Take today, for instance.  The good:  the weather is gorgeous, and it is market day.  The bad:  I am sick, and so cannot enjoy said weather, and my heater is out of oil and apparently all the oil delivery guys in Jindo take Sunday off, so I have no hot water.  Or, yesterday, for another example.  The good:  the weather was gorgeous, and I got to take "my dog" for a nice walk.  The bad:  I was sick, and so the whole day felt a little off, and I didn't feel up to going to Mokpo with the other Jindo waygooks for the farewell festivities for one of them.  The really bad:  While said group was hiking, they came across a girl who had committed suicide on the trail by hanging herself, and they had to deal with the police all afternoon.  I wasn't there, but I can imagine that it was rather traumatizing.  I have some experience with death, and I know that it can be a pretty profound thing to come in contact with, for most.

So, you see, things are rarely "normal" here.  Not necessarily "interesting", but decidedly polarized.

I shall find something else to pamper myself. Anything but Twilight because Amirah is begging me to watch the trailer. No way am I going to do that.

I am also now back in my old apartment building in a vastly improved apartment, now that it has been renovated.  I wish they had replaced the kitchen, and the heater doesn't seem as good at heating my water as at the old place, but I am not about to complain.  I visit the dog I have "adopted" a few days a week, and it really does wonders for my mood.  I've started taking her for walks in the surrounding countryside, which she absolutely loves.  She spends her life on a 6 or 7 foot chain, and so being able to run around (her "leash" is about a 25 foot rope I bought) is clearly the highlight of her week.

In the last two or three weeks, the foreigner population of Jindo has risen from 5 to 9, an incredibly high number for somewhere this rural.  Sadly, one of them has her last day this Friday, and she was the main social organizer, so it will be interesting to see what happens with that.

I have withdrawn a bit recently, as well.  Now that I actually enjoy being in my apartment, I have been spending significantly more time here.  I used to go out with folks not only to socialize, but because I couldn't stand being in my smelly, moldy apartment.  Now that it is actually pleasant to be here, I have been sticking around here far more, except to go for my walks and countryside drives.  I'm not lonely or anything, I just tend to sometimes go through phases where I don't really enjoy the company of others, and I think this is just one of them.

I'm a bit sick.  Okay, a little more than a bit, but still well enough to work.  I could use one of my 6 remaining sick days on Monday, but unless I feel worse, I don't think I will.  I figure that if I go into work when I'm at less than 100%, next time I take a sick day, they might take me a little more seriously.  Then again, maybe not.

So, anyway.  There will probably be more positive posts around here than there previously have been.  I think I have passed the "I hate Korea" stage and entered the "Meh.  It's funny." stage.

The men had approached him looking for a cigarette, and as he had a packet of tobacco for roll-ups and a bit of sense, he just handed them over. The natural result of this was for the group to begin kicking and punching him en masse. He managed to hang onto his bag which is just as well - it contains everything he owns.

There's a lot more to this man, as we found out over the only thing he did ask for - some company. There are days like today when I can hardly breathe for my rage at the casual depravity with which we live. Sure, we can denounce the thugs who beat him up for fun as scum, but what about each and every person who walked past as they did it? It was around 8pm, on a very busy thoroughfare - early enough for everyone to be sober and late enough that nobody was rushing home from work. As we talked to him, people slowed down to see what was happening, and some of them even laughed. Laughed? What the fuck are you laughing at?

When you're a Christian, scripture encourages you to pray for your enemies. I talked to Kevin about this on the way home. Everything in me screams in protest at the thought of praying for the five men who attacked Aaron. "Fuck them; they can burn in hell," -  that about sums up my position. But this position of mine only serves to continue the spiral of hatred further and exposes my own depravity and desire, not for justice, but for revenge. The reality is that if you assault for recreation you are deeply, deeply damaged. I'm not going to pretend I have sympathy for these people; I'm not some kind of pinko-liberal. But if I am going to acknowledge the humanity of Aaron, and my humanity, I've also got to acknowledge the humanity of the men who did this. If they were not human beings but, say, dogs, there would be nothing to be angry about. How can they learn to behave as men ought if we view them only as the animals like which they behave?

