Too Much NPR
kmsqrd
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I don't like talking politics, though that's all I seem to think about when it comes to writing here - stuff in my personal life isn't meant for public consumption at this time - I can't even deal with it in my personal life.
As bored as I am hearing about the 'extended' primary process the DNC faces in trying to determine a nominee for the big chair, part of me feels like it's a good thing. I voted in the Georgia primary in March (I think) and got a kick out of the idea that my voice would actually count for something in the Republic. It sounds goofy but as mindful democrat in this somewhat ridiculous republican state it often feels like I'm pissing in the wind when I vote. (That's harder than usual given I don't have the pointy thing.)
But, this year, for the first time in a long while there are people in states - like Indiana and Pennsylvania - who actually have a say in how the nomination process falls. In fact, they may have even more of a say than New Hampshire or Iowa. It seems to me to be a good thing to keep all the voters engaged in the process.
As for my two cents - if you really want to know:
HRC is too strident and she paints herself with an unbelievable brush. You can be a strong woman without being rough around the edges (I haven't figured it out yet; but I've seen it done) - I get an over-educated dockworker vibe from her sometimes that exceedingly off-putting. While that vibe may be how she manages to sell the idea that she knows what working middle-class is, I don't buy it. She's the money half of that political partnership - she grew up with it and while she and former President Clinton may have done without for awhile, I'm reluctant to believe it lasted long enough to overcome the 'burden' of having money.
McCain is some kind of crazy. I have difficulty with his insistence that the whole Iraq war thing was a good idea. In general is more 'middle' stance on basic life issues make me mostly comfortable with a Republican; but, from a foreign policy standpoint he scares the tar out of me. Both he and HRC strike me as being overly brittle - with tunnel vision tendencies - neither of which is good in the position they're trying to win. If it came down to HRC and McCain, the only choice I'd have is to study more McCain and choose to vote for him or right in my mother.
Obama is my favorite - while I wouldn't be overjoyed with his nomination. He could have used another couple of years of large government seasoning whether in DC or Illinois. While he may have trouble convincing the public of it, he's demonstrated (in parts of the Wright thing) a form of informed independence - ability to listen to people with varying degrees of influence and then construct a framework for decision/belief based on a synthesis of several points of view. There's something about him that's hopeful, that lacks cynacism that encourages me to believe. And, that, I could (and did) vote for.
As bored as I am hearing about the 'extended' primary process the DNC faces in trying to determine a nominee for the big chair, part of me feels like it's a good thing. I voted in the Georgia primary in March (I think) and got a kick out of the idea that my voice would actually count for something in the Republic. It sounds goofy but as mindful democrat in this somewhat ridiculous republican state it often feels like I'm pissing in the wind when I vote. (That's harder than usual given I don't have the pointy thing.)
But, this year, for the first time in a long while there are people in states - like Indiana and Pennsylvania - who actually have a say in how the nomination process falls. In fact, they may have even more of a say than New Hampshire or Iowa. It seems to me to be a good thing to keep all the voters engaged in the process.
As for my two cents - if you really want to know:
HRC is too strident and she paints herself with an unbelievable brush. You can be a strong woman without being rough around the edges (I haven't figured it out yet; but I've seen it done) - I get an over-educated dockworker vibe from her sometimes that exceedingly off-putting. While that vibe may be how she manages to sell the idea that she knows what working middle-class is, I don't buy it. She's the money half of that political partnership - she grew up with it and while she and former President Clinton may have done without for awhile, I'm reluctant to believe it lasted long enough to overcome the 'burden' of having money.
McCain is some kind of crazy. I have difficulty with his insistence that the whole Iraq war thing was a good idea. In general is more 'middle' stance on basic life issues make me mostly comfortable with a Republican; but, from a foreign policy standpoint he scares the tar out of me. Both he and HRC strike me as being overly brittle - with tunnel vision tendencies - neither of which is good in the position they're trying to win. If it came down to HRC and McCain, the only choice I'd have is to study more McCain and choose to vote for him or right in my mother.
