Thursday, September 30, 2004
Today I'm a little off-kilter. It's as though someone is standing just out of view, with a pipe organ, playing the same minor chord over and over. How do you hide a pipe organ? Don't ask me, I just work here. I had a sudden attack of the can't-sleepies last night, and then I didn't want to get up. I'm worried about the Bush-Kerry debate tonight. I wish I had a TV, so I could watch it, but I will have to settle for the radio, unless I can find it streaming somewhere online. In the first-ever televised presidential debate, people who listened to it on the radio thought Nixon had won, but people who watched it on TV thought Kennedy won. What if I get the wrong impression because I can't see what's going on? And I need to fix my car. If you know why, good for you, you are in my inner circle. If not, then I clearly don't love you. Or, I love you less than those in the know. Or, I just haven't told you for one reason or another. Or you are a stranger. I like it when strangers read my blog and say hi. It stokes my vast, firey ego. Are you reading "Ultimate Nightmare"? If you are not, then shame on you. You are making Warren Ellis cry.
Current Music: damn you, hidden pipe-organ man
Current Mood: meh
Current Music: damn you, hidden pipe-organ man
Current Mood: meh
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Just after I've had coffee in the mornings, I get very chatty, in my brain. Here, I will relay some of that chatter to you. This paragraph, it needs more commas, I think.
One of the most satisfying things about my job is when I point some grammatical faux pas out to someone, and he or she says "Oh you're right, that makes a difference, doesn't it?" Maybe I just like to be right? Actually I think it has something to do with my being an approval whore. Sometimes I feel like I spent large parts of my childhood trying to get my dad to compliment me on something I'd done, hoarding the rare, rare successful occasions like ... something precious. (I've been having simile issues lately, forgive me.) So there's Megan's Personal Revelation of the Day. I'll really try to keep that kind of crap to a minimum, hey?
Here at El Workplace, we were starting to think that Gil, the ad guy, had died. He mentioned something about his stomach feeling rotten, and he's been missing for 45 minutes. The bathroom next to his office has been closed, however, and the fan is on inside. Finally we called his cell, and discovered that he's not even in the building. What's going on in the bathroom? It is a mystery for the ages.
I've found a new comic to share. It is called "A Lesson is Learned, But the Damage is Irreversible," and you can read it here. Be sure to scroll down to the bottom to read the rambly, metaphysical newsposts. If you're into that sort of rhetorical wandering, you should see my-friend-Jason's-friend-Dave-who-I-met-once's blog. Dave once made a daring escape from indentured servitude in Korea.
Do other people have blogs? I know Jason does. If people give me links, I will add a blog section to the link bar on the left. That would be spiffy.
One of the most satisfying things about my job is when I point some grammatical faux pas out to someone, and he or she says "Oh you're right, that makes a difference, doesn't it?" Maybe I just like to be right? Actually I think it has something to do with my being an approval whore. Sometimes I feel like I spent large parts of my childhood trying to get my dad to compliment me on something I'd done, hoarding the rare, rare successful occasions like ... something precious. (I've been having simile issues lately, forgive me.) So there's Megan's Personal Revelation of the Day. I'll really try to keep that kind of crap to a minimum, hey?
Here at El Workplace, we were starting to think that Gil, the ad guy, had died. He mentioned something about his stomach feeling rotten, and he's been missing for 45 minutes. The bathroom next to his office has been closed, however, and the fan is on inside. Finally we called his cell, and discovered that he's not even in the building. What's going on in the bathroom? It is a mystery for the ages.
I've found a new comic to share. It is called "A Lesson is Learned, But the Damage is Irreversible," and you can read it here. Be sure to scroll down to the bottom to read the rambly, metaphysical newsposts. If you're into that sort of rhetorical wandering, you should see my-friend-Jason's-friend-Dave-who-I-met-once's blog. Dave once made a daring escape from indentured servitude in Korea.
Do other people have blogs? I know Jason does. If people give me links, I will add a blog section to the link bar on the left. That would be spiffy.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
I was eating lunch at Starbucks, as I am wont to do (coffee for breakfast + coffee for lunch = baaaad things), and just as I was leaving, I heard the awesomest song ever. They were playing some kind of Ray Charles-related CD, and this lady was singing about all the places she had the blues: mailbox, breadbox, wheelbarrow, shelf, etc. It was so entertainingly random. Now I must find out what the hell it's called, and who sings it. Check this space for updates! (because I know all four of you reading this are super curious)
Tonight I go to the Hollywood Bowl, for Lord of the Rings music and other geekery. Whee!
Current Music: "I got blues in my wheelbarrow, blues upon my shelf/ I got blues in my bedroom, 'cause I'm sleeping by myself"
Current Mood: doo be doo, editing copy
Tonight I go to the Hollywood Bowl, for Lord of the Rings music and other geekery. Whee!
Current Music: "I got blues in my wheelbarrow, blues upon my shelf/ I got blues in my bedroom, 'cause I'm sleeping by myself"
Current Mood: doo be doo, editing copy
Thursday, September 16, 2004
I should really update my links, eh? I've been reading sooo many webcomics lately, all of them good. Be sure to check out Kelly Vivanco's comic, "Patches," about two hamster/gerbil/vole things, and see her beautiful bird paintings here. Also read read the deliciously creepy, Gorey-esque "Ballad," at www.deadmouse.net. Then there is the strangely charming "Goats," the pixel-tastic "Diesel Sweeties," and "Questionable Content," to name a few. A bunch of these sites also have forums, where you can read reasonably coherent discussions about webcomicry, music, and the world in general. For more good reading, see www.diepunyhumans.com, Warren Ellis' blog. Voila!
