If You Can't Say Something Nice...
Say Something Vague

Sooooooooo.........tired...................must sleep........................soon..........................

Moved on Saturday. Steamed, spackled, scrubbed last night till 9 at old apartment, then drove to Anaheim and carried clothes (by myself!) on hangers into new apartment. Took 10 trips. Very hot. Went to bed at 1:00 a.m. Going back to old apartment to pack dishes and mop floor one last time. Then done. And sleep. And sleep. And sleep.

Here is a mark of how tired I am: I was given the new Harry Potter book as a gift yesterday, and I haven't even OPENED it. ME!! Not reading a book!! Bad sign.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Oooh, the new and improved blogger. Now my life is complete.

I'm afraid I'm going to have to disagree with Mike Axeen: No Doz has probably saved my life--and those of countless people on the freeways--for the last two days. Running on 4 hours sleep yesterday (and 5 today), I made it through the whole day on two tablets. I'm not saying that this is a lifestyle habit I wish to adopt, just that under the circumstances I'm facing right now (primarily MOVING), they have been very useful. The only difference I've noticed is that I am more fidgety than normal. And I'm pretty fidgety under the best of circumstances. That, however, is a side effect that I can deal with for the temporary aid that I'm getting.

I know that I will sound like a crazy person saying this, but McDonald's new fruit & yogurt parfait (*when you name it something french or french-sounding, you can automatically charge more) is the best yogurt I've ever had. It's this really yummy vanilla-y yogurt. Mmmmm. And the fruit's actually pretty fresh. I know! Who would think?

I'm so tense. Argh. Moving is a huge ordeal. I cannot understand why the wagon trains were so eager. Yuck. And it doesn't end there, oh no. So I get to remain sleep deprived for at least another week. I want to turn in my leased car over the holiday weekend but I don't want to pay a lot for the wear & tear I've inflicted on it. So in a bid to make it look like I've pampered the car for the last 3 years (ha!), I want to get it detailed next week, and see if it's possible to have some of the scratches buffed out. I've already gone over on mileage, so I'll get screwed there. But I get to lease a new car, assuming that I can afford it after paying for damages on this one. Why, oh why, is life so complicated?!?! So...if you have any suggestions for mobile buffers/detailers, please let me know--I'd appreciate it!!

My recommendation to everybody out there is to avoid any freeway that I may be driving on in the morning. The combination of late nights packing and my eternal drive to work are taking their toll; if it weren't for my fleet of swift guardian angels, I'd be roadkill by now. Both yesterday and today I've suddenly realized my eyes were closed moments before hitting another car. This is very, very bad. I'm really, really concerned about this.

Can anyone tell me if those caffeine pills (like No-Doz) are okay to take? I may have to rely on them for the next four or five days until my commute is considerably reduced. Particularly since I have no great desire to die or kill anyone. I heard a snippet on the radio this morning that overfatigued drivers are the biggest cause of accidents. Not that this news is surprising, but it certainly was timely for me.

Calgon, take me away!

Apparently the only way to get into see my doctor is to be on the brink of death. Or at least to tell them you are.

I've had a deep, ugly cough for over a month. (If you've heard me cough recently, you can understand why people avoid me wherever I go. Like I have SARS, or typhus, or TB) I was so sick that I missed three days of work (and I never miss work) and spent an entire weekend sleeping. During the three days that I was out, I tried to get in to see the doctor and was rejected. Instead they gave me a prescription over the phone. I took the antibiotic loyally for 7 days and only got marginally better. Next thing I knew, last week I was feeling horrible again.

Thursday I badgered the doctors' office all day until Friday I was finally successful and got to go in to see the doctor. Not my doctor, mind you, but the other one in the office who had some availability, Dr. Ngaw (pro. Dr. Na). First, though, she had to review my chart and decide whether I could come in or not. Since when do you have to have permission to be sick???

So I go in to see Dr. Ngaw (or, Dr. Ngaw-t my doctor!) and I'm told that I have all of these things wrong with me: elevated blood pressure, elevated pulse, low-grade fever, an ear drum that is red and irritated, and bronchonia (my word for--"probably bronchitis, but maybe pneumonia"). Only then do they decide to have a blood work-up to check my white blood cell count, and some chest x-rays to see if it is indeed pneumonia. So you must be at death's door to be taken seriously. I wonder if now they feel bad for giving me the runaround, or at least a little guilty for treating me like I'm some kind of hypochondriac!! Bastards.

And now comes the fun of continuing to cough and take their stupid little ineffective antibiotic while they take 2-3 days to come back with the results of what could be wrong with me. Meanwhile I have my boss asking me if I'm contagious, and people giving me a very wide personal space. I'll either be dead or recovered before I ever hear whether I just have severe bronchitis. Gotta love the medical field!

Not to be outdone by Amanda, here's the most recent (and bizarre) dream I can remember:

I dreamt a cross between Harry Potter and the Matrix.

