Thursday, October 30, 2003

I'm So Selfish, it's all about me

Today I didn't even sign-in to GAIM or Trillian to check my instant messages. And I found out that my floors will probably be installed next week. They are coming here, to Austin, from Memphis. I suppose they do have a lot of trees in Memphis. I just never thought of it as the hardwood capitol of the world, but that's where the floor's coming from, so I suppose the title holds. My office is all nice and blue and I'm just about ready for the floors to get installed so I can get my home back together again and start doing my office. I can hardly wait. I really want to finish it and start enjoying it.

There was a story on Slashdot yesterday about a guy who was working at Microsoft. He happened upon a pallat of G5's being delivered to the MSFT world headquarters and took a picture of this monumental event. He later put the photo in his blogger and was, ahem, "let go" from the evil empire. I like to think that my blogger is mine, and that nobody really cares about it. I mean, there's not much here that's really riveting, is there? So why would my employer get all hopped up about the subject matter of my blogs? But, I suppose I should be careful.

I actually almost never really blog about work, it's just not that interesting a subject matter and I figure that you've heard it all before. Plus I really blog to get away from the day's events. To seek solace from the daily grind, which can really get you down if you don't have some kind of a release. But I've always thought that this is my little world and, as such, I can blog about whatever I wish, without concern. I suppose, in this day of electron gadgets, GPS, satellite monitoring and the like, I should resolve to start being more careful. But what I really want to know is, why would MSFT care about a load of dual-proc G5's and what's the real harm if it got out that MSFT had them? I mean, their products do run on the Mac, so what's the harm? I just don't get it.

I can hardly wait to go out photographing this weekend. I want to get out of the house, enjoy the nice weather, and go do something, instead of staying around, moping and not enjoying myself. Plus it's been a while since I've really done a lot of pictures. I plan on bringing about 10 rolls of film and just going to town. I probably won't be able to afford to get them developed for six years but what the hey?

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.

Tuesday, October 28, 2003

My Answers to the 20 Questions

OK, so somebody wrote in and asked me to update the 20 questions with my answers. Here goes:
* A profession or trade I would choose to be? Hands-down, a hooker. I mean, think about it. You get a lot of sex, a lot of money, and you don't have to put up with any crap from anybody. Provided I could avoid the prision sentence, that is. Seriously, I would probably be an architect or a travel photographer. But not one who has to deal with sharks. Or customs officials. Come to think of it, I'd take the sharks, provided I had a semi-safe-ish cage and a long lens.
* Something I hate....Hmmmm. Maybe motivational speaker or aerobics instructor. Professional sky diver or somebody who plays with insects.
* Three items I would purchase if left alone in a WalMart supercenter with infinite $$$? Easy. A gun, a stereo, and a camera. Probably in that order too. Then, I'd use the gun to steal me a mars bar and I'd hightail it to Mexico.
* Drugs, booze, porn, violence or cheating? Hmmm. I probably choose the better living through chemistry if given the option. (That's dope for you kiddies who don't remember the 60's.)
* MAGENTA MAGENTA MAGENTA. I'm getting a complex. I'm starting to really HATE magenta. Give me Cyan anyday.

I went out for lunch today. Went to Subway, sat outside, enjoyed the sunshine and cool breeze. Almost got attacked by a swarm of killer bees. But almost only counts in horseshoes and handguns so I still had a good time.

So I've survived another birthday intact. Or relatively. Haven't been home much and I still feel caffeinated from yesterday's fru fru coffee drink. Almost bought another one today. It's hard being an addict. Please pass the caffeine.

I'm going to Llano this weekend to take some pictures. I'm kind of scared of this place, actually. Last time I was there, I ran into a ghost who was not very friendly. If there's a few things I've learned in life, a few little "lessons" or things my mother tought me, it was to always say "please" and "thank you" and never mess with ghosts or anything that has an afterlife. It's just not a good idea, ok? I mean, I don't want to pick a fight with a spirit, ok? Especially not an already pissed off one. Something tells me that, in the great cosmos of the universe, that would just not be a good thing. Call it a hunch, ok? Boo.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.

Monday, October 27, 2003

It's Yer Birthday, Have a Funky Chicken

So, today's my birthday, which makes it a special day in Carol's Little World. Yes, it's true, I believe I'm turning 29 for the seventh straight year. And, believe it or not, I'm only like 40 pounds heavier than I was the first time I turned 29. Isn't that cool?

