I wasn't there, I know nothing.

Meg Lasswell writes about comics sometimes. She'll also be your friend, if you bring her coffee.











 

Reading makes your brain go "ping"



People I know say the darndest things

Other people are okay too, I guess






















 
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Dude, not my fault
 

Thursday, January 27, 2005

Oye, Oye;

Or, the Year of Living Meggishly

I've had this feeling lately. It's like I can hear the rumbling of giant machines at a great distance. Huge cogs are turning somewhere, operating something I don't yet understand.

How's that — melodramatic?

I'm ready to make some positive change, that's all. I like to think of it as cusping. The past several months, I've been like a seed trying to germinate. I'm ready to turn into something (hopefully not a weed). I mean, I'm already something, but I want to be something more. My new year's resolution was to stop being so frickin' scared of everything all the time, but that's more a backup to my endeavors than an endeavor in itself. I feel like I can direct what I grow into (and if I don't? it's weed city, baby.), and I've been trying to figure out what I want that to be. Not that I can't change, later, but I need A Direction to start in.

So I been thinkin'. Thinkin' hard.

I want to start drawing, daily. I want to start writing, daily. I want to take that UC Berkeley online extension class on indexing. I want to read, and cook, and travel. I want to be, if not fearless, then fearless enough to live my life and be myself.

I'm done waiting.

 

Sunday, January 23, 2005

Zenday afternoon

In the yard of my first house grew a tree with plum-colored leaves. Outside my door, now, there are two. Also a camellia that never stops blooming. I like to take its fallen magenta blossoms and arrange them on the moss by my stairs. Don't let my stories of price and location fool you — I chose this apartment because of the garden.

P.S. Is it wrong to want a sticker that says "My other car is a Pynchon novel"?
 

Saturday, January 22, 2005

God is a hand puppet who says poo! Poo!

I dunno, go see for yourself.

I was going to post something meaningful about why I read webcomics, but ... well, maybe later.
 

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Okay, let me be a little more positive today. Is that cool? Can I do that? Good.

Not all of yesterday sucked. In fact, the end of yesterday turned out pretty well. There I was, reading Overcompensating, when Jeff Rowland mentioned the Dumbrella coffee-house meet-up that I'd been sad to miss. Missing it was unavoidable, because it was in Massachusetts and I'm ... well, I'm here. I'm there in spirit, maybe. Anyway, most of the Dumbrella boys got together to meet people and hang out and get sneered at by baristas. I wanted to know how things had gone, but who would write up something like that?

Websnark, that's who.

I spent a good two hours reading this Eric Burns guy's blog, and feeling inadequate. Here's someone accomplishing what I really only dream of in my more ambitious moments (namely, being a fine source of information on, and guide to, and reviewer of, webcomics), and doing it really well. Even the comments on the posts were entertaining. There are idiots out there, but they're not reading Websnark.
 

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Adulthood: Epilogue

My neighbor, the one who wasn't home? He was totally home, and not answering the door. I didn't see him until 5, when I finally called the plumbers back, and now, two hours later, problem solved. Apparently neighbor-guy's been here for years, and there was an impenetrable wall of ICK in his drain (this was told to me by the plumber, and even he looked grossed out). To make matters more fun, some time ago neighbor-guy put Drano or something in there ("never do that," said the plumber) and it'd been slowly destroying the pipe ever since. But everything's fine now.

Well, except the washing machine. I went to do some laundry, then discovered that the machine's broken, after I'd put my sheets, detergent, and a dollar in. I asked the prodigal neighbor if he knew about it. "Oh yeah," he said. "Rachel told me yesterday." It's been broken since yesterday, and nobody called the manager or put a sign up? For crying out loud. I put a sign up, and called the manager. "Oh," said the girl (I'm pretty sure I talked to her earlier today) "Is there a number to call on the washer?" Well, no. Otherwise I would've called it. "I'll have to ask the owner." So let me get this straight: you bought the building, and never gave any thought to what to do when things break? RAAAAAAAARGH! Somebody better fix that washer by Friday, or I'm getting evil.

I'm in a fine mood, really.
 
Adventures in Adulthood, Part Deux

I had to leave work and come home to meet the plumber. His name is Miguel. He is very nice, although I mostly have no idea what he's saying. Turns out the problem is with my neighbors' tub. Neighbors are not home. So, Miguel has to go get the "very long" snake and run it through somewhere in the roof. Miguel is hard-core. He won't be back for an hour, though, so in the meantime I'm sitting here, getting nothing done. I should do some laundry or something. At least nobody at work can complain that I'm gone, 'cause I've been really good and gotten everything done early this week. Maybe they miss me, though. I'd miss me.
 
Adventures in Adulthood

So I came home from work two days ago, and my apartment smelled funny. Not cat-sand funny, but wet funny.

"This can't be good," I thought.

Leaky fridge? Nope. Leaky sink? Nuh-uh. Has someone been taking a shower while I was at work? Well ... my tub was full of bathwater, and it was Not Mine. It had come up out of the drain, and was making no attempt to leave.

I resigned myself to filth for another day, and left a message with my building manager. Did I get a call back the next day? No, and I was too busy to call myself. By last night, I was extra filthy, and pissed. The water eventually drained, but kept gurgling up periodically yesterday and last night. So today I call to bitch at my manager. "Oh," said the girl on the phone. "We put a work order in for that, I think I remember." Thanks for letting me know, dear. "Are you at home now?" Well no, since I'd gotten no response. "You may need to be there to let the plumber in." I would be happy to, if you'll just keep me informed. Jeez.
 

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Pedantastic

So I'm sitting here, thinking about words. And I wonder to myself "What's the difference, really, between 'avenge' and 'revenge'?" I looked it up, and now I'm gonna tell you:

Avenging, says Merriam-Webster's 4th ed. Unabridged Dictionary, is when you take vengeance on someone or something on behalf of someone else. It implies vengeance above and beyond the original transgression.

Revenge, on the other hand, is vengeance carried out for oneself. It implies an evening of the score, with a dash of petty malice thrown in.
I'm still gonna call my super-hero team the Revengers.
 
 
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