Fake it

•November 24, 2009 • Leave a Comment

We’ve all been in those situations, where we are challenged to rise to the occasion. Beyond our experience, beyond our skill level, beyond our brain capacity. We’re stunned.

Today I shimmied a little closer to the edge of the ledge. The pit of my stomach churned. The days of Geocities and Frontpage were gone. The days of making dead sites for class exercises were gone. This was the real deal. What am I doing? The programs need serial numbers, updates, and the third party plugins. The manuals cover everything EXCEPT importing. Am I staring right at it? I know I’ve never been able to read long passages on computers. Maybe I’m skimming too fast. Why is this so hard? I taught myself GoLive. This is a watered down version. Actually, this is a like iPhoto. The password doesn’t work, The basic starter kit-design-a-website-out-of-this-box program the current webmaster has been using doesn’t allow importing or editing of pre-existing html pages. You’ve had Dreamweaver for a few years now, and you’re still intimidated by it. It’s worse than your fear of Adobe Illustrator during your first year in the commercial art program. You’ve done far more with Fireworks and Crystal Reports than you have with Dreamweaver. Better dive in now. You’re webmastering this site as a volunteer. Thankfully no one can see you clam up, the palms and hairline balmy the face flushed, and the throat tightening, you can feel the blood threatening to blow up the veins.

Breathe.

the WYSWYG application (which I doubt that’s the proper string of technical acronymns) automatically gets files, but I have no idea where it puts them and hope I don’t ever need to know. Start small. Find some HTML to hack, and modify the text, and off we go. Upload. Publish live. Refresh. Exhale. Mental talk: I can do this. I can do this. I did do this. I can do this. I don’t need a class to figure this out. Don’t fight it. This isn’t too advanced for you. You will learn to be proficient. You will use this to cheat and as a learning tool to learn web programming. You want to play with the big kids, you got to stand tall. Can’t win if you don’t play. You can do this. You will do this.

At least this is volunteer, and I’m not quite on my own yet, as the webmaster isn’t abandoning ship just yet. I took this on to force me to learn and build on the basic understanding I have. I don’t understand the abstract concept of web programming, so I have to have the visual aspect integrated in with it. It’s time to make some progress.

Dreaming of Tomorrows that Never Arrive, part I

•November 14, 2009 • Leave a Comment

The standard “how are you?” has always been a question I wish would be removed. No one really cares how you are. Why ask? It is a pointless question. People don’t even wait to hear the answer or wait for you to make the same inquiry before answering with “Good.” Or they move on to another topic or turn away even before you’ve answered. Even as a kid, I used to always reply the same, “Fine.”

I read somewhere, when females say they are “fine,” it really means they are not fine. This is often the case with me. Even when I felt good, I would have the same reply. In the recent years, I’ve decided this can come across as standoffish. I keep making attempts to behavior modify my withdrawn and intrinsic personality into becoming more comfortable taking on Type B personality traits.

Type C personality: I’m tempted to ignore this useless ritualistic question whenever asked.
I’ve shifted from a Type C to a Type A in some ways. The two conflict. In this matter, they agree. The Type A feels impatient and like small talk is a waste of time and energy. Say what you mean, and mean what you say. The Type C in me just doesn’t want to deal with the mindless blather of unnecessary conversations.

On instant messenger, a old online friend and I were doing some catching up. We were each going through what we had been pre-occupied with, and of course mention of relationships, love interests, dating, what-have-you naturally came up. I’m not revealing his identity; he knows who he is if his eyes should ever chance to stumble on this. His (and my) screenname was modified to protect his identity.

