December 1999 | Main
| February 2000
January 30, 2000
talkin' 'bout my domain registration
I bought a domain name yesterday, I'm still not sharing what that domain name is because it's not active yet and I don't want some accident to occur and prevent me from being able to upload my files.
I think at some point I said I was going to try and succeed to spend less money this weekend. I was wrong. Domain name + hosting service costs = gouged bethy.
By mid-week, the new site should be up and running.
January 29, 2000
My weekend is brimming with errands. I still haven't bought a calendar for 2000. I can't find any that I like. I was pretty into my Warhol one for 1999. It was colorful. It was poppy.
I am a complete bore today, excuse me. Maybe something interesting will happen later and I'll tell the diaryland folk all about it, and they will say, damn does that girl have a good diary. Mmhmm.
(Greg, I added to my pita. I have some quizzes for you to enjoy.)
[a sad e-mail arrived...]
A sad e-mail arrived in my inbox today:
Date: Sat, 29 Jan 2000 13:55:38 -0500 (EST)
Subject: IMPORTANT: University Computing Account Termination
The University of Pittsburgh is in the process of removing graduated or non-continuing students from the University computing systems. Any University computing accounts belonging to graduated or non-continuing students will be terminated on February 10, 2000. According to University records, you have been identified as a graduated or non-continuing student.
Of course, this is all true, I am a graduated student. Thus, no more unix for me, no more easst33.
So I continued my spending spree and bought a domain name. Actually, I just registered with dreamhost. I'm hoping they take care of the domain name acquisition and that I will be billed but will be able to upload everything soon. I'm not sharing the new domain name yet. Some people already know it. I'm kind of just paranoid that someone will be able to register it menacingly before my account goes through.
But none of you something else readers are mean like that, are you? You're at least too cheap.
January 28, 2000
[today was my last...]
Today was my last day at the UJF. Yay. I hope future temp jobs wear me out slightly less than that one did. I will miss the ability to eat lunch with Greg, but maybe getting to drive to future temping destinations will put me in high spirits by the end of the day. I like to drive. Even in traffic, it's fun. I get to sing and bop in the car.
Yeah, really I have nothing new to say. I'm sorry.
This weekend promises to echo last weekend, except Greg will be around and there will be no Saturday Night Colored Lights. That's fine. Bills will be paid. Cover letters will likely be written. Rooms will be cleaned, rests will be taken, and so on. I will attempt and succeed to spend less money.
Last night, my mom left me a message on my answering machine. She said my brother had called her to ask her to call me and ask me to tell him what I thought of his band's first show. So:
· I basically agree with Greg. It was incredibly loud and therefore difficult to distinguish any instruments from each other (aside from the drums) as well as to hear the words, even when Chris was singing. (The other guy's mic didn't work properly.)
· I thought the last song should have been a lot shorter. The people behind me expressed a similar sentiment, making some kind of cut motion with their hands when they started getting bored. The song simply didn't rock out enough and was extremely repetitive.
· The drummer was amazing. He rocked.
· The bassist was not funny. I don't know if people were laughing at him or with him when he kept saying, "1-2-3-GO!" over and over.
· When you started playing Slayer, I thought, "This sounds kind of metally, but it's actually good."
· I liked the second new song that we couldn't hear the singer for.
· I think the band needs more new songs. The Summer's Fall ones sounded a little dated and kind of all the same.
· Otherwise, I enjoyed it. It was fun to watch. I might even go to another one some time.
January 27, 2000
it's been a long time, been a long time, been a long...
Things I haven't done in awhile:
- written fiction
- been in a play
- handwritten a letter
- bought a CD
- worn make-up
- taken a picture
- made a mixed tape
- bought a new pair of shoes
- cleaned the apartment
- made an elaborate meal
What's awhile? Sometimes it's a few months, sometimes, a few years.
January 26, 2000
[not only have i...]
Not only have I been wearing myself out with menial tasks at the United Jewish Federation lately, I've also been active at night, going around and buying things that I hope will benefit me. I talked about it on diaryland yesterday, if you're interested in specifics. Tonight, too, I'm busy. I'm going to see my brother's band's second show. Ooh.
I've never seen my brother play or sing before. I imagine I'm just going to find it really funny. I expect he'll be really emotive, since it is emo and everything. And Chris is always funny when he's emotive.