To mark my less than spectacular day, which also happens to be on a Monday this year, I stopped off on my way to work at Seattle's Best Coffee and got myself a giant fru-fru coffee drink. A white chocolate mocha to be specific. I even got whipped cream and white chocolate on top. Wow! I'm caffeinated. And it was good too. I decided to mark my birthday by drinking a fru-fru coffee drink, rather than the usual swill we have lying around at work. I don't know why, I was just tempted and deided to do it. And I wasn't even all that late for work this morning, so I could drive slowly and sip. There's something special about fru-fru coffee. It makes me all warm inside.

So, I get to work and my friend Craig has sent me this hilarous virutal birthday card link. I almost fell out of my chair. It had this chicken talked about birthday's and sending me wishes, telling me to make something special of my day, "before those terrorists at KFC take me away." HA! Believe me, when you're day is going badly, a funky chicken can cheer you up big time. I'll have to remember this next time somebody I know is feeling bad. I mean, I wasn't all that sad, but I was laughing uncontrollably at the funky chicken. Everybody should have a funky chicken on their birthday. It's just like par for the course or something.

And speaking of funkiness and chickens, Halloween's coming up. It should be fun as it's on a Friday this year. I used to hate the fact that my birthday was just before Halloween, now I'm loving it. I get to actually enjoy and orange and brown birthday cake and party like it's 29 again on Friday night. Oh joy. Maybe I'll even shake the tailfeathers off of the funky chicken.

Cluck, cluck.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.

Thursday, October 23, 2003

20 Questions

Ok, so it's been a while since I've posted any questions. Here are some for you to ponder:
* If you could become any profession or trade, what would it be? What would you choose to do?
* Name one profession you absolutely HATE, that you would never do.
* Name three items you would purchase if left alone in a WalMart supercenter with infinite $$$.
* Which is better, drugs, booze, porn, violence, or cheating? If somebody held a gun to your head, which would you do first?
* What color do you hate the most (and please don't email me "magent" get your own!!!!)

So, I saw HIM the other day. HE was puttering around my neck of the woods, and I just happened upon him. HE'S still working, although really hating his job, like the rest of us left in high tech, I suppose. He did say he was playing chess again, so I'll probably have to dust off my chess set and teach myself all over again. It's pretty sad what I will do to get close to him, even though we never really were all that close and I'm not all that desperate. Makes me think it's the memories that I'm clinging to, but it could be HIS green eyes, fancy car, and white silk scarf. And his acumen for chess. Something about HIM still makes me hot and bothered, even though I've moved on, he's moved on, and we both know it would be nothing but trouble and misery. It's like we both know we're doomed from the start, still we can't help running the race to see how far we get. It just leaves me feeling a little odd, but still oh so wistful. I wish I could get over it, but I probably never will. HE didn't mention a new girlfriend but somehow I just knew. Ah, the sweet misery of unrequited love, isn't it grand? Makes me want to write him a letter, spelling out just how I feel, and then tear it up in my shredder. No, I'm not going to go out and get a cat. I'm too chipper for that kind of animal. And besides, Charlie would just try to eat it.

I went to Chuy's for lunch today and ate way too much. I also had a margarita to wash it down. I just had to take a dip in the old swill to see how it felt. I can remember going to a crappy Mexican restaurant, ordering a fishbowl, and drowning my sorrors. Fortunately, today I'm a bit happier than that and I didn't have a fishbowl, I just had a pink swirl. But I still enjoyed my drink.

Now I really need to take a nap.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.



Wednesday, October 22, 2003

I'm Tired

OK, I admit it, I like to complain. I mean, nobody listens and it's probably a very unattractive trait, but still there's something nice about getting it off your chest and all. I don't know what it is, but I sometimes enjoy it. I bitch and moan about all sorts of things, without respect for whomever happens to be listening. I just do. Don't know why, maybe I've always just done it that way, but there's something cathartic about complaining. It makes me feel better. Like, somehow if I can channel my problems onto you, I won't feel quite as bad.

