All posts by Mush

About Mush

I want to be a veterinarian because I love children.

You've come a long way, baby. A long way to nowhere.

Life

In which I go on about my ex-husband and how batshit crazy I am.

As y’all know, sometimes I troll my own archives. Today I found this post from May of 2007:

I don’t know what you did last night, but I went to my divorce party.

Wow. I sure was nice about The Ex back then.

Today I’m smokin’ pissed off at the man. How fucking hard would it have been for him to do the very little I asked BEFORE it was too late? Huh? How fucking hard?

Too hard, obviously.

I’d forgotten about his little rally there at the end. What utter crap. Who does that? Who waits until their spouse is all but gone to even start to try to fix things? I literally cried, begging him to help me with some of our shared work, and he never did… until he felt that I was done with him. Then he started doing little things like calling from town to see if I needed him to grab some milk or dog food on his way home, or tossing the clothes into the dryer if I was busy elsewhere, or putting away the dishes.

I worked my ass off, and he told me I was lazy. Then he’d ask me to help him when he decided to do some work, and got pissy when I refused.

I’m damaged goods. I get all weird whenever I meet a male that might decide to hit on me, even though my last relationship was really good. I still can’t stomach the idea of Being In A Relationship. I honestly do believe in my gut that relationships cost more than they’re worth, and that belief is entirely The Ex’s fault. Because of him, I truly believe that when you’re with someone, you owe them things: attention, compassion, patience, access. I can’t even dredge up a concept of sharing that isn’t somehow damaging.

The idea of being required to provide things to someone gives me the shakes. I don’t even want the benefits of being with someone, because they cost so much. I’d rather not cuddle, thank you, if it means I’m ever required to provide you with anything I don’t want to give.

I tried giving for eight years. I cooked and cleaned and let him overspend and talk me into quitting my own job. I listened to him tell me I was lazy, when he himself spent every night and every weekend on the couch getting stoned. I’m a vegetarian who made steaks and meatloaves because after three years, he decided he didn’t like the way I normally cooked. I washed a million dirty socks, and burned my own fucking garbage because he couldn’t be arsed to do it. I gave up music and theatre and satsang to stay home and garden and cook, but he wanted kudos for “letting” me go see Amma once a year. He routinely slept through parties he’d promised to take me to. I never once got flowers or chocolates, and we’d been living together for seven years the first time he ever cleaned his own nasty fucking toilet.

No, he never cheated and he was never violent and he always checked in so I’d know where he was. But I ended up with thousands of dollars worth of bills, I can’t open a checking account, and I freak out whenever guys act interested in me because I think they might want something.

The Ex gave me his word that he’d pay the Cingular bill and never has. The Ex swore he’d send me my Brownie camera TWO YEARS AGO and still hasn’t done it. Who in the holy fuck acts like that?

And more importantly, what the hell was wrong with me that I decided to marry someone like that? Was I really that smitten with having finally been asked to marry? What the hell was wrong with me? And what the hell was wrong with my friends at the time? Why didn’t anybody say anything? Like, “Hey, Mush, that guy is an addict and he doesn’t work very much. Historically he prefers to fuck off and party.”

I’m mad. I’m really mad. I’m pissed off at the all the times I got my feelings hurt and all the times I bit my tongue and all the times I took the high road. I’m pissed off that he had the audacity to be hurt when I dumped his useless ass. I’m pissed off that he still has not done the few small, trivial things he said he’d do since we split. I’m pissed off that I still have to sign credit card slips with his stupid last name.

I’m pissed off that I put so much time and energy into the marriage only to end up with nothing. I’m pissed about the few pieces of furniture I liked that I abandoned out at the farm because I had no where to put them. I’m pissed about the two leather coats that were covered in mold and utterly beyond recovery when I went back to get them. (Dehumidifier, you stupid dolt? Heard of them? WHO LIVES IN A HOUSE WITH ROTTING CLOTHES IN THE CLOSETS?!) I’m pissed about all the money I’m paying out on bills that are in my name because he had no credit and I’m pissed that he’s never even offered to help pay off these bills. I’m pissed off that (according to the grapevine) he works very little, and isn’t even paying his lousy property tax so I couldn’t even get money out of him if I wanted to.

I’m pissed that he’s lazy and selfish and that he hurt me, and I’m pissed that I’m still pissed. It’s been nearly four years, and I’m still angry.