I dreamt that Jason and I were trying to navigate through a world full of muggles (non-magic people) to get back to the magic world (apparently we were magic people). There was a shortcut where you pulled a branch at this cliff and it would form a sort of bridge to the base of the cliff where there was a telephone that you had to call Dumbledore from (he's the head wizard at Harry Potter's school).

So in the dream, Jason decided to be all chivalrous and let all of these muggles go down the bridge because they were being terrorized in their world by dark wizards. I was really mad because he let 91 of them past (don't ask me why I knew it was 91; I just knew). And because he let them all past, there wasn't time for us. So we were running through the muggle world, invisible, but trying not to run into anyone because we could still be felt and then the dark wizards might find us.

Finally (I don't remember how), I was able to get the bridge down again and slid to the bottom, to the phone and I went to call Dumbledore but there was no dial tone; something had apparently happened to the operator. So I just stood there calling, "Dumbledore! Come save us! Dumbledore!" Then I woke up.

Weird, huh?

I think I have the monkeypox!! I have these six tiny mysterious bumps on my right forearm. Jason says that they're spider bites, but I'm not so sure. Yeah, sure, the spiders have been invading my apartment (2 in the last week, thank you very much!), but I don't see the connection....it's monkeypox!

I also wanted to make a quick statement: Jenny Smith is a fabulous friend. I know that this doesn't come as a great surprise to those of you who know her, but I wanted to state firmly that she is what a friend should be: considerate, thoughtful, a good listener, a great supporter, etc. Everyone should have a Jenny Smith!

And now for my new favorite site: Don't miss out on Yoga Kitty!

Every day when I drive to or from work I pass the Whittier Blvd of Cars giant LED sign. At the screen at the top of the sign, it says the time of day--for instance, 7:45. A couple of feet below that, though, the other screen says "Whittier Time Is", and the time is always different. It's off by something like two minutes. So if it's 7:45 in the rest of Southern California, it's 7:43 in Whittier. I wonder if you have to get special zoning permits to do that?

Jason and I had a disagreement a couple of weeks ago because I insisted that men had one less rib than women because God created woman from man's rib. But he told me that I was pathetically under-educated as far as anatomy goes, and that men and women have the same number of ribs. He seems to think that because he's a medical type person that his belief holds a certain amount of credibility that mine does not. Is he right?? Have I been wrong all these years? I'm feeling a little stupid....

Apparently the next celebrity/public figure to die was Hume Cronyn. I liked him. But he and Jessica Tandy were SO in love and she died about eight years ago, so he's probably been really lonely for her.

On the 29th I am going to be confirmed as an Episcopalian at my church, All Saints in Pasadena. I'm really excited. I've been going through this nine-week membership class on Sunday nights where we get an introduction to the Anglican church, and spend most of our time in small groups talking about spirituality and how we've come to where we are at present. It's really cool because overwhelmingly all of the people in my group were seeking something in a church, but they didn't know what it was until they got to All Saints. Since that was my experience too, it's really exciting to me to make these connections. Of course, being the book and research nut that I am, I want to learn everything about the Episcopal church now. I actually found this site really useful when I was first considering trying an Episcopal church. The Episcopal Church in the United States is a part of the Anglican Church throughout the world, also known as the church of England.

Seeing as how I'm a total Queen Elizabeth I fan, this seems only fitting. Queen Elizabeth and I share the same birthday. She admired the tradition and liturgy of the Catholic church, but she favored the openness of the Protestant church--in fact, she was the reason that the Church of England gained such dominance throughout the world in the 15th century. Just like me! We're exactly the same. Except for that whole being queen thing. And being a world power. And being extraordinarily rich. And having loads of movies made about me....

While I recognize that many people may not agree with the stance of the church on key issues, for me it has really become a spiritual and emotional home. It resonates so strongly with my beliefs about social justice issues and politics. I have never been so excited to go to church on a Sunday morning as I am now!

Anyway, I know that this may not be terribly exciting to everyone else, but it's very cool for me. :)

Death, death, death. I heard this morning that journalist David Brinkley has died, and I just got a "Breaking News" update that actor Gregory Peck has died. Of course, I thought he died a long time ago, so I'm not exactly heart-broken. But they say death comes in 3s. What celebrity/public figure is next? Maybe we should place bets. Or is that too morbid?

Surprise, surprise, still no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. But...how could that be? Our revered president [snicker, snicker, cough, cough] was soooooo confident in his information that he duped not only our country but the U.K. into unprecedented pre-emptive war on an already weakened infrastructure and demoralized populace. I love how GWB is now backpedaling, redefining his level of certainty. Prior to the war it was "We KNOW that Iraq has WMD", but now he says, "All evidence at the time suggested that Iraq possessed WMD". Well, with that kind of confidence, how can you go wrong??