Something is very, very wrong with the world. And it isn't about education: we are as savage now as we ever were. I recall a night this summer having coffee with Lydia, at Kaffe Moka (now gone, LAMENT), across from the nightclub, Break For The Border. We saw a group of businessmen in suits blunder drunkenly up towards the club. Outside, there's a small concrete bench with flowerbeds behind it, and a homeless man, obviously a heroin-addict, was sitting slumped there. A large man from the group of businessmen ran up to the homeless man and punched him squarely in the face, and his friends cheered, before heading into the nightclub to continue their good times. Lydia and I spent the rest of the evening talking to gardaí who could do nothing, because the heroin addict had left, for fear of being taken in by the police for possession.

Why am I angry about this stuff, particularly if, at base, I am no better than these bullies? It's not because my parents denounced violence as I grew up: they didn't. The motto in our house was "Look out for number one". I was advised, when punched, to punch back twice as hard. I did, and nobody ever picked on me again, so I have a certain sympathy towards this position. And all that school taught me was how to coast and do as little as possible to gain maximum benefit.

So, again, why so angry? I think it's because we've got a natural compass inside us that, while not fine-tuned, works so as it can point, clumsily at least, to gross injustices. And while differing societies hold differing moral practices, they rarely hold differing moral values. Also, what is it that makes us lament as kids, "It's not fair!" when our brother snatches the ball away from us?

I think it because there is something deep inside of us that wants things to be better and righter and fairer than they are, and we did not place that desire there through education or upbringing or whatever other nonsense one can imagine. Many of us lament homelessness, hunger etc. when we are children, and faced with a sense of helplessness, give up on the issue. Forget about it, what can I do? It reminds me of the Simpsons scene where Ned Flanders' parents are visitng with a psychiatrist for his advice on young Ned's out-of-control behaviour: "We've tried nothing, Doc, and we're all out of ideas." What I'm trying to say is, perhaps our moral compass gets rustier and rustier the more we ignore it.

Yes, the world has a problem. The problem is sin. And believe me, no amount of education, good breeding, civilized living or fun, happiness or pleasure can remove this stain from a person: I'm speaking from experience here. What is the solution? Repentance. But I guess you've got to have some evidence that there is a One to repent to - better yet, a loving one, with a sense of justice.

Perhaps some evidence to consider for this One might be in fact that rusty compass inside each of us?

Because marriage means you have to live with a man...

A messy, sloppy, "don't tell me what to do please", "I'll do it when I'm good and ready", COMPLETELY CLUELESS MAN.

For all the married women out there...

How have you NOT plucked your eyes out with a fork yet???

I have come to a new realization...

That no matter WHAT you ask a man to do, they will see it as nagging.

Something as simple as, "Will you take out the garbage?" is a nag.

EVEN THOUGH, the garbage is stuffed SO full that it's beginning to fall unto the floor.

Asking him to take care of it is actually me nagging him.

So, what... I'm supposed to say NOTHING?

Please.  The man would walk by that overflowing garbage for another WEEK before he did anything about it.  Since I don't want garbage all over my kitchen floor, common sense tells me I should SAY SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

But, on no... that's just NAGGING.

I have been trying for WEEKS to get him to write out some thank you notes.  WEEKS.  There's always another reason why he cannot.

So, last night, I'm washing the dishes, brainstorming HOW I'm going to ask him to write out some thank yous without sounding like a nag.

Impossible.  Unless I'm standing there naked and promising sex, it's inevitably going to sound like a nag.

I figured out my problem is that I'm asking him and not telling him.

Not that I would have much luck with telling him to do something anyway.

You tell men to do something and suddenly you're being all controlling and bossy.

Sometimes... I want to choke him.

And that's not all...

Yesterday, he wanted to cut a slice of cheese, but the cheese slicer wasn't in the drawer.

It was in the sink.  The sink full of really dirty, really grimey, really disgusting dishes.

So he finds the cheese slicer among the pile of dirty dishes and uses it to cut the cheese...

WITHOUT EVEN WASHING IT OFF FIRST!

Um... EWWWW!!!  How long does it take to wash a cheese slicer?  HOW LONG?  Apparently, long enough for him to decide that the germs and bacteria crawling all over that thing weren't that bad.

So, later, I go to cut a piece of cheese... and there's this teeny tiny piece of handi-wrap wrapped around this honkin' piece of cheese.

