Dell seems to have come around to what the rest of the world pretty much already knows about me. My net worth is zero, so giving me money is seemingly a bad idear to a major gajillion dollar company. I'm what you would call a "risky prospect" to corporations who require credit to complete transactions.
The funny thing is, my credit is okay. It could and probably should be a helluva lot worse, but in my many times of trial, I have always taken great pains to make a monthly payment to each person I owe. Occasionally that has not been possible, but by and large, I get my shit taken care of, but have no accrued capital to provide me that elusive fiduciary security blanket I crave. I'm getting there, but as the kind associate at Dell informed me last night, I'm not a desirable candidate for financing at this time. Good gravy.
So basically, what I'm taking away from all of this is that after I have taken all of the pains to pay every little last thing down, after I have sifted through my credit to find exactly who the culprits were, who actually stuck a fork in my credit, I am no closer to achieving a lovely and functional laptop than I was a year ago. Maybe that's a little fatalistic, but I really do wonder, why are credit-based companies so eager to dole out money hand over fist when you have no money and no record of consistent repayment that they can see, but are so reluctant to assist when you are clearly on the upswing? It's peculiar, really.
So I guess my choices now are to somehow come up with a small hill of cash, or wait the 6 months until my credit shows the uptick and creditors start to see that I am indeed, a hardworking, bill-paying girl who just fell on hard finances while running down a dream. Sounds so poetic that way doesn't it? Too bad poetry can't get you a fucking computer.
My net worth remains at zero.....for now....
30 May, 2008
29 May, 2008
shade
So I have no computer right now. This means that my brain overflows with shit I want to write every night, and I either have to peck it out on my blackberry, or keep it all in and hope that it doesn’t all dry up and go away.
So now I’m sitting here with the time to write and my brain is empty. Whatta bitch. I guess I could comment on shadiness. Not the kind found under a large Maple, but the kind that tries to convince you that it’s just a matter of privacy. It’s an interesting discussion for sure.
I’m a semi-private person. I’m not really prone to opening myself up to strangers and all, but I like to open my home and my time to people I care about and want them to feel welcomed and at ease in my space. I do not however, want or expect people to sift through my belongings and poke their noses into spaces not meant for them. I believe most people have a good sense of decency and property and so I don’t worry about it much. Besides, whatever is found that may be unsatisfactory is on them that way. Some things are hit upon innocently and I think that is just the cost of doing business. Besides, if it's awkward for a moment, it can usually be explained away anyway. By and large though, I think my privacy measures are enough and I generally don't give my privacy or need for space, too much thought. I have enough.
What I find interesting and a little perplexing, are the lengths to which some people will go in the name of “privacy”. I have conducted a fairly thorough bit of research on this across both genders and a few different age groups as well, and I was startled at the number of people who were both very open about their privacy needs and who had very clear cut feelings on the "shadiness" front. The gist of the coversations, pretty unanimously went like this: if you are racing to keep things locked up and “private,” you probably have something to hide.
A sense of privacy, even from the most reclusive of my interviewees (and it is a well-developed sense of privacy) goes only to a certain point. Hiding is what comes next and if you are hiding something and guarding it all fiercely, then you have something for which you are ashamed. And if you are ashamed, he continued, you are aware that you are either breaking a trust or walking on a thin line. To boot, he added, those who are the most defensive and aggressive, are usually culpable, though they will deny it vehemntly. He said he knew this from being on both sides of the subject and his sentiment was backed up by several others. Interesting.....
But what about a deeply ingrained sense of protecting oneself? Not so, say my sources. The staunchest of the participants took pains to make it clear that where privacy and secrecy are concerned, they are two completely different things. Privacy yes, secrecy no. As one person put it, when it becomes a secret, it becomes somehow illicit in the mind of the hider and awkward and exclusive in a negative way, to those from whom the secret is so fiercely guarded. Anyone who refuses to even acknowledge how it looks, is just being ridiculous.
My conclusion now is pretty much what it was before, only slightly more informed, thanks to the people. So, according to me, if you appear to be shady, you probably are. This means that if someone in your life is acting shady, well....one can infer what comes next. What rocket science I’m coming out with, these days.
So now I’m sitting here with the time to write and my brain is empty. Whatta bitch. I guess I could comment on shadiness. Not the kind found under a large Maple, but the kind that tries to convince you that it’s just a matter of privacy. It’s an interesting discussion for sure.