Obama is my favorite - while I wouldn't be overjoyed with his nomination. He could have used another couple of years of large government seasoning whether in DC or Illinois. While he may have trouble convincing the public of it, he's demonstrated (in parts of the Wright thing) a form of informed independence - ability to listen to people with varying degrees of influence and then construct a framework for decision/belief based on a synthesis of several points of view. There's something about him that's hopeful, that lacks cynacism that encourages me to believe. And, that, I could (and did) vote for.
Community Debt?
... aka, it's twenty 'til two and I can't sleep.
I stayed up late waiting for the Indiana primary results to post. I can't tell you why - I only peripherally follow politics. I leave the nuts and bolts of that field to Squid - he cares way more than I do. Or, maybe, he still has faith that his voice counts for something. What got me thinking about debt, is indirectly related to the primary races that won't end - namely the issue of race and the reverend. I haven't really followed the story - clergy men and news cameras are rarely anything but a toxic combination.
Reality: I feel like I live in a world where nothing is owed me. Bossman doesn't have to employ me. Drivers don't have to stay on their side of the double yellow. If I pack it, I carry it. I'm not owed courtesy (though it tees me off when I don't get it).
Idea: Debt can only be created on the micro (individual) level by the person accepting the burden of the debt. That debt can be to another individual, an institution, or a whole passel of people.
Idea: Becoming a debtor requires a personal decision to accept the perceived reality of something being owed to others.
Idea: Attempts to assign debt to an individual or group don't assign debt - only punishment. If restitution (of what ever flavor) is assigned, the individual/group assigned the punishment lacks the personal agreement with the idea that something is owed to others.
This was going somewhere seventeen minutes ago; but, now I don't know where. Except to say that neither the World nor the Man nor God owes anyone anything. You may be dealt a hand of sucky cards, play them and stop whining for a re-deal. And remember, many of live in a personalized version of hell and won't have much sympathy for yours.
I stayed up late waiting for the Indiana primary results to post. I can't tell you why - I only peripherally follow politics. I leave the nuts and bolts of that field to Squid - he cares way more than I do. Or, maybe, he still has faith that his voice counts for something. What got me thinking about debt, is indirectly related to the primary races that won't end - namely the issue of race and the reverend. I haven't really followed the story - clergy men and news cameras are rarely anything but a toxic combination.
Reality: I feel like I live in a world where nothing is owed me. Bossman doesn't have to employ me. Drivers don't have to stay on their side of the double yellow. If I pack it, I carry it. I'm not owed courtesy (though it tees me off when I don't get it).
Idea: Debt can only be created on the micro (individual) level by the person accepting the burden of the debt. That debt can be to another individual, an institution, or a whole passel of people.
Idea: Becoming a debtor requires a personal decision to accept the perceived reality of something being owed to others.
Idea: Attempts to assign debt to an individual or group don't assign debt - only punishment. If restitution (of what ever flavor) is assigned, the individual/group assigned the punishment lacks the personal agreement with the idea that something is owed to others.
This was going somewhere seventeen minutes ago; but, now I don't know where. Except to say that neither the World nor the Man nor God owes anyone anything. You may be dealt a hand of sucky cards, play them and stop whining for a re-deal. And remember, many of live in a personalized version of hell and won't have much sympathy for yours.
... and yet you wonder?
You walk to my office and announce you have a question.
I walk to your office listen to you ramble about just how many things you have to do today. You ask your question - usually one I've already answered or we've discussed.
I answer your question simply.
You don't hear me.
I answer your question again, louder - yelling even.
If we're lucky, I get to walk back to my desk.
What I want to know is why you couldn't carry the heavy sheet of paper with you when you came to my office in the first place?
I walk to your office listen to you ramble about just how many things you have to do today. You ask your question - usually one I've already answered or we've discussed.
I answer your question simply.
You don't hear me.
I answer your question again, louder - yelling even.
If we're lucky, I get to walk back to my desk.
What I want to know is why you couldn't carry the heavy sheet of paper with you when you came to my office in the first place?
A Tale of Two Dinners
I ventured to the Blue Ridge Mountains this weekend to spend some time away from the furor that is the office and the malaise that is the house. I had a great driving trip; Vodka (the new car's name) performed well. The most striking part of the trip though was the two dinners I enjoyed. I made it a point of not stopping at a chain for anything more than tea or Diet Coke, so dinner I played by ear.