You would think if someone were going to wrap up some cheese... THEY WOULD WRAP IT UP ENTIRELY.

The piece of handi-wrap didn't even cover one side!  When I asked him about it he said he thought he should just cover the open end.

Um.... OKAY!

I'm such a perfectionist, this kind of stuff literally makes me go into convulsions.

On the up side... I got him to write ONE thank you this morning.  Then he stopped.  Before putting the card in the envelope and addressing it.  (Holy Non-Committal, Batman.)  All because he had to get ready for work...  Apparently "getting ready for work" translates into searching for people on Face Book.

REALLY?!

Am I just experiencing this because I haven't "trained" him in yet?  Or do I have to brace myself for a lifetime of this?

Somebody PLEASE tell me how I can make it stop.

I've got something bothering me lately and it sucks because I have no idea what it is. I'm partially upset because people are not allowing me to drink (because it's disallowed by religion). I want to try vodka and chardonnay, but no, I'm not going to because I want to be true to my religion. I'm not like ze bitch who drinks, smokes and who totally doesn't fit the criteria of being a "wanita soleha" but yet she has won the heart of someone who wants a religious wife.
(Siapa yang perasan maka dialah orangnya)

I'm still contemplating on whether I should pierce my navel or not. Should I or should I not? I'm also planning to pierce another on my ear, and Liyana wants too! So maybe we shall go together kay. :)

Got my LCD fried, now I need to get another screen for my 2nd comp...

I'm bored and real tired. My eyes are swollen and it hurts when I blink.
I'm going to paint my nails now.

I am a supporter of gay marriage because if  a couple wants to become a union it should be their choice. For so many of my friends who live an alternative life style, the ability to marry gives them the ability to purchase affordable, employer sponsored insurance. It provides a greater connection to community, extended family, for some  tax benefits are available....I just think that banning legislation that allows two people who love each other fully commit is horrific.

Anyway, I was further irritated when the reporters interviewed some man who is part of the Quorum of the 70 (a church leader) who said that the Church's opposition to the gay marriage legislation in California is because they with-hold the sanctity of the traditional family. I thought at the time, you "unimaginable, ignorant, bastard...in our day and age "traditional family" is a HUGE minority and if a family comes together in any way that provides unconditional love and support who has the right to question it?"

I am bothered on so many levels that I can't even articulate at this point.

But I am highly offended that a UTAH based church incited those with California voting privileges to vote in a religious block....

My tongue has this really dry feeling and it is burnt as well because I've been drinking a lot of hot tea to make myself have an adrenaline rush when the hot tea heats up my tongue. Hah, damn cheap trill, yes. My throat feels dry too, eventhough I drank a lot of water today. I drank a bottle of water from my Nalgene, a bottle of Kickapoo, and 2 packets of Peach Tea from recess til dance, and yet I still feel dry. And now, I'm losing my voice. My voice is already quite deep, having a sore throat would make my voice even more sexy.

I don't want to fall sick. No way. :(

I don’t think that’s the case anymore. Yes, some nations are still looking to us to help them with their problems, but they don’t want to emulate us. They want a free handout just like a lot of Americans and illegal immigrants. Some nations want nothing to do with us. That’s fine. Give them their wish. We shouldn’t send one penny to any other nation until we have ours back on its feet. Our deficit is atrocious!

Why is it that our country can no longer balance its checkbook? Why are we letting our government do this to our nation? What ever happened to living within your means and only spending what you actually had on hand? What happened to common sense? We need to stop giving money to other nations until we get ours back under control. Scratch that. We need to stop giving money to other nations. PERIOD! But we do need to get our spending under control.

It’s amazing to me what greed can do to a nation, a government, a people. Isn’t that what this is really all about? Be honest! It isn’t just our businesses that are succumbing to greed. It’s our government. How can you hold businesses to a higher standard than you hold your government? Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing when our government spends money it doesn’t have? That’s exactly what some of these businesses did. They’re now folding. Do we need to “fold” our government and start again? I really don’t know how we would do that when no two people agree on how the government needs to be in the first place, but it’s an interesting question. I would just like to see our government spend real money instead of these astronomical amounts. Where do all those funds come from anyway? Seriously. Where is the government coming up with these funds to bail out our financial institutions? If they have all these funds to bail out these companies, why haven’t they paid off the national debt? Shouldn’t THAT come first?

