The joys of having actual paying gigs to do at home are these:

I don’t feel guilty about not doing the chores.
I get just as many chores done as I do when I don’t have paying work to do.
I feel better about the whole thing because I’m making money.

I’m not sure how this works, but I can somehow manage to get the dishes done, wash a few loads of laundry, and pick up the trouble spots with ease while I’m working. But if I don’t have work to do, I get the same amount of housework done – no more – and I feel bad about the housework I didn’t do.
Continue reading Joy of Work →

I’m doing a website for Prairie Ag Coop. Next week, Davis & Palmer might hire me to build them one. And my step-dad forwarded me a lead from my mother, of all people, whom I shall call tomorrow. (“Hi, I realize I sound like a frog but I’m really your future webmaster. Please fill out the damn quote form at goblinbox.com/services already.”)

I’m doing two issues of the Enfield Bullet Owner’s newsletter back-to-back, and most of the articles are hand written (I kid you not: folks who ride vintage-style bikes don’t use computers nor digital cameras much) and I’ll have to type them in. And the most exciting part is that I have no idea who will be paying me for the work.

On top of all that, I just discovered No Media Kings and now think I should just get my shit together and write myself a book. I mean, how hard can it really be? No one reads as much as I do; it’s not like I don’t know an awful lot about character, story, pacing, tone and texture.

Maybe it’s just that the guy writes so well. He makes it sound so utterly fun to write a book and self-publish it. Or maybe it’s just that his index page is powered by Movable Type, and I’m in love with MT even though I haven’t mastered it quite yet and am still running a lame-ass template.

My problem with writing is the same I had with composing music: I enjoy reading (and music) a lot, but I never really have much to say. (If you doubt me, read my blog. Yawn.) Perhaps the truth is this: who cares if you have nothing to say. Add your voice to the noise anyway and some dumbass is bound to find you interesting in spite of yourself. (Also true in music: every time I’m a one-song ringer in someone else’s band I get accosted by bag boys for months afterwards.)

Quick, someone send me an outline. I could probably bang out a full-length novel in a few months… well, if I could summon up some discipline that is.

Download the Underground ebook (mentioned in Rants books) in PPC format here.
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I got sick of not being able to connect to the Internet from home.

So I rearranged my office/meditation room in order to get my tower closer to the phone jack. I removed the long phone extension. I removed the splitter. I used a known working phone cord.

Damn – still no joy.

On a lark, I reinstalled my original modem – the one I replaced a few months ago because it wouldn’t work.

That sucked. While trying to put the modem driver CD in, my Polaroid BurnMAX48 decided to crash my entire operating system. (This is after I spent about six minutes trying to get the tray to open with various small sharp objects.)

After a reboot, the CD-ROM worked fine, the “Windows found new hardware” wizard worked fine, and the installation went well.

Then I selected the new (er, old) modem in DUN and dialled up.

…and I’m connected at 44-motherfucking-K for the first time in months. I’ve been connected now for a whopping 6 minutes with no errors. What the flying fuck was the point of THIS whole exercise?

I’m sick of this desktop, btw. I want another laptop. Having to rearrange an entire room just to test another jack is absurd. Anybody wanna trade me a used laptop for a very slightly used 264MB/40GB CD-R CD-RW desktop, complete with two NIC cards, two USB cards, and two modems?

So I came in, got my sat card re-written, picked up my check, checked my email, blogged, caught up on Rants, had an impromptu meeting, and coughed a lot. Now I’m leaving. I think I’ll hit the bank, visit City Hall, pay my mortgage, and go home for a nap. NAP!
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In the past three days, I’ve been sleeping 16 hours to every 8 that I’m awake. My tonsils are still swollen and I sound like Fat Albert when I talk.

The good news is that my throat is no longer sore.

I’m sick. I stayed home yesterday; today I came in just to catch up a little but now am getting ready to go home again.

I caught this from Anna; I don’t know who she got it from but it’s a sore throat think with a little bit of snot and lots of general soreness. Waaah!

In a shameless steal, I went to Keef’s blog and took this link and posted it here because it’s fucking hysterical.
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Mike’s at Mercy in Iowa City for three days of psych observation. He checked himself in. I haven’t talked to Joe about it much today but – Mike didn’t really want to go, yet he trusted his friends enough to do it for them.

