Yard Art

Checked my mail -- some asshole neighbor has reported me to the city for overhanging trees and for high grass. Furious. I can't afford to have anything done right now, and I physically can't do anything myself. It's just too hot, and I'm too out of shape. I'll have a heat stroke in about five minutes. And I have five fucking days to do something.

What assholes!!! I really thought I had good neighbors, but someone isn't even neighborly enough to talk about my yard. I had really cute plans for a courtyard with a xeriscape border, but screw that. I'm not about to pay someone to trim crappy bushes one month and then to come back rip them out completely in a few months when I'm financially flush and can afford removal instead of a haircut. I'm not paying for this twice.

So I have to switch gears and do something different. I think I'll re-image my front yard as a colorful cubist landscape.

I'm going to lop off the tops and the sides, of the bushes, making everything as square and orderly as I possibly can, and once those natural unwanted bush-like tendencies have been halted I'll spray-paint the entire hedge with metallic purple paint. (But only after lovingly laying a drop cloth over the sidewalk and street.) I think it will look wonderful.

I'll repeat for the tall grass and the overhanging trees, but will switch to a silver paint. Or maybe use a metallic blue for the grass and silver for the trees.

That, or I'll rip every last plant out of the yard, fill the yard with mulch (since I can't afford plants!) and then add row upon geometrically-spaced row of yard flamingos. I think 238 ought to be enough to fill the yard. I want it to look like a tree farm, only with flamingos instead of peaches.

Minus

Minus one desk. Sold the Amisco in my office to my brother-in-law over dinner tonight for $75.00. I really wanted more, but it's going to a good home. My only fear is that D. won't pick it up this weekend as promised. In that case it goes for free to my Mom, who wants to set up another desk in their computer room. This new desk will be for the kids. Now I can 'minus' my sectional sofa out of the studio, and add it to my office.

Minus $10,000 in property tax value. Went to the hearing and easily got what I needed. Didn't even have to curl my hair. Also minus $30, which I spent on unneeded photocopies.

Minus 234 unread emails. What can I say? I'm baaaad about this in summer.

Minus about thirty things on my to-do list. This isn't a teaching day, but I went to school anyway and worked from 12:30 to 10:00, with only an hour off for dinner with my family. Well worth the effort.

Minus $45.00. Decided to hang my certifications and degrees on the wall in my office (how collegial!) but remembered my BS was destroyed by rats and mildew. Replacement cost: $45.00.

Minus lots of energy!! Want to crawl into the big tub in the bedroom and soak while reading about CSS, but I don't have enough energy left to clean out the freaking filthy tub. I think I'm going to make a "tub lid" so it doesn't get all gross and dusty between uses.

Clutterbusting

Working on a makeover for the endlessly awful space that is my office. Today I did some clutter removal. My current crop of desk toys is pictured below. It includes THREE pencil cups, six little tins filled with paper clips and the like, a lime-green Christmas ornament, a love voodoo doll (visitors are only allowed to shoot through the heart), a flying elephant Christmas ornament, a wooden pysanka, and a wind-up alligator.

Admittedly this is a cool collection of crap. And it doesn't include my bottle caps, my worry dolls, my Peruvian fortune telling ornament, my 2" high Buddah, my Day of the Dead figures, or anything else purchased from the strange and delightful Manto Fev. I took all those goodies home last week, so they weren't around for the photograph.

But the collection takes up HALF OF MY DESK!!!!! About 60% of it is covered with paper all the time anyway, so it's not like anyone (even me) is enjoying any of it.

So it's time to reconfigure, discard, and replace. I gave the tins and pencil cups to D., who will put them to better use than I could. In their place I bought one (count 'em) one Eldon SuperCup. It's ugly, it's made of crystal clear plastic, and it's the last visually pleasing object in my office.

But it works. That's what counts, right?

---

Must quit writing and go find a Kinko's. I opened my mail tonight for the first time in about two weeks, and discovered that my formal appeal with the Property Tax Appraisal Board is tomorrow morning. My house is valued $10,000 over what I paid for it. They're requiring FIVE copies of any documentation I might want to present, so I have to get copies of my closing statement made tonight. Four copies of a one-inch-thick stack of paper.

And I guess I have to wear something nice. And actually curl my hair and wear makeup. Damn it, this is going to mean getting up at 8:45 in the morning. Not fun at all.

But I should shut up already, and be happy some unknown force made me open my mail. I can't afford to miss this meeting.

Exploring My Interior's Interiors

Been itching for about a week now to make a collage. It's an art form I don't indulge in much at present. It seems everyone is making collages, and I'm enough of a snob to avoid the latest trend. (Unless the trend is cool, and on sale at Target.)