Lately, I've been surrounded a lot by complainers. Everybody's always complaing to me how they hate this and they hate that. Like I'm a giant crying towel, I just sit, listen, and take it all in. I suppose it's the price of admission for dishing it out for so long. I mean, truthfully, I've still dished out far more complaints than I've had to take in recent months. But lately something's happened to me. I find myself not wanting to complain myself so much. Maybe all the chatter from other folks has finally made me realize how unattractive and childish complaining really is. Maybe I've finally jumped through all the mental hoops to realize that, if you sit there and complain without doing anything about the problem, you don't really solve anything. I don't know. But lately, I've had this incredible urge to just walk up to people and say, "quit yer bitchin and moaning already. Go do something productive with your life, while you have the chance." Maybe it's maturity or just stupidity. I don't know. But I want to stop complaining.

So now that I've meta-blogged about all my complaining, what am I going to do? You guessed it; complain. OK, so here goes....

I'm tired. I think this past week of painting my house really did me in. Between staying up all Saturday night, moving furniture and boxes, and taping off my room, plus actually slothering the paint all over the walls, I'm tired. I haven't been sleeping well and I'm grouchy, but I'm actually too tired to be grouchy. It takes some energy to be a grouch and, right now anyway, I don't have any energy to spare. I really just want to sleep in all day. Do nothing more than put on a pair of sweats (or shorts! It's been nice outside) and lounge about the house pretending to eat bon bons and play my guitar or something. Maybe watch Jerry Springer and Trading Spaces re-runs all day long, without leaving the house, and without actually doing anything. Maybe I've been too productive and I really just want to kick back and snooze for a day. Can I do that? Do I have your permission? Gosh, I hope so. I mean, I don't even have enough energy to even complain really. I'm too tired. Although, I guess in hindsight, I'm not too tired to blog about it. But then again, typing just involves moving the fingers and they never get tired. At least not as tired as the rest of me.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off and contemplating catching some serious Zzzzzz's.




Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Some Prose and the new Queen of Cyan

OK, so I gave you some prose to read. Are you happy now? Wasn't that just exactly what you were waiting for? Isn't you life just so much more complete now that you can read this crap? Didn't you know there's a reason why I'm not a real writer, I just play one on TV? Anyway, it's down below for you to enjoy, snicker at, scarf up, or use as lining for you...um...I can't say it, not after that story (see below for the gory details.)

I painted the office yesterday (actually Sunday technically, seeing as the clock rolled officially almost two hours ago.) It's a nice blue. A little intense, but I'm liking it. It was driving me absolutely batty to live in a completely white house for more than two years. I was going crazy. And speaking of crazy, I heard a great quote the other day, "Craziness runs in my family. It pratically gallops." So true, I can relate.

Haven't been getting much sleep as of late. And I was really depressed up until I started painting the office. Winter's coming and the light's getting crappy. Just when I really want to shoot, the light starts getting crappy. And, when I'm under the weather or just not in the mood, bam, great day with pufty clouds. It's just my luck, or lack thereof, that causes this. I suppose I should just get some hot lights and stay indoors to do some polaroids. I can always do polaroids. But, seriously, I think somehow I'm allergic to pufty clouds. I mean, I love them and all but I can't seem to get my lazy caffeine deprived butt outdoors to take any pictures when they are around. And they never seem to stay for all that long.

Speaking of crazy, I'm starting to develop this complex. It has to do with the color magenta. Sure, being an artist and all, I'm not opposed to any specific color on the wheel, and I've learned to work my mojo to make the most of a lot of them. But lately magenta has been giving me grief. It started when I tried to print some of my own stuff to send into a competition. I would put a sheet of paper in the shoot, press a button and out would pop a magenta photograph. I'm not talking a cast here, it was fully and nothing but magenta. But I got over it.

Then, this Sunday, I head off to Home Depot to purchase paint. So I put my order in for two gallons at the counter with the nice, friendly orange aproned home decorating demi-God and I'm checking out the power tools for five minutes. Since I'm financially challenged, my foray in the power tools lasted but a few brief seconds before I went back to paintland. So Mr. Orange Apron is pulling paint from the mixer. I notice one gallon come out of the shoot with the Ralph Lauren suede label (mine, mine, mine!) and it's got the name "CAROL" scrawled across the top. Ok, so I found one gallon, the second must be right next to it, right? So I put my hand on mystery gallon number two and what do I find? Um, you guessed it. Magenta. So I pull my hand back and kind of "yeow!" when the demi-God says, "lady, don't worry, that paint ain't open yet." I didn't have the heart to tell him of my newfound fear of all things magenta.