I arrived in Waynesville on Friday later than I'd planned and went for a 'scenic tour' just to see what was around. Don't ask me how I got to Clyde's - all I know is that Vodka had the only out of state plates in parking lot. It was a diner, in the best sense of the term. From the guy telling people to take a seat where they can find one as they came in to the daily special. I had the Friday Night Fried Chicken Special (they offered a fish too). Oh, my, it's a good thing momma never cooked like that or I'd be 300 pounds instead of 200 pounds. I even licked my fingers. Better than the chicken and the yeast rolls however, was the lemon icebox pie. To die for. Tart and sweet and all around good. I even learned from the ketchup bottle that the foul condiment was "a natural source of the antioxidant Lycopene." [Lesson Learned: Don't take the seat right near the door unless you can handle having strangers watch you eat fried chicken.]
Saturday, I drove around with a purpose never achieved (aiming to go to the Blacksmith Festival in Spruce Pine, somehow ended up in Bat Cave - go figure) and was grateful I'd made reservations at the Old Stone Inn for dinner. As the only solo diner in the room, I did feel a bit lonely as everyone else enjoyed their companions. The food was most excellent. I started the meal out with the New Orleans Style Shrimp. It was just the right amount of spicy to be interesting and not overwhelming. I probably broke a southern dining law or two by eating straight out of serving dish; but, eh, I'm from Indiana. Nerves struck shortly after I ordered the Rack of Lamb - I'm not used to dropping that much on a food I'd never tried before (the agony of eating Bambi and frugalness combined, I'm sure). The lamb was delicious, definitely something I'd order again in the right establishment. Desert provided the icing for a wonderful meal. The White Chocolate Bread Pudding was a bit heavy after such a rich meal; but, I loved every bite. Sadly, for my Mother anyway, I couldn't bring myself to try the zucchini - there are some ruined foods that may never recover from the tortures of my childhood.
So, there were two meals. One upscale the other mainline and I enjoyed them both. That's what I call progress.
I arrived in Waynesville on Friday later than I'd planned and went for a 'scenic tour' just to see what was around. Don't ask me how I got to Clyde's - all I know is that Vodka had the only out of state plates in parking lot. It was a diner, in the best sense of the term. From the guy telling people to take a seat where they can find one as they came in to the daily special. I had the Friday Night Fried Chicken Special (they offered a fish too). Oh, my, it's a good thing momma never cooked like that or I'd be 300 pounds instead of 200 pounds. I even licked my fingers. Better than the chicken and the yeast rolls however, was the lemon icebox pie. To die for. Tart and sweet and all around good. I even learned from the ketchup bottle that the foul condiment was "a natural source of the antioxidant Lycopene." [Lesson Learned: Don't take the seat right near the door unless you can handle having strangers watch you eat fried chicken.]
Saturday, I drove around with a purpose never achieved (aiming to go to the Blacksmith Festival in Spruce Pine, somehow ended up in Bat Cave - go figure) and was grateful I'd made reservations at the Old Stone Inn for dinner. As the only solo diner in the room, I did feel a bit lonely as everyone else enjoyed their companions. The food was most excellent. I started the meal out with the New Orleans Style Shrimp. It was just the right amount of spicy to be interesting and not overwhelming. I probably broke a southern dining law or two by eating straight out of serving dish; but, eh, I'm from Indiana. Nerves struck shortly after I ordered the Rack of Lamb - I'm not used to dropping that much on a food I'd never tried before (the agony of eating Bambi and frugalness combined, I'm sure). The lamb was delicious, definitely something I'd order again in the right establishment. Desert provided the icing for a wonderful meal. The White Chocolate Bread Pudding was a bit heavy after such a rich meal; but, I loved every bite. Sadly, for my Mother anyway, I couldn't bring myself to try the zucchini - there are some ruined foods that may never recover from the tortures of my childhood.
So, there were two meals. One upscale the other mainline and I enjoyed them both. That's what I call progress.
Luring the Suspecting
I’ll admit to being kind of clueless about many things. I’ll even admit that my practical + lazy attitudes sometimes equate to not understanding why others put in the effort. What I don’t get is why some people living in the Katrina disaster zone feel the need to urge others back to the area.