But when I do make a collage I get upset because it isn't like everyone else's. I feel odd because other people don't have issues with using a computer (I do -- it's cheating!) or with drawing or painting on top of their works. Worse yet, today it seems like the best way to "fit in" with other collage artists is to make images featuring a bunch of Victoriana, and people sporing either dunce's caps or fairy wings.

I can see the allure -- the manifest copyright issues force people to use either personal or public domain material. Their decisions are sensible and wise. Sadly, I don't have much to say that can be communicated using fairy wings. So instead I use whatever scrap of paper furthers my meaning, knowing I can never reproduce anything I create. And after I create something I break the law a little by reproducing my art via a low-resolution photograph posted on the Internet.

There are reasons I don't teach ethics . . . .

So -- been itching to make a collage. A book has me all hot about personal altars, so I was going to rip the sun visor out of my car and make it an alter to Jane Austen and then put it back in the car. But all these negative Sara Lee (Similar and Regular and Like Everybody Else) feelings hit, so I ditched that idea. Decided to make a Valentine instead, something I used to do regularly. I used to actually make them for men, but I lost the Valentines in the breakups, so I decided it would be better to keep them for myself. I don't think the guys understood, anyway. I was giving them part of my soul, and all I ever got in return was a weak smile followed by an even weaker "you-shouldn't-have."

This Valentine was going to be about wanting someone to share my sofa. Planned on including a television, maybe popcorn, DVDs, etc. Decided to make it on an envelope for some reason. But about halfway through the process it became something different.

It became a collage about my living room, my perfectly-arranged, much-loved living room, the scene of many a sofa-centered fantasy. And about the time I got drunk in that room, the only time I've been drunk in my life. I cried over how empty the sofa was, how time was passing, and how I wished I had enough nerve to place a simple drunken phone call and tell him how I felt. And all about the sheer impossibility of him ever feeling the way I do. If it had happened anywhere else I wouldn't have felt so damn pathetic.

The collage below is a start. It needs a better clock. I want a Nielsen bubble clock, but I couldn't find one. Also a phone. All the phones I found were almost as big as the sofa. And I want to replace the flying toaster (a trademarked logo, if memory serves) with a flying pig. Maybe add a floor lamp. Maybe. It's really external to the story, but I need to show how loved this room is. Not really crazy about the sofa with this wallpaper, either, so those could change. I do like the way the green contrasts with the red and pink wine, but in real life I'd never put those two together. Need to do something to make the other side of the sofa obviously empty. Maybe a larger crowd of wine glasses on the other side?? The balance is a little too perfect. I want the entire thing to look sad. A little shopworn.

I wrote in my journal while I was getting drunk. I'm going to print up the entry and place it inside the envelope.




This might be the start of a series. Maybe. I want to explore how interiors shape our expectations, and what happens when reality collides with these very personal dreams. I can think of another five or six rooms I'd like to re-create off the top of my head. Places where things happened, where my life changed. An office with the world's ugliest desk. A storeroom with stacks of white boxes and poor lighting. Two bedrooms; one in an attic. A library. A kitchen. A hallway with an oriental rug. A garage with a band saw and a drill press. My childhood playroom.

This might be worth doing. I can unite my mania for interior design with my mania for self-expression. And those envelopes could hold anything. Anything at all.

Decorating 9 to 5

All that talk of desks made me realize how frustrated I am with my office at work.

I'm stuck in a 10'x10' square with industrial white walls, tacky doors and trim in so-totally-80s mauve, and floors that were just re-carpeted in something close to teal. All my clutter stands out against the white walls. The windows are screen-glare-city. And that extra desk (my fault, I admit) makes everything crowded.



I know I should be happy with the office -- some of the new faculty were placed in cubes -- but it's so ugly it's driving me up the wall.

(Had high hopes for the carpet, incidentally. Very excited last month when I saw all the InterfaceFLOR boxes. The carpet the school chose for the public areas is nice, but it just doesn't work with the pre-existing stuff in the office areas.)

My design strategy so far has been to buy lots of bright, colorful accessories in hopes people get focused on the stuff and ignore the generally sterile fluorescent-lit environment. It's been a workable philosophy, but it's lead to an overabundance of stuff. Also it looks like Strawberry Shortcake's office. Or maybe Barbie's. And since I'm not exactly a Stepford Wife there is stuff everywhere. Clutter central.

Summer is the best time to fix this space, well before the pressures of Fall begin. I've started with my desk. It really isn't a desk at all. It's a small table on wheels with a nice cherry finish. I hijacked it from another office when I discovered my Amisco desk's keyboard tray wasn't big enough to accommodate my laptop. I was typing with my wrists perched about 6" above where they should be, leaving me miserable at the end of the day. The table was the right height, and it's cute, so I'm sticking with it. The desk faces the door so the first thing people notice when they walk in is the scary-looking tangle of cables dangling off the desk. Then, once they're seated, they notice my collection of colorful office supplies in cute colorful small containers, scattered all over my desk.