Friday November 12, 2009. Excerpt (edited) from instant messenger conversation
[. . . ]
11:21:56 PM king4: i was in a long relationship
11:21:58 PM king4: it crumbled
11:22:01 PM king4: i got depressed
11:22:03 PM king4: lost my job
11:22:08 PM king4: lost my apartment
11:22:10 PM king4: etc..
11:22:23 PM king4: and went into a tail spin pretty much
11:22:26 PM king4: but i picked myself up
11:22:29 PM king4: learned from it
11:22:33 PM king4: and ima better person now
11:22:40 PM :þ Crazy A: aww.
11:23:00 PM :þ Crazy A: was the break up pretty bad, worse than most?
11:23:19 PM king4: yeah kinda as bad as one could get i suppose
11:23:37 PM king4: no cursing out eachother
11:23:39 PM king4: no violence
11:23:44 PM king4: but sad as hell
11:23:46 PM king4: crying alot
11:23:49 PM king4: depression
11:24:16 PM king4: i stopped living for tomorrow
11:24:21 PM king4: and readjusted my life
11:24:36 PM king4: i lost years of todays just dreaming about tomorrows that never came
11:24:41 PM king4: so now i live in the moment
11:25:03 PM king4: take it day by day
11:26:12 PM :þ Crazy A: good.
11:26:25 PM king4: wanna hear music?
11:26:31 PM king4: something im listening to now atm
11:26:51 PM :þ Crazy A: I guess I’ve been dreaming of tomorrows that will never arrive, lately
11:26:56 PM :þ Crazy A: sure!
11:28:00 PM king4: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aciWCtrPIsw
11:28:24 PM king4: just have patience and try to maintain inner happiness
11:28:28 PM :þ Crazy A: oh, yeah I like DC for Cutie
11:28:35 PM king4: i literally repeat”im happy”
11:28:37 PM king4: about 50 times when i almost get sad
11:28:43 PM king4: and it works for me kinda like meditation
11:28:53 PM king4: sounds weird but it works
11:29:07 PM :þ: Whatever works. we all do self talk
11:29:26 PM king4: :-)
11:31:23 PM king4: so whats been wrong with u
11:31:55 PM :þ: So you just gave me an idea to reflect on. maybe it’ll turn into a poem too… i dunno. It’s been awhile since i’ve written any poems
11:32:30 PM :þ Crazy A: I blog and privately journal alot lately.
11:32:44 PM king4: i was just about to ask about that
11:33:04 PM :þ: wrong with me… well [...]

Maybe this is why I don’t let myself have much hope in life, in people, in anything. It surely must be why I don’t let myself daydream. Because, I have been daydreaming a lot lately, and it seems to only be hurtful to myself. I dream of tomorrows that never arrive. I dream of a sense of belonging, a place to call home, a person I can feel completely at home with, and none of it ever becomes reality. All that is left is disappointment, and the more disappointed I feel, the more lonely I feel.

Look, but don’t touch.
I did not like being told this as a child, and somehow it has contaminated my life. Look at the successful, but don’t touch, because you are not. Look at the happy couple off to honeymoon in faraway exotic places, but don’t touch, because you still have yet to have a relationship last longer than 7 months, or even a healthy relationship. Look at the harmonious family, but don’t touch, because your family relations are tense, and somewhat estranged. Look at the young and adventurous, but don’t touch, because you have too many responsibilities and health problems and know better.

Tomorrow will bring success
Tomorrow will offer unexpected wealth
Tomorrow will

ugh. The poetic chi must be rusty at the moment. I’ll dwell on it and come back to it, like I always do have with attempts at poetry and song lyrics.

Mac OS makeover

•November 13, 2009 • Leave a Comment

The necessity to upgrade the trusty Intel powered Mac Pro workstation from Mac OS 10.4.11 Tiger to 10.6 Snow Leopard has turned into a must, one I was pleasantly surprised to get a 17% discount on, since the company I currently work for has a partnership with Apple.

The package design was nice; the standard disk box die cut, opening up like a present, the corners folded in. I haven’t done much homework on this upgrade. I’m trusting to love it as long as my current applications such as Aperture, Quicktime Pro, menagerie of web browsers, printer, network settings, preferences, and naturally my files are still left alone and accessible. Preferrably, hiccup free.

40 minutes, a 2 hour commuting detour, severe lack of sleep, $153 dollars later, and we well see if it delivers the awe Apple has promised. I sure hate to be disappointed in it.

Stay tuned.

Friday Forecast: Sunny

•November 9, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Monday arrived riddling my hands and body with arthritis. Foolish of me to limit the use of the perfectly awesome Bionaire slim design heater that is ranked along side the workstation computer, large screen HD LCD monitor, and digital camera as my best investments. Up, and about. The sun is at full strength and Monday is marching on. Still in pajamas, still sniffling, but productive. Move aside body, Monday has arrived and you’re going to have to deal like it.