the filthy monkey, it plans
the filthy monkey, it plans
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
On Sundays, in the afternoon, I like to drive down PCH to the marina mall thing, and get coffee at Starbucks and sit outside, watching people pass by and feeling vaguely like a consumer whore. The particular attraction of this Starbucks is that it's next to a very nice Barnes and Noble. Sometimes I'll wander around the store, fondling books in an attempt to feel like I haven't driven all the way out there just for overpriced coffee. One of the side effects of this is that I read a lot of dustjackets, and end up wanting more books than I have time or money for. I'll go to the library one of these days, I swear. They just make it difficult for me, with their odd hours. No, really I have no excuse, apart from that walking the two blocks there would disrupt my ass-widening routine. Ahem. I yearned for one book in particular for about three weeks until I finally broke down and bought it a few days ago ... it was on the "staff recommendations" shelf, which has yet to steer me wrong, so it had that going for it before I even started to read. It's marvelous. I've been reading for hours today, at lunch, at the DMV, at home with Trigger sleeping on my feet ... I'm stopped about halfway through, at the start of part two, which has the unsettling title of "A Drop of Blood in a Bowl of Milk." Oh, right, so the book is called "The Time Traveler's Wife," and it's a sort of love story. It takes place simultaneously across decades, and I'm fascinated at thow the author juggles all the details without dropping the plot. Henry, the main character, keeps ending up in several places at once, or several whens at once, and I haven't gotten confused yet. Also, it's beautiful. I picked out this quote, see if you don't love it:
"My mother dying ... it's the pivotal thing ... everything else goes around and around it ... I dream about it, and I also -- time travel to it. Over and over. If you could be there, and could hover over the scene of the accident, and you could see every detail of it, all the people, cars, trees, snowdrifts -- if you had enough time to really look at everything, you would see me. I am in cars, behind bushes, on the bridge, in a tree. I have seen it from every angle, I am even a participant in the aftermath: I called the airport from a nearby gas station to page my father with the message to come immediately to the hospital. I sat in the hospital waiting room and watched my father walk through on his way to find me. He looks gray and ravaged. I walked along the shoulder of the road, waiting for my young self to appear, and I put a blanket around my thin child's shoulders. I looked into my small unconprehending face, and I thought ... I thought ... I should have died too."
"My mother dying ... it's the pivotal thing ... everything else goes around and around it ... I dream about it, and I also -- time travel to it. Over and over. If you could be there, and could hover over the scene of the accident, and you could see every detail of it, all the people, cars, trees, snowdrifts -- if you had enough time to really look at everything, you would see me. I am in cars, behind bushes, on the bridge, in a tree. I have seen it from every angle, I am even a participant in the aftermath: I called the airport from a nearby gas station to page my father with the message to come immediately to the hospital. I sat in the hospital waiting room and watched my father walk through on his way to find me. He looks gray and ravaged. I walked along the shoulder of the road, waiting for my young self to appear, and I put a blanket around my thin child's shoulders. I looked into my small unconprehending face, and I thought ... I thought ... I should have died too."
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
The office manager came to see me today. She closed my door, looked at me, and asked, "How do you like your job?" And I thought "Holy shit, I'm getting fired!" I told her I loved it, fighting panic, and she nodded and said "Well everyone here loves you. I've heard only good things from everybody, and I wanted to tell you you'll see an increase of a little over a dollar an hour on your next paycheck." A raise! I got a raise! "A little over a dollar an hour" may not sound like much, but I did the math: I'm now making $30k a year! Yes folks, that's THIRTY THOUSAND DOLLARS. Yaaaaaay me!
Current Music: Elvis (Costello, that is)
Current Mood: buoyant
Current Music: Elvis (Costello, that is)
Current Mood: buoyant
Sunday, September 05, 2004
I just wrote a really good post, and then Blogger ate it. Why, Blogger, why?! *heavy sigh* I'll try to redo it, but I'm not promising quality:
It's 101 degrees outside. Holy Moly! I wondered why my apartment felt like an oven. Poor Trigger is passed out on the floor. I think an iced coffee would solve this problem. Of course, for that I'd have to get up, and it's really too hot for crazy things like movement. Ugh.
Yesterday I drove down to Lori's and we went kayaking on Newport Harbor. It was beautiful, but surreal — gliding silently through forests of boats, surrounded by seabirds. We saw some really pretty houses, but I'm not sure living in that area's really worth it. The houses are crammed together like conservatives at a Bush fund-raiser, and Lori said they start at about $4 million. We passed some tiny beaches hemmed in by mansions, and I thought of all the motor oil and gas that must be in the water as I watched children splashing around. Also we saw some dolphins, which was cool. They'd surface periodically with a soft breathing sound, and then disappear for several minutes. I think they must have been hunting, because we saw some fish leap out of the water too.
God, it's hot.
swelter swelter
It's 101 degrees outside. Holy Moly! I wondered why my apartment felt like an oven. Poor Trigger is passed out on the floor. I think an iced coffee would solve this problem. Of course, for that I'd have to get up, and it's really too hot for crazy things like movement. Ugh.
Yesterday I drove down to Lori's and we went kayaking on Newport Harbor. It was beautiful, but surreal — gliding silently through forests of boats, surrounded by seabirds. We saw some really pretty houses, but I'm not sure living in that area's really worth it. The houses are crammed together like conservatives at a Bush fund-raiser, and Lori said they start at about $4 million. We passed some tiny beaches hemmed in by mansions, and I thought of all the motor oil and gas that must be in the water as I watched children splashing around. Also we saw some dolphins, which was cool. They'd surface periodically with a soft breathing sound, and then disappear for several minutes. I think they must have been hunting, because we saw some fish leap out of the water too.
God, it's hot.
swelter swelter