I can’t even remember what his voice sounds like, so it’s not about him. I’m just pissed that I’m pissed.

The Inscrutable Interview

Life

In which I recap yesterday’s interview at the co-op.

Usually when I walk out of an interview, especially a third interview, I know if I’m going to get the job or not.

This time I have no idea.

Lucky pre-interview latte.

I got a business very-casual vibe the first time I interviewed for this job, plus I’m a geek interviewing for a geek job, so yesterday I went wearing a long sleeved brown sweater and gray pants and my closed-toed Birks. I had make-up and jewelry on, but I certainly wasn’t wearing slacks and pumps. I had gotten my nails done so they were short and had a simple French tip this time: not the gold-and-red thing I’d tried the last time and which had turned out looking pretty fugly.

I arrived early and was asked to wait in the lobby. A few minutes later, my interviewers – the HR chick and the head of the Internet department – called me back to the little conference room we’d used before, and we all sat in the same chairs we used last time.

She was dressed a little more business-y than she had been before and was wearing a skirt and heels. He was wearing standard tech-who-deals-with-customers clothes: jeans and a button-down with the company logo.

There were no new questions; they repeated the same stuff from the first interview. Do I have a valid driver’s license? Do I understand the job description? Why do I think I would be the right candidate? I learned that they were looking for the right fit, someone who would stay with the company for awhile. I learned that benefits start immediately, that there’s a clothing budget (employees get to pick out shirts at LL Bean, and have the company logo embroidered on), and that reviews are annual every August.

I learned that there’s a pre-employment physical and drug test, that they check with the state every year to verify that one’s driver’s license is still valid (employees drive fleet vehicles), and that – and this surprised me – per the company’s dress code, facial jewelry is not permitted. “Including my nose pin?!” I blurted out. The HR chick nodded. “You’re kidding me.” She shook her head. “Hmm,” I said. “I really don’t like that. I’ve had this thing in my face for practically twenty years.”

The department head is Indian. I doubt he even noticed it.

The job includes driving, network monitoring, and on-call time. “Do you have issues with being on call?” he asked.

“Nope, but I do have a hobby that is very important to me. I’m in a band. I will want to have some Saturday evenings off call so that I can gig.” I explained that I usually knew weeks in advance of those dates, and he seemed to think it would be no problem to shuffle the on-call schedule to accommodate me.

Manicure (feat. line of silver glitter!).

The HR chick stared at my nails again. She did it during the first interview, too, but at the time I figured it was because they were very long and very tacky. This time I couldn’t figure it out. I also felt like a jackass showing up in a plain, brown sweater when she was reading the dress code standard. After she explained about the clothing stipend, I said, “The great thing about uniforms is that you don’t have to decide what to wear in the morning!” She nodded at me and smiled, but I got the impression she didn’t really like me for the job and she especially didn’t approve of the way I looked.

She’s originally from the banking industry, though, while I’m applying at my fifth ISP. The dress standards are different. They just are. It’s a lot of why I work in the Internet industry in the first place: I don’t have to wear arch-dropping shoes, or yeast infection-inducing undergarments, or take out my freakin’ nose pin.

The department head, though, never once spoke of the job duties in the abstract. Instead of saying, “The position will require the applicant to be on call,” for instance, he said, “We’ve decided that you’ll be on call every other week, and [the other guy in the department] and I will rotate the other weeks,” and, “Sometimes he and I will be out adjusting radios, and you’ll be in the office checking signal strength. Or you could be out adjusting the radios, whichever you like best.”

He asked if it would be a problem if they decided to require a CCNA. “Not at all,” I said. “I’m studying for mine now!” Then we spent a few minutes using a bunch of Cisco acronyms. I admitted that I’d been really gung ho to study when I got laid off, but that my discipline was now flagging and being required to sit for the test would probably help me get motivated.

There was some off-topic chatting, some laughter, and we very nearly went over to see “the hut,” where the successful applicant will be working, but didn’t. The interview lasted about forty minutes.

I walked out of there utterly unsure about my chances. I think they like me, and I also think they don’t. I honestly cannot tell.

