09/16/02
1:03 p.m.

pms week unfolds

I can't do it in the lab because

• I have no zip drive at home.
• I can't fucking find anything on this thumbsucking Macintosh. Including ftp programs.
• Absolutely all data at home was lost, including software, so you'll just have to lump it.
• And yes, that was a desktop PC. Just because I can figure out enough of a Mac to accomplish basic stuff like email and websurfing doesn't mean I can reverse-engineer the bastard.
• Wtf do you people have against floppy disks and extraneous drives, anyway? Zips are on the way out, and not everyone knows how to use a CD burner, just yet.
• I guess people really do take on the personalities of their computers. Or was that supposed to be the other way around-?

I can't remember which guru of old is responsible for Macintosh, but he can personally bite me.

09/16/02. fucking Macintosh.
11:20 a.m.

wtf?

The dns, I can't remember what the acronym's for, just what it does, continues to cut out more or less at random on the new comp, for no reason I can fathom, except for Murphy's Law, which seems to manifest itself with almost scientific dependability so long as one is enrolled in college. Is that sentence quite long enough? Now if only there weren't hard drive cases choking the back room, and Rcow would bother to salvage some of my poor crashed data, and my illustration teacher didn't assign twenty-four hours of homework each night, I might be happy.

Now for the weird part. I've been dreaming about my dead cat for two nights in a row. Saturday night, I dreamed she got into my room, jumped up on the windowsill and deliberately started shredding my drapes. I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and flung her into the hallway (I have a small bedroom), yelling at her a bit.

Last night--this was the weird, sad, spooky dream--I dreamed I got home late & exhausted from illustration class, and my folks were hanging out around the kitchen, the way they do, when my cat walked out of the kitchen, very normal-like. For one tiny wonderful moment I thought, 'Oh, it was just a dream; my cat's okay,' but she seemed surprised when I addressed her by name. And when she came running over to me for lots of petting, I told her "Yes, I've missed you, too." I could tell she was happy in the dream, but she didn't purr. It was a little weird . . . and Dad couldn't see her, even though she was real and solid to me (I don't know where Mom went. Probably back into the kitchen). I was holding her when he threw something (a ball? a toy mousie?) into the sun room. She whipped her head around to follow it, but didn't bother to run after it. Just like Atilla. . . . I had to tell Dad her every reaction, because he couldn't see her. I just couldn't understand that.

People have started to offer us spare cats. Mom had posed the idea of getting a kitten in the spring, and that's what I want to go with. It will give me some extra time to get over Atilla (I mean, God help me, I was used to reading her mind. This isn't something you can recover from in just six weeks, really), and I can pretend she's reincarnated like I asked.

Saturday, September 14, 2002
01:08 p.m.

another kick in the balls

Okay, to start with, I'm blogging from work today, as Rabidcow is at home replacing the hard drive on the back comp (the one I usually use) again. Good thing I saved all related Shredder files to the home server.... ^^;;

And speaking of shredding... fanfiction.net. That's all I have to say to make you foam at the mouth, if you're a writer up on the latest news. As if it weren't bad enough, by deleting the NC-17 rating, all NC-17 fics are now rated G. That's just not funny. It's not the writer's fault--NC-17 writers go to lengths to ensure that G audiences are turned away from mature fics; but it's not as if readers will realize that now.... [laugh] Beyond that, I'd like to see how ff.net will *find* NC-17 fics to delete, now that they've changed all their ratings. This is a shot in the foot they'll never live down.

Sign the petition!

Wednesday, September 11, 2002
11:14 p.m.

insert title here

The sky today was exactly the same as it was a year ago, the weather was the same (mebbe a little warmer), the smog was the same, etc. And I finally got my wish.

All I wished, although I did wish all day, with all my aching heart, was i wish i wasn't today. i wish i was in October, i wish i was in February, i wish i was a year from now....

Because you know, time heals all wounds. And just to bring you up to speed, *before* 9/11/01, the economy was already in decline, the military was already being built up (I remember wondering what they knew, that they weren't telling us....), and Dubya was already a prick. He seems to think people forget that; I suppose that's why he's always reinforcing the image.

All I can add to Lisako's lovely rant, beyond religious tones, is that a thing is made more precious by its duration (why d'you think movies are nine, ten bucks a pop?). This is why people go for years and incredible distances, waiting and trying to see or photograph a solar eclipse. It's not a living thing, but it's treasured partly for its brevity. This is also why my mother's fiber art (well, the stuff she sews) is so much more precious than the shiny metal stuff I make, which will be around right up until it's melted down for scrap, or the sun becomes a red giant, whichever comes first. Mom's art has a limited lifespan, like a performance. Like a concert, or a dance. Like a living thing.

Add to that the fact that no two living critters are alike (which kinda goes double for the sentient ones) and you have something inexpressibly valuable. In humans there is a fantastically intricate chemical, bioelectric, and temporal pattern held by each brain, which can never be recreated once the central nervous system has completely shut down. It cannot be duplicated through the most modern of software & code wizardry; even a human clone, is a different individual from its twin.

Unless you're Shell; then maybe you just have an organic automaton that uses up resources, pollutes, and goes splat when it jumps out of a burning building. Way to show your true colors, kid.

You will not be mourned.

Saturday, September 7, 2002
10:28 a.m.

at work: AMORC Admin bldg

Well now! This completely, totally, and utterly kicks ass. A film crew from the National Geographic channel is filming inside the Rosicrucian Museum right now, and I think at least one more crew is expected today. Steve Armstrong, staff Egyptologist/Expert Anthropology Geek, says that whatever they're filming is to be aired in January. It's all just so damned cool. Looks to be an otherwise quiet day, too. I *so* love my job.

That's the other thing. . . . I feel so magnificently serene and content, right now; almost as if I'm drugged, but my senses aren't dulled at all . . . it's just . . bliss. I can't explain it. Unless there's something funny in this Diet Coke. . . .

And the sign on the outside of the staff entrance right now reads: UPS / PLEASE GO TO MUSEUM FACING ON PARK AVE. / LOOK FOR BUILDING WITH STATUE OF PREGNANT HIPPOPOTAMUS IN FRONT. >XD