Joe, Jeremy, and Rosie took him up yesterday, and apparently it’s really fucking hard to get help of this kind – when I spoke to Joe before dinner last night, they’d been talking to psych staff all day with no results: no tests, no meds, no agreement that he particularly needed anything at all. It’s like you have to be homeless and destitute and criminally dangerous before they’ll take your blood to look for lithium. It’s bizarre.

I don’t know if his family’s even been notified; I would assume one of the Iowa City troupe called them with all the details last night.

It makes me sad that people have to go through what Mike’s been going through. It makes me sad that people have to go through what Mike’s friends and family have been going through. But I hope he can be diagnosed and that the beginings of management skills can be taught and learned – other people I know with similar conditions feel that it’s important to catch it early and do the things you need to do to keep it from getting really bad: meds, routine, diet, whatever it takes.

I’m still really shocked that it’s this difficult to get any kind of help from medical professionals. When a guy presents with three or four friends who say, “Our friend is exhibiting bipolar symptoms, he can’t be left alone, and we really want to help him, what can we do?” you’d think the doctor would interview the friends carefully and then plan a reasonable course of action.

You’d be wrong.

The first time they took Mike to the doctor, the staff apparently decided they were there to scam meds or something – even though they said they didn’t want any meds but wanted a thorough physical and some advice! I haven’t heard all the details of yesterday’s trip to the hospital, but it amounted to a lot of talking and the only reason it worked out at all was because Mike was brave enough to sign himself in. If he hadn’t been, nothing at all would have come out of it and someone would be missing work again today to care for him.

Anyway, Mike’s really strong and really smart, and he might fool them all – he can “suck it up” long enough to get through an interview or two. Hopefully three days is long enough for staff to observe how hard it is for him right now and they’ll run a few panels.

Let’s hope.

In other news, while Mike was at our place the other morning, it seems he called everyone he’s ever known – including the principal of his grade school – to tell them he’s okay. We never use our landline for long distance, so I never bothered to get a cheap carrier – our base rate is $0.10 a minute. We were already expecting a huge cell phone bill, considering how much time we’ve spent on or cells with everyone, but now we’re going to have a quite possibly gigantic phone bill to match. Hooah!
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Saturday night, I went to the Amma Auction with Anna. We ate good Indian food, had some lassis, and in general enjoyed ourselves thouroughly. Anna got three little statues (two Ganeshas and a Kali, I believe) and a 108-bead rudraksha mala blessed by Amma that she ended up giving to Mike the next day.

I got a choker. I wish I had a picture to post! OMG, it’s the bestest thing ever – it’s got a giant rudraksha in the center and is flanked by two red coral beads, and then the rest of it is rudrakshas in decending size. It’s on silver wire, and many of the beads have silver caps. It’s GORGEOUS. It retailed at $130 but I got it for $80. It makes me soooooo very happy.

The opening bid was $40. (It was a ‘silent’ auction, so the bidding was on paper.) I went back an hour or so later, and still had the only bid. Then after som lassi and watching the satsang as a whole buy a purple bag for Puffer (because he was wearing a purple suit), I went to check the bid sheet again.

Someone was bidding against me!

I bid again, and then she bid again, and then she and I talked and she told me she didn’t want it that much and that she’d let me have it. I went off to the bathroom – only ten minute left! – and Anna saw her bid again anyway!

Anna, bless her soul, bid for me. I got the necklace for $80. I had to put it on plastic because I didn’t have that much cash with me. But yay anyway!

The satsang also bought Amma’s shoes for Vaju. Since she’s got the temple in her basement anyway, it’s a great place for them to be since we can all enjoy them.

(There’s a ritual in Hinduism of doing pada puja to the guru’s feet. When the guru is not present one would use a stylized icon, like a pair of brass “slippers”, for the puja. Having a pair of the guru’s actual shoes – in this case a pair of Birks – is a blessing because the shoes are prasad. )

All in all, the evening was quite fun and I’m glad I went. Only about seven people signed up for Seva, though.
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