five thousand shades of blue

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Public Service Announcement: If you have an account with Yahoo, be sure to log in to your account, click on Account Info, then Marketing Preferences. Yahoo has apparently 'upgraded' their software/server and has so graciously set preferences for receiving "special offers" to Yes -- which translates to a shitload of spam. Be sure to go all the way to the bottom of the page, where they conviently let you know that, by the way, if you've provided your address and phone number, we will also contact you by phone and U.S. Mail (also conveniently defaulted to Yes).

If not for the fact that I use Y! Messenger to talk to someone who is otherwise unreachable to me during the day, I'd tell them to take their quote-unquote service and shove it.

My grandmother's dusky burgundy telephone was one of those old rotary dial phones. We'd play telephone (after, of course, being admonished to hold down the buttons under where the receiver sat so not to keep the phone off the hook) and we felt all of the responsibility and power of the telephone when we held that receiver that felt like twenty pounds to our child-arms. I imagine it is the kind of phone that delivers the most satisfying wham when one slams the phone down, triumphantly hanging-up on someone who is being particularly odious.

There is very little satisfaction at all in pressing the Off button of a cordless phone to hang up on someone. Very little at all.

The Afghani girl who appears in what is arguably the most well-known National Geographic photograph ever has been found, 17 years after the photo appeared on the cover. Her life has been extremely hard and her story is haunting, and it borders on miraculous that she's still even alive.

I can't stop thinking about her.

I really struggled on how to word that post to not sound bigoted or racist because gods know I would never take this achievement away from either of them (and I'm not accusing anyone of thinking I do). The tattered remnants of my idealistic little heart just wishes such demarcations of achievement (in an equality that to me is blindingly obvious) were not even necessary. That is all. :)

It is absolutely, sparklingly beautiful out right now and everyone I've seen today is reflecting that beauty with a spring in their step and a smile on their face. A woman just rode by on an old Schwinn bike with sunflowers (real? fake? I have no idea) decorating the basket.

Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right.

Also? If I owe you email, I apologize. Still trying to make the mailserver play nice with the world.

The concept of routinely driving long distances for anything less than a family death does not enter into the mindset of east coast inhabitants. I know this because I lived there for the first 23 years of my life. The thought of driving 2 hours to visit Rochester or Toronto was a major undertaking; people routinely fly from Washington DC to New York (and they're really just not that far apart). On the traditionally more sparsely populated west coast, probably even the midwest and definitely Texas, it is often a necessity to make a long haul just to buy groceries. I have myself travelled from one end of I-5, California to Washington, up and down the length of Oregon (but not all at once). Just yesterday I had to attend a meeting two and a half hours from home. The drive was longer than the meeting. And I feel like at least half of the journey was made jogging along side the truck. On the up side of the mountain. I feel utterly brain dead today.

I don't normally watch the Oscars, but I did catch the last hour or so. I loved that they aired it live for us shmoes on the west coast -- though, man, I felt bad for my east coast comrades who had to stay up until one in the morning. When Halle Berry won and appeared to be completely overwhelmed with the win, it took me a very, very long time to realize that she was the first black actress ever to take home the Best Actress statue. I'm sitting there wondering if Halle Berry's having a nervous breakdown because she didn't think she had a chance, not even seeing her colour; when she spoke we all felt tears well in our eyes. When Denzel Washington won I thought hey, good for him! I've always liked his work and then I realized that he was the first black actor to win since Sidney Poitier did in 1963. Is it acceptable for me to be outraged? Not against the fact that they won, heavens no!, but against a society that is still celebrating this kind of first in a 'modern' and 'enlightened' year two-thousand-and-two. I certainly don't want to diminish their respective wins by any means... but I'm almost embarrassed that this is something that has to be considered a milestone in this day and age.

And Bah! Sir Ian should have won. Lord of the Rings should have won. Every year the Academy claps itself of the back for being visionary and ground breaking and then every year they hand out awards to the same damned movie (figuratively, or course). If they really wanted to hand out an award to the most outstanding film of the year, that should have gone home with Memento.

In some ways this week has moved as slow as molasses. In others ... I can hardly believe it's Friday already. It's been a week of ups and downs. Up: getting back in touch with my best friend from grade school (I sent her this URL and I haven't heard back. I think I scared her). Down: grandmother having hallucinations, probably prescription-change-related. Up: a friend had (planned) surgery and made it through with flying colours. Down: wondering where I'm going to get mortgage money. I'm in desperate need of a day off, or at least a day where I can sleep in past 6:00 am. Which, thankfully enough, happens tomorrow.