So at the UJF today, Pat (female) was going to offer me a job. If you are new to my little web area and/or don't know it already, I've been temping there for the past week or so. The people are nice, but it's very unstimulating work. When Pat entered the room, I was covering a very large white board with white paper (a big bitch of a task, I might add).
PAT: So you've been reduced to this?
ME: What's that?
PAT: So you've been reduced to this?
ME: Oh! Yes.
PAT: I'd like to talk to you some time, when you're not busy.
PAT: Are you interested in this sort of field?
ME [thinking: What field? The getting 8 bucks an hour to do really lame things field?]: Actually, I'm trying to find a job in web design.
PAT: Oh, I see.
ME: So when would you like to speak with me?
PAT: Oh, well, I'll be out of town until Tuesday....
ME: Okay. PAT: I thought I might as well pursue it, anyway.
ME: Yeah... thanks!
PAT: All right.
January 25, 2000
I better find a well-paying job soon.
Temping was not fun today. I kept making two-sided copies that worked like coins - one side was always upside down. I made so many copies that turned out like that, because I didn't know they were turning out like that. I hate the dumb copier.
I would enjoy some Chinese food right now. Perhaps I will take Sweetie out to eat Chinese food, even though I cannot afford to do so. It's like once you start spending money you don't have, you figure, "Well, what does it matter now? I'm already in debt." How very unhealthy of me.
January 24, 2000
that fine fine music
There is really no rock and roll element to my life right now. I guess the question can be asked, "Was there ever a rock and roll element to your life, Beth?" And I can reply, "Sort of, in high school. We did some outlandish things back then." But rock and roll? Nah.
Steve's party was kind of rock and roll. I mean, I don't know, I didn't exactly get any rock and roll vibes when it was going on, but I enjoyed myself. I met someone named Zuleka, that's kind of exotic.
I don't know why I've started talking about being young and silly and missing my youth. Maybe it's the stress of the transition into the adult world. I'm still a kid. People call me "hon" and "sweetie" on the phone. But maybe the ones who do that do it to everyone.
January 23, 2000
sluggish and linky
Steve's party seemed to go over well. My brother showed up and appeared to enjoy himself. I think he knew more people there than I did, and it was at my apartment. What a popular boy.
I went to bed before the dancing stopped, before the strobe light was shut off, but I was still awake in the aftermath to hear the few remaining friends discussing the party's success. Now it's 11:30 and I'm feeling sluggish. My lungs are smoky. I need to do laundry. Ugh.
I'm going to have to link Greg's diary on my pita along with his homepage. He still tries to self-promote (and me-promote), but he's starting to tell little stories about his days, and they're almost always funny. He's better at quick little stories than I am. I always feel like I have to include every detail I take in. I wish I didn't feel that way.
I also wish I had bought orange juice at the grocery store yesterday. I didn't, because I didn't think I'd ever be around to drink it. But I'm around now, dammit, feeling sluggish and desiring orange juice.
[in class tonight, i...]
In class tonight, I looked down at my funky note-taking scrawl and figured I must be out of practice in the handwriting category. And then I thought: what if eventually, people will stop needing to write things by hand? What if schools stop teaching children to write by hand, because everything involving words can be typed? Realistically, it would be easy to make it through the day without handwriting anything. When I take a phone message at work, it's simplest to type it into an email for immediate delivery. When I make a to do list, a typed one seems much more organized and easy to read. Ah, but I still need to write to cross things out, because hard copy lists are better. More satisfying to cross out than to delete. But, deleting is an option, and writing is not necessary for that.
If we ever got to the point where everyone used computers from the time they were learning to walk (some probably already do - my brother and I pretty much did, but that was when the computer was a Commodore Vic20 hooked up to the TV set), things could progress naturally to the point where taking notes in school is wholly computerized, even from grade school. I guess people had to deal with a similar problem with calculators, though. Calculators have been around for a long time, but we still had to learn to do the math in our heads.
I'm sure people most people have already thought about this, but it just occurred to me, and even though I don't think it's a possibility in the near future, it could happen if our world turned into a crazy sci-fi place some day. The implications (regarding art, mostly) frighten me. Still, humans have been communicating through handwriting for so long. Well, I don't think I'll be seeing the answer for this one.
January 22, 2000
I dreamt last night that I was Jan, middle Brady Bunch sister. I was in a tunnel with other people I knew, and then suddenly we all turned into people from the Brady Bunch and started dancing in the weirdly choreographed way they always did.