I’m a semi-private person. I’m not really prone to opening myself up to strangers and all, but I like to open my home and my time to people I care about and want them to feel welcomed and at ease in my space. I do not however, want or expect people to sift through my belongings and poke their noses into spaces not meant for them. I believe most people have a good sense of decency and property and so I don’t worry about it much. Besides, whatever is found that may be unsatisfactory is on them that way. Some things are hit upon innocently and I think that is just the cost of doing business. Besides, if it's awkward for a moment, it can usually be explained away anyway. By and large though, I think my privacy measures are enough and I generally don't give my privacy or need for space, too much thought. I have enough.
What I find interesting and a little perplexing, are the lengths to which some people will go in the name of “privacy”. I have conducted a fairly thorough bit of research on this across both genders and a few different age groups as well, and I was startled at the number of people who were both very open about their privacy needs and who had very clear cut feelings on the "shadiness" front. The gist of the coversations, pretty unanimously went like this: if you are racing to keep things locked up and “private,” you probably have something to hide.
A sense of privacy, even from the most reclusive of my interviewees (and it is a well-developed sense of privacy) goes only to a certain point. Hiding is what comes next and if you are hiding something and guarding it all fiercely, then you have something for which you are ashamed. And if you are ashamed, he continued, you are aware that you are either breaking a trust or walking on a thin line. To boot, he added, those who are the most defensive and aggressive, are usually culpable, though they will deny it vehemntly. He said he knew this from being on both sides of the subject and his sentiment was backed up by several others. Interesting.....
But what about a deeply ingrained sense of protecting oneself? Not so, say my sources. The staunchest of the participants took pains to make it clear that where privacy and secrecy are concerned, they are two completely different things. Privacy yes, secrecy no. As one person put it, when it becomes a secret, it becomes somehow illicit in the mind of the hider and awkward and exclusive in a negative way, to those from whom the secret is so fiercely guarded. Anyone who refuses to even acknowledge how it looks, is just being ridiculous.
My conclusion now is pretty much what it was before, only slightly more informed, thanks to the people. So, according to me, if you appear to be shady, you probably are. This means that if someone in your life is acting shady, well....one can infer what comes next. What rocket science I’m coming out with, these days.
23 May, 2008
ugh.
That's about all I've got right now. I need a weekend full of sun and fun to recharge, pink up my cheeks and roll out the summer, dammit. I says I neeeeeeed it.
21 May, 2008
stoney
Not having a computer at home right now is driving me batty. I have been brimming with things to write and have virtually no outlet. Cruel, is what that is. But, I'm not really as broken up about it as I think I could be, because within the next few months, I'll just buy a new one, that's really nice and portable and full of useful and updated programs. Then I'll be able to fit in at the coffee shop and hipster boys will check out my hardware.
Until then, I take solace in the fact that at least I've got my shit together and provided I stay on the very track I'm currently cruising, I will be more wealthy financially, uber fit physically and pretty much stoked all the way around.
Until then.....Here is the best stoner news story I've come across in a while. For a seemingly sedentary and unmotivated bunch, they sure are creative.
Until then, I take solace in the fact that at least I've got my shit together and provided I stay on the very track I'm currently cruising, I will be more wealthy financially, uber fit physically and pretty much stoked all the way around.
Until then.....Here is the best stoner news story I've come across in a while. For a seemingly sedentary and unmotivated bunch, they sure are creative.
16 May, 2008
oesterreich, achtung!
What the hell is going on with the people of Austria? These people are nuts, I tell you. Either a disproportionate number of them are born with moderate to severe mental defect, or there is some sort of strange and upsetting undercurrent in that culture, which encourages really, really disturbing behavior. Really disturbing. I feel pretty safe in this assumption, because for such a small country they sure love to lock each other up for years at a stretch and hack each other to bits. In the last two weeks alone, there have been international news stories on everything from incest and captivity, to ax murder over an investment loss.
I mean, I guess it's good that they are all contained in one, tiny country, but that country is in the middle of Europe and those people can just roam around freely in the world. What if they leave Austria and try to populate other parts of that continent? What if they are super mobile and go into other continents like, say our continent? I'm approaching this from the view of mad cow or foot and mouth disease. See, the mad people, much like the mad cows, need to be quarantined, lest they infect the more normal people around them. Then there would be infected populations all over the world. It would be like SARS or bird flu...the ramifcations of such an epidemic could be catastrophic.
The upside of the mad Austrians, is that fortunately, they don't seem to be hurting strangers, so i guess the key to your safety is to not be related to or dearly befriend an Austrian. This of course, would ostracize the normal Austrian folk, but one can't be too careful now.
