Archive for March, 2004

hot geek guys

Rook’s regular expressions are so long! and so hard! and so fast! and he types them so spontanously on the command line! I swoon as I watch him code on my project.

international comment week

I would really love some reading and commentary over at my blog of thoughts for that W1ttig project. Thoughts, stories, reactions, whatever. It would be helpful to me at this stage of thinking to have some response.

essays stabbed at

That feels MUCH better. It doesn’t have to be brilliant but I must write these drafts. They are like armatures. I put them up on the W1ttig page. Whew!!!

to lunch with Squid. to bring crutches to Minnie and her sprained ankle. I shall bring my work and add some name definitions or else if she would rather i leave I could come back home and squeeze in a little more before picking up moomin.

must not forget to get my allergy shots tomorrow.

actually. My advisor’s house is near hwy 92. after I meet with her i could jaunt off to the beach. and work from the beach. YES!!!!!

as usual

As usual I feel much better in the morning though with a sinking feeling that today will be the same and no progress will be made on my “real work” and I will spend all day waiting for the plumber, wiping up crumbs, shopping for beaded lampshades, applying duct tape, and tootling around on the piano while overcome with a fierce disappointment that it doesn’t sound like lovely crystal but instead like a plonking mae west movie from 1932.

The thing to do is to work on the Real Project whatever that is, first so I can feel the instant relief.

I had the possible plan of going to the beach and lying there like a seal, but now I think that won’t make me feel better but just more anxious that things aren’t being done.

new plan:
1) wait for plumber while working on Feminary essay
2) lunch w/ friends
3) beach? probably not. Instead, more Feminary definition entries.
4) tonight: persuade Rook to help me with coding for Feminary

from my soc sec. statement

what i earned over the table since age 15

1985: $1331
1986: $766 (not counting all the money I embezzled from that dry cle@ners)
1987: $1497
1988: $2531
1989: $4055
1990: $5544 (steady rise of more and better library jobs throughout college)
1991: $1616 (when my health went to crap, chronic bronchitis)
1992: $17,318 (temp jobs out the ass. was crushed under weight of paltry $5000 debt of student loan and med. bills put on credit cards. finally bailed out by parents in 1994 or so.)
1993: $12,241 (brief disastrous stint for “friends” in The Realassholes Group who all became millionaires)
1994: 0 (health really went to crap for real. thanks, unemployment, disability, and rent help of S.K.)
1995: $8,317 (tutoring, temping, desperate attempt to get back into working world)
1996: $17,006 (countless miserable temp jobs)
1997: $27,872 (thank you, UC L@b School guy who let me claw my way into a decent job doing tech support)
1998: $24,523 (no job for… 2-3 months when moved to Irv1ne)
1999: $36,710 (decent paying job for 1 whole year! “programmer analyst” fakitude! plus tech support.)
2000: $20,847 (no job june thru november: had baby. went crazy with loneliness.)
2001: $48,383 (3/4 of a year of best-paying job of my entire life. Over half went to Moomin’s nanny)
2002: $2,084 (crap typing jobs)
2003: Not recorded on statement but in my taxes I think it’s like $4000 from old Eggcite paycheck finally coming, and crap typing jobs, and working for McCoot.

Thanks, O boyfriends and girlfriends and husbands who hauled my ass back into the middle class time and time again and kept bailing me out. thanks parents. Thanks, government, you fuckers, for the tiny amount of money you pissed on and sent my way when i was desperately crippled.

Right now I assess my earning capacity if I worked full time at around $40,000. I think Stanffford offered me $43K for that dept. secretary job. but I would have had to be there at 8:30am sharp and leave at 5:00 and work late during unspecified “crunch times”. Moomin would have had to be in day care from 9-6 and I would have loathed life itself to be the classssics “assistant dept. secretary” to the dragon lady from hell and a bazillion profs with horrid stuck up attitudes. I turned it down.