Our leaders need to rely on social security just like the rest of the nation. They have their own plan. 1) How fair is THAT? 2) No wonder social security sucks. Screw that! If our politicians had to rely on the same benefits as the rest of America, we would probably see reform in a LOT of areas in this country. What happened to “government of the people, by the people, for the people”? It seems like its more government to jip the people, get them in debt, and make them feel as though their heads will never be above water again. 

Yeah, so rant done. What are your thoughts on this? Do you have answers to these questions? Do you feel the same way I do?

Case in point; I'm all stressed out right now because there's someone (not naming names) whom I've not seen in a little more than a week and a half.  The last time I visited was a quick in-and-out while I dropped off something this person had asked me to pick up, and then I continued on my busy way.  My life since then has been pretty hectic, and it seems like the only times I find myself with a few free minutes to call are at odd hours when I'd be uncomfortable disturbing this person.  The guilt is mounting.

The frustration is also mounting, though, because I highly suspect that this person is upset with me for not calling or coming by (I can't know, of course, but the assumption is far from unreasonable; this sort of thing has happened before, so there's precident).  While my life has been crazy, I know this person's hasn't been (sure, there are other stresses in this person's life, but a lack of free time isn't one of them).  Here's the thing; if this person gets frustrated because I don't call or come by, why doesn't s/he pick up the phone and call ME?  The road, as they say, does go both ways.

Sometimes my grandmother does this to me, too; she tends to not be hostile about it, though, so I don't mind naming her name.  She'll mention to her grandson that she's not seen me in a while and he'll say "well, you know her phone number.  CALL.  HER."  Her usual reply is "oh, no - I know she's busy; it's okay."  That comes off as passive-aggressive and dramatic here, but I know that's not how she intends it.

I'm not so sure with the other person, though, and I'm half-expecting an unpleasant confrontation about my failure to connect somtime in the not-so-distant future.

I'll try to get over there today.  Maybe I'll bring flowers.

Je ne fais pas exception à la règle. Malheureusement.

Non mais hein, en voulez-vous de l'ironie, en vlà! Avoir fait sa maîtrise en psychologie et ne plus savoir par quel bout prendre son fiston de presque trois ans en colère quasi-constante.

Désolant.

I have experienced this so many times and everytime I have this kind-of-fight at the petrol pump, I go all red with anger. Initially I never understood all this but with time and experience I can literally list down all their tricks!

Just today in the morning, I asked the petrol pump guy to fill petrol worth Rs. 150. The other guy who collects money started involving me in conversation like "do have change" n stuff like that which certainly diverted my eyes from the reading. Within about 3 seconds I could see Rs. 50 flashing on the display. I said "I asked for 150!" Innocently he said, "Sorry Madam, I heard just 50!" and filled petrol worth Rs 100. Experiencing similar situation before I said "I want the petrol worth the money I am paying! Dont even try to fool me !" He finally filled another litre after hearing from me that I am not going unless I get the right amount!

This situation definitely deserves this old n famous dialogue regularly heard from uncle and aunties "Its not about 50 or 100 rupees.. its about PRINCIPLES!!" Yeah.. I totally agree.. I accept these guys are poor and need some more money to earn their living but fooling people is certainly not the right means of making money.

So all I can do is tell everyone reading this post to be alert at the petrol pumps n fight to get things worth your hard-earned money!

I'm going to complain in public.

Sure, I complain to friends and family every once and a while, but I don't want to be a labeled a "complainer" so I try to keep it to a minimum.  Right now though, it's all I can think to do.  There is just so much to complain about.

Obviously I'm not oblivious to the things I have to be grateful for.  I'm just having a hard time seeing those things.  All I can think about is the stuff I'm annoyed at, the things I don't want to do, and the people that are frustrating me.

For example, take this repair guy that came over to my house.  His name is an odd spelling of a name that I have associated with a famous female singer, so we'll call him Jesika.  That's not his name, thank goodness, but that's what I feel like calling him.

The back story behind why we had a repair man over is long and if I were to bring it up I would begin ranting up a category five hurricane.  Let's just say we have a short in our telephone wiring in the house and we called the maintenance company for our rental home to have them send someone qualified to take a look at the wiring.