It sounds like a great job. The work is perfect. I’d get to learn about point-to-point wireless, a delivery modality I know virtually nothing about! The department head seems really easy going. I honestly don’t mind wearing LL Bean shirts with logos on them, and I can easily buy some jeans. (I don’t own any jeans. Can you believe that? It’s like I’m a space alien or something. Who doesn’t own any jeans?)

The nose pin thing is an issue for me, of course, but not a deal breaker. If I fight a mild battle and lose, I can easily take it out… it’s just that there will be a gross and unsightly hole in my face. (My nose pin is Indian, so it’s a huge gauge compared to the tiny little pins most Americans wear.) The Internet department is actually a separate entity for various legal reasons; my nascent theory is that I may be able to find some sort of loophole that lets me keep my jewelry in. I really don’t think nose pins are on par with, say, eyebrow or lip rings, and I also don’t think anyone’s ever gonna see me in the hut. Maybe I could just take it out during truck rolls.

Ugh. I feel like I’m seventeen, dealing with this ridiculous ‘facial jewelry’ issue. I really don’t wanna have to take my fucking nose ring out for work.

But the pay is good, benefits start immediately, and I’d get to learn new stuff. I still have two more companies to pay off before I get out of debt settlement, and I just don’t know that I’m ready to move away yet. Some time working at this co-op would be really great in terms of fattening my resume and getting some certs. It sounds like a dream job (except for the stupid dress code OMGWTFBBQ!!!1! I feel all funny every time I think about it) and though it’s not within walking distance it is close enough that I could ride my bike (if I ever get the new back tire put on it).

Long story short, I don’t know if they’ll make me an offer but I sincerely hope they do.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Life

In which I share with you some of my prized possessions.

Part Three: The Apple coaster

This is a coaster I cut out of a mouse pad:

Apple coaster

I worked for a company called Telegroup in Iowa a long time ago. It was an Apple shop, and I ended up with this old school Apple mousepad which I eventually turned into a coaster.

This coaster has been next to my computer for over a decade. I have a mug of tea sitting on it right this very minute.

I have no idea why I’ve kept it this long, except I think it rather adds to my geek cred.

—
In the early 90’s, I deserted my life in Oregon and went to Iowa “for a year.” I left the vast majority of my stuff with my roommate, including but not limited to an antique dining room set and all of my vinyl. But because I stayed in Iowa for five years, I never got any of that stuff back: I went from having a home full of stuff to pretty much being able to carry all my worldly possessions.

In the late 90’s I moved again. I ended up trapped in Albuquerque with no way to transport what little stuff I had, so I threw most of it into a dorm incinerator. When I was done, everything I owned in the entire world amounted to about six boxes of stuff. (I’d left the rest of my stuff back in Fairfield, had given most of it away.)

Two and a half years later, I drove I-80 from San Francisco back to Fairfield. Everything I owned fit in my little Toyota pickup. I’d gotten rid of yet another sofa, set of kitchen implements, and bevy of houseplants, and owned only clothes, a few small items of furniture (a futon and a wooden asana), and other random knickknacks like books, my cat, my computer, my altar, and heirloom items like photographs.

When I arrived back in Iowa, I got an apartment within the month and was immediately given a household full of furniture. Eventually I got married and bought a farm house and ended up with 3,000 square feet worth of stuff. Sewing machine, desk, shelves. Books. Sheets, blankets, towels. Laundry baskets, Windex, bread machine, candles. Dog bowls, recliners, end tables, chrome citrus juicers. Blender, futon, Christmas decorations. Bowling ball, framed prints, entertainment center, flatware.

In 2007, I drove from Fairfield out to Washington state. Everything I owned fit in my jeep. I’d abandoned all my stuff once again.

There are a few items I’ve kept through several downsizing phases, and I’ve decided, since I’m unemployed and have the time, to share them with you.

What the fuck am I doing?

Life

In which week 5 of my unemployment marks the beginning of the ass kicking.

It’s 4:33 on Friday. It’s been a week since the killer interview, and I haven’t heard anything back. This probably means that they’re not going to hire me.

In order to (legally) receive UI benefits, I must apply for three jobs each week. I ran out of local jobs I’m actually interested in and/or qualified for the week before last. There is literally nothing left in my field in the area for me to apply for.

This week I’m applying for a P/T hardware job installing fans and RAM and crap, and a full time job at Staples selling electronics and installing fans and RAM and crap, and I’ve also applied for something remote in order to fill my quota.