I realize that I, writing from the comfort of the United States, and New York, no less, really don't have a finger to point in terms of number of crazies in close proximity, but my country and state are both HUGE comparitively, so what I'm really aiming at here is the ratio of crazy to normal. I'd say Austria's got that won for sure.
I mean, I guess it's good that they are all contained in one, tiny country, but that country is in the middle of Europe and those people can just roam around freely in the world. What if they leave Austria and try to populate other parts of that continent? What if they are super mobile and go into other continents like, say our continent? I'm approaching this from the view of mad cow or foot and mouth disease. See, the mad people, much like the mad cows, need to be quarantined, lest they infect the more normal people around them. Then there would be infected populations all over the world. It would be like SARS or bird flu...the ramifcations of such an epidemic could be catastrophic.
The upside of the mad Austrians, is that fortunately, they don't seem to be hurting strangers, so i guess the key to your safety is to not be related to or dearly befriend an Austrian. This of course, would ostracize the normal Austrian folk, but one can't be too careful now.
I realize that I, writing from the comfort of the United States, and New York, no less, really don't have a finger to point in terms of number of crazies in close proximity, but my country and state are both HUGE comparitively, so what I'm really aiming at here is the ratio of crazy to normal. I'd say Austria's got that won for sure.
14 May, 2008
we are not all....
On my way home from the subway the last few days, I have seen an up-spring of Sean Bell paraphernalia plastered on some telephone poles and street signs. Stickers and flyers that say "We are all Sean Bell." On the cover of AM New York, there was a boy perched on a man's shoulders with a sign that read "I am Sean Bell."
But here's the thing. We aren't all Sean Bell and this whole issue with the protests surrounding the acquittal of the officers in that case, ties directly into something that absolutely baffles me. Why do the public seem to feel as though every tragic occurrence is something worthy of a dramatic outcry and hero-slash-villainization? Why are people downright emphatic about how they are just like a person who - terrible, accidental death or no - was in a shady place and put himself directly in harm's way? Why is a sad event that happened to an average person who purposely did something stupid with no humanitarian aim, suddenly the stuff from which a martyr is born? Driving a minivan directly at another human being means that Al Sharpton will come rushing to your aid?
Why is Al Sharpton "speaking out"? On what is he speaking out? On cops who were undercover and investigating prostitution and drugs in a seedy strip club, known more as a brothel? On a person at whom a large vehicle was being driven, as if to run him over? Is he speaking out against the officers who were looking for criminals rather than club patrons, celebrating a bachelor party? I don't get it.
What he should be speaking out against, is the young men of his community patronizing places of ill repute on the same day they are to be married. Who wants a tired, hungover groom? He should be speaking out against people who exacerbate an already potentially tense situation by getting fights outside the brothel / club and then subsequently turn their vehicles into weapons, aiming them at other people. He should be speaking out about the misapplication of public sympathy and he should be trying to calm those in the community who clearly don't understand why they are fighting, against whom they are fighting and what the real issue is at hand. He should be trying to bring the families together to grieve and, as an educated man and public figure, trying to promote dialogue and understanding. But he's not and they are not.
Instead, there are thousands of people getting together to protest the elusive "Man." I must interject here that I am no friend of the police, nor are they of me, but I am a fan of fairness and objectivity. I also think that it's tragic that Sean Bell's children are now without a father. I think it's horrible that his bride-to-be woke up to the worst, most painful phone call a person can receive. But those things, while sad and lamentable, do not warrant protests and signs and calls for justice and resignations and prosecution.
As an oft-labeled hippie and rights / fairness advocate, I think that everyone has missed the mark on this one. I'm not knocking the act of outcrying publicly, however I am most definitely knocking it in inappropriate circumstances.
Al, round up the troops and take a closer look at what's really going on here. Just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, does not mean that people have to fry. I make no moral judgement on Sean Bell or his friends and family, but for fucks sakes....do something good to honor your lost one and leave the signs out of it.
I am not Sean Bell, and neither are you.
But here's the thing. We aren't all Sean Bell and this whole issue with the protests surrounding the acquittal of the officers in that case, ties directly into something that absolutely baffles me. Why do the public seem to feel as though every tragic occurrence is something worthy of a dramatic outcry and hero-slash-villainization? Why are people downright emphatic about how they are just like a person who - terrible, accidental death or no - was in a shady place and put himself directly in harm's way? Why is a sad event that happened to an average person who purposely did something stupid with no humanitarian aim, suddenly the stuff from which a martyr is born? Driving a minivan directly at another human being means that Al Sharpton will come rushing to your aid?