Change is needed.

Dealing with cables is going to be difficult. I use my laptop and/or TabletPC for everything. Biggest concern is my need to 'plug in' every day. Everything has to be accessible, but discrete. Right no the cables are one of the first things people notice when entering my office. They're all over the floor in front of my desk, serving as a conversation piece and a tripping hazzard.



I'm buying another Bluetooth keyboard/mouse set, so soon I'll be able to get rid of two cables. And I've been exploring cable options. I can't believe how many unusual solutions there are!

I actually bought one of these a few months ago, but since it involved sticking adhesive to the desk (which the school is only renting) I never installed it.



Also found cable fish, cats, and frogs from a store devoted to cable management, CableOrganizer.com. Very attracted to these cute things, but remember, I'm trying to de-cute my space. I'm a college instructor, not an Anime character looking for a sidekick.



Finally found something that would work -- the Cable Caddy, a non-intrusive device that would hold all the cables in place even after I've unplugged for the day. (Right now I'm looping everything through the handle of a coffee mug.) Cable Caddy comes in clear, black, white, red, and blue.



I was on the verge of buying the Cable Caddy when, lo and behold, Levenger decided to hold a sale. IT was on sale. One of the objects of my retail desire. One of the things I don't even THINK about, because I might run out and buy it in a weak moment. And this is the weak moment I've been dreading. The Laptop Landing Pad, normally $58.00, but marked down to $29.95. The cincher is that it's now available in lime green. I almost broke my wrist whipping my VISA out of my purse.




This, combined with duct tape and maybe a few cable turtles, will make the tangle manageable.

Next mission: office supply organizers!!

Past Perfect

Isn't it funny how we can buy something, something perfect, something that took weeks or even years to find, something that suits our every need, something we'll treasure forever . . . and then we sell it in our garage sale three months later?

I tend to do this with storage solutions (organizers, boxes, drawer units, etc.) and of course electronics (Need a used PocketPC, anyone? I have three.) not to mention clothing and CDs.

The 'excess storage stuff'' issue is so bad I had to develop rules:

• buy a generic solution (no sock organizers, no Yur-Gi-Oh card tackle boxes, no Christmas ornament boxes)
• get the most boring color possible (in case you re-paint the room)
• insist on a durable, scratch-proof, non-yellowing material (no rigid crystal-clear plastics)
• try to find something with a hinged lid that can't be misplaced
• buy twice what you think you need
• buy it all at once before it's discontinued or sold out

Now all I need to do is actually stick to the rules.

But I can live with excess storage stuff. I can even live with excess electronics. What I'm struggling with right now are excess desks. At one time I had five. Now I'm down to four, but two are all I really need.

Desk #1 is standing in my hallway, a lime green desk from the 1970s. It's about eight feet long, three feet high, and eighteen inches wide. And SOLID. I bought it, thinking it would be THE desk, but it wouldn't accomodate all my gear so I eventually bought a Christopher Lowell (Desk #2) from Office Depot.

Then there's this stunner . . . .

Desk #3, the Helsinki, made by Amisco, who mysteriously quit making desks. I don't get it. They had beautiful, highly functional desks. I looked at desks for months before purchasing, and every desk I seriously considered was an Amisco -- nothing else came close.

Look at all that open storage, above and below. Look at that HUGE 36" keyboard tray. It could hold a full-sized keyboard, my Wacom tablet, and a trackball. That generously-sized return. The cool file cart. The line also included a bookcase. (Excuse me -- étarge)

If I sound like I'm a little in love you have to visualize my PC setup before this desk. The CPU and monitor were perched on a night stand 4" below eye level, the scanner was on another non-matching night stand, my keyboard was on a TV tray, the Wacom tablet on another TV tray, the printer on the floor, and the trackball usually rested on my thigh. My speakers were on mismatched fern stands. Cameras and PDAs and other smaller goodies were stored in the night stand drawers requiring me to plug them in each time I needed one. And my chair didn't roll.

I bought this desk and suddenly I was in techno-storage bliss. There was room for everything, and once I invested in some black plastic drawers I could actually FIND everything. It was all so . . . perfect.

This desk is so cool even my parents realized it. They each bought one, and suddenly our dining room became a computer room full of cool matching furniture.

When I decided to buy my house my parents very quickly evicted my desk. They were about to replace the ceiling in the computer room, and my stuff was in the way. At that time R's house was a mess, so the desk ended up in my office at work. Eventually I decided it didn't belong in my new home, so I bought a different desk instead. (#4, the now-departed Cheap Intrim Desk I used while searching for the desk.)

The Helsinki is still sitting in my office, taking up valuable space. I'm not even using it. (Using Desk #5 instead.) I should sell it, but as soon as I do I'm sure to need it.

