellishment
He's really, really cute when he's sleeping. That seems enough to keep us here for now. Only a few more days until Kevin and his wife return, and believe me, the countdown has begun.
Thanks to the gracious offer of a wonderful co-worker to cover for me, I will again be able to leave early today. Woot!
So it looks like I won't be able to leave early as originally presumed. Not because my workload is heavy, as ALL of my clients are leaving at 2pm, but because - well, I don't want to say. Not on a publicly-accessible website. Suffice it to say I am very, very disappointed and feel like a select few (3 out of about 20+ schedulers) are being treated unfairly.
So now back to hours and hours and hours of Solitaire.
It's the Friday before the Christmas holiday break here at work (next Monday and Tuesday off - woohoo!), and things so far have been... quiet. Oh, there's a flurry of chatting going on around the office, but not a lot of work happening. I have yet to receive any phone calls or emails. Bear in mind, I'm not complaining! It's my hope that today is stress-free and goes by in a flash.
My car is out in the company parking lot filled with wrapped Christmas presents and luggage. I'm not off to anywhere terribly exotic... unless you think Sherman Oaks fits that bill (though some of you from Simi might be inclined to think that way). My brother Kevin and his wife Cindi are flying up to Calgary (in Canada! Do they celebrate Christmas in Canada??) as I type this, and they're leaving their 12-week-old labrador puppy in the care of Erik and myself for 7 days. {{shakes head}} Silly people!
I should be able to leave work early in order to get over to their apartment, get settled in (the puppy is with other friends of theirs until tomorrow morning, which is a nice reprieve), and then head to what should be a fantastic dinner in celebration of Erik's grandpa Burt's birthday.
But in the meantime I'm here at work. Waiting. Counting down the hours. I have done at least one useful thing this morning, however. I logged into my web hosting account to check my stats. See, since I've started updating my MP3 of the Day, I've been a bit worried about going over my allowed bandwidth every month. MP3s are fairly large in file-size for a little site like my own, and downloads can really add up. I'm not really too worried about it, because I have a healthy perspective on the low, low readership I maintain, but it never hurts to be enlightened about usage.
I noticed that one of the photos on my site has been getting a LOT of hits. Like, thousands! That's pretty strange. Here's the popular image. Nothing really exciting right? Well, according to Yahoo! image search it's the 4th most popular image when you search for the term "music". Neat! The problem? People are using them on their sites and linking to them from my site directly. That means that whenever someone looks at their site, my bandwidth gets used. Sneaky, huh?
I can't fault them too much. Web newbies often do so without even understanding the implications. Basically, it's a no-no. I'm not going to link to those sites which are committing this "webcrime" against me (for fear of attracting even MORE bandwidth usage), not yet at least. No, see, I have a sneaky idea of my own.
What I'm going to do is change the name of the linked file so that it no longer is attached to those websites (change it from "music.jpg" to something like "musicscreen.jpg"). And I will create a new image on my site with the existing "music.jpg" filename. Thus the image that shows up on their site is no longer the original, but whatever I decide to have it display. Hee hee hee. This is where the fun begins.
I don't want to be too severe. I know that, historically, some sites that have fallen victim to the image-jacking have replaced the photos with something vulgar, like pornography. But it's the season for good cheer. Not pornography. And I think I'll just put something up that helps, um, EXPLAIN the error of their ways... and it will have a very, very small file size.
My blogging discipline has died a terrible death, however this morning I was motivated enough to change my banner to the tried-and-true holiday-themed one you see above. I love Christmas-time. I love Christmas music, I love all those terrible television commercials with people dressed up in scarves and gloves, frolicking in fake snow and flogging everyone to BUY BUY BUY. I love fretting over what to BUY BUY BUY for those closest to me, and I equally love wondering what will be under the Christmas tree with my name written on it.
See, for me, Christmas isn't about Jesus's birthday. It's not a religious holiday in the slightest, from my perspective. Or maybe it's a religion of a different sort. For me, it's about recreating the wonder I had as a child - waking up to find a bicycle from Santa Clause, or unwrapping a much-desired Etch-A-Sketch and playing with it ALL WEEK LONG, enraptured by its magical properties, or watching for a parent's reaction to the weird pottery thing I bought for them (with money they gave me) from the annual holiday sale located in my elementary school's library.
Let me not forget the all-important element of decoration to the holiday. I remember the warmth of the illumination provided by the festive lights against a backdrop of green needles and tinsel, when only they and the fire in the fireplace lit the room the night before Christmas. I remember how safe and warm I felt in the living room, drooling just thinking about the bounty to be had the next morning, as we set out cookies and milk for the big red guy.
I've been lax about being decorative lately. Sure, I have the Charlie Brown Pathetic Tree, and I have the complete set of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer figurines - but they're still boxed and bagged and dusty, no doubt. I guess I don't really feel like I'm in a place now where I can make Christmas time my own yet. I crave being able to have my own place, to go out and get a tree, to decorate it and the (likely) small room holding it - I crave being able to turn down the lights and turn up the Chipmunks Christmas album, or to sit and watch the holiday classics on DVD that I've dutifully purchased, waiting for the chance to relax by a fire and eat gingerbread cookies cuddled up next to the one I love.
That's not quite here yet. And while I enjoy the Christmases of the recent past and present, there's this ideal that I find myself waiting for. But I think I'm really close, closer than I've ever been... so hope is not lost. For this year, I will keep my favorite holiday music close at hand, keep my favorite people closer, and be happy, because that's what it's all about.
Is the title substantial enough to get the point across? Actually writing text in this post seems so.... hard! I feel like I'm in the midst of a small war - one with a number of close battles that leave me feeling beaten down.
Work has been rough. I went through a lot these last few weeks in dealing with whether or not to take another job offer. It was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever had to make. The stress of it has worn me down into a small nub. That's what I feel like right now - an insignificant nub of who I am. I decided to stay in my current job - with a goal of doing a mysterious something else within the company in the near future - knowing that down the line it may all be for naught anyhow. For now, I sit here, with various client woes, having actual fear responses to bullying and other various work-related "issues", leaving my stomach in a series of knots and me tired, sullen, sleepy, continually close to tears.
There are aspects to this time in my life that I will absolutely treasure in the future, I know it. There are huge decisions being placed squarely on mine and my loved-one's shoulders that I feel will ultimately be character-building. And I will remember this time of not-knowing, of being on a precipice, fondly -- I'll recall it with a romanticism I'm not close to being capable of even tolerating at the moment. I find myself at such great heights of pride and glee and excitement for what's to come, only to be followed by a pit of gnawing despair and second-guessing and worry and hesitance. If my hair isn't fully grayed by this time next year I will be amazed.
This morning has been rough. I woke late after having been plagued by nightmares of failure at work. Nothing special there. After dragging myself out of bed I realized that I was likely to be even later than I suspected in my morning schedule, as my car required more fuel to get me from home to work. While gassing up I inspected the beverage and snack food aisles of the station's mini-mart, but left empty-handed, finding nothing that looked eve
