Friday, March 21, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Mark
Well, The Teet pretty much said it.
I hadn't seen Mark in a while -- most of what I knew of his life in the last year or was what I heard through the grapevine -- but he'd left me a voice mail a few months back, when I was, er, trying to figure out job stuff. As was his way, the message was embarrassingly complimentary and friendly. Mark was the kind of person who could be overwhelming with his gregariousness. He loved telling a story -- either by bending someone's ear or putting pen to paper -- and he could be equal parts engaging and exhausting, his energy especially remarkable for someone more than 10 years my senior, working two jobs and parenting a teenage daughter.
When I think of Mark, I think of riding in his car with him to lunch, the empty soda cans rattling their way back and forth across the dashboard. I think of his non-stop intensity, the way he seemed to put his whole body into smoking a cigarette. I think of how fondly he talked about his daughter, and the affection I saw between them at his going-away party way back when. They seemed more like teenaged friends than parent and child.
I'd left by the time he made it to our office Monday, and even if I had been there, there's a good chance we wouldn't have exchanged much more than a passing hello, as I'm sort of a horrible grouch most Mondays. Still, I regret missing the opportunity.
Mark Major, I wish you could have found what you were looking for.
I hadn't seen Mark in a while -- most of what I knew of his life in the last year or was what I heard through the grapevine -- but he'd left me a voice mail a few months back, when I was, er, trying to figure out job stuff. As was his way, the message was embarrassingly complimentary and friendly. Mark was the kind of person who could be overwhelming with his gregariousness. He loved telling a story -- either by bending someone's ear or putting pen to paper -- and he could be equal parts engaging and exhausting, his energy especially remarkable for someone more than 10 years my senior, working two jobs and parenting a teenage daughter.
When I think of Mark, I think of riding in his car with him to lunch, the empty soda cans rattling their way back and forth across the dashboard. I think of his non-stop intensity, the way he seemed to put his whole body into smoking a cigarette. I think of how fondly he talked about his daughter, and the affection I saw between them at his going-away party way back when. They seemed more like teenaged friends than parent and child.
I'd left by the time he made it to our office Monday, and even if I had been there, there's a good chance we wouldn't have exchanged much more than a passing hello, as I'm sort of a horrible grouch most Mondays. Still, I regret missing the opportunity.
Mark Major, I wish you could have found what you were looking for.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Oh, the places I'll go!
The Visited States map, via The Farrago. I still have to hit the Carolinas and Alaska, and then I'll have made it to all of the states (although, I have to say, in some cases I was just driving through or switching flights -- I hope to have actual visits to more of these places soon. Man, I (I keep trying to put a heart in here, but the 'puter won't let me)
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
I'm totally normal, except for my small teeth
This went up in our neighbors' yard over the weekend. The sign reads:
Hey, if you are wondering why this OBAMA sign is handmade, it's because someone keeps stealing our sign! You can steal our sign, but you can't steal our vote ... [something I can't make out] Florida in 2000. Vote for HOPE. Vote for CHANGE. (And leave our sign alone.)
Anyway, I appreciate the spirit in which the sign was made -- and, I swear, I haven't stolen their signs -- but, with much hemming and hawing, I ended up voting for Hillary. It was not an easy choice: I was arguing the matter back-and-forth with myself while driving to my polling location, and even when it finally came time to cast my vote. When I saw that Kucinich was on there, I nearly cast my ballot for him, in all honesty. But then I touched the screen for Hillary, my vote neatly recorded on the machine's paper scroll. Only ... then I wasn't so sure about it. So then I Obama. OVERVOTE! Whoops. The computer told me I'd have to un-choose her before I could vote for someone else. So I did. And then, when the time came to confirm my vote, I wavered again. Was I just giving in to peer pressure? I mean, yeah, the woman thing was one of the reasons why I've had a soft spot for her, but I like her health care plan better than Barack's, even though I have more respect for his stance on the war. Crap. Moreover, I want people to see that there is support for her ideas (again, that health care thing to me is HUGE), and that she's not fading away.
So, I changed my vote again. Hillary it was.