Have plans for all that space, too. Decided my office would be the perfect place to stick my Heywood-Wakefield sofa (another piece of much-loved but unused furniture).

Something has got to go. No single person needs this much excess furniture!!

Desk . . . . sofa . . . . desk . . . . sofa . . . .

Anyone have a quarter I can borrow?

What Not to Wear

Pulled several outfits out of my closet and re-evaluated in light of dropping two sizes. The knits are OK, but sadly I don't really like knits, except for my worn-so-often-it-should-be-illegal skirt. And a few T-shirts.

The bulk of my wardrobe - all my suits, and most of my dresses - don't really fit. The jackets hang poorly. I might be able to salvage some of the skirts, but I'll have to get them all shortened. And since I'll have to buy new suits to get jackets it probably won't be worth the expense.

At one point I tried on a button-down shirt that was a little too small in December, and (strangely) it didn't look all that great. After staring at myself in the mirror for five minutes I realized the problem was the bra! I've lost two inches around my rib cage! So I need new undergarments, too.

Now for the dilemma. Do I purchase NOW, when professional clothing is on super-deep discount, or do I wait until Fall when new things are in, and I've lost more weight?

I don't think I can afford to wait. If I keep loosing I'll only be able to wear the new stuff for a season so I don't want to pay full price for the newest trends. But I can't afford the expenditure right now, either. Not on a summer paycheck.

I just didn't think about how dieting would affect my bottom line!

News Flash

I was debating on what clothing to buy for a conference in Berkeley. Plus-sized clothing is a pain. All the cute things seem to stop at one certain size, and the so-called "extended plus" sizes are horrible. I wanted something new, something that screamed "fun." I found something perfect, something two sizes too small, so I decided to give myself a reality check.

Went into the depths of my closet and pulled out a wonderful skirt I haven't worn in three years but couldn't bear to throw out. Took it off the hanger. Double-checked the size. Sighed with frustration, and while wearing a wry don't-hurt-me grin pulled it over my hips. Wait a sec -- over my hips. Damn. And it freaking fastens. Ran for a chair -- I quit wearing the skirt because it was too tight to sit in. I'm wearing it now, as I type, and I'm comfortable.

It freaking fits. I can't freaking believe it.

I LOVE this skirt.

SO going shopping, so buying short skirts, so showing skin in Berkeley, so positivly certainly eating nothing but salads for the next three weeks in case this is a fluke.

Wow. It freaking fits. I've lost two freaking sizes!

Wow.

Flim Flam & Social Shakeout

I don't really believe in horoscopes. They always seem to miss the mark. Last week, for example, it harped on how an unknown someone is in love with me. Yeah. Whatever.

Still find myself reading mine, though. I guess it's part curiosity and part wishful thinking. It would be nice to have a little supernatural guidance, a little help from above. They're usually so inaccurate I find myself laughing.

Today's is pretty on-the-mark, though: "You've been moody all week and can't find a way past it. So tonight, instead of going out, take advantage of some time alone. Don't stress out about why you haven't been yourself -- just be. "

I had already planned to go to a movie alone again, and no I'm just more determined. Silly, huh? Fever Pitch has made it to the dollar movies, so I'm outta here shortly.

---

Having second (or is it tenth?) thoughts about these coffee dates. They just feel weird. I've never been out with a total stranger in my life. I've almost always known the men I've dated for at least a few months before we date. Even all my "onesie" dates were with guys I knew, or at the very least guys who were friends of guys I already knew and trusted. (Funny that I've never been set up by a girlfriend -- it's always my male friends who find me dates!!)

And what kind of "how we met" story would this make? "Well, I couldn't find anyone on my own so I signed up with an Internet service, and after meeting hundreds of jerks I eventually met Phil deBlank, and we clicked so we went out a second time."

No romance. No tension. No back story.

Then again, I can make a story out of anything, so maybe this isn't a valid complaint.

(Sigh.) I was on the verge of giving up, but I guess I'll have to find a better reason than "no romance." Can you guess I have another date tomorrow morning, and want to cancel?

House Photos

As long as I'm waiting for the sheets I'll post a few photos of my house.

This is the wind chime. I finally screwed the bracket into place!



Another new feature in the studio is this nice, long shelf, which holds all my paints, pencils, and other supplies.



Here, in almost complete glory, is the bedroom floor. It just needs sealer. Click for a larger view.



And lastly, my next major project: The horrible mess I see every time I sit behind my computer. Click for a close-up of my personal hell.

In Need Of A Career Change?

It's 5:45 AM. I've been up all night designing again. This time I've been working solid for about eight hours. I did stop to eat once, go to the bathroom, and put my only set of sheets (don't ask) into the washer. Sadly I never put them into the dryer, so I have to stay up another thirty minutes before I can crash.