Last week I decided to give another try for GoDaddy. Persistence seems to prove the best overall. Most people apply or submit their resumé once to prospective employers. My approach, if an employer makes my A-list is to keep at them. It’s how I was hired for retail. I think I applied there four times before I got in. Computer sales, I applied in their system twice. The screenprinting company I submitted my resumé twice. I just took a call from GoDaddy this morning. They requested a second interview and I set one up for Friday to give me sufficient time to study the technical terminology I expect they will assess.

When my availability was an issue earlier this year, I sent the interviewer a nice thank you card. I’m hopeful and need to make sure to watch all my Ps and Qs closely this time around to secure a sure thing. While the position is not ideal, the company is. It would beef up my employment appeal as well to work for such a well-known, profitable, and reputable company.

Funny. just when my dating life fizzles, my prospects for employment heat up. The distraction is wholly welcome and needed.

Sunday Recap

•November 9, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Early this morning, M. left to catch her 6:30 am flight. She stayed with me over the weekend for a college friend’s wedding. She hadn’t changed much in physical appearance. Her hair was shorter and she was dressed a lil more age appropriately, and her clothes seemed to fit her better. Then again, how many teens and kids ever find clothes which suit them? We were on the same Eighth grade Blue team, in the same homeroom and in some of the same classes. I’d never considered her a friend while in school, and most of our conversations had revolved around school and academia. Though we were on the same Mock Trial team and competed at Drake for State Finals, on one or two occasions she came to my house and I went to hers. Likely for a class project. She was still awkward and ungraceful in her manner and her conversation, but a little less so.

There was mention of the good ole days. Surprisingly for once, I wasn’t feeling nostalgic. I turned the conversation for us to fill in what we’ve been doing with ourselves since those days of yesteryear. Somewhat relieved I wouldn’t have to do much entertaining, nor financial juggling to entertain. I ended up staying up late Saturday evening. Conflicted over a specific boy, I’ll dub B3. I heard M. rise and use my private bathroom, and gather her things and head out the door. I woke in time to hear my roommate next to me make a trip to the bathroom, and I thought shower. The half chihuahua, half mutt was asleep at the foot of my bed. I heard rustling. Disregarding it as the cat, I roused to use the bathroom, make a trip to the kitchen for a drink, and to see if my roommate was indeed in the shower or if I could stake first claim to the hot water. As I am just about to pass my open door and use the bathroom, I hear my roommate. I’m too groggy to actually hear. Must have been something to the effect of ‘watch out, it’s coming your way.’ I look out in the hall and my roommate is in a worn, faded t-shirt and shorts, holding a black fleece, hooded jacket like a lazy, improperly trained bullfighter. I look from him to the spot on the floor where his gaze is. I find a pigeon walking around, bobbing its’ head.

Here it comes, towards me. I tries to spring into flight, for a second, but decides to resume it’s tour into my room and then my bathroom. I half heartedly wave in it’s general direction and mumble something about ‘have at it, good luck,’ signifying to my roommate it is okay to follow it and rodeo it in my room. The pigeon had made it 4 feet into my room, and I had nearly tripped on it. By now the dog has caught on and trying to get in on the action, but staying a couple feet away. I pause briefly to consider if I should help to coral and corner it. I reason no. I go down the hall and continue to satisfy my thirst. I come back and the roommate and the bird are in my bathroom. I close all the doors to bedrooms and the main bathroom the male roommates share. I then go into the living room and open the front door. Who knows, maybe we will get lucky, it will see the bright streaming sunlight, and walk right out.

I walk back and the roommate is still with the black fleece jacket and the pigeon is still walking around. It considers the open door. The dog’s excitement makes it go to the corner, under and behind the couches. The roommate can’t see it, so I get down on the floor to find it. I know it’s in the far corner, and then I see it bobbing between the wall and the couch. I grab the broom from the laundry room thinking I’ll scare it out, but the roommate wants to run the show, and I have no problem letting him. All I can think about is how many diseases birds carry. Should I be worried about bird flu? I’m just starting to get over some sinus and cold crud. It would be just my luck to get bird flu from some random bird the cat decided to bring in.

The roommate’s tactics work, and the pigeon indeed bobs its head with beady eyes, and walks out. I noticed a slight limp or hesitancy, from what I assume is where the cat clamped it’s fangs into it.