I have to say that I'm falling neatly in line with most of my fellow Ohioans, who -- according to a poll I saw on the Dispatch website yesterday but can't locate right now -- are voting for Hillary but think Obama will win the nomination and are OK with that. In some respects, truthfully, I sort of hope he wins over her, although in such a scenario, I would like her as his running mate. I like the optimism and energy he brings to all of this ... anyway, I'm going back to my waffling again. Must stop.
In other, non-election news, my mouth has *finally* stopped hurting, after days of steady aching following the creation of my temporary crown Saturday. Apparently, my problem is that I have small teeth (Hey, I'm short, I have a small head, this is to be expected), which makes the proceedure more painful. I have no idea, really, but that's what Kyle said, and he has a degree in that stuff. Crud. So, I'm now really conscious of my teeth, even if the New York Times thinks it could be part of the "advance guard of human evolution, at least in dentition" -- uh, just ignore the part about the story being written in 1988.
Hey, if you are wondering why this OBAMA sign is handmade, it's because someone keeps stealing our sign! You can steal our sign, but you can't steal our vote ... [something I can't make out] Florida in 2000. Vote for HOPE. Vote for CHANGE. (And leave our sign alone.)
Anyway, I appreciate the spirit in which the sign was made -- and, I swear, I haven't stolen their signs -- but, with much hemming and hawing, I ended up voting for Hillary. It was not an easy choice: I was arguing the matter back-and-forth with myself while driving to my polling location, and even when it finally came time to cast my vote. When I saw that Kucinich was on there, I nearly cast my ballot for him, in all honesty. But then I touched the screen for Hillary, my vote neatly recorded on the machine's paper scroll. Only ... then I wasn't so sure about it. So then I Obama. OVERVOTE! Whoops. The computer told me I'd have to un-choose her before I could vote for someone else. So I did. And then, when the time came to confirm my vote, I wavered again. Was I just giving in to peer pressure? I mean, yeah, the woman thing was one of the reasons why I've had a soft spot for her, but I like her health care plan better than Barack's, even though I have more respect for his stance on the war. Crap. Moreover, I want people to see that there is support for her ideas (again, that health care thing to me is HUGE), and that she's not fading away.
So, I changed my vote again. Hillary it was.
I have to say that I'm falling neatly in line with most of my fellow Ohioans, who -- according to a poll I saw on the Dispatch website yesterday but can't locate right now -- are voting for Hillary but think Obama will win the nomination and are OK with that. In some respects, truthfully, I sort of hope he wins over her, although in such a scenario, I would like her as his running mate. I like the optimism and energy he brings to all of this ... anyway, I'm going back to my waffling again. Must stop.
In other, non-election news, my mouth has *finally* stopped hurting, after days of steady aching following the creation of my temporary crown Saturday. Apparently, my problem is that I have small teeth (Hey, I'm short, I have a small head, this is to be expected), which makes the proceedure more painful. I have no idea, really, but that's what Kyle said, and he has a degree in that stuff. Crud. So, I'm now really conscious of my teeth, even if the New York Times thinks it could be part of the "advance guard of human evolution, at least in dentition" -- uh, just ignore the part about the story being written in 1988.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Could it be?
Yes, there is such a thing as HappyJournalist.com. It is, as one might imagine, nowhere near as popular or incisive as AngryJournalist.com.
Gawker has a good post-by-post analysis on the differences between the two sites.
This, so far, is my favorite HappyJournalist quote:
I’m happy that my company gave me a boatload of money to retire from the profession I love and will now pay the new employees half or less of what we got. I’m happy that this site will receive many fewer comments than AngryJournalist.com.
Gawker has a good post-by-post analysis on the differences between the two sites.
This, so far, is my favorite HappyJournalist quote:
I’m happy that my company gave me a boatload of money to retire from the profession I love and will now pay the new employees half or less of what we got. I’m happy that this site will receive many fewer comments than AngryJournalist.com.
When the power goes out at work
I end up working from home, which is not all bad -- I mean, hey, how often do I get to watch marathons of Tori & Dean: Inn Love? Er, a lot, actually -- but there is one challenge. The cat's all-abiding love for the laptop. Specifically, she loves climbing on the keyboard while I'm trying to type. And this is what happens when she does.
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