For now, I'm going to file this in the "you can run but you can't hide" department. But, if it should happen that magenta and I cross paths one more little, sneaky time....so help me...I'm telling you now. It's trouble. I mean, where's that damned cyan when you need him most? And please don't tell me "it's not easy being green" because I've heard it all before.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.





I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

When I was walking down the garden path, I happened upon a scarlet bird sweetly singing in a sycamore tree. She sang so freely, her song delighted my senses, filling my sonic landscape with melodies heretofore unheard. I came upon the realization that I was so enchanted with her belling melody, I rendered speechless. Reaching my hand to greet her, she flew off into the night, longing to escape my reach, swooping away the grips of my reality. She was not of my terrain. Rather she lofted up towards the heavens where she would lend her voice to an unheard choir of angels, late for the sky. Her presense was mesmerizing. Gone was my sorrow, sadness, and loss; restitute with the romance of capturing her heart for it to hold.

Escaping back into my reality I began crafting. I carved of wood, I forged metal and steel, fashioning with gold and silver, bedecked with jewels and bedangled with crystal prisms. Each crystal teardrop captured light fancifully, but none could match the blissful glee of the song I knew would soon be mine. I longed for the day when I could capture her heart and harvest that golden melody. The slighest notion of her made me giddy. I flourished, knowing that she soon would be mine. No one would share in my delight, I would rejoice with her.

I waited anxiously upon her arrival, but no sound escaped. She cried in silence until her death. Only the hollow emptiness belled from her feathered perch. The carillon was quiet, she cried silently. The boughs before her, the metal and steel of her gilded cage, silenced her extraordinary symphony.

I know why the caged bird sings. We relegate freedom as priceless, yet we are enslaved through our passions and captured by the shackels of our golden handcuffs. Love and freedom form a strange kindred. Yes, I know why the caged bird sings. She has a voice that echoes about you and me.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.



Friday, October 17, 2003

A Morning Blog/Here's Blogging at You

I never really thought of myself as a night owl, although I'm definately not a morning person. When I look back upon my life, all the things I've done, all the people I've met, places I've been, all the important stuff seems to occur in the evening. At least, that's where all the fond memories are anyway. So, I suppose I should find it not too unusual that I tend to blog more in the evening. There's something about the end of the day, the accumulation of the day's events that increases my desire to blog, I suppose. Today brings a rather unusual morning blog. I'm actually blogging over coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee. We don't have the best coffee at work, but it's tolerable. Bad coffee is better than morning email by a longshot, so I always make certain that I can sneak away for my daily shot. Some days I don't get to escape until after 11:00. I don't enjoy those kind of days. Those are the kind of days that your monther warned you about. Those are the kind of days you wish you'd slept in until afternoon.

Today is shaping up to be a good day, actually. I got in the car and happened upon a Steely Dan set. I love Steely Dan. I felt like I had just won the lotto or something. It's been nice out lately. I had the windows rolled down in the car, the sunroof open/pop top up, and I was feeling alright. Most Steely Dan songs have just enough of a sardonic twist that I can enjoy them without feeling sad, and just enough of a complicated melody that I feel like I'm almost listening to jazz. It's not bad jazz, just sophisticated pop, I suppose.

I guess one possible reason for this out of the ordinary morning blog is that I had a very strange dream last night. I had this dream that I was having tea with a bunch of dignataries. I was having tea in this chi chi restaurant and enjoying myself, but I was complaining about the artwork on the wall. They had some priceless photograph on the wall, but I was complaining that I did not care for the frame. I turned to the person on my left and said, "Don't you think that should be in a wooden frame? Have you got a point driver?" And he said, "Why yes, yes, I do" and proceeded to help me re-frame the artwork. Very odd dream, it was. Usually I don't remember my dreams. I just wake up and assume that they happened. That somewhere, in the deep dark, bowels of my brain, they exists and I only occassionally hear of them through the network news or by means of attack carrier pidgeons who hover above my bedroom, in my dreams, of course. But this dream stuck in my head. Which is actually rather hard to do. Nothing seems to stick anymore. So now this has me wondering. Why? What's next? What will this evening bring? It's all very strange. An odd new world of dreams. At least, it's new to me, as this is the first one I've remember in a long time.

Speaking of the more mundane, I'm possibly painting the office this weekend. Finishing cleaning, possibly painting, and getting ready for the wooden floors. It should be fun. I can't wait to get it over with so I can move in there and enjoy it.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.