I'm hoping to accomplish many errands today. Getting errands done is very satisfying to me. Even if all my errands are lame, even if "buying the paper" is one of my errands, which it's not, technically, since it's not on the list, getting them done still makes me happy.
Tonight is colored lights 3, Steve's big bash. Steve is my apartment mate, if you're not already in the know. Part of me is looking forward to it, part of me just wants a restful weekend. Greg is in his hometown, so I'm stag all weekend. Stag, but not stagnant. Jan was stagnant. She tried to be a baton twirler, but she sucked. She was a good-for-nothing whiner.
Really, I have no animosity towards Jan. RIP Jan Brady, we love you.
January 21, 2000
[so i caved in...]
So I caved in (well, I didn't need much
encouragement to take potentially hit-increasing measures,
so it can't be called caving, exactly) and put myself up on
realmofredheads.com. If you hit the site, check under "10
newest members." I'm "Bethy," in case you don't know what
I look like already. If I'm not listed there anymore, go here
to read my profile. I was being somewhat silly when I wrote
it - I mean, come on, "early postmodern art?" I am interested
in early postmodern art, but it's doubtful that anyone would
be interested that I'm interested in it. Overall, it's just
a silly description for a silly site.
I'm not trying to bash the webmistress,
though: her name is Candi, she seems cool, and she's probably
making life a little more fun for a number of people with
her site. Things are likely especially fun for the red-blooded,
redhead-loving males who visit The Realm. Indeed, I've already
received two interesting pieces of mail from some such males.
Number One: Vikings, Reveling.
19 Jan 00 16:43PM EST
From: Doc Rogers (really his name)
Subject: hi Beth
I'm glad you
joined the Realm!! It's nice that your friend told you about
it. I've done the same, and with great reward. Nothing is
more beautiful than red hair. I only wish I'd inherited my
Viking ancestor's color...alas, I am gray.
Revel in your
"The Force is like duct tape: it has
a dark side and a light side and it binds the universe together."
"You can't remove the tarnish from a man's soul without also
taking a little of the silver."
Kind of odd, but unthreatening.
Number Two: Many Interests, Goofing Off,
20 Jan 2000 12:14:52 -0500
From: jtcooper M
My name is
Jason. I'll be 30 next month, am 5'8" tall, green eyes, dark
hair. I'll include a photo as well. My interests are pretty
diverse, and some of them include movies, music/concerts,
occasional trips to the beach, trips to the lake with friends,
jet skiing, art/being creative (my natural talent/gift- drawing,
painting, writing), walking/talking under the stars on a clear
night (I am a hopeless romantic as well), and laughing, goofing
off/joking around (I can be quite humorous/sarcastic at times.)
I'm a Georgia native, and live in Atlanta. I guess you could
say that my cat happens to be a Redhead- he's an Orange Tabby
named "Bob Cat". I am currently in the telecommunications
industry, and have decided that I would be much happier doing
what I believe I was put on the Earth to do- BE CREATIVE!!!
So, I am in the process of making a transition into the wonderful
world of art. Once you visit my website, you will probably
get a better idea of the type of person that I am, or atleast
my interests anyway.
I am also
using my site as a way of meeting new people/making new friends.
I do plan to add a bio page about myself as soon as I can
finish the main page. I am sending you a link to my site so
that you may check it out. I would love to hear what you think
about it. You may either reply back to the address on this
e-mail, or the address posted at the site.
I hope that
you enjoy my site, and I also am interested in learning more
about you, and look forward to hearing from you. Have a great
I wonder how many other women received this very letter from
the self-described hopeless romantic who can be quite humorous/sarcastic
at times. He also included a couple of pictures:
I am creative, baby.
Want me for my money/many interests.
Just keep one thing in
mind: if you send me email because I have red hair, I will
Well, I have to go revel
in my beauty now, so you'll have to excuse me.
January 19, 2000
[i can't get out...]
I can't get out of the parking lot behind my building. I'm supposed to temp, but I can't go anywhere. There are cars - and one pick-up truck - lining the backs of each building. It's hard to relate to someone who hasn't seen it just how horrible the back lot is. It's free, which is good, but it's small and unregulated. Two skinny alleys lead up to the lot itself, which is about as wide as the lengths of two sedans, if you can imagine that. Like it's about two, maybe two and a half Ford Tauruses (Taurii?) back to back. Lengthwise, the lot's pretty sizeable.