Serves me right, admitting to the universe that I was being passive. Now it’s gonna kick my ass and make me decide what I actually want to be doing.

I'm totally useless. Plus: trepidation.

Admissions

In which unemployment is beginning to take its toll.

I stayed up well past two, watching Torchwood on Netflix. (I still love you, Ianto!) Then I slept for about twelve hours.

Not straight through, though. I actually woke up at ten and thought about getting up, but I didn’t. I just laid there until I went back to sleep. About three times.

Why? Because I don’t really have anything to do. A girl can only consume so much media, and it hardly seems imperative to get up and watch TV shows or read a book or study when there’s simply no deadline for anything.

There are things I can do, of course. I could get crackin’ on the Clean The Junk Out Of The Attic project (I bagged up an assload of old clothes but have as yet not figured out where to take them, and there’s always the old computer equipment to dispose of) or do laundry or study for my CCNA or meditate or work out or get drunk.

But I don’t have to, so I don’t.

This morning (where ‘morning’ equals late afternoon) I rolled out of bed onto the floor, did some gentle stretching yoga, and listened to some Eastern house (DJ Cheb i Sabbah‘s Krishna Lila, actually) for awhile. Then I went downstairs and had a cardamom latte while I made a batch of black olive hummus. A bit later, my brother came over and he and I nommed some Falafel Madness together while chatting with G’ma.

Falafel over rice.

Now it’s dark again already and I’ve barely finished my coffee. I’d like to do something other than sit around in my (very comfortable, tricked out, OMG I pretty much never have to leave this room) bedroom, but I’m unemployed and feel guilty about spending money on things like cocktails or meals out even though I’m getting unemployment benefits and it’s not like I don’t have any money.

~+~+~
I had an interview on Thursday afternoon. It lasted nearly an hour, the people (cute HR girl and cute geek guy) were great, and I feel perfectly qualified for the position in a rural power co-op’s small Internet division.

The position is a typical ISP mix of support, dispatch, billing, sales, and on-call time. Their delivery modality is wireless, which I don’t know a bunch about but I can certainly learn it. I’d have to climb the occasional ladder and be on the occasional roof, but dispatch time would only be about 20% of the job. The fun stuff like email and web hosting is outsourced, which is a little sad, and I’d have to lose the frivolous manicure in order to make cable and haul equipment, but I’d have actual responsibility and I’d get to learn a whole new technology and its equipment and I think it would be a nearly ideal fit for my experience.

Which doesn’t explain why I’m so utterly freaked about it.

I am, in equal parts, afraid they’ll offer me the job, and afraid they won’t.

I’ve gotten lazy and soft. My last few thousand hours of employment have required me to do little more than show up (and when I was very lucky I got to think real hard for a few minutes). I’ve gotten used to sitting on my ass at a desk. I haven’t been on call or done an actual customer premise dispatch in years. I haven’t put a plug end on a CAT-5 cable for a long time. I mean, although it’s been awhile I’ve done all this stuff and I’m a perfect match for their job description.

I just don’t know if I want it, and that just makes me question the whole inside of my silly head. Why wouldn’t I want a perfect job?

If they don’t offer me the job, I’ll freak that it’s because I’m a girl who showed up for a job she knew entailed actual non-desk work with a crazy manicure (my nails are currently gold with red airbrushed designs on them) or because I’m too old (!!!) to be climbing ladders in rural areas or because I unwittingly fucked up in the interview or because I’m actually not as hireable as I believe I am.

I know the Universe prefers that I decide what I want, but I honestly can’t figure out if I want this job or not. It’s here in Walla Walla (not in Dayton, where the rest of the company is), it’s a small department (which keeps politics to a minimum), I wouldn’t have to do first tier tech support (they outsource that), and I’d get to learn a whole new delivery technology! It’s true I’m not stoked about the sales and billing aspects, but every ISP job I’ve ever had – ten years’ worth – entailed a little of both, it’s just the nature of the beast and it’s hardly onerous. Of course I have some nervousness about having to drive around an area I don’t know, but it’s not like it’s hard to drive somewhere. It’s not like I don’t have GPS on my fucking phone, either, and while I don’t love driving it’s hardly a deal breaker.