After I lost my job when Eggcite went bankrupt I thought that I would maybe get another search engine job or at least something working on the back end of some big nasty database as part of R and D of New Things. I was not bad at it and survived 3 rounds of layoffs at Eggcite. They hired me at 72K only because of dot com boom; really I was probably worth more like 55K as a kinda junior programmer. Though I got better at it and in fact, automated the whole process of the spidering rather neatly JUST before they laid off everyone “not essential to operations” and kept the 2 complete monkeys who just typed in a unix command every few hours and then played videogames or ripped music while the spider ran. The other R and D guy was their friend from high school and “telecommuted” so he was only there one day a week. He didn’t want me to automate his 2 buddies out of their jobs so he kept raising objections and obstacles to my project. Since all it took was one master script and peppering the existing code with some halfway decent and informative die statements that pinged our cell phones, I was more than capable of doing this “complex automation” that Other R and D guy kept claiming in meetings would take careful planning and Architecting and maybe we would all really have to learn Java and make it all object oriented. He was so full of crap. In retrospect I hate him more and more and consider him a Truly Evil Person. What does evil look like, if not like this? Evil is not all about violence.

After the bankruptcy Rook warned me I should focus on keeping up my perl skills but it seemed hopeless after a couple of months. We talked about doing various projects for this purpose but I flaked on them all and honestly, never understood them or what to do next.

4 months later I started applying for tech support jobs. Oh sorry your skills are 2 years out of date and it sounds like you are really a programmer now so you’d obviously leave once a better job comes along. A year later my programming skills were all out of date and still no jobs. I applied for all the secretary jobs and got a million interviews and some job offers, all more horrible than I could face full time. I figured part time secretary would be tolerable. Typing jobs began. I burned through all our cash reserves in 2002 by keeping Moomin’s nanny till August so I could write poetry and fuck off. Though it helped my writing enormously and i was happier than i have ever been in my life, it was selfish and horrid of me. Then I stuck Moomin in the Montessori that would change diapers and went back to school Jan. 2003.

I wonder what the rest of my life will look like on this statement. Next 5-6 years after I graduate crappy part time community college jobs, if I’m LUCKY. Probably continued crap secretarying or typing. Rook trapped in Baby Trap especially if we have another one. I will just be scrambling to support some level of daycare so that I won’t go crazy. In my mind, magically after this 6 year mark, hypothetical kid number 2 is in public school which saves us most of the cost of daycare.

Oh rook I feel horrible. it is like your only hope is some magic job offer where you get a couple of months off. I am so sorry. what can I do. if I had kept up with my perl… would it have changed things… when will you get your time off to write? will it happen?

doing everything

You know, ever since January I have been washing everything and taking out all the trash and cleaning and organizing and folding and putting away and grocery shopping and bill-paying and calling contractors and making appointments. I am losing it here. My attempts to do things like keep the kitchen table cleared off morning and evening are failing miserably.

And I haven’t unpacked everything yet and can’t find my books and haven’t done any school work in a WEEK. I look at it around 9:30pm and just can’t handle it and must find something byzantine or geological to read. I can’t find my proust book and it sucked anyway. Everything seems like drudgery. my brain is wading through molasses. I could not make the joropo transcription for piano come out right. I am good for nothing but housework tonight so i have been forcing myself to drearily do things like clean the catbox and fold up the cardboard boxes for recycling. everything still a mess though. it was clean on sunday morning.

I look around and try to identify why it is so messy. What the fuck. the table was clean quite recently. 1 phone book. my own phone book. a magazine of moomin’s. A book for my bilingual project, listlessly got out and thumbed through a little. a slip of paper where moomin wrote the numbers 1-10. a flyer from the City of Deadwood Shitty. A paper with the song “los pollitos dicen”- Moomin’s. A phone bill I didn’t understand – is it a bill? a piece of crucial info? An ad? leftover birthday cake on a plate with a bowl on top. a roll of painter’s masking tape. 5 limes. a half-full water bottle. the nearly empty bottle of ketchuup left out by rook. a spiral notebook, moomin’s. Some dishes, all Moomin’s. A dr. seuss book. My social security statement. our bank statement. the oxford book of christian names (for w1ttig project). six pens. my keys. My tear-stained glasses. three dirty kleenex. a paper with rook’s trip itenerary to L.A. the telephone. the recycling stickers. sugar. pepper. three jackets of mine. an apron. dishtowels. my laptop. My elbows.

everything must go.

some sort of hard work should make me feel better but i can’t figure out what. after this weekend I swore no “nightcap” for a while as I kept drinking these 11pm giant rum and fruit juice drinks because of being so stressed. I have to fucking cope.