Satisfied that was the end of it, we each returned to our particular routines. He showered, and I ate breakfast to wait for my turn. Even though I have a private bathroom, given the state of the house, I’m sure it’s to my own personal comfort to not shower at the same time since my bathroom is the furthest away from the water heater/furnace and my roommate enjoys long showers as much as I do.

I downloaded photos off of my compact flash memory card. I showered, dressed, and headed out to explore the State Fair desert style. It was good, more carnival than fair. I perused 3 of 5 exhibit buildings. Indulged in Indian Fry Bread with honey, a native American woven purse, and stumbled upon a great collectible frog salt and pepper set for my step-mother.

When I returned in the evening I walked in to find the living room and the hall generously decorated with pigeon feathers. Apparently the cat and the chihuahua decided to have a rematch with the pigeon from this morning. I chuckled and mentally scolded the animals. As I debated on the best way to clean up the evidence, I amused myself with envisioning the scenario.

Technological Trash and my influence

•October 17, 2009 • Leave a Comment

100 floppy disks processed. 30 of which I have no OSes able to even read the disks. Apple’s Powerbook 1400cs

Crazy to think back how I was the embarrassed 5th-12th grader to tote around a laptop to take notes and turn in typed homework for all my classes. Oh the days of Clarisworks v3, WinWord 6, Oregon Trail, Netscape Navigator, and AOL. Amazing how a PSD fit on a 1.44 mb disk with room to spare!

I realized at the age of 12 in the 1990s I used the pipe or | so… I ought to take that credit for that influence. I used it because it was the only symbol permitted. I’m sure no one will believe that though. I’m also the one to introduce the – and the ~ before the name at the end of a message or other written format. I wrote poems and always used those. I carried it over to emails because I wasn’t real sure how to properly close an email so I used to signify the end of the message.

I wonder how I ought to properly dispose of all this technological trash I’ve accumulated for the past two an a half decades. It’s not covered in the muncipal recycling program. :-/ And this is why I don’t buy every new gagdet.

Next on the agenda: processing ZIP disks from the college days. My goal is to get back down to basics. Moving around alot forces this.

Dream: Airborne Picnic Tables

•October 13, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Oddly, in many of my dreams I am running away from people who are threats. I thought maybe you’d be entertained by this dream.

Dream: Airborne Picnic Tables

While factually I was born in Korea in the dream (same as reality), I was actually of Japanese or Chinese lineage. Relatives of my mother and father shared bloodlines and even features. Yakuza (dad’s family name) and Yorikada (Mom’s family name). My mom still looked like my mom in the dream, thus she was pure Asian lineage, but did not look it in any way shape or form. Everyone still spoke English. In the dream it all made sense. My dad (not present) was understood to be a short, stern Japanese man. My sister was still the same too–so not Asian. Well her hair was the strawberry blonde color and long length of 4 inches past her shoulders, straigtened. Her body was the soccer player body she had when we lived in Suburbia. She didn’t show up right away.

I was visiting my sister. For some unknown reason she lived in a mall. It was the same mall I’ve had in one other dream. Only it was not the same wing. I first passed a department store, where it was spacious and I could see people leisurely wandering pergot floors, searching the racks. The tiled lobby curved, having a backwards and loose S shape. The Apple Store was there too. They wore light baby blue t-shirts for their uniform. My sister’s place was sort of like the side corridors Midwestern malls have, where you might find an elevator, restroom, vending machines. It wasn’t odd in the dream.

D___, the devotee, was there. Let’s take a time out from the dream to explain some [real life] backstory.

at 7:30 P.M. MDT I receive a call from the girl whom I was best friends with in 5th grade. I’ll assign her the alias Cara S. I’m not sure what happened, but Cara S. seemed to have unexpectedly disappeared and never resurfaced in 6th or 7th grade to my recollection. In 2007 or maybe 2006, my oldest sister asked me if I was once friends with a Cara S. She (my oldest sister) happened to mention in passing she was attending some special function for her sister (me). Which maybe they happened to figure out we graduated the same year or something. I dunno and it’s not an important detail of how they determined this. I verified the name. I had Lynn get a phone number for Cara S. I think I looked Cara up on both MySpace and Facebook. I think I lost Cara’s phone number before I moved 1300 miles away. Anyways we re-connected through Facebook. Around two weeks before I returned to visit the Midwest, Cara posts a comment wanting me to call her. I was a bit alarmed since communication is usually initiated by me with her responding to her status messages or pictures of her newborn baby boy. Her message said she wanted to talk soon, which I interpreted as had an omnious and being of an urgent, pressing manner. I replied back after a couple days and said I didn’t have her number, I hoped everything was well, and she could call me. I didn’t hear from her by phone or through Facebook. I naturally thought the issue had dissipated. I’m pretty sure she had an idea I was leaving Sept. 28 since I sent an open invitation to about 30 friends for dinner in Ames and Cara S. referred to it.