Problems occur when people who can't find actual "spots" create ones for themselves by parking against the back of one of the three buildings, thereby leaving about ten feet between their car and someone else's car parked in a more conventional spot. There are no "actual spots," however; people just squeeze their car in where it will fit. Or they act like self-centered idiots and park diagonally, erasing an otherwise potential spot.
An Inconsistent Interview
Interviewer: Beth's Volvo
VOLVO: So how long, on average, does it take you to get me out of the back lot?
BETH: Usually not that long. Like about 2 to three minutes, including the time spent walking over to you, unlocking your door, etc.
V: But sometimes we've had some shitty luck, you know?
B: Definitely. Remember that time Greg and I had to go to class and we were driving Steve somewhere -
V: Yeah, man, those other cars weren't giving me no respect.
B: It took at least twenty minutes.
V: They were f'n blocking me in entirely practically. I didn't think I was getting nowhere.
B: You have some language problems, did you know that?
V: Well, my last owner wasn't the brightest of guys. He was good to me, but some of his brusque language rubbed off after five years in his care. I can speak correctly if I want to, however. My original owner, Lewis Levine, was a well-educated and highly successful lawyer. I used to question why he chose me, a white Volvo wagon, as his status symbol, but later, I came to terms. I was, however, somewhat disappointed when owner #2 removed my cell phone.
B: Well, I think you've proven your point.
V: Thank you. But let's not forget: I'm the one interviewing you. Did I tell you you're looking somewhat attractive today?
B (blushing): Shh, you're not supposed to say things like that. Greg might read this.
V: Yes. So how long did you try to get me out of the lot this morning?
B: I'd say no less than forty minutes. I tried every possibility: both alleys, facing forward one way, facing forward the other way, backing out. It was literally impossible from a physical standpoint.
V: I was rooting for you, but you know my tires having been doing that weird thing when you turn while driving at slow speeds.
B: Yeah, that didn't really help. Lucky for you, I was more pissed off at the cars on the back of the wall than at you.
V: Well, it's not like you would have done anything about it if you were pissed at me.
V: Any final comments?
B: Nah, not really.
January 18, 2000
the lovely l----s
Somewhat weird, somewhat uneventful day. I smelled gas in Greg's apartment hallway this morning, so I called the realtor woman. The realtor woman - we'll call her J. L---- - is somewhat frightening, but she's probably not an entirely bad person. It would be nice if she fixed the back door so that bad guys couldn't get in but that the nice people who live here could get out without keeping the door propped open perpetually. But it's very possible that no one has even informed J. L---- of this door problem.
Anyway, then I called the temp agency, and I might have a job doing some filing for a week. I had to go to Kinko's to fax the temp agency my resume. Then the lady there was going to fax it to the guy I for whom I would file. I'm not much into filing, but it's work. It will make me think I'm doing stuff. So I never heard what the sitch is, because the guy "stepped out" for some sex or something, and apparently he never returned to give the thumbs-up to Beth being his personal temp for a week.
Sorry about the silliness.
I also called a ballet place, maybe I should try them back. Maybe tomorrow.
[i'd been noticing that...]
I'd been noticing that I was still writing "99" on the dates in these entries. I changed that earlier, though, just for you, lovely reader.
Today's topic of interest visits us in the form of an email from a young German woman. My brother might actually be interested in this. Here's one of the things that was in my inbox yesterday:
Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 18:41:38 +0100
From: Kathrin Boelter
Hi Beth, I just stumbled over your web page. Really good, I enjoyed my visit. So you're a fellow redhead? Have you ever heard of the realm of redheads? No? Well then go there... you'll love it:
You seem to be a good candidate for the RedheadLines, our magazine there.
If you're going to join, tell Candi (the webmistress) that I told you about the site.
I'll hopefully see you there...
So. I checked out this site, and I think it's a cult. Well, it's probably more just like a redhead dating service. Here's one member profile:
Self-Description: I am 5 Foot 6 weight 133 measurements 36c 25 36 i have short hair to my sholders i where glasses i have that sexy libarian thing going on.. i know i am sexy and look good...
Interests: i like the comp and i like to dance i am not a partier but i love pain and piercings ...