NPR recently ran a story on Alden McDonald Jr. and how his choice to trust the account holders in the aftermath of the hurricane has helped to fund the rebuilding of the city and those who landed in far flung places. The end of the story reveals McDonald’s future plans.
If it was me, and it was five years after the disaster and I’d not yet chosen to return to the site of my home, I don’t know that I’d ever go back to do much more than visit. It’s a place of memories the present can never come close to matching. I would have worked hard to make a new home. I doubt I could bring myself to move back to a place where the threat of a repeat disaster looms so solidly in the future.
NPR recently ran a story on Alden McDonald Jr. and how his choice to trust the account holders in the aftermath of the hurricane has helped to fund the rebuilding of the city and those who landed in far flung places. The end of the story reveals McDonald’s future plans.
“McDonald has a plan to contact every single resident on a street, find out what they need to come home, then tap a risk pool and get them the money to rebuild.”Why does he assume that these people want to come back? How does the horror of the flooding not rip the label of home from the land? The houses in question can be rebuilt; but, after five years nothing in them is salvagable. In modern urban locations our ties to the land are limited by our lack of contact with it. We don’t build our own homes. We don’t grow our own crops.
If it was me, and it was five years after the disaster and I’d not yet chosen to return to the site of my home, I don’t know that I’d ever go back to do much more than visit. It’s a place of memories the present can never come close to matching. I would have worked hard to make a new home. I doubt I could bring myself to move back to a place where the threat of a repeat disaster looms so solidly in the future.
"Thank you, Funk and Wagnall’s."
It’s poked it’s way into my conscience several times today. Every time I see it, I cannot help but have a whole conversation in my head. Damn you Aaron Sorkin for teaching me way too much about polling. Even if not all of it is true.
On the Table
I treated myself to a deep tissue massage yesterday. It was lovely, I even managed to zone out a couple of times. However, I think the whole thing would have been much more relaxing and productive if a minor change was made to the table. The table needs boob wells or holes.
Seriously. No, I'm not kidding. Trying to be comfortable while laying on a pair of breasts attached to you is difficult. They're just in the way. They don't allow proper pressure to be applied to my shoulders and upper back.
Even as I think of it, that wouldn't work so well. People are differently proportioned - with their boobs in different places w/rt their chins. So, we really need a memory foam that can 'solidify' for each person and be reset in between. Until someone finds one, I'll keep dreaming and trying to find a comfortable place for my boobs.
Seriously. No, I'm not kidding. Trying to be comfortable while laying on a pair of breasts attached to you is difficult. They're just in the way. They don't allow proper pressure to be applied to my shoulders and upper back.
Even as I think of it, that wouldn't work so well. People are differently proportioned - with their boobs in different places w/rt their chins. So, we really need a memory foam that can 'solidify' for each person and be reset in between. Until someone finds one, I'll keep dreaming and trying to find a comfortable place for my boobs.
Quiet can be SCARY!
It's just me in the office this afternoon. Bossman took Grumpy with him to a meeting and the Kid ran away after lunch, so it's just me back here in this wing. I know I should be doing something; but, I don't really want to. All I have for the afternoon is the fun stuff - reviewing specifications and checking shop drawings. I don't know how much more exciting my life can get.
I made the mistake of mentioning the contact high problem to my mother and now she's all up in arms. She actually wants me to be proactive and do stuff. Like that's the kinda girl I am. Seriously. You'd think that after thirty-two years she'd know I don't move on something if I don't have to.
So, here I sit. Maybe, I review some specs...
I made the mistake of mentioning the contact high problem to my mother and now she's all up in arms. She actually wants me to be proactive and do stuff. Like that's the kinda girl I am. Seriously. You'd think that after thirty-two years she'd know I don't move on something if I don't have to.
So, here I sit. Maybe, I review some specs...
workenBlagh
The whole office is suffering from a strained malaise today. No one wants to do anything overly productive. Except for maybe Kid who's bound and determined to give me a heart attack today. First it was the door bouncing off of his desk after he forgot his own strength. Then he trips over the stuff we've had on the floor for weeks. Craziness. What he's not interested in is his job, his last response to markups was a nice way of saying "I'm suffering from a bad case of "I don't wanna" - so do expect anything too fast.