Tuesday, October 14, 2003

Eye Candy for the Blind

OK, so I'll admit it. I like using AIM, Instant Messanger, trillian, or whatever they are calling it this week. It's easy, convenient, reliable, and relatively fast. It beats the crap out of walking down the looong hallway to get up and actually talk face to face with someone. I wasn't always this way though. There was a time when I HATED instant messanger. I hated the annoyance of the gleeful pop up message and that stupid little yellow man running around my desktop. I mean, I would be all working hard, really into the middle of doing something when, BANG, an IM would pop up. It got so I couldn't even stand the sight of that little yellow man. Damn him. Damn him and the horse he road in on. I just HATE anything that things it can run around on my desktop, anything that might obscure MY code, and anything that looks even the slightest bit "happy" or eye-candish in the least. Eye candy is for stoopid users who need balloon help.

But then, something happened. I realized that, despite all of it's privacy invasions, IM actually allows me to talk LESS. Yes, it's true. I don't have to answer as many questions, read as many emails, talk to as many people, etc. thanks to that cheery little yellow man. And I'm not talking Jackie Chan here, OK. Sure, he's a little too chipper and he still reminds me a bit too much of that, GASP, horror of horrors, the dreaded, gosh I can't even bring myself to type it, PAPERCLIP. UGh. (There I said it.)

The person who invented that silly paperclip should be executed. By order of Carol in Carol's Little World, I say, "off with their dick! I know they don't have a head cause, if they did, they wouldn't need a damned paperclip. So cut off something they actually use! And no, I'm NOT passive aggressive, DAMN YOU!" Sure the paperclip is obscene, nobody can stand it and it's not even good for a laugh, but I'm starting to like the little yellow man. I mean, he's growing on me.

There used to be a time when computers had to be unfriendly to work. You expected punchcards, there was no such thing as a "user interface" and the person who wrote the code sure didn't have any time at all to contemplate the "user experience." That was a bunch of crap propagated by English majors. They were REAL programmers damn it. Their code worked and they didn't care if you or anybody else could actually USE it. You were fortunate enough just being in the presence of their code. These people are now all laid off, looking for work, dialed in from India, or in prision. The rest of us embraced, in one form or another, the GUI. As much as I hate it, and try to avoid it, the GUI is here to stay. Even with the little yellow man running around reckelssly though my desktop, I'm proud to say I'm actually starting to embrace eye candy.

Eye candy. It's not just for stoopid users who need balloon help anymore. Just watch out for the little yellow man. He might throw a brick through one of your windows.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.

Thursday, October 09, 2003

My New HEB

It's pretty sad but, these days, the most I get excited about is my new HEB and the 20% off all special-order flooring products sale at Home Depot. But, yes, it's true. Last night I went grocery shopping and just HAD to stop off at the new HEB. So there I was in the fruit and nuts wondering where the beer was, when I ran into not one, not two, but three people I knew. What is everybody doing shopping at 9:30 at night? Hmm. I don't know. But, I do know they all seem to love the new HEB as much as I do. Must be the fruit and nuts.

My craving for a G5 has me drooling. I never thought of myself as a "geek" but lately, I'm finding myself dreaming about the G5. It's true. A UNIX box with a mac front-end and a cool flat-panel display. Not to mention that it's got a dual-pro 1.2 GHz horsepower behind it. Wow. I want one. I want one now. Right now. I've resolved to buy my scanner this weekend, and then try to figure out how to order the G5. I'm forcing myself to clean out my office and unpack before I actually order it. Just because I want to have room for it and have my office all ready for when it comes.

Which brings me back to the Home Depot sale. So, I'm cleaning out my front bedroom, thinking it would make a GREAT office. And I'm thinking it would be really nice if it were painted blue. Yeah, blue. A nice, medium/dark royal blue. So I'm thinking, "ok, how can I paint? That would put the G5 off at least another week or more?" Then, I watching TV and there goes the ad. Home Depot is having a sale on special-order flooring, including all hardwoods. Special order. That's like all the rare Brazillian KOA crap that they never put on display. Hmmm. Wonder if that rare Jarah wood would match my lovely shade of blue? Maybe I'll stop at Home Depot on the way home from work and checkout the lumber. Come to think of it, they are opening a new Home Depot right next door to the, you guessed it, new HEB. Be still my heart and watch my wallet, Brazillian KOA here I come.

Until next time, this is, ah screw it, I'm off to shop....