I must be being lazy, which tells me I need to get my ass kicked a little, which tells me this job would probably be great for me because I don’t even have it yet and it’s challenging me already. I can’t remember the last time I had a really good brain stretch at work! And autonomy! Responsibility! Root on actual deployed, mission-critical boxen!

I think this is where my weirdness lies: I think I’m having a location crisis. If they offer me the job, I’ll need to commit to a life in Walla Walla. If they don’t, I’ll have to move because I have already applied for literally every single job I’m qualified for around here, and I’ll have to do it doubting my hireability because when you don’t get hired for a job you’re perfectly suited for, you freak out. You just do.

I’ve been weird about living in Walla Walla for awhile now (I intended it to be a temporary move when I came here), but here’s the kicker: I didn’t immediately gear up to leave when I became unemployed. I had daydreams about moving away, but I don’t actually want to live anywhere but right here or New York City. And moving to New York is a non-trivial undertaking: I’d need a bunch of money and a place to land, and what about my dog? I could move to Portland or Seattle, or a few places in California where I have relatives, or even Colorado where there appears to be a lot of tech work, but I don’t really like any of those places. (Not like I like New York.) And I’m actually starting to have a life here, and friends, and the band’s already got some festivals booked for next summer, and c’mon – my rent and utilities are $150 a month. Which, in my tax bracket, is the only reason I get to take such awesome vacations every year.

I think I was expecting that there’d be no work here; that Walla Walla was going to kick me out like it did the last time; that the decision was going to be made for me. I think I thought I was going to lie around collecting unemployment for a few months and then have go somewhere else. The big push! Sort through your shit, make plans, scramble, freak out! Change! Stress! Excitement! And look, I have to do this, I’m reacting – not acting! Nothing’s my fault if it doesn’t turn out! Whee!

But, while I am a total weirdo, at least I’m not dishonest about it: I haven’t taken a single step toward moving away. The only remote job I applied for was in Seattle, and I was terrifically overqualified for it. I was waiting to have to move away. Which must be a case of the grass is always greener, right?

The existence of a job I didn’t expect has broken my brain. Tell me what I dork I am, please, mmm’kay?

Happy New Year!

Music, Reading

In which I had a great time on New Year’s Eve at Pub 21 with the band.

Load-in was at 4:30, but I was late because I had to take a paper copy of my resume (and cover letter and references) to WorkSource to apply for a job.

WTF? Why wouldn’t they let me email it to them? Not only did I have to drive over there in the snow to deliver three pieces of paper, but they scanned the documents to send – one assumes electronically – to the employer; somehow they couldn’t use the DOC and PDF format copies I’d helpfully brought along on a thumb drive, and they wouldn’t let me email the items in the first place! The mind boggles. It’s like it’s still 2002 at WorkSource or something.

Anyway.

Set up for the NYE gig. Merchant's last night ever! Come say bye!

We finished setup and did a sound check and still had three hours left before the gig. The weather was crap – snow and freezing rain – and the streets were treacherously icy in a pickup with no weight in the bed.

I went home and changed my pants (it turned out there was a hole in them) and read Makers in the interim.

The gig was a blast. People started dancing during the second song of the first set, and danced most of the night. The substitute bass player – the regular guy had another gig – did a fantastic job. (So fantastic, in fact, that I gave him a big ol’ bossy lecture about how “you only regret the things you didn’t do” and why he should move to a city and actually play for a living.)

NYE Gig '09

Bob gave me a couple of glasses of wine for free because I was in the band. I gave out a bunch of business cards so people could get free downloads. My friend Sheila came and I danced about twelve bars with her and Shelley. Rob sold a bunch of the Kings’ latest CD.

NYE Gig '09

Since I never make New Year’s resolutions, I made none this year. Yay! I’ve already averted much fail by simply doing nothing.

Speaking of doing nothing, I was supposed to be back over at the venue at one o’clock the next day for load-out, but The Curse™ had arrived and I slept all damn day instead. I suck. I’m lucky anybody ever hires me.

Today, I need to find a job to apply for (ideally via email, fer chrissakes) and I’m going to read a bunch of Cory Doctorow’s Little Brother on my Kindle.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Spiritual

In which I share with you some of my prized possessions.

Part Two: The Yoga Aphorisms of Patanjali

This is a pocket-sized copy of Patanjali’s sutras:

The Yoga Aphorisms of Patanjali

I bought it at Powell’s Books a long, long time ago.