Starting to think (again) that I should quit teaching design and instead design for a living. But who am I kidding? I don't have the creative range a pro needs. I have too much of a 'look' -- all my designs are very flat, very colorful, and overly simplistic. If a client came to me wanting something for, say, a goth clothing store, I probably wouldn't be able to deliver.

Trying to expand my range by working more with traditional art media, and also by trying to imitate other styles. For the new look for this blog I drew a frame freehand, then scanned it, then hit it with Photoshop. The resulting designs (pictured below) are very rough. I didn't like them enough to continue. For the first one the 'texture' inside the frame is a scan of my hair. The second one is a standard Photoshop style.





More importantly, the designs don't communicate how I'm living my life. How everything is changing.

Thinking about that theme today made me realize the end result of all this change is crowding. I'm bumping my barriers, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. So the latest (once again overly simple) design plays on that tension by crowding everything, and by having the fonts just a little too small to read comfortably. The screen shot below doesn't really look that crowded, but when it's all screen size it's uncomfortable. Trust me. I might crowd it all a little more, actually.



Striving to make everything CSS compatible, and fighting Internet Explorer every step of the way. Just look at the awful things IE does. First off, on super-wide monitors (like mine) it automatically enlarges the graphics, making everything look fuzzy and also throwing off my pixel-precision layout. And the other column? Hello?? It gets dropped down below the sidebar. I hate IE, have I mentioned that?

Vanity Fair

I've been throwing an extended fit for the past few days. I want to re-design this site, but I'm running into all kinds of issues. My blog isn't really about my house any longer, but I'm not sure what it is about. In an effort to pin down a theme I resorted to one of my favorite techniques. I wrote out a list of adjectives that describe what the subject matter feels like. Maybe I chose a bad night to do this, because all the adjectives were worrying words, like uncertain, apprehensive, moody, and unappreciated.

I've spent two days trying to design a moody site, and have discovered that while I might feel moody I can't design moody. That whole gothic aesthetic just washes right past me. I can appreciate its aptness, but can't freaking create it.

So I had to find a different look, which lead to all sorts of crazy things. I sketched on paper, I used watercolors, I even made a collage. At one point I scanned my hair and worked it into a beveled frame, and used a rubbing of my eyebrows as a headline backdrop.

Now I have something different, something NOT moody, but I'm not sure I like it. Have to play for a few more days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So all this work (ten hours a night, minimum) was getting to me, and I needed a break.

Decided I wanted to go out with someone special. Someone who could appreciate my brains, my looks, and my sensuality. Someone who isn't afraid to make a romantic gesture. Someone who understands a witty turn of phrase, and who is willing to listen to every single thing I say.

There is, of course, only one person who knows me that well and loves me that much.

Me.

So in a pique of irritation and vanity I took myself out on a date.

I started in the mall, cruising the shops reveling in my retail prowess. Nothing escaped my shark-skinned eyes. I looked at furniture and housewares with a discerning but pitying gaze, because the wares on display just weren't good enough. Then I went into a dress shop and admired myself in the mirror. I walked out with a new outfit because I was just too damn cute in it, and because I'm worth it. As a crowning gesture I bought a . . . . um . . . . lipstick . . . . to celebrate my sensuality.

It was fun. I'm a little predictable, of course, but I didn't have to spend the day trying to figure out what anyone else's motives or moods were. No challenges, no complications, no silent resentments or unspoken accusations, no poorly-hidden tensions, no unrealistic expectations. I didn't have to censor myself, and I didn't have to worry about keeping my hands to myself. (Such a non-issue!)

We (I mean I) were having so much fun I couldn't cut the day short. Went to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and I'm overjoyed I watched it alone. I loved the movie. And since I was alone I could keep all my love inside, for myself, and enjoy it silently, instead of having to talk about it. No risk of spoiling such wonderful fluff with an impressive-sounding intellectual insight. No danger of anyone changing the subject before my afterglow faded. It was just me, the music, my smile, and the memory of Brad Pitt.

All in all a fantastic day. I enjoyed every second of it, right up until the moment I had to say good-bye to my ego so I could sit at my desk and work on the freaking design again.

Can't Get No Satisfaction

All I want to do is take two little bitty 1/2" screws and screw them through two holes in an L-shaped bracket and into the back of a door. It should be SIMPLE. Drop-dead easy. I have a power drill, I have screws, I have a bar of soap, I have adequate lighting, I have two perfectly-measured pencil marks, I even have safety goggles.

Can't do it. I've been standing on a step stool for twenty minutes, and I just can't screw the damn things in.

All I want to do is hang an angel wind chime, a birthday gift from my mother a few years ago. That's it. Yes, I am hanging a wind chime indoors. It's going on the door into my garage, where it will serve as decoration and as poor woman's burglar alarm. I know the Gods of Garden Ornaments are probably against me right now, which is why I can't get the stupid screws to screw.