She really sounds like the type of girl I'd like to get to know. Funny thing is, the directions in submitting your profile specify that you're not to mention sexual attributes or sex at all.
I think I'm going to join, though. It may score my site some more hits. But then it's like, do I really want people who are all into having red hair reading my site? Is it the quantity or the quality of my viewers that matters?
Yeah, I think it's the quantity, too.
January 17, 2000
Wow, a completely unproductive day. Good thing my folks don't read anything I write on the web, because then they'd become annoyed or disappointed that I haven't made any job-acquiring efforts.
It's a holiday, though, so it's okay that I am useless.
Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow, I will become queen of the universe and rock Pittsburgh like a hurricane and get an insanely cool job where I walk around and everyone oohs and aahs at my coolness and I have lots of friends and enjoy myself all the time and never stress out. I swear, this will happen.
January 16, 2000
I always look bad in pictures. When people are about to take a picture of me, I always dip my head down in an attempt to appear cute. Like I lift one shoulder up and tilt my head towards it in a manner that suggests (to my mind, at least), "Oh, aren't I so cute?" But in a tongue-in-cheek way, of course.
However, the being cute thing totally doesn't work. It elongates the appearance of my nose and creates an extreme double chin. I have a pretty weak chin to begin with. Doing the beth is cute pose gives me two chins, neither of which are cute.
I have resolved to train my brain to keep my chin at perhaps even a slightly raised level, so that if I do reflexively tilt my head at the sign of the flash, it won't tilt as much as usual. I doubt that will work either, though.
[i was thinking, earlier...]
I was thinking, earlier today, about how I don't think about things as often as I used to. When I was younger, I used to think about the way the world was, about other people's lives. I'd be more specific if I could remember what I used to think about, back when I thought. In high school, even, I had a much greater sense of wonderment about everything. Things were new. There were lifestyles (like punk rock, for instance) that I'd never encountered before. Music was exciting, dressing outlandishly was exciting, even driving to the city was exciting.
Then things stopped being exciting. I don't know when or how things changed. I remember, though, walking through the cafeteria one day as a college sophomore and realizing that I never felt heady anymore. All things new and cool and underground - like listening to Drexel University's ultra-cool college radio station or going to see Simon Joyner at Swarthmore College when I was sixteen, had radiated and imparted to me a physicality, a real sensation, that I tried to force myself to feel that day in the cafeteria. Just to remind myself that I could. I can't make myself feel it anymore, though.
It's like I all at once realized that nothing was new or important. Maybe it happened because because I had stopped thinking about things (and therefore, imposing value and meaning on them) long before, yet I had only then realized it.
Nowadays (weird word, if you think about it, but I don't do that), I mainly think about what I've done and what I have to do. Not in life (though I do think about Life fairly often), but in daily activity. I worry needlessly about lame things like when I'll write my home-friends letters or when I'll mail out my bills. All my thoughts are me-centric. The most recent thing I submitted to pencilbox was all wrapped up in myself. I haven't gotten an edit back yet, but the me element is glaring.
It's understandable, I guess. I'm in a transitional period. My future is entirely open-ended right now. My sense of self is tenuous. But that's something else entirely.
Playing with the web has been the closest thing to bringing back that feeling of wonder I used to get. Ironically, my involvement with the web is also completely self-centered, just as is everything else I think about. But that sensation I'm missing is all wrapped up in how I view myself, anyway.
I'm sorry, my last entry was introspective to the extreme, too. I'm starting to lose what little focus I started with.
I made pumpkin spice bread the other night. It was tasty.
January 15, 2000
For the past few days, Gregory and I have been playing a lot of Donkey Kong 64. I bought it for him for Christmas. I've seen so much of this game lately that its music plays unendingly in the back of my brain. I hear it when I go to sleep, when I wake up, probably even in my dreams. I did, in fact, dream about a monkey the other night. (Monkeys are what DK64 is all about.)
The game is cool. It's got a postmodern thing going on in some parts. I took a postmodernism course one semester, and it was a wonderful course, but even now, I'm never confident in labeling things postmodern. But the game has a sense of humor about itself and a self-referential bent (which is modernist, right? I get modernism and post-modernism confused). It's a huge game, and it likes to show it off at certain points by referencing older games.