Sutra means suture or stitch.

I’ve kept this book while letting go of hundreds of others because it represented a fork in the road. I bought it because I wanted to be the kind of person who would read such dense philosophy – read and grok such dense philosophy – but I wasn’t. I just knew that I wanted to be. I carried it around with me long before I was ready to read it, because I thought it made me look deep.

To identify consciousness in that which merely reflects consciousness – this is egoism. – 2:6

Since the desire to exist has always been present, our tendencies cannot have had any beginning. – 4:10

The mind is not self-luminous, since it is an object of perception. – 4:19

Now it’s twenty years later. I can now say I’ve read these sutras many times. (And the Gita, and the mind-blowing Concise Yoga Vashishta, and maybe a quarter of the Mahabarat. And several of the Upanishads. And most of Mother’s teachings. And the New Testament. And a bunch of other stuff.) But I still haven’t read the commentary in this particular edition, because I’m not there yet.

I even got the sidhis, when I lived in Iowa. (The TM Sidhis Program, that is. Here’s a the Wikipedia article on the subject, obviously written by some Movement PR lackey.) It turned out that they – the sidhis – were simply the mental repetition, after meditation, of a series of the aphorisms in this book! (I still can’t believe what I paid for that.)

I did my TM sidhis regularly for… well, I never did them regularly. I quit doing them pretty much immediately after getting off my flying block, because it seemed useless and time consuming. Actually, after having gotten them, I thought the sidhis were a bunch of crap sold to Westerners to make them feel deep when in fact they were just rich children from a culture devoid of significant history or depth.

I never thought the TM sidhis were bad for anyone; they seemed to be beneficial for those who loved them. I just thought we’d all paid too much for information that is available for free, and I never was happy with where the money went. But that’s a Movement rant, and not the point of this post! The point of this post is that I’ve had this little book ? For a really long time.

(Read terse and commentary-free sutras here!)

—
In the early 90’s, I deserted my life in Oregon and went to Iowa “for a year.” I left the vast majority of my stuff with my roommate, including but not limited to an antique dining room set and all of my vinyl. But because I stayed in Iowa for five years, I never got any of that stuff back: I went from having a home full of stuff to pretty much being able to carry all my worldly possessions.

In the late 90’s I moved again. I ended up trapped in Albuquerque with no way to transport what little stuff I had, so I threw most of it into a dorm incinerator. When I was done, everything I owned in the entire world amounted to about six boxes of stuff. (I’d left the rest of my stuff back in Fairfield, had given most of it away.)

Two and a half years later, I drove I-80 from San Francisco back to Fairfield. Everything I owned fit in my little Toyota pickup. I’d gotten rid of yet another sofa, set of kitchen implements, and bevy of houseplants, and owned only clothes, a few small items of furniture (a futon and a wooden asana), and other random knickknacks like books, my cat, my computer, my altar, and heirloom items like photographs.

When I arrived back in Iowa, I got an apartment within the month and was immediately given a household full of furniture. Eventually I got married and bought a farm house and ended up with 3,000 square feet worth of stuff. Sewing machine, desk, shelves. Books. Sheets, blankets, towels. Laundry baskets, Windex, bread machine, candles. Dog bowls, recliners, end tables, chrome citrus juicers. Blender, futon, Christmas decorations. Bowling ball, framed prints, entertainment center, flatware.

In 2007, I drove from Fairfield out to Washington state. Everything I owned fit in my jeep. I’d abandoned all my stuff once again.

There are a few items I’ve kept through several downsizing phases, and I’ve decided, since I’m unemployed and have the time, to share them with you.

These are a few of my favorite things.

Life

In which I share with you some of my prized possessions.

Part One: Espresso Maker

This is my beat up old Italian stove top espresso maker:

Espresso

I bought it at Merchant’s Deli, in Walla Walla WA, about thirteen years ago. Merchant’s has been open on Main street for thirty years, but has just been purchased. (My New Year’s Eve gig there on Thursday will be the final event in that particular business.)

I’ve made espresso with this thing thousands of times. I don’t really drink that much coffee – not as much as I’d like, because my body gets pissed off at me when I try – but it’s really nice to be able to brew up a couple of shots of espresso whenever I want.