Our past experience with this company tells us that most of the time they will send out some gross high school drop-out with a bucket of paint to literally cover our problems up.  "Leak in your piping?  Let me paint that over real fast and call it done."  So this time I called and made it very clear that this was no paint bucket job.  Someone who actually finished high school was going to have to come out and run diagnostics (something other than listening for a dial tone) to figure out where the short is and fix it.  I insisted and made myself crystal clear.

They sent Jesika.  Jesica is six foot three (or so), looks and acts like his dog (who I haven't met, but one can imagine) and behaves just like the three-year-old child he fathered but couldn't support.

Maybe I'm being a little harsh.  Nah, you'll see.

He knocked on the door, then stepped away to go inspect our telephone wire box (or whatever that thing is called).  I poked my head out the front door to look for him.

Of course, he's very polite.  "Hello sir, I hear you're having problems with the phone lines.  Did you call your phone company and make sure everything is hooked up right in the box?  It doesn't look like they hooked you up yet out here in the box."

"Uh, yeah...  We've been living here for a year and a half and the phones have been working fine the whole time.  We only started having problems this weekend."  I tried to cock an eyebrow at him, but I've never been very good at it.

"Oh, wow.  Really?  This isn't a new service?  Oh.  Wow.  OK."  Defeated, Jesika's head hung a little as he carried his bag of tools over to the front door.  He unzipped it and pulled out one of those dummy yellow handsets that are used to test the lines for service.  "Show me where your phone jacks are."

"We've only got two..."

"Of course you do.  Show me."  He wasn't listening to me at all, so I kept talking.

"...and they're both working fairly well - we can place outgoing calls just fine.  The problem is when other people call us.  No calls are coming in.  Sometimes it rings, sometimes it doesn't.  I called the phone company and they ran some diagnostics that said we have a short in the wiring."

While I talked we arrived at the first jack in the kitchen and he ripped our plug out to stick his tester thing in and check for a dial tone.  "Hum, yeah.  Sounds like it's working just fine."

"I think I already mentioned that we can place outgoing calls just fine from both jacks."  Of course there's a dial tone, moron.  I really wish I had finished that thought, we could have gotten the visit over a lot sooner.  "We can't receive calls."

So, Jesika dials his cell phone with our phone.  Yeah, that's right.  He placed an outgoing call.  His cell phone rang.  I really wish I had reeled back in shock and exclaimed, Oh my gosh!  You fixed it!  It works, you're a genius!  Of course, I didn't.  What a shame.  Should've, would've, could've.  Oh well.  "Well, that's my phone ringing, it's placing calls just fine."

"Yeah, I told you we could place calls just fine.  We can't receive any incoming calls."

So he whips his cell phone back out and asks me what our number is.  As soon as I begin reciting it he finds it in his incoming call log (he knew how to use his cell phone?!?) and hits "Send."

Every once and a while a call will come through.  It's rare (most of the incoming calls are dropped) but it does happen on occasion.  Lucky for us, his call didn't make it through.  I breathed a sigh of relief, and his brow furled.  "That's odd, it rang twice then went to a strange busy signal of some kind."

Wow, really?  You mean it didn't work?  Good thing you're here to fix it!  "Yeah, that's what's happening.  Sometimes that busy signal comes on, other times the call just gets dropped and the caller gets silence, and every once and a while it'll ring on our end but still drop the call."

Another side note:  The day before I came home for lunch after trying to reach my wife all day and went around the house trying to figure out what the problem was.  I pulled everything out of the phone jacks, I called the house several times, plugged individual items in, and just ran some basic troubleshooting steps to see if I could isolate the problem.  At the end of all the fiddling I was able to call the house.  The problem appeared to have resolved itself, but later it reappeared.  I don't know if fiddling with stuff fixes it for a call or two, or if the problem is an on again off again thing, but somehow it worked for nearly an hour yesterday.

Today, though, it wasn't me fiddling with stuff.  It was good ol' Jesika.  I followed him past our front door and down our hall on the way to the second jack in the bedroom (after our major breakthrough at the first jack).  I was explaining to him that I already knew the problem wasn't with our phones - we got good dial tones and outgoing calls on both jacks from both devices.  I reexplained that the phone company's diagnostic revealed a short in the wiring, which is why I had requested that a specialist come out to check all of the wiring for shorts.