I can't get it to work. I can't screw. My worst fears are realized -- I'm a born-again virgin.

Being Red

Usually I hate my attention-garnering too-think misbehaved mop of hair. Redheads have it tough, after all. We're an endangered species (really -- the chance of our redhead genes making it to the next generation is slim; it's a geometric regression), we feel pain more acutely than others, we sunburn easily, and we attract mosquitoes. (Read that in Scientific American.)

Plus we're expected to be funny, get angry easily, and be very emotional. Admittedly I am all those things, but how much of my personality is socialization?

Then there's that whole witch-burning thing.

But every now and then something will make my somewhat traumatized childhood (Sharon == Red Barron) and my can't-fade-into-the-background present worthwhile.

Tonight it's Tom Robbins. I'm reading Still Life with Woodpecker for the first time, and I love all the creative things he says about my tribe. "Hair as straight and as red as ironed ketchup" is good, but my favorite line (so far) is uttered by a blonde female from the planet Argon:

"Red hair is caused by sugar and lust."

Thanks, Tom!!!!

Enough Self-Pity Already!!!

This pity party is more than old. I had to do something to break the spell, so I bought the Mr. and Mrs. Smith soundtrack (mainly for one song, but it grows on you) then painted my face again and took more photos. I'm happy I did -- I think maybe my double chin is a little smaller. Maybe this damn diet is working.

And look at these photos!! Can I really be thirty-five??? Didn't I just yesterday break up with Greg because we were boring each other to death? How did I loose ten years so quickly? How did someone this vibrant get so stuck-in-the-mud? How did this hot redhead become a woman afraid she's forgotten how to kiss? And how, please, do I regain my mojo?

Being Blue Sucks

The really awful thing is that right now I want to be out having fun. I want to play video games, or sit in Starbuck's and gossip, or even play Monopoly. I want social. I want to laugh, I want to say funny things, I want to have discussions about philosophy or at least Angelina and Brad. Problem is that I really wouldn't be much fun right now. I'm just not fit company. No wonder I'm sitting at home on Saturday night.

Sith Sucked, Kohl's Sucks, Diets Still Suck

OK, it didn't exactly suck, but I had such hopes!! When they played the opening song I felt my heart lift. I knew this was going to be good. And the opening battle sequence had me -- I surrendered reality completely. I was with it. High on the Force.

Then the characters started talking and spoiled everything. I don't believe for a second that Anakin and Padame were in love. Or had ever been in love. The chemistry was just horrible. Anakin's departure to the Dark Side wasn't well-fleshed. I didn't feel his angst, maybe because I didn't buy into the love story.

The only part that made me sympathize at all was the montage where the Jedi Knights were being betrayed and assassinated. That was beautifully realized. Of course I'm a sucker for a good montage, so I'm a little biased.

The worlds were wonderful, the furniture incredible, the interiors fascinating. Someone should write a book on Star Wars interiors. The art direction, as in all the Star Wars movies, was incredible. I especially liked Pappeltine's chambers, and Akanin and Padame's bedroom.

Overall, though, this movie earned a B-. I could have waited for the DVD.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the movie went to Kohl's to return some things, where I found they can't look up receipts by scanning my credit card. What crap. Every other store I've returned something to in the last five years has that ability. I've always hated Kohl's, and now I have one more good reason never to shop there again.

Freaking Furious and Sith-Watching

OK, originally I thought maybe MI was doing the right thing, being all integrity-oriented. Sadly, though, over the past few days I've decided he's really being prideful and selfish. Things are deteriorating quickly.

I volunteered to buy dinner for DR and MI so they could get to know each other a little better, and work out some of their differences in a neutral setting. IM emailed me back, saying he has no interest in dinner, that he doesn't want to get to know DR better. The rest of the email was equally horrible. At this point I'm pretty well convinced he isn't going to change his behavior. And since his behavior lead to this whole stinking mess I'm absolutely furious.

The more I think about this the more upset I get. He KNEW this was going to hit the fan, but did he ever give me a heads-up? No. Did he come to me when the problem first surfaced? No. Did he talk to ANYONE about strategies for dealing with this student? Highly doubtful. He concealed a serious problem, a problem that might have been resolved with a little intervention.

And now that I'm scrambling to fix his problem he's standing in my way playing the ego card. His email was just too awful to describe. He talked about all his reasons for agreeing to work with DR this summer, and not one of those reasons has to do with DR. They're all about him and his huge ego.

This whole "behind my back" issue is pissing me off, too. MI made a big deal about DR coming to me for help. Well, someone should have!!! I can't believe the situation went on for as long as it did!! MI himself should have come to me three or four weeks into the semester at the latest, but did he bother?

Plus I have reason to believe that MI has had at least one conversation with my boss about all this. That's right, a conversation held behind my back.