In one miniscule portion of one level, for instance, Donkey has to play the original Donkey Kong, the 1981 version. It makes you realize the scope of the 1999 version: the entire 1981 Donkey Kong is included in the 1999 version, along with an unbelievable amount of other stuff. Not to mention the 3-D aspect.
Anyway, I guess I thought it was kind of postmodern how they (the game's creators) have the player controlling Donkey Kong controlling Mario, who's trying to combat Donkey Kong in the original game.
I could go on marveling about technology, about how I feel old, about the future, but I'll reward you for having read even this far.
Greg, I'm sure, just thinks I'm silly.
January 14, 2000
[writing a resume is...]
Writing a resume is not fun, especially when you have to try to dress up duties like filing and answering phones.
I still don't have a job, by the way.
And I still haven't called about taking a ballet class. That goes on the list of things to do this weekend.
I just got back from dinner with the guys (yes, Chris, I went out with my friends who I ignore all the time).
Chris busted on me a little while back in one of his journal entries. He accused me of not having "boyfriend etiquette" and of ignoring my friends. I read later on his site that he was just expressing concern, but he formed some opinions that weren't the most informed, in my opinion. There are a lot of things about my life that he doesn't know. I don't only mean the things I do, but more like the way my past experiences have shaped me, and the reasons behind some of those experiences. ("Things you wouldn't understand. Things you couldn't understand." What's that from? That's one of the few movie quotes I know, and I can't even remember the beginning of it at the moment. I'm not big on movie quotes. It bothers me when people quote things often. It makes me feel like they can't think of funny things on their own.)
My mom said that Chris was just expressing his opinion, and he does have the right to do that. I was never planning to attack him, in writing or otherwise. If anything, I would have tried to explain myself. But I don't want to explain. There's too much to explain. The explanation goes back to grade school. It's complex, thinking about how to go about explaining why you do what you do. I've always tried to keep on top of the reasons behind my behavior and thoughts.
It's only recently, like within the past year, that I've consciously considered that my brain makes up the reasons it wants in order to trick me into thinking I'm a-okay and a stable person. I always thought that my answers to why I am how I am were the right ones. Ultimately, I think they are. Sometimes, though, it helps to have other people's opinions. Usually they end up confusing me more, but thinking them through helps me step back and get to know who I am. Even if I disagree with the opinions of others, they force me to reevaluate things I've allowed to become assumptions.
I might not be making any sense, and you might not be reading anymore. I know I'm being vague. I'm sorry. One thing I would like to do with this site is record memories of my past. They won't all be entertaining memories, but hopefully, as I become a more focused writer, I'll be able to make some of them at least somewhat relevant and relatable to readers.
Enjoy the weekend, everyone.
January 13, 2000
I am so productive today. Sort of. Not really. I'm trying.
My credit card bill is huge, and I'm supposed to be writing an article about how to save money for pencilbox. I know how to save money; I know what I should do to save money. I just don't always do it. And I'm trying to bring out that aspect in the piece. I'm not sure the intro works, we'll see what Annie thinks.
I'm also doing my resume. The temp agency called me yesterday, rather than me calling them. Kind of fateful, except I haven't heard back from the woman. Here was our conversation:
Woman: Is Beth there?
Me: This is Beth.
Woman: I'm from Allegheny Personnel, I wanted to see if you're still available for work.
Me: Yeah, actually, I just graduated, so I'm looking right now.
Woman: You graduated from Pitt?
Woman: What's your degree in?
Me: Film Studies.
Woman: Film Studies?
Me: Film Studies.
Woman: Film Studies. Mmmmmm. So what are you planning to do with that?
Me: Actually, I want to get into web design.
Woman: Oh, okay. So what kind of job are you looking for?
Me: Uh, temp?
Woman: Oh, well I have about six temp-to-hire jobs to fill...
Me: Temp-to-hire wouldn't be bad, though.
Woman: Well, I don't think that's what you're looking for, because what if you leave in two months to go to a web design job?
Me (thinking: yeah right I'll have a web design job in two months): Yeah, I see what you're saying.
Woman: Well, maybe we could find you a temp-to-hire job at a computer company where there's a possibility of advancement in that field. Are you still available to work downtown?
Woman: Well, I'll call our downtown office and hook you up with something right away.
I haven't heard back from her, though, as I think I mentioned. Do I call? Has she tried to call here and gotten busy signals? I don't know. Poopy.