Even good ol' Hans Blix today continues to toe the line, according to ABCNews. He says that the U.S. had shaky evidence and there's no proof of weapons at this point: "Well, they interpreted things that they were seeing, and they...some of the things they saw were not real." So they weren't outright liars, just delusional. Makes me feel so much better. I mean, why does this man even continue to keep up a facade of being respectful about this administration when they are clearly making the case that if the information was false it's the U.N.'s problem, and that the U.N. should shoulder the blame, rather than the biased U.S. information-gatherers?

I have no doubt that at some point WMD will be discovered, but the question is going to be the source of it. I wouldn't think it impossible that the U.S. would plant that information in order to justify their case--I know I sound like a conspiracy theorist, but I've just had it with the lying, underhandedness and shiftiness of the government right now. I heard a reporter on Fresh Air on NPR last night saying that in the '80s and '90s the Iraqis buried weapons and then paved over them with new roads. And he made the comparison that if you wanted to find WMD, using the broadest description, as the Bush administration does, you could find them right here in in NW Virginia, so it's not unlikely that SOMEthing will be found in Iraq--after all, we sold them a lot of that capability not all that long ago. It's more a question of whether the intent was actually there to use them in an imminent attack, as was theorized by the administration as the argument for swift action.


Props to Amanda for turning me onto this great little comic that very clearly articulates my point above!

I'm just not feeling too bloggy right now. Not sure why. It's not like there's SO much going on in my life that I don't know where to start. So I think I'll just briefly touch on a couple of subjects: The Matrix Reloaded and the lovely city of Anaheim (or as my co-worker calls it, Ana-Slime).

So, first, I'm now officially going to move behind the Orange Curtain, to the city of Anaheim. Found out yesterday. This is both exciting and depressing. Exciting because it's a much nicer apartment than the one I live in now in a cute little building, and I'm embarking on a whole new chapter of my life, and it's only 16 miles from work instead of my current 55. Depressing because I am going to be grossly outnumbered as a liberal Democrat and because nearly all of my really good friends live in the San Fernando or San Gabriel Valleys. Undoubtedly I'm going to be doing a lot of driving to see them. I hope nobody forgets me or writes me off because I'll be living too far away. This is a concern of mine. :(

Oh yeah, and I think the neighborhood might be sketchy. Sort of good, with the potential for bad. Two miles from Disneyland, though, so I have a feeling loads of my friends are going to want to take advantage of that.

And now, the Matrix. I've now seen Reloaded twice and I'm still kinda confused. Does anybody know whether there's some kind of cheat sheet that explains the architect and the information imparted about the One? I've gotten down most of the stuff about Smith and the Oracle, but there are still some loose ends I'd like to tie up. (I don't want to go into too much detail in case someone reads this who hasn't seen it yet.) And what was the deal with that big Zion orgy in the cave?? Is the Malavingian (sp?) a program or a human? Oh, so much information.

But I loved the action sequences. I've discovered in my mid-twenties a certain bloodthirstiness that I was lacking previously. I now love fight scenes if they are really well choreographed like Neo on the playground with Smith(s), or with the agents in the alley at the beginning, or the entire freeway sequence. My only critique of the playground scene was that there were points where I thought Neo looked totally animated. And I don't like the whole Neo/Superman thing. Like that hasn't been done to death.

Anyway, if you know of someplace--online maybe?--that I can get the unofficial low-down on the movie, please let me know! I'd appreciate it.

So I heard this ad on the radio for the new Jeep Rubicon, or something like that. They describe it as a capable Jeep vehicle. Oooh, temper that enthusiasm, man!

Since when has capable been a complimentary thing to say? When did it become gushing praise?

"My brain surgeon sure is capable." "My oncologist, now that's a capable woman." "I sure am glad that the guys in charge of nuclear weaponry are capable of doing their jobs!" "Whew! Good thing the president is capable."

Oops! Went too far on that last one. ;)

Just for the record, and in case you thought otherwise, bronchitis sucks. Truly. I've been out of work all week because of it. I've actually been sick since Friday, so I've been totally lame. And I'm so tired of my own company. I haven't talked to any of my friends and I haven't done anything productive except see Matrix Reloaded. (Awesome, by the way--must see it again, though. Confused.)

Don't you just hate it when someone else tells you to do something, and then you get burned and you can't say 'but he/she told me to' unless you want to look like some whiny baby? My manager and a VP told me to send these documents to our president in Israel via email. My manager said not to send a Word attachment, but instead to copy the text into the body of the email. The president responds back with "Next time send a Word doc". Then the VP tells me to send this REALLY large file as HTML so that it won't be so big. The president responds back, "Never send me HTML again. Send Word docs". Grrrrrrrrr.

And now, joy of joys, begins the new residence hunt. I HATE, HATE, HATE the entire moving process. Looking for places, calling, going to see them, changing over all your utilities. And then the actual MOVE. Ugh, it's such a pain. However, I cannot continue my 110 mi/day commute. It takes too long. I get absolutely nothing done because I get home late, eat dinner, go to bed and then--lo and behold--back to work! So now I embark on the great adventure of finding a 1 bdr/1 ba, cat ok, w/d, parking, etc. Fun, fun, fun.