DR is an incredibly hardworking student -- I've had her in class, so I know. She attended every class MI held, and was so frustrated she cried in every class. This is not an indifferent, malicious, or troublesome student. This is an adult, an over-40 female -- not a teenager throwing a fit. This is a student who is desperate to learn. Our problem students are the ones who don't want to learn, or the ones with mental issues that get in the way of their education. DR is not in this category. This should have been EASY. There never should have been a problem.

I'm trying to picture this happening in the real world. I'm trying to see an employee causing a client to cry at every meeting, and concealing that information from the boss. I'm trying to see the employee actually staying employed once the client told the boss. Ya know what? I just can't picture it. This only happens in academia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So anyway, I'm so pissed I don't want to answer emails. So I'm going to spend my afternoon doing something mindless. I'm going to catch the 4:10 showing of Revenge of the Sith over at the mall. And after that I might take my television out of my closet, and spend the evening watching other people's realities. They can't possibly be any worse than mine.

I Hate Diets

I'm also sick of my diet. So I've lost twenty-two pounds to date. Who cares? No one can even freaking tell the difference.

At this rate I'll have to diet for three years before I hit my target weight.

I don't know if I can keep this up. It's so hard. I'm upset and I want chocolate.

Sure, in three years things might be better, maybe. I can't count on that. I don't have anything to look forward to. No reason to continue this diet. No reason to deny myself cheese crackers or ice cream or chocolate cake. Or French fries, or Cheddar Bay biscuits, or an entire can of cream-cheese icing.

The Designer Wails . . . .

WHERE is the Dingbat Cave??? I loved the dingbat cave. Dozens of dingbats, by dozens of designers, all freeware or shareware. A wonderful resource, one I repeatedly used in the classroom and in my personal work.

Now it's gone, gone, gone. It's turned into one of Ann-S-Thesia's sites, which has me less-than-wowed. Her designs are usually too fussy for me, and she also wants money for her fonts, which is OK -- her prices are reasonable, and she should be able to earn a living -- but I'm upset she basically erased the identity of a hip, collective site. Now we have her identity instead, and a lot of what she does is stuff I try to talk my students out of doing.

Besides, if I were to pay for type I'd give money to Nick Curtis.

I can't believe how fickle the Net is. I can't find any mention of where the Cave has disappeared to. I Google "dingbatcave -ann -anns -ann's" and I'm still inundated with the woman's overblown art.

She could have at least archived the old fonts for Dingbatcave fans. Damn it.

I want my cave, I want my cave, I want my cave. Can't the Net hold still for a few years so I can catch up?

I Hate Technology!

I swear, some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed. I've been trying for hours to download the latest drivers for my Logitech diNovio keyboard. The stupid keyboard won't work consistently with my TabletPC, and Logitech says their drivers are the answer.

seriously doubt it. Everything I've been reading on the web says the drivers suck, and it doesn't matter anyway since I can't get the stupid file to download. It hangs at about 40%, and then times out. I've tried from the US site, I've tried from England, I've even tried downloading from Japan. I've tried the FTP site. I'm so desperate I've even tried downloading the Italian and German versions. The damn file just won't download.

I have 72 unread messages in my Tablet PC, plus whatever people have sent today, and I can't answer them using a stupid stylus!!!!!!

I just hate technology!!!! Yesterday my printer messed up, and my classroom was all uncabled and disconnected and a nightmare, and I couldn't even get the overhead screen to stay down. Now I have this new nightmare to contend with.

Fry's is calling my name. Loudly. And me with no spare cash.

Technology sucks.

Server Woes

I hate programming. I really, really hate programming. I'm a DESIGNER. Not a code-head. So why do I keep trying to program things? I feel like a fish pretending to have propellers and a fuselage.

For the past three hours I've been struggling with a bit of code that hasn't worked properly for about five months. (Like I said, not a programmer. Priorities are everything.)

Anyway, it used to work, but now it doesn't, so I figured something I had done mucked everything up. After struggling and pacing and flowcharting and cussing I finally found the problem.

And (for once) I'm not it. The problem has something to do with my server. (I think.) It used to see the application root in one place, but now it's seeing it in a sub-sub folder instead of where it should be, so when I try to share session variables with the parent folder I get nulls instead of decent data.

I hope that's the problem. Finding the solution really doesn't make me any happier -- I still have to program a work-around -- but it's better than nothing, I guess.

(sigh.) I wish I had a friend I could call who would help with all this. I know dozens of programmers who say they're willing to help, but when I bring them an actual problem they're always too busy to even look at the code.

(even bigger, angst-y sigh) I'm so tired of superficial, casual, professional friendships. Sure, I have a few good friends at work, but they're married. They already have a best friend, so they're busy evenings and weekends. I want someone single I who can go see a movie, or help paint a wall, or just flat hang out. Someone I don't have to impress, someone who will let me be serious, or funny, or crude, or wild. Someone I don't have to apologize to. I miss being able to pick up a phone and say "Hey, I'm bored. Are you doing anything? I'll be over in ten minutes. No, I don't have plans, but I'm sure we can think up something."