But hey, I was just told that I look like I'm twenty. See what happens when you live my glamourous life of coffee drinks and web page designing!

Did you ever feel hugely insignificant and worthless after reading something by someone whose intellect literally leaves you breathless and whose writing manages to be utterly amazing yet completely understandable (provided you have a greater-than-average vocabulary)? Um, yeah. Bibblebibblebibble. That's where I am at the moment. In comparison this page is the blog about Nothing, in a Seinfeldian sense.

I am a little pissed off at the local transit authority, who, in order to meet their budget, is going to cut service. And they think they're going to generate enough revenue to sustain future budgets how, exactly? The drivers are circulating a petition for them to axe administrative and advertising costs before service -- I'm particularly fond of the advertising being cut because, really, it's not like there's another transit service they're competing with, and I doubt very much that someone sitting at home reading the paper is going to see their ad and suddenly say, "Hm, I guess I never thought of taking the bus before!" Making the bus service less convenient than it already is doesn't seem to be a very smart long term goal.

They say life is full of ups and downs. However, I want the saying changed to specifically say "not to occur all in one day."

I am currently experiencing a love/hate relationship with Linux. I love what it does. I hate the interface.

I just want the mailserver to oh, send and receive mail again.

To expound on the previous entry a bit, the server that hosts the café's website bit the dust big time. The kernel, the hard drive, whatever the problem is, seemed to be unfixable after a reboot, even after trying to reinstall the operating system software. So it was down to Plan B -- make the backup server work -- which took infinitely longer than it should have because somehow, the ethernet cables got crossed and the one that should have been pointing to the net was pointing to the internal network, and vice versa. After being plagued with a seemingly unreachable gateway for 4-5 hours, I finally had the brilliant thought to switch the cables. Hell, I'd've performed ancient Druidic rites at that point. As of 10:30 last night, when this outstanding idea came to me, I had spent the past 22.5 hours out of a possible 30 here in the café alternately beating my head (along with Andra) trying to get our new server talking to the net as well as the network, or being bored out of my skull behind the counter because it's the week before finals at UO and downtown has been somehwat reminiscent of a ghost town. I half expected to see tumbleweeds roll by.

When I got up this morning at 5:41am after sleeping approximately six and a half hours, I fell back completely on instinct, abandoned my usual routine and headed straight for the coffee pot.

Thank Goodness it's Friday.

Two lessons I have learned in the past 48 hours:

Never reboot a system that, while seems to be munged, is still functioning perfectly well.

Always check to make sure the ethernet cables are plugged into the right hub interfaces.

There is another part to the previous story that I didn't mention that I probably should have, because it is part of the reason why the story resonated on another level to me. Recently, I finished re-reading The Venetian's Wife by Nick Bantock. This book tells the story of a young woman who is hired to find the final four pieces of a collection of exotic Indian statues for a very mysterious employer, in order to reunite them for him. As each statue is found, Sara (the young woman) learns a little bit about herself and eventually blossoms into the person she'd always wanted to be. The final statue to be found...

...is Parvati.

By the end of the book, Sara also finds her Shiva.

"Where did you get that statue? Who is it?"

I looked up from my spot behind the counter to meet the eyes of my customer, a blonde lady probably in her mid to late thirties, average looking, and probably not well off. She had told me earlier it was only her second time ever checking her email. Her face was now transformed as she awaited my response. "Um. A friend of mine won it in a contest and work and gave it to us. And, I can't be sure, but I think it's Parvati."

Pink-flushed face with some unspoken excitement, she turned back to her computer terminal and continued typing her email.

As she checked out, still clearly unfocused and hyper, she explained the significance: she was thinking of emailing a male friend of hers -- I got the impression there was possibly something more there -- who is currently living in India. She had been contemplating his love of India and not wanting to leave there; her desire to see him again but not wanting (or able) to go to India and the dilemma this had put her in. It was then that she had looked up to see the statue... almost like some kind of sign. You see, he regularly imports just these kinds of statues back to the US from India, and in fact, it's likely that he brought this one here. She herself had once helped move its mate statue, Shiva, into another shop in town (she has convinced me that it is in fact Parvati). She wrote to her friend on the spot.