January 12, 2000
In fifth grade, I went to a slumber party. It was the first time I had ever stayed up till 5 in the morning. The party's host was the new girl, Heather. I was her first friend at school, because I was always the first person to befriend newcomers. I think part of me genuinely wanted to make people feel welcome, and part of me was always on the lookout for new friends, because I didn't have many. Heather was really nice until the cool group captured her. Then she joined them in the back of the bus, ridiculing me because I didn't say bad words and had a bad haircut. It really sucks to be an uncool kid, but I don't think I would ever go on Sally Jesse Raphael and confront the people who were mean to me in grade school. I always think it's funny when the people who were the accused bullies don't even remember the person who's accusing them. Funny and sad at the same time, actually.
Anyway, it's kind of pathetic, but I'm hoping that I get invited to my grade school reunion, even though our family moved in the eighth grade. I'm hoping to find that some of the people who were cruel to me (and to others) have changed. It would feel good to see that they turned out well. If they haven't changed, though, I don't think it would do me much good to bring out the superiority complex, even though I probably would assume one on the spot as a protective reflex. If they're still as lame as they were when they were 12, they're probably going to think just as little of me as they did then, no matter how sophisticated and cool I look.
But I was talking about Heather, I'm sorry. She had a slumber party. Some of her friends from her old school were there. One of them was an older girl who was kind of loud and party-dominating, but I thought she was cool. I guess older meant cooler. When we finally went to bed, the cool girl started telling people at the party that they were pretty. My friend Sarah, who was always extremely insecure, said, "I wish I were pretty," and the cool girl said, "You are, you're cute," or something like that. The cool girl hadn't said anything to me, though, and I was feeling left out. I used Sarah's whiny method. "I wish I were pretty," I said. The cool girl didn't say anything. Someone said, "I'm getting tired." I waited a few minutes and tried it again. Again, no one said anything. I can't remember if I cried, but I know that I went to bed feeling very less than pretty.
Yesterday I was in kind of the same state. I didn't want to be told I was pretty, but I needed approval and no one was giving it. I've been changing my site around a lot lately, and I wanted someone to say it looked good, that all my efforts were for the better. But Greg didn't like the changes, and Steve wasn't saying anything. I know Becca went there, but she's ill and doesn't really care about web pages. Chris probably went there, but I doubt he cares, either.
But: I'm past the need for approval now. I've made a lot of changes, and I think they look just dandy.
And I feel pretty, too.
Phew. I've done a whole lot with the site. While I feel pathetic at having put so much time into it these past few days, I am also nearing the point of satisfaction. Still, I'm feeling some web overload, so I may not write much for awhile. I need to do other things. Like find a job. The lady from the temp agency I signed with last year called me today. We'll see what pans out from that, I suppose.
I owe readers an explanation, I think, of some of the new sections. But I'm sorry, I'm not going to get to that right now. I need to write another article for pencilbox, one I was supposed to have done by last Saturday. Boo on me.
By the way, the form in the ask beth section doesn't work. I'm going to have to ask Steve how to do it, since the one on his page works, but I suspect his answer will be something along the lines of, "I have no idea."
Also, I haven't put anything in the "cast" section yet, but if you know me, look for yourself within the next weeks. I would say days, but ha ha, I don't want to be overly ambitious.
Well, I hope you all approve of my changes. If you don't, too bad; it's gonna look like this for awhile.
January 10, 2000
don't just sit there
Well, I guess I've made some miniscule progress as far as getting web stuff together. Sort of. I made a happy template change to this site, and I redesigned my pita, which had been sitting around stagnating for awhile. It's something. I'm not done for the day yet, either.
I think people (parents; boyfriend; roommate, perhaps) are going to start getting on me about getting a job. I understand why they would feel a need to do this, because it looks like I'm just sitting on my bum doing nothing, but I'm not. And besides, by the end of the week, I'm on it, promise. I just need a few more days of getting my shit together on the homefront. Everyone should be able to understand this.
Cleveland was fun. It's a clean little city.
January 07, 2000
going to cleveland
Trip to Cleveland commences after Greggy Love gets home from class. I'm feeling sort of icky right now, but I'm hoping it won't last long.
There are lots of soda cans in my room. I'm going to have to take care of that before I leave. I'm starting to become like my mom. She never wants to come back to a dirty house after a trip, and this makes sense to me.
I should really get dressed and pack for Cleveland. I'm just feeling a little sluggish.