It cost less than $20. I’ve had it for over a decade and the gaskets are still good. It can be used over nearly any source of heat, it’s small and portable, and I’ve made lattes with it in at least five different states.

I’ve chosen to keep this thing three separate times during three different purges.

I think I keep it because it’s small, it does its job well, I use it a lot when I’m too poor to buy lattes, it’s imported, and I’ve had it longer than any man or pet.

If you don’t have stove top espresso maker, you should get one! They’re awesome, and far cheaper and more portable than any countertop-style espresso machine.

—
In the early 90’s, I deserted my life in Oregon and went to Iowa “for a year.” I left the vast majority of my stuff with my roommate, including but not limited to an antique dining room set and all of my vinyl. But because I stayed in Iowa for five years, I never got any of that stuff back: I went from having a home full of stuff to pretty much being able to carry all my worldly possessions.

In the late 90’s I moved again. I ended up trapped in Albuquerque with no way to transport what little stuff I had, so I threw most of it into a dorm incinerator. When I was done, everything I owned in the entire world amounted to about six boxes of stuff. (I’d left the rest of my stuff back in Fairfield, had given most of it away.)

Two and a half years later, I drove I-80 from San Francisco back to Fairfield. Everything I owned fit in my little Toyota pickup. I’d gotten rid of yet another sofa, set of kitchen implements, and bevy of houseplants, and owned only clothes, a few small items of furniture (a futon and a wooden asana), and other random knickknacks like books, my cat, my computer, my altar, and heirloom items like photographs.

When I arrived back in Iowa, I got an apartment within the month and was immediately given a household full of furniture. Eventually I got married and bought a farm house and ended up with 3,000 square feet worth of stuff. Sewing machine, desk, shelves. Books. Sheets, blankets, towels. Laundry baskets, Windex, bread machine, candles. Dog bowls, recliners, end tables, chrome citrus juicers. Blender, futon, Christmas decorations. Bowling ball, framed prints, entertainment center, flatware.

In 2007, I drove from Fairfield out to Washington state. Everything I owned fit in my jeep. I’d abandoned all my stuff once again.

There are a few items I’ve kept through several downsizing phases, and I’ve decided, since I’m unemployed and have the time, to share them with you.

The Kindle

Gadgets

In which I review the new device!

For Christmas, I bought myself a Kindle. (It probably wasn’t particularly clever to spend nearly three hundred bucks on an unnecessary electronic device the very week I got laid off, but whatever. This may be why I never had kids. Moving on!)

Can has shiny new Kindle!

The form factor is nice. It’s light, thin, and sleek. It’s comfortable to hold. The screen is, surprisingly, quite easy to read, even in fairly low light situations – though I’ll still be buying a clip-on light since I happen to like to read in no-light situations. A lot. (Side effect of having read ebooks on backlit devices for the past twelve years is that I expect to be able to read in the dark: cars at night, unlit rooms, pubs, etc.)

I think the ‘NEXT PAGE’ buttons are placed too low. I have monstrously long thumbs and I’m pretty sure the button placement would be annoying to men or other persons with large hands. The 5-way mouse thingy could have been a little more elegantly designed, but for a second-generation device it’s fairly well thought out. It’s attractive-looking. (I never in a million years would have purchased the original Kindle. OMG that thing was hideously ugly.)

I don’t know why it’s white, except that maybe they were going for a clean, upwardly mobile Apple thing. I wish it came in grey or black, because I think the white case makes the screen look dingy.

Kindle

The keyboard is almost entirely useless, but at least it’s there. The ‘experimental’ browser is the same because it can’t display a lot of common web content, not just because I have a slow Whispernet connection.

It’s really, really easy to browse Amazon.com and buy ebooks, though. Wow. They totally got that part right! Instant delivery! I can already imagine the joy of this feature when finishing book 2 of a trilogy and being able to get book 3 immediately no matter where I am.

The ‘HOME’ layout is stupid and needs to incorporate tags or genres or folders or something, to save one from having to page through 1,500 titles at a mere 10 titles per page. I’m still digging around in various Kindle superuser forums to see if there’s a hack for that.

The battery life is astonishingly good. I’ve seen some complaints in various forums that leaving the wireless on will drain the battery faster, but my device hasn’t been charged since the day I got it and has used only 25% of its charge. I’ve left wireless on the whole time.