I almost asked her to let me know how things turned out. And if she'd send me a postcard. :)

We have inherited a three foot tall, solid (except fot the pedestal) bronze statue of what looks to me to be a Hindu goddess. She is standing on her right foot, holding her left foot up against her right thigh, and cupping her hands palms-up by her waist. She is wearing a heavily decorated belt and necklace, has a halo behind her head. Her posture to me is very similar to the dancing Shiva (I don't remember the name given to that particular aspect), so I'm thinking she might be Parvati. What do you think? (Edited to add picture on 3/12. For scale: just to her right, that is the base of a torchiere lamp.)

After years of resistance, I found myself sucked in on Friday night to The Brady Bunch Movie -- the one from a few years ago that put the Brady family anachronistically into the 1990s -- and I have to say it's hilarious. Those actors were just channelling the Bradys.

Happy birthday, Nana.

The weather today has been tumultuous, varying between great big clumps of fluffly white snow falling either vertically or at a 45 degree angle, to bright, clear sunshine, causing ethereal-looking steam to rise from the glass awnings at the bus station. The snow's not sticking, but groups of people continue to sporadically gather on the sidewalk just staring upwards into the clouds. I, however, am immune to its seemingly hypnotic spell, because all I can think is it shouldn't be snowing in March in Eugene.

Why shouldn't the weather be prone to mood swings? To indecision? We all are, at times.

So new employment at Big Software Company (BSC, for future reference :)) is so far, so good for Andra. The place is huge and very, very secure, and filled with all kinds of nifty amenities like free coffee and tea and munchies and cozy leather ergonomic chairs for all the techs and cubes that are bigger than the ones that supervisors had at Evil Hardware Company (EHC). Watching her talk about it is funny, because I never thought I'd hear her excited about working in a tech type job again. It's obvious that the people there are happy because they're treated well and are channeled into divisions that utilize their strengths, not use them up and spit them out when they're burned out (such as what happened at EHC). The difference is like between night and day.

I don't, however, know who is going to make dinner now!

A couple of silly "What [ ] am I?" tests...


...and which lesser Harry Potter character are you?

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Cor blimey, I taste like Tea. I am a subtle flavour, quiet and polite, gentle, almost ambient. My presence in crowds will often go unnoticed. Best not to spill me on your clothes though, I can leave a nasty stain. What Flavour Are You?

We are in a house, sumptuously beautiful yet strangely empty, wandering around through the dimly amber lit, velvet burgundy rooms. I have the distinct feeling that something is missing -- like it is a beautiful shell with no soul. Suddenly, we're in a cavernous dining room, only there are extravagant swingset swings and an enormous exotic rug where the table would be. Swinging away at cross angles to one another, I notice suddenly that the rug has seams like a trapdoor and I wonder how did I miss this before? The floor opens over a narrow, deep pit and my swinging arc suddenly dips down into the hole, and I curve back up and around in a complete circle like we only dreamed of doing as kids until I'm in the pit and going down, down, down. I knew it was too good to be true as we stand in the room at the bottom of the pit, which is awfully reminiscent of servants' quarters. I peer out into the hallway to see a large, fleshy column filling the doorway at the end of the hallway that connects these two rooms and I realize that it's the arm of a very, very large baby.

I have no idea what it means, really. It's been a while since I dreamt like this. I think I have been too depressed to dream lately, or at least to be able to remember my dreams.

Half-blinking and bleary eyed, I pulled myself out of bed this morning at 5:33 am and stretched my shoulders back and felt the cracklepop in my ribcage. I don't recall ever hearing such a noise eminate from just near my sternum and for a moment I was certain I had broken myself.

Wednesday night was a night for celebrating employment -- not my own, but Andra's, but since only one of us can work because of the café, it's just as good as me working. At the Steelhead Brewpub, we shared a mountain of brownie, vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, caramel sauce and cherries and between the four of us, we couldn't even finish it. And bottles of oh-so-tasty-honey vanilla rootbeer brewed right there. It was so crowded for a Wednesday that we couldn't score a table with overstuffed chairs around it, and was so noisy we left sooner than we really wanted to, but oh, it was great to celebrate for a change.

It's nice to begin to think of actually buying things again... not just the bare necessities but the occasional splurge item. This is only the beginning of the upswing, so no G4s in my immediate future... but maybe a video rental this weekend, you know?

Never would have made it without the love and support of friends and family. Thank you -- you know who you are.

is this just not enough…?

i feel

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