I don't know how we'll bounce out of this hole. Maybe the glee the Admin staff suffers from finally joining the twenty-first century in terms of accounting software will be passed on to us. Though, I suspect there will be much swearing first - and asking of stupid, stupid questions.
I don't know how we'll bounce out of this hole. Maybe the glee the Admin staff suffers from finally joining the twenty-first century in terms of accounting software will be passed on to us. Though, I suspect there will be much swearing first - and asking of stupid, stupid questions.
I'm from Twister Alley
Oh, man, I can tell I'm from twister alley, I'm looking at the local news, wondering why they're disturbing my show for a neighborhood look into where the tornadoes will hit next. Dude, toss a small graphic in the corner, list the counties/neighborhoods and let me watch my show. No, seriously, I understand why they decided to interrupt our regularly scheduled prograing for a weather report. I'm just typing my annoyance.
Oh, and Squid's currently enjoying his Christmas present. He called from his seat and told me he'd need a sweat shield. Yea!
Oh, and Squid's currently enjoying his Christmas present. He called from his seat and told me he'd need a sweat shield. Yea!
Defective
Some part of my soul was pulled out of my person shortly after I was born. I lost the ability to deliver bad news kindly. Worse than that, I can only live with some of the lies I tell myself and not others. All I want to do this evening is curl up to a manly warm body and forget that work ever happened. I could have done that too, I even had plans to do so. Instead, I broke things off with the guy I'm seeing. Abruptly, without giving him a reason. I knew what was planned for this evening - physically I would have been seriously mellowed out and feeling a thousand times better. Instead, I feel like a royal bitch and mean and petty in addition to all the work stupidity.
The sad thing is, the guy probably thinks my problem with our relationship has to do with his physical limitations, when really it's about not being able to have a conversation. How do you tell someone that their conversational skills are even worse than your own? Is there a nice way to say, uh, it's because we have one sided conversations that have no fluidity without sounding like an arrogant asshole? I'm just defective and I think I need a popsicle and a nap.
The sad thing is, the guy probably thinks my problem with our relationship has to do with his physical limitations, when really it's about not being able to have a conversation. How do you tell someone that their conversational skills are even worse than your own? Is there a nice way to say, uh, it's because we have one sided conversations that have no fluidity without sounding like an arrogant asshole? I'm just defective and I think I need a popsicle and a nap.
Contact High!
It's entirely possible that I couldn't pass a drug test today. As silly as it sounds, our downstairs neighbors have taken to smoking their weed inside due to the 'cold' weather. Last night they fell asleep with the bong still lit. I've been getting the effects of their smoking for weeks. It explains some of the kitty's odder recent behavior, her chasing of things that aren't there and her sudden increase in food consumption. It explains why I can't seem to have enough sleep and why the lunchtime naps are more refreshing than a night of good sleep. Crazy things are happening around here.
Driving a Bit
I’ve spent more time behind the wheel this week than I typically like.
The good news: MPC averaged 36+ mph during the drive to and from Nashville yesterday. She hasn’t preformed so well in ages.
The bad news: My next car will not be a Ford Escape. No, MPC isn’t going to be replaced anytime soon; but, I have been considering the small SUV vehicles as I might get one - eventually. I drove a new Escape during my trip to Dallas on Tuesday. There’s something wrong with that SUV. I can’t tell you what it is. Some aspect of it’s design didn’t feel right. It may be because it’s based on a small truck platform (I think) instead of the car platform I’m used too. All I can tell you is that I wasn’t impressed.
The good news: MPC averaged 36+ mph during the drive to and from Nashville yesterday. She hasn’t preformed so well in ages.
The bad news: My next car will not be a Ford Escape. No, MPC isn’t going to be replaced anytime soon; but, I have been considering the small SUV vehicles as I might get one - eventually. I drove a new Escape during my trip to Dallas on Tuesday. There’s something wrong with that SUV. I can’t tell you what it is. Some aspect of it’s design didn’t feel right. It may be because it’s based on a small truck platform (I think) instead of the car platform I’m used too. All I can tell you is that I wasn’t impressed.