Now up to speed. I answer the call, and we do the small talk friends who have lost touch partake in. Then she says she has a friend interested in me, and he wants to go on a date with me when I arrive. I asked her if it was someone I knew, No. I asked if it was someone that knew me, No. She informs me he is blind, and asked her to go through and describe her single female friends to him. Since I’m an A, I’m naturally towards the top of her 450 person list. When she says his name is D___, I am alarmed it is the son of Palmer, the boy adopted as an infant from the same baby hospital and adoption agency I came from; who coincidentally had attended the same two-year college I graduated from. Palmer had said the onset of the boy’s blindness occurred sometime in infancy before being adopted, how or why was not something I was ever privy to. I had seen the boy from far away, beyond earshot on campus.

Relieved it wasn’t the same person. I tell her I’ve been dating someone for three weeks, not looking to date anyone else, but she is more than welcome to bring him along to the dinner (with assorted friends) with her husband and baby if she so wishes because I’m not against making new friends. I guess she didn’t clue him in on all this. She also mentioned at one point D___ had dated a girl from Florida over the internet and went every month to visit her. He was looking to date and he liked what she had told him of me. I bit my tongue as to commenting or passing judgment about not liking friends playing matchmaker for me. I also resisted commenting about how I’m not particularly keen on people who date just to have anyone to fill the fear of being alone. Even if I wasn’t dating someone, I didn’t want to waste a night with someone that sounded like bad news before I even met the person. I let alot of things slide with people. So I let all this slide. This was after I reminded her I moved and live in Arizona. No, I’m not moving back anytime soon, and I don’t visit very often. I hurriedly told her I wasn’t trying to be rude but I was trying to finish getting my stuff together to leave and catch my greyhound bus on time. I didn’t feel the need to explain I was using Dial-A-Ride to get to the station 2 hours early and then I leave at 11:00 PM. I didn’t update her on the phone number of the friends I was staying at either. I simply let her presume she could reach me at my brother’s cell phone number I listed in the open invite for dinner sent on facebook.

[Believe it or not I am paraphrasing.]

Five minutes later Cara S. calls again. With D____ on the line. He wanted to call and say ‘Hi.’ Apparently she hadn’t clued him in that this was not a formal dinner date, or mentioned I was dating someone, nor that I was not interested in dating anyone. We both had to break it to him that it was a group of about 10 people meeting for dinner. He wanted to know when we could get together. I offered Friday he could join myself and one or two other old friends for happy hour. D___ zero-ed in on the fact I hadn’t said anything about Thursday. So He decided to claim it. I didn’t want to sit there and explain I wanted to do nothing with the friends I was staying with. I just said I don’t have time to talk, I’m sure we’ll figure something out once I get to Iowa.

After a bunch of snafus along my travels, my arrival was significantly delayed. The dinner with friends was cancelled completely. Thursday (10/01/2009) I was an idiot for thinking it was a good idea to wander around in the rain to practice some photography. Soaking wet, cold, numb, and not happy the phone keeps ringing as the city bus pulls up. I ignore the number the first two times. The third time, I fumble around and answer. “A__? This is D___.” Irritated, I don’t correct him or mention how I only let, family, people who know me well, or those from my childhood use that nickname. I tell him I can’t talk, I’m getting on the bus. I figured that would just be the end of it. I get on the bus, but the driver and the trainee haven’t even begun tying down the wheelchair, when The Devotee calls, again. Let’s sum it up. He calls about 6 more times from this point until, 5:15ish, which is less than a 90 minute time frame–I’m being generous.