Another wonderful feature is native PDF support. This is freakin’ awesome! I currently have my résumé and a sock pattern – both PDFs – on my Kindle just because I can.

Two of my favorite ebook stores, Fictionwise and Baen, support Kindle. All of my non-DRM Mobi format ebooks can be read on the device.

My particular Kindle is a K2i, which means “Kindle 2 International,” which means it’s an AT&T device (rather than a Sprint device like the U.S. version). I mention this because, well. Here’s a map of the AT&T coverage where I happen to live:

Kindle Coverage Map

Dark purple is 3G, lavender is lower-speed EDGE, and the red box in the middle is Walla Walla. I only get one bar most of the time; two if I’m standing in the yard.

Still, although book downloads don’t take place “in under a minute” for me, I signed up for free 14-day free trials of The New York Times and Blog Kindle, and it’s pretty cool when they’re both there when I wake up in the morning. It would be an especially trick freature for those with long bus or train commutes, because they wouldn’t have to do anything like sync the device to get their news each day.

Each Kindle comes with its own @kindle.com email address, so you or designated others – maybe people at the office – can email ebooks to your device. Neat! (Oh, but Amazon charges you a dime or more every time you do so. Boo! Hiss!)

I discovered Calibre, an iTunes-like ebook application (it’ll even download cover art) that syncs with a variety of ebook readers including the Kindle. I told it where all my ebooks were, and it organized them like iTunes organizes music. It will even convert ebooks from one format to another so that they can be read on different device types. Best of all, it aggregates feeds and either syncs them to the Kindle over USB, or emails them at a particular time every day, neatly solving the $12 per month fee one has to pay Amazon for daily delivery of each blog or newspaper. (Calibre looks like this.)

Apparently, Mobipocket Reader software can also be used to manage one’s Kindle and news feeds.

I had to hack my Kindle, of course, to take custom wallpapers, because… well, I just had to. (Here are the wallpapers I made.)

Kindle

I’m pretty happy with my Kindle. We’ll see if I’m still in love with it in six months. It’s not half as portable as the iPod Touch, on which I have three different ebook reading apps installed (including Amazon’s Kindle for iPhone, which syncs furthest-read with the Kindle so I can switch back and forth easily).

I suspect that my Kindle will live at home, and I’ll use it primarily for long novels and news while continuing to carry the iPod Touch literally everywhere with me and reading short stories on it.

Total: 4 out of 5 stars

The Kindle is everything Amazon says it is, I just don’t know if I’m the right user for this particular device. I’m so used to having my ebook reader be a single application on a device that does a variety of other things that a dedicated ebook device seems a little stunted. I think if I’d magically received a Kindle DX I might have thought, “Now here’s a proper dedicated ebook reader!” because honestly the screen real estate on this device doesn’t pack the punch I’d need to see. The Kindle is a joy to interact with, and while my functional needs might be otherwise, intellectually I like the simplicity of a dedicated device that does only one thing, and does it well.

Update: A few weeks after I got my Kindle, AT&T rolled out better coverage in the Walla Walla valley. Yay!

2009 Loot

Life

In which there is an itemized list. And reindeer. And a puppy.

First of all, reindeer:

Reindeer

Second of all, I received the following items for Christmas this year:

– guinea pig plush toy, small
– candles (2)
– baskets, organizational/decorative (2)
– hat, crocheted
– gloves, knit
– mittens, wool, knit, lined with fleece
– $50
– Starbucks gift card ($15)
– notebook, small, decorative/portable
– gum, a whole bunch, in a tin box
– jewelry (earrings & necklace set)
– flashlight, pink, small
– chocolate (Hershey’s kiss, large)
– jacket (decorative, Indian)
– photo, framed (feat. self with mom and bro)
– mug (Disney, feat. evil characters like Cruella)
– shoes (stripper-style, feat. heels)
– Kindle

I gave everyone on my list socks, lucky Happy Cat tea cups from Japan, portable chopsticks, and/or makeup, depending on who they were, except my brother, to whom I gave a sweatshirt that did not fit and which has to be returned. I did not mail out Christmas cards because I just didn’t get my shit together on time.

For visual aids, view my Christmas 2009 photo set. And in particular, view this, my aunt’s adorable new puppy:

Candy

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope your celebration of the day was mellow and comfortable and not fraught with weirdness!