Why is Al Sharpton "speaking out"? On what is he speaking out? On cops who were undercover and investigating prostitution and drugs in a seedy strip club, known more as a brothel? On a person at whom a large vehicle was being driven, as if to run him over? Is he speaking out against the officers who were looking for criminals rather than club patrons, celebrating a bachelor party? I don't get it.
What he should be speaking out against, is the young men of his community patronizing places of ill repute on the same day they are to be married. Who wants a tired, hungover groom? He should be speaking out against people who exacerbate an already potentially tense situation by getting fights outside the brothel / club and then subsequently turn their vehicles into weapons, aiming them at other people. He should be speaking out about the misapplication of public sympathy and he should be trying to calm those in the community who clearly don't understand why they are fighting, against whom they are fighting and what the real issue is at hand. He should be trying to bring the families together to grieve and, as an educated man and public figure, trying to promote dialogue and understanding. But he's not and they are not.
Instead, there are thousands of people getting together to protest the elusive "Man." I must interject here that I am no friend of the police, nor are they of me, but I am a fan of fairness and objectivity. I also think that it's tragic that Sean Bell's children are now without a father. I think it's horrible that his bride-to-be woke up to the worst, most painful phone call a person can receive. But those things, while sad and lamentable, do not warrant protests and signs and calls for justice and resignations and prosecution.
As an oft-labeled hippie and rights / fairness advocate, I think that everyone has missed the mark on this one. I'm not knocking the act of outcrying publicly, however I am most definitely knocking it in inappropriate circumstances.
Al, round up the troops and take a closer look at what's really going on here. Just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, does not mean that people have to fry. I make no moral judgement on Sean Bell or his friends and family, but for fucks sakes....do something good to honor your lost one and leave the signs out of it.
I am not Sean Bell, and neither are you.
12 May, 2008
parenting advice from a non-parent
I'm just going to go out on a limb here and share some parenting tips I have picked up during my travels. This shit is advanced, so pay attention, because there is a lot of good information here.
prisoner of...
"Man, you're so jumpy!"
"Well can you really blame me for being a little jittery?"
"Hahahaha, no, I guess I really can't. But you should just do what the P.O.W.'s did in Vietnam, and just live in your mind."
"But I don't want to have to be like a P.O.W. when I'm around you."
"Oh."
"Well can you really blame me for being a little jittery?"
"Hahahaha, no, I guess I really can't. But you should just do what the P.O.W.'s did in Vietnam, and just live in your mind."
"But I don't want to have to be like a P.O.W. when I'm around you."
"Oh."
08 May, 2008
of course.
Here are things that are certain constants and that have happened to me in the last 24 hours.
*When I am running down the steps to a train whose doors are about to close, there will be a tiny, little, useless woman with long, black hair in front of me strolling as if she intends to hold up the progress of those behind her. She will hear the conductor begin to say "Stand clear of the closing doors," and even after three excuse-me's, she will not quicken her pace. This always happens to me when I'm in a rush or when the train is about to leave and next time, I'm pushing her down and enjoying it.
*When I'm on the train to work in the morning and am sitting a seat apart from a man who has is slouched in the seat with his legs out wide, and I'm reading peacefully. As the doors open to let more passengers in, the one who bolts into the train - her eyes glued to the seat between us - to fill the center seat, is a hugely fat woman, who on her own would take up 2 seats. She rushes over and plops her ass down on the seat so hard that it hurls my body away and into the space occupied by someone else's knee, leaving only my left cheek on the bench. As if to add insult to shoving, she then spreads her elbows out nice and wide and applies makeup for the next 4 stops. I really thought about nudging her elbow at a strategic time, as she held her mascara brush up to her eyes.
*And the final fun example from the last 24 hours....the day when I get up 35 minutes early and leave my house 25 minutes early, I am barely on time for something for which I needed to be, that's right, early. Same route, same trains, same commuters. Amazing.
There, I've let them all go and I can now return to my regularly scheduled day of fun and funds.
*When I am running down the steps to a train whose doors are about to close, there will be a tiny, little, useless woman with long, black hair in front of me strolling as if she intends to hold up the progress of those behind her. She will hear the conductor begin to say "Stand clear of the closing doors," and even after three excuse-me's, she will not quicken her pace. This always happens to me when I'm in a rush or when the train is about to leave and next time, I'm pushing her down and enjoying it.