Through these calls he is too interested in my disability. What is it? Do I live on my own or with parents? Do I use a wheelchair? Do I walk?, etc. I’m a little uncomfortable having a conversation of this nature on the phone with a stranger in a public setting. When I can’t hear someone on a cell phone, my nonsensical solution is to talk louder. I have trouble hearing on cell phones anyways, and trouble filtering out background noise in public settings, and I was still cold, numb, sopping wet, and fumbling with the cell phone a friend loaned me for the days I stayed with them.

Eventually I was able to mention I started dating someone in AZ. Then the focus turned to friends with disabilities in the area. I wanted to believe in the good and thought maybe he was lonely and wanted some more friends with disabilities or friends in general. I also thought perhaps he was trying to see if we knew some of the same people since it was a small populous. I was still uncomfortable with the conversation even though I answered the questions. I always answer everything I’m asked. Do you know alot of disabled people around here? How old are they? Are they our age? What’s their disabilities? Are they paras? Spinal Cord injury? Are the mosty guys? How many are girls? What is her name? What’s her last name?

He pressed dinner in the evening. I said I have to check and I think I have plans. M. and C. kept calling and so I was fumbling around with switching over and punching the buttons with my swollen, numb fingers. So a solid, definitive ‘No.’ There was a long pause and then I said I had plans and I had to go because I was getting off the bus and didn’t have time to talk anymore.

Later on (11:30 pm) to my surprise and dismay he called. I had to put a stop to this. I said I couldn’t due to having had prior dinner plans. This final conversation, I was buzzed, and he said he was buzzed from spending the evening drinking beer. He wanted to know about my disabled friends in AZ. Are the college students? What are their disabilities? Are they single? What are their names? Why don’t I know all their names? Are they on my facebook? Am I lying about having a boyfriend? What’s his name? How long have we been together? Is he disabled, too? Just so you know in case Cara S. didn’t mention it, I [D___] am blind and I’m a devotee. Does this bother me?

I answered his questions and offered short, uncomfortable, nervous laughs. I was frank about it bothering me. I had previously stated and then reiterated I don’t have the answers to all his questions because I don’t catalog my friends. I’m just learning names of my new friends and if I had them on my facebook, I’d know their names. As it is, I don’t have the new friends on facebook, and I don’t remember all their names. I have friends of all ages, and of a range, they are my friends, I like them for who they are and the things he’s inquiring about don’t really matter to me. Finally we mutually agreed to end all contact and communications.

Back to the Dream. I’m summing up, because I realize I’ve spent three hours to do a ‘quick’ journal about this dream before it dissipates forever.

I had a dream I was visiting my sister and she lived in a mall. This is my 2nd dream of a mall. I was being chased by The Devotee. [If you're confused about what a Devotee is?]. It’s a fetish for people with disabilities. I had my own brush with one while in the Midwest.

Instead of being a tall, husky white guy who happened to be blind, in the dream he was a 10 year old Asian boy. There was still no question who he was. My mom and I tried to run away. She could run and jump Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon style. It was a long chase scene. At first we took a Jeep Cherokee. Then we had to get back out and run on foot again. In the end we escaped by using a picnic table which conveniently had lap belts like at amusement parks, and then you just had to ‘hop’ or jump while seated and then the picnic table was like Mario Brothers style trampoline…

My mom got ADHD in the final get away, and I had to tell her to focus. My tall sister was on the other side of the picnic table and some person that was like a human, Asian version of the gold shiny robot, Sepio (sp?) from Star Wars next to her. So we bounced the picnic table down the street avoiding all the broken and rusty airconditioners all over everyone’s yards and in the street. I was reluctant to wake up because I wanted the dream to keep going.

Greatness

•October 11, 2009 • Leave a Comment

It’s a Sunday morning, and I am watching The Color of Freedom with Joseph Fiennes. I read up on Nelson Mandela on Wikipedia. I wonder if while he was living his struggle if he knew his life was destined for greatness or if it’s something he stumbled into and stayed. Like a tourist who never returns from vacation.

I’ve always felt my life was meant to achieve something monumental. I’ve not achieved anything of the norm even–much less anything monumental or of any greatness. 28 years old, no house, back to a dead end job, two two year degrees which took me five years to complete. Always a day late and a dollar short in life. Started school late (more or less), entered the workforce late, dated and became sexually active late.