I think I even went as far as to tell him that listening for a dial tone on the other jack would be a waste of time, or something to that effect.  He turned around to face me in our narrow hall.  "Well if you're saying that the wires need to be checked I'm not going to do that.  There's no way I'm going to rip all the wires out of the walls to check them."

"Well, I know the jack is working just fine.  The problem is in the wiring in the walls, not the jack.  You're welcome to inspect the insides of the jack, because the short could be there (though I didn't see one when I opened it up earlier in the day), but since it's working fine for outgoing calls I think the wires need to be checked."  Electricians can use special tools to locate problems along wires in the walls, don't (or shouldn't) phone repair people have similar tools?

Jesika became notably upset.  "You mean you don't want me to check the jack?  You know what, you're right."  He pushed his way past me back in the direction of the door.  "I guess I'm not the right man for the job.  Let me get out of your house."  He was storming off like my son does (my five-year-old son) after I punish him.  "You want the wires checked you need to get someone else in here to do that."

"Whoa, wait.  I'm not asking you to leave.  You're here, you're the repair man, please look at the jack."  I had to calm my voice as though I were trying to soothe an angry customer, which I learned to do working at the bank for so many years.  "I'm just telling you that there is a dial tone and that there is probably a short in my wiring.  I understand you have experience repairing phone wires, but if this problem isn't in the jacks I need the wires inspected.  You must understand, I need my phones to work.  As of right now, our cell phones don't work in the house because the cell phone service stinks here, and our phone stopped taking in calls this weekend so while I'm out I have absolutely no way to get my wife on the phone.  Surely you can understand my situation."

Reluctantly, like an angry child agreeing to do the dishes - but only because if he doesn't do them he won't get dinner - Jesika turned back around and went into the bedroom.   The rest of the visit was littered with instances of me trying to be nice and Jesika trying not to show how angry he was.

In the end he left our bedroom with no conclusion about the jack.  He had unscrewed it to inspect it, but when putting it back together he was careful to leave it in worse shape than it was when he found it.  The screws were all loose, though I had left them all tight and secure when I opened it.

He asked for the customer service number for our phone service and went outside to make the call.  A few minutes later he was calling to me through the opened door to inform me that a solution had been found.  "Call forwarding has been activated.  You need to turn it off."

"We don't have call forwarding, it's not part of our package."  My wife had set it up, and we had gone with the most basic, inexpensive package available.  No call forwarding.

"Well you do now, and it's turned on.  She says you have to dial star, star, seven, two to deactivate it.  You should hear a beep beep."  So I grabbed the phone, dialed the code and heard a busy signal.

By this time I was frustrated and wanted Jesika gone.  I used my cell phone (since we were outside it worked) to dial my house phone.  Partially to my relief and mostly to my horror, it rang.  I picked up and the connection was made.

If you've ever accused a young child of something he swore he didn't do, then had to admit that you were wrong later when you learned the truth, you know exactly what face was beaming at me when I looked up from the phone.  "It worked?"  His inquiry was rhetorical, at best.

"Yip, it worked."

He gloated to the lady in the phone.  "I told him I'm the best repair guy around.  He didn't believe me, but here he is thanking me for being the best guy they've got."

He was, in his view, quite congenial after that.  He shook my hand hard and eagerly retrieved a customer satisfaction survey card from his truck for me to submit.  He wanted to wait around for me to fill it out right there so he could read my praise before giving it to his boss.  I knew in my heart though that I would be writing about his immaturity, sloppiness and gloating spree.  I told him I'd turn it in later.

He left in a very proud, chipper mood.  A couple of hours later I decided to test the phones.  I sent my mother a text asking her to call our house.  The phone rang.  I picked up and got nothing.  It rang again and I picked it up quicker.  This time she was there.  I asked her what happened the first time and she said she got a busy signal after it rang a couple of times.

Oooooh.  I wanted to throw something and smash it.  Deep down inside though, I was just glad Jesika wasn't right.  I tested it again an hour ago, and it didn't even ring.  I heard the ringing in my phone, but no ringing in the house.  I tried that magic code again (even tried dropping one of the "stars" since it only produced a busy signal) and nothing worked.