There's a band called the Mountain Goats that I was really into as an indie rock highschooler. The band was mostly just a guy named John Darnielle and sometimes some girl of whom my friend Becca and I were jealous (because the girl got to be with John, who had to have been completely sexy since he wrote such witty and intellectual songs). A lot of his songs were about going places. They'd be called "Going to Minnesota" or "Going to Japan." He may still be writing songs like these. I just thought of this because I called the description for this entry 'going to cleveland.'
[i haven't accomplished much...]
I haven't accomplished much since I've been back in the city. On Wednesday, I put together my new night table, hooked up my new computer speakers, unpacked, that sort of thing. Yesterday was more eventful, however.
I had a meeting with the lady at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. She looked like a kindergarten teacher and had laryngitis. Her lack of voice made the meeting kind of comical, but she was nice and helpful. I'm going to start classes there in April, I think.
After that, Greg and I lunched at Valhalla, a semi-swank place downtown. I ate a veggie wrap because I'm so healthy. Actually, I've read that veggie wraps are stocked with calories. I don't care. It was yummym, and they were still veggies.
Then we went to the Historic Center of Pittsburgh (which is next door to Valhalla) and wandered around for a couple of hours. Heinz Ketchup (which is based in Pgh, for anyone who doesn't know) had a cool installation there. Overall, the place was neat.
This is one of those entries I'm writing almost solely for myself. It can't be very entertaining to read about what I did yesterday. Very few of you, I'm sure, care. Someday, though, hopefully, I'll be able to go back and remember a nice day I spent in the city with my boyfriend.
At night, Greg and I went out with some of his work friends. They were an interesting group of people, very diverse, but all very nice. A local radio station was there, and at one point the DJ had a fat intern stand on the dance floor with a handful of CDs and videos. The DJ said that the first seven ladies who danced with the intern would get something free, so I sidled up to him and scored a Rob Zombie CD. I should write about this on diaryland, because I think more people would read it.
Anyway, Greg was teasing me about it. He said I was dancing like a stripper and compromising myself to get a free thing. But I mean, I didn't have to do anything, just dance. I already had been dancing. Well, I don't feel compromised, anyway.
I think I'm going to get dressed now. Later today, Greg and I are driving to Cleveland to see the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Rock.
January 05, 2000
It's the middle of the night. I'm wide awake. That's something else to add to my list of things to poop on - being wide awake at 3:30 a.m.
I'm back in Pittsburgh now. I drove home with Chris (brother) in tow yesterday. It wasn't too bad. The drive goes faster when someone else is with you. I had a weird thing happen, though. My left ear popped and would not unpop. I'm mentioning it because my ear is starting to feel popped-ish right now. We stopped for lunch at Burger King, and I thought that all that chewing and swallowing would result in an unpopped ear, but no. Obviously, eventually my ear unpopped, and it felt good.
January 02, 2000
I hate colds! Poop on colds.
List of stuff to poop on:
- dumb commercials whose theme songs get stuck in your head
- messes that you don't feel like cleaning up
- the high price of gasoline
- having a tummy that sticks out
- high credit card bills
- an oven that doesn't close all the way
- my own slothlike behavior over xmas break
- being broke
That's all for now. Don't get a cold! They f'n blow, to use a couple of Greg words. Hi Greggy.
[break is almost over...]
Break is almost over, and of course I haven't altered my site at all. I only had my computer hooked up once, and during that time I changed my diaryland template to this ugly mustard thing that will probably change again very soon. I'm driving back to Pgh on Tuesday, but I'm going to continue vacationing throughout the next week as much as I can before hankering down and looking for a job. I don't know if that plan will succeed, though: I have an interview at the Art Institute that I'm debating canceling, and I know that Nancy will want me to stop in and work more on the site I'm doing for her.
New Year's was pretty fun, I suppose. It was definitely different and memorable, which is how I wanted it to be. I got to hang out with Greg, which was positively cool. I'm just ill now. I've been ill all weekend with a cold/sinus/slight fever thing, and today is particularly bad.
Steve has done a lot of remodeling work on his site. I'm jealous. But a new something else will happen in its own time. It might even get another name change if I register a domain name. It's like a bad band that keeps changing its name to try to run away from its past.
I'm not running from my past. I swear.
I'm running to a better, brighter future. With the skills of today to use in the jobs of tomorrow in tow.