Do great people intend to be great? Or does greatness find them? Do they feel any different than the rest of us? What do they know that the rest of us don’t? It is said Rosa Parks said all she wanted was to sit down because her feet hurt from working all day, and she wasn’t intentionally trying to become a civil rights activist. And why does someone’s absence make them celebrated? The Nobel Prize is for the elite. Why is it only professors who may nominate? I wish I could truly interview Nelson Mandela.

* * * * *
My mind is a turtle attending a smorgasboard of thoughts. Yesterday I had a day of weakness for whatever reason. I really don’t want to speculate as to why. I just want to move onward. I’m feeling somewhat more stable today, so far. I got a pep talk or two which helped immensely. Of course inevitably the shame and embarrassment of openly having a day of weakness leaves somewhat of a mineral aftertaste the morning after.

* * * * *
A couple days before I left to visit Iowa, I encountered an elderly lady at the bus stop. She told me to believe in God and He would make me walk one day.

She shuffled, and I worried her knees were going to give out on her. Ironically, I wondered if she needed a wheelchair more than I did. She wore shorts, without a doubt, polyester. Her shirt would have hung off a skeleton better than it hung off her. Her hair was fluffly, finer than cotton balls and a nice blend of white, gray, and pepper flakes. Her glasses were normal sized, but the wrinkles on her face made her features look a bit sunken in and the glasses look huge.

Immediately, I wanted to bark at her. I narrowed my almond shaped eyes into slits gave her a cold, dead stare before replying in a flat, matter-of-fact tone, “I already walk. God had nothing to do with it. I’ve always been able to walk.”

The elderly woman with her accent my ear couldn’t quite discern but suspected it was Russian or Czech. She scowled at me, offended and disgusted. “Vhy do woo have a vheelchtair dhen?”

I returned her scowl with a passing look of impatience and fleeting look of who-do-you-think-you-are. The memory of my G’ma Plum’s face flashed in front and I discarded all the dirty looks I was ready and armed with to fight such rudeness. I shifted from a lounging position to more of a proper posture. “I fall down alot when I walk and I walk slow.”

The elderly lady, with her summer sweater meekly held up by toothpick arms lost in the folds of her skin, shuffled about 45 degrees to my right, at 1 o’clock. She insisted God and Jesus would save me, and make me walk better someday. I flicked my eyes to the right past her. Slipping a cigarette out of the pack, I swallowed the sharp tongue lashing I wanted to punish her with. I sharply inhaled, and looked at her, expressionless as I reached into my right pocket for a lighter. I thought about how G’ma would handle the situation. I knew I was too stubborn to react in the same way, but I could show some kindness or compassion. “I don’t need saved. I’m okay with how I walk. I am happy with my body. I don’t need fixed. I am sure God and Jesus accept me, accept my body, too. He is just fine with who I am. He gave me this body.” I bit my tongue there refraining from temptation to indulge in a tirade that I’m unitarian and she should keep her God-will-save-you bit for someone who asks for it and also not assume anyone with a disability is mourning about what society assumes they are deprived of. I also didn’t remark I was glad to be me than to be her.

The elderly lady shuffled back to the left and kept muttering I would walk better someday. I exhaled and lit my cigarette. I figured it would keep her a couple feet away. Instead she carries on about how I shouldn’t smoke because I use a wheelchair. When the bus came, we both boarded, the bus was pulling into traffic, she announced to no one in particular while pointing at me and says “She smokes.” I ignored her, pursed my lips in a 1/2 second smile as if to say ‘hey, I don’t know her’ and looked out the window. A couple of the other passengers across from us looked from her to me, and then away in disinterest and anti-climax from my lacking reaction. She was still carrying on when I got off the bus a few minutes later.

* * * * *
I wonder how Nelson Mandela managed when he got tired of his struggle.

Satisfied with Success

•September 27, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Satisfied with success. $3200 collected for 50/50 raffle from the PHX Mercury (WNBA) vs LA Sparks game. Sales approaches came back in a flash. Minus 20 minutes of OMG there are sooo many people here and I dunno what I’m doing of initial mental panic. LOL. $1600 went to my basketball team. :) Finally off to Dreamland!

Good Vibrations

•September 27, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Perhaps it’s the sunny climate my temperament has soaked up. :) This is a bit embarrassing and humbling to admit, but I share it because it’s a contrast to how a change in attitude (specifically mine) can make a world of difference.