So now, tomorrow I have to figure out what I'm going to do.  The phone company will send someone out to fix it, but I'd rather not go through them until I have determined for certain that the problem is not in our walls.  If the phone company repair guy find the problem on their side of the fence (from the box out to their company) they will fix it for free.  If the problem is inside our house, they will charge me $55 for the first fifteen minutes of work, and $20 for every fifteen minute increment afterward.  If it takes them forty five minutes to find and fix the problem, I'll end up spending nearly $100 to have something fixed that my maintenance people should have fixed.

This isn't the only frustrating, annoying or difficult thing I face tomorrow.  In fact, if I had a "skip one day free" card, tomorrow might be the day to use it.

Oh, if you'd like to send me condolences or your pity, don't bother trying to call.  I'm completely unreachable at home.  Wait until I leave my house tomorrow or just send me an e-mail.

Well, thanks for reading my rants.  Sorry I'm so boring lately.  It's been rough.  I think I'm managing to get through everything with most of my mind and a little sanity.  We shall see.  We shall see.

It does exist.  Believe me.  And it gets even stranger.

Being a music major, I have very little time to have a real job, so I have thus settled into to job of "choral librarian."  This job entails going through very old, and some very odd peices of music.  I have come accross such classics and "The Aria of Life" and "Life is Like a Bowl of Cherries" (which even after reading the text, we still couldn't quite figure out how life is like a bowl of cherries.  Oh well!  It's the berries!).  I feel like buring my hands every day after work, for I have no idea how old some of that music is and where it's been.

Of course, i really do have a point to this post -- a specific thing I would like to rant about that has little to do with actual music.  It's ROMAN NUMERALS.  Specifically, music publishers who write the music's copyright date in them.  Part of my job is cataloguing all of the music currently in the possession of the Southern Utah University choral department, which includes the copyright date and publisher.  I have gotten through approximately 180 pieces of music thus far, and about half of them I will have to go through later and translate the roman numerals to actual numbers to make the database look nice.

My question is, why do they do it?  It uses up more space, more ink, and more brain power.  Shawnee Music Inc. and Carl Fischer publishers are the worst culprits that immediately come to mind, which is odd because some of the oddest pieces of music I've found have come from them.  Perhaps they just want to improve the overall look of the music by making it look "more smart" with fancy roman numerals.

Oh well.  All in all, I don't look forward to the task.  And 180 peices of music databased, and I still have half the wall, another wall, and another entire room to catalogue.

And I've never been so excited about boxes -- We recently bought a bunch of boxes to store all the choir music in instead of icky folders that the music falls out of anyway.  They're Pretty.

There is no fog.

There is NO WIND.

In San Francisco.

I'm wearing short-sleeve shirts in the city at 7:00 A.M.

I'm sweating by the time I get to work.

The difference for me is that I have no financial backstop.  I have no salary.  I live virtually hand-to-mouth, which is terrifying.  BP, technically, is my financial backstop -- but that just makes my life more complicated. It means I will never actually starve, but I suffer mightily along the way.

Today, he decided that I needed to have my ass kicked a bit to encourage me to resolve an outstanding issue with which we are dealing.  We had a miscommunication on the nature of the issue, which happens.  The longer he is gone, the more we tend to miss things.  It's sad but true.  We're still 75% connected when we're apart, but when you're used to operating at 90% or more of total intuitive comprehension, that missing 15% can feel overwhelming.

I heard from the new new man today, but briefly and plainly.  I think he may be down because of something that is still extremely cool.  I suppose coming in second, twice, sucks no matter how cool the competition.  It sucks worse when you know you will not be invited to compete again.  It's difficult since we do not know each other well, yet.  I do not know how he prefers to be comforted in the face of disappointing news.  I expressed my regret and wished him the best.

My only real stress relief is exercise, so I look forward to hitting the trail or "exercising" my demons on my aerobic step.

I have no idea what will improve our economic situation as a nation.  I have no idea if my new business(es) with BP will work.  I have no idea how to get out of this messy financial turmoil.  That's really what BP is here to figure out.  Sadly, he's not here, so I have to figure it out myself with imperfect information, which leads to miscommunication, which leads to phone calls where he feels the need to challenge me and to make me fight back.  He keeps forgetting that I am a planner, not a fighter.  His little digs just make me think he's more of an asshole, rather than make me think of ways to improve myself.  I know who I am and what I am doing.  I know what his role is supposed to be.  He needs to do his damn job and let me do mine.