I miss Traci B, Hillary M, Bonnie O, Amy S, Dennis L, and even Dona H and Bryan H. And especially my best friend ever, MH. I miss you, MH. I wish you hadn't fallen in love with me, and I wish you hadn't lied. That combination spoiled everything, didn't it?

Must quit stupid time-wasting nostalgic obsessive behavior, and FIX CODE.

Absolutely Perfect. Fabulous. Amazing.

I like my floors.

They aren't totally finished yet, but I think I'm in love. I spent the day marking off little Xs, and I'll spend tomorrow stenciling, but I was dying to try out the stencil so I went ahead and did one row. It's hard to get a decent photo at 3:00 AM in a poorly-lit room, but check it out:




Brown floors with rich antique gold accents. I think this is what I needed. It's formal, but not as fussy as the checkerboard, and it's metallic, so I have something to play off my aluminum-colored wall.

I considered silver paint for the stencil, but I decided it was just too cold. The room needed a little warmth, so the antique gold won.

Still having trouble believing I stenciled anything, especially in such an Art Nouveau pattern. This is something my Mom did, for goodness sakes, when she was in her early 40s. And here I am (repeating the pattern!!) in my mid-thirties.

This is so not mid-century. But then again, I always said I wanted to be eclectic, and the Urban Gypsy thing lends itself to mix-n-match.

Funny what decorating can teach you about yourself, if you're willing to explore possibilities instead of copying a specific style or interior guru.

I like my floors. Wow. I like my floors!

Troubles

Thirteen coats of paint on my damn floor, and I still have some acrylic and at least two coats of sealer to go.

Everything is wet right now -- I'm going to let it dry overnight, then tomorrow morning I'll go over the edges again, and tomorrow evening I'll be ready to start the trim, which will probably take a week. Then the sealer. At least the end is in sight.

Problems with a student this week. DR came to me at the end of the semester wanting an incomplete in MI's class. The personal dynamic between them isn't good, and there were other issues with the class. I didn't think this was a big deal, so I did the paperwork and deposited it in MI's box for his signature, meaning to talk to him about the issue. I didn't (just plain forgot) and he failed DR, who is understandably upset.

I thought this was still fixable. I thought I could just explain my reasoning, ask MI to sign the form, and then work with DR myself through the summer.

What I didn't count on is MI's integrity. MI isn't willing to let DR off the hook for two very important reasons:

• DR needs to learn to deal with personalities, including MI.
• DR didn't talk to MI first -- she came straight to me.

There is another reason I don't think either MI or I expressed, but MI is a master programmer and I just dabble. MI knows the material, and in this area is honestly a better teacher.

MI is willing to help DR. He's willing to give her an incomplete, but instead of allowing her to work with me MI wants to meet with her once a week. He doesn't even have a class this summer, but he's willing to drive all the way to campus because he feels this needs to be done. He feels he and DR both need to work on their interpersonal skills, and that DR needs to meet MI's standards of excellence, not mine.

I have to break this news to DR. It would be easier to do things my way, but I can't (won't) force MI's hand in this. I respect him too much.

I'd like to think I had this much integrity, but I'm not sure I do. Maybe three or four years ago, but now??

Then again, maybe this isn't about integrity. Maybe it's about results. The goal we're trying to accomplish is to get DR to understand the material and pass the class. Letting her work with me is the easiest way to meet these goals. Personalities shouldn't be an issue, and if DR can learn from me then let her.

Then again, is "book knowledge" all we're trying to pass along? Or are we also trying to teach DR real-world coping skills? Teach her attitudes and coping mechanisms that will help her when she gets her job? We teach by example, we teach by modeling, weather we realize it or not. I remember favorite students AB and AW talking about how watching me use the Net consistently (and constantly) as a research tool, and how it changed their work habits. It wasn't a learning objective, but it's probably the single most important lesson I 'taught' them.

I read an article or a book somewhere about stance. Oh, I know, it was in Robert L. Fried's The Passionate Teacher. We teach students what is important by showing students what we value. That's our stance, our passion, our wellspring that makes us educators.

MI is doing just that -- he values DR's ability to learn, their teacher-student relationship, the material, and his personal goal of service excellence.

Stance. It isn't in the syllabus, but maybe it should be.

WHEN??!!??

Will these damn floors ever be finished?

The sealer isn't concealing the old paint lines. I've put down two coats, and the lines are still super-obvious.

My only recourse is to sand the freaking floor. I hate sanding. It took me nine months last time.

This is not how I wanted to spend my summer.

I should have bought a freaking condo.