*When I'm on the train to work in the morning and am sitting a seat apart from a man who has is slouched in the seat with his legs out wide, and I'm reading peacefully. As the doors open to let more passengers in, the one who bolts into the train - her eyes glued to the seat between us - to fill the center seat, is a hugely fat woman, who on her own would take up 2 seats. She rushes over and plops her ass down on the seat so hard that it hurls my body away and into the space occupied by someone else's knee, leaving only my left cheek on the bench. As if to add insult to shoving, she then spreads her elbows out nice and wide and applies makeup for the next 4 stops. I really thought about nudging her elbow at a strategic time, as she held her mascara brush up to her eyes.
*And the final fun example from the last 24 hours....the day when I get up 35 minutes early and leave my house 25 minutes early, I am barely on time for something for which I needed to be, that's right, early. Same route, same trains, same commuters. Amazing.
There, I've let them all go and I can now return to my regularly scheduled day of fun and funds.
06 May, 2008
curious
Now, I don't have too much time to write right now, but I absolutely must comment on 2 peculiar things that just happened to me. Both, not ironically, were at the post office, which ranks in the top 3 of places I loathe.
First: There is a handy little machine outside the main office where you can weigh a letter or parcel, obtain postage, pay and mail right there, without the interminably long burden of waiting in line. I've used it before. It lessens the sting of having to go in and actually deal with the postal employees. So I walked in and took my place, third in line for the nifty, time-saver machine.
Watching us was a postal employee. He stood, idle, drinking some sort of juice beverage from a straw with glazed eyes, resting one of his arms on his protruding belly. He waited a good 5 or 6 minutes for the first person in line to get frustrated and walk away. He then waited for the second person in line to get frustrated and begin an animated tirade at the machine. This ate up another 5 minutes. After observing all of this for over 10 minutes (yes, I timed it), he finally walked up and said to the lot of us (3 more people were behind me at this point),
"Uh, O yeah, that thing's broken. Been broke all week."
Ugh.
So I walked inside to take my place with the other drones who had the life sucked out of them by the US Postal Service. And we trudged and waited, as if part of a scraggly chain gang shuffling along in the chow line. And then I looked at the tellers and burst into laughter.
One of the tellers had a fantastic 70's style shaggy haircut, the front part hairsprayed into a beautiful feathered wave that pulled the hair back from his face. He had a shiner. I wonder.....how did he get that shiner? His orbital seemed to be in tact though, so he couldn't have been hit that hard. My thought is that the fat, juice-drinker outside had a grudge against mister feathered-bangs and waited juuuuust long enough for someone to get pissed off at the machine. Irritated and irate, the rampant Postal Service guest went...uh...well, postal (ahhthankyou) and boxed the teller in the peeper.
Good stuff.
First: There is a handy little machine outside the main office where you can weigh a letter or parcel, obtain postage, pay and mail right there, without the interminably long burden of waiting in line. I've used it before. It lessens the sting of having to go in and actually deal with the postal employees. So I walked in and took my place, third in line for the nifty, time-saver machine.
Watching us was a postal employee. He stood, idle, drinking some sort of juice beverage from a straw with glazed eyes, resting one of his arms on his protruding belly. He waited a good 5 or 6 minutes for the first person in line to get frustrated and walk away. He then waited for the second person in line to get frustrated and begin an animated tirade at the machine. This ate up another 5 minutes. After observing all of this for over 10 minutes (yes, I timed it), he finally walked up and said to the lot of us (3 more people were behind me at this point),
"Uh, O yeah, that thing's broken. Been broke all week."
Ugh.
So I walked inside to take my place with the other drones who had the life sucked out of them by the US Postal Service. And we trudged and waited, as if part of a scraggly chain gang shuffling along in the chow line. And then I looked at the tellers and burst into laughter.
One of the tellers had a fantastic 70's style shaggy haircut, the front part hairsprayed into a beautiful feathered wave that pulled the hair back from his face. He had a shiner. I wonder.....how did he get that shiner? His orbital seemed to be in tact though, so he couldn't have been hit that hard. My thought is that the fat, juice-drinker outside had a grudge against mister feathered-bangs and waited juuuuust long enough for someone to get pissed off at the machine. Irritated and irate, the rampant Postal Service guest went...uh...well, postal (ahhthankyou) and boxed the teller in the peeper.
Good stuff.
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