I have not been to my usual poetry things for MONTHS and i really need them I think.

what the fuck is my problem… life is good… why am i flying apart?



moody and needing something

I think I’m PMS-ing. despair and irritation overwhelm me.

sheet music

no classical piano sheet music at the Miraculously Fabulous Music Store in my town. Alas. Maybe the library and xeroxing?

I can’t take any editing rigiht now after working all morning for McCoot. Parts of our conversation were interesting but then he has to start in on some sort of crap. Obvious gambits to provoke me so he can flog his anti-feminist crap, as clearly his ex wife and current totally non present mythical wife won’t put up with it. F@lse memory syndrome indeed. what unsavory thing will he wish to discuss next? I put some commas into the f@n fiction sample he gave me and I gave him some general advice on writing fiction and some exercises to try. but I will not discuss the actual goodness or badness of the work with someone who is supposedly paying me 20 bucks an hour to file his papers…. I got barely any filing done and feel sort of weird about being paid to just sit and chat. I enjoy hearing and talking about @rtificial INT and n@rratives and r0bot emotions, that is fun, but I am pretty ignorant of such things and don’t know formal logic, or the history of the whole discipline, so what good am I. Also, he can be very hilarious, if ponderous and repetitive (how many times has he asked me if I’ve read t. pr@tchett? nearly every week. Finally, I have.) I feel sad for his loneliness. Aren’t there any other crusty old libertarian guys around for him to kvetch with? What gives? Why fixate on me? As a secretary I totally suck as my handwriting is unreadable and I am v. flaky.

I am reminded of what Mary Daly has to say about men’s necrophilia. I’ll go into this later.

As usual when around him, I felt that everything i say and every move I make is grossly re-interpreted through the @simovian/heinlenian filter of “feisty” or perhaps the unholy trinity of pert, perky, and petulant. If not heinous-len, then sort of like the wholesome married chick named “Cherry” who vacuums the house for Miss Marple. Stomach-turning!

Yet – again with the yet – there is a kind of pleasant way that our minds work alike in a jumping-around, flaky, intuitive way. If he were not an MCP and reactionary conservative it would be fine.

But for now I’m off to do something soul cleansing and non-wordy. I want to transcribe some joropo music for piano. I can do the notes okay with a tape recorder and lots of rewinding. but the rhythm defeats me. i think it is syncopated and 6/8 and so I am freaking confused. I can PLAY it. I kinda need advice on WRITING it.

ooo – free downloadable sheet music!

music combinations

I am wishing oddly to combine this one aria from Satyagraha with “Sister Ray” by the Velvet underground. I can hear how it would be very glorious with the controlled orgasmic cacophony going on underneath and the soaring aria arching over it all.

someday I will make it so.

what artist

This from Eric Maisel’s wonderfully intelligent essay on narcissism.

Hamilton (1988) makes the following observation: “People with narcissistic disorders are often talented, charming, and successful. Yet their poor integration of the grandiose and devalued aspects of themselves bring about preoccupation with extravagant success fantasies and expletive behavior accompanied by underlying feelings of meaninglessness and emptiness.” But isn’t healthy narcissism also likely to breed extravagant success fantasies? What is “unhealthy” about wanting a lot? And why shouldn’t just good reality-testing and a keen intelligence provoke feelings of meaninglessness and emptiness? 

Go, Maisel! Good reality-testing, indeed. I have often tried to say that last sentence quoted above, and failed to get the point across. (because when I say it, it sounds more like I’m waving my pom-poms for nihilism.)

“High self-esteem is no sweet, light affair: it necessarily casts a shadow on the world, because mattering is a demanding, confrontational state of being.”