Quite simply I’ve had a humble life more or less, and take the self-made route all the way. Since I’ve moved to AZ, events, economy, blah blah have forced me back to some of those humble means of survival in todays society. Like everyone else, I’ve been looking for stable full time work for nearly 11 months, and very grateful to have the meager part time work I have and the other sources of income to cover essentials even though many personal sacrifices have been made. As many know I hate accepting charity and love to help other people that need it. Not to mention I’m not a fan of those who beg or feel entitled to what should be worked for. Pride is a always a hard thing to stomach.

That said, on the flip side, I’ve made my contributions to governments and made humble donations over the years. Furthermore, logically, I’ve paid enough of my dues for the programs and systems for people who are in need. So I rationalize this all and am grateful these resources are available to me should I need to use them. I have the need now and have been using them.

So I started the day off wheeling to the nearest place for a food box. Unfortunately, I’ve gone enough times over the months that the people in charge know me by name. And when I stop needing them I have every intention of giving back to them for others.

Last week I needed to come up with a cushion for the loaner basketball wheelchair for the team I recently was recruited and asked to join. You know, one of those extra expenses… So what to do? Where do I even go? It’s a sport so even if I had insurance, the likelihood of having any equipment for a sport covered is pretty much ZERO. I called some packing supply store, I called Home Depot, I looked at Target and wasn’t having much luck. Finally I decided to start cold calling carpet, flooring, and furniture stores. The specifics of the cushion are strict. I got lucky with the first one I called. It was within 1.5 mile and I knew I could wheel there if I needed to pick it up. I felt odd making the call. The receptionist was kind, however I was politely insistent and she transferred me to someone who I later determined was VP of sales.

He said he thought he might have scraps of something fitting what I needed it for. He wanted my address… at first I hesitated and offered to come get it. He said the company does deliveries anyways and it was no problem. He had the foam dropped off at my house. I was out running errands and he left it by my front door with his business card. I got around to making chocolate chip cookies and cookie bars. I opened up my standard all purpose thankyou card, customized it, and printed it off. I wheeled down to the business and took a chance of him being available. I got lucky. It was an incredibly nice building and impressively decorated with a wooden

Jack Daniels Barrel

serving as a side table next to some plush black leather couches in the waiting area. He came up and I gave him the goodies, the card and the flyer (serving for informative purpose only) about the fundraising event the team is having tonight at the PHX Mercury (WNBA) conference game vs LA Sparks.

He was pleasantly surprised and impressed I wheeled 1.5 miles there. (Which really isn’t that big of a deal on a nice day. I think It took me 17 minutes.) We chit chatted. He asked if I was here for school, following a boyfriend, or with family, etc. So during the conversation it ended up being we’re both from Iowa. I cheerfully let it drop that I was actively looking for work. BINGO!

:) [x10]

The idea of a power chair was brought up. I said, I’ve had one and it’s not ideal for an active lifestyle due to the limitations of the battery charge life. He said his mother (I’m guessing his mom is 80+ because he looked to be 55+) and told me she got stuck once trying to turn around. I told him I nearly took out a few displays at stores and found out I couldn’t get away with a hit and run because the electric shopping carts beep when you back up. *_*

We had a nice laugh.

He asked me what kind of work, etc. He knows of a guy who owns a signage production place who asked him if he could recommend anyone for pre-press work. I told him that my day job for the last year was doing precisely that for a company printing on drinkware. Brought up the Olympics in Bejing order and the irony of mugs made in China shipped to the US for printing, shipped back to China to be bought by (some) Americans and then brought back to the US as souvenirs, boated about the awesomeness of the company I worked for and their results The VP of sales wants me to send him my resume, and asked me to stop by in a few weeks just to say hi. I told him I’d bring some brownies and he needed to gain some weight. [The cookies kind of got crumbled in my travels, but the choc. chip cookie bars survived].

I’m ignoring my nagging don’t-speak-of-good-things-too-soon voice. Usually I’m secretive and wait until something is a sure deal before sharing. I’m too excited and in an ecstatic mood to let ‘good sense’ kill my good vibes right now.

Off to get ready for the raffle event! :) OH, how life works in mysterious ways as my mom has told me.