He’d gone mad.
That’s what they said about him. Of course, most folk didn’t really know what happened to Frank that winter, except that he had lost his job as caretaker of the old mill. After that, things in his life just seemed to go south; first his job, then his pride, and then his wife. Mrs. Sutherland had left the comfort of home, and headed to the city to stay with her sister. Before she had even stepped a foot out of her house, however, the gossip and rumors were already spreading to the outskirts of Applecroft. People said that she was leaving Frank for good this time, and that it was about time, too. Some said that Frank was having an affair with a local school teacher, though she was much too young for old Frank, and besides she was far too pretty. Some even said that Frank had begun to lose his mind. They said they had seen him on several occasions wandering around the town square with a bemused, and yet confused look on his face. When approached, he would shake his head and head off in the opposite direction, mumbling under his breath and shoving his hands into his pockets. They said his eyes burned with intent, and seemed to be hiding something horrible and frightening underneath them, though nobody could quite decide what that could be.
Whatever the reason behind it, Mrs. Sutherland left the town of Applecroft, and Frank was now left alone in their small home near Oak’s Grove. With no job to occupy his time, Frank often took to long walks to keep his legs warm and his mind busy. Often, he would trudge up to the old mill, and sit quietly beside the pond nearby and attempt to fish. He never caught anything, of course…but he enjoyed the silence and comfort of isolation near his old charge, as if the old mill had become a quiet friend. On occasion, Frank would walk along the old fence and try to mend any breaks in the wire, for nothing more than to keep the area looking respectful, even if the town had all but forgotten about Oak’s Grove pond.
It was on one such occasion, while he was mending a particularly taunt and frisky piece of barbed wire on the southern side of the pond, that Frank Sutherland had heard it. He stopped what he was doing, and cocked his head to the side, listening. No other sound pierced the quiet, save for the quiet trickling of the pond, as the wind blew across the water. It did not take Frank long to go back to his business, and he set his mind back on the fence wire before him, and concentrated on the repairs.
Then, he heard it again. This time, he was sure he had heard it. There was no mistaking that sound, to be sure…but where was it coming from? He turned his gaze towards the pond and the tree, but saw nothing there. Then, as he turned to look up at the old mill, the quiet sanctuary of the pond was shattered by the frantic and terrified screaming of a woman. It seemed to be coming from the top of the mill, and as Frank gazed up there he caught a glimpse of a woman in one of the broken windows. Even though he was not able to make out anything more, he was certain it was the woman he could hear screaming, and set out to help her any way he could.
His old, stiff legs carried him across the snow towards the mill, and each breath he pulled into his lungs felt cold and sharp. As he neared, the screaming became louder, and more hysterical. His chest was heaving up and down now with effort, but still he pounded through the snow, towards the mill. He was right at the door when the screaming became louder than ever. My God, thought Frank, what is happening up there? He ripped open the old wooden door, and flung himself inside, instinctively looking around for signs of trouble, but there were none. As he reached the stairs, the screams above him continued, almost as if they were coming from a record that had become stuck and was now repeating the same parts over and over again. He climbed the stairs, and his heart pounded within his chest. He wasn’t sure why, but Frank had the idea in his head that if he didn’t stop right now and head home, he would surely be harmed by whatever was up there. He tried to shake the thoughts out of his head, and thought again of the poor woman who was obviously in great peril. As suddenly as he thought this, however, the screaming stopped. Frank stopped, too and listened, his breathing fast and raspy. He heard nothing above him at all, anymore. The old mill groaned, as it usually did, and Frank listened even more intently for signs of life above him. Surely he hadn’t been imagining that, had he? It was impossible…there was a woman screaming above him, only 10 more steps and he would be in the mill attic and face to face with whatever had been making the noise.
He decided to continue upwards, and investigate. Perhaps it was some teenagers from town, trying to scare him? Ever since he had lost his job and Edith had gone to live with her sister, people had started talking about him like he was crazy. As he made up his mind, he found that he could not move his leg. For whatever reason, Frank was afraid to go up there. Every fiber of his being told him to just turn around and run. Run down the stairs and out the door, and head straight home and never look back. He did not move, though…he simply stood there frozen, and listened. His heart began to beat harder in his chest, and his breathing quickened. He had to leave, he had to get out of there.
Then, he heard it. It was laughing…but it was not laughter of joy or fun. It was sick, evil sounding laughing, and it was close. Right above him, in the attic; ten more steps and he would be staring at this person laughing at him. Then the laughter changed screaming again; more high pitched and frantic, it chilled him and make his stomach drop. He knew it was time to leave, but still he could not move. Then, as quickly as it had started, the screaming once again subsided. Silence filled the old mill, and Frank felt more alone than ever. He listened once more, trying to decide whether or not to continue up the stairs. Suddenly, he felt his body go cold and his hands began to shake as he felt hot breath on the back of his neck and then a high-pitched shrill behind him, as if there was someone standing on the very step behind him, screaming in his ear. With a sense of true panic and fear, Frank bounded up the stairs, yelling in fright and confusion. He reached the top of the stairs and charged into the attic, ready for anything. The screaming behind him was following him, yet he could not bring himself to look at it. He knew if he looked at it, he would die. He headed towards the center of the room, and stopped in his tracks. Whoever was chasing him had stopped screaming, and he no longer felt like he was being pursued. Slowly, he gathered his courage and turned around, trying to find the will to see what was behind him.
The room was empty. The blades of the windmill groaned and creaked outside, and the wind blew into the room, chilling him. Frank turned around again, and saw nothing…the attic was empty. He breathed softer now, and wiped his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew he had to get out of there; something bad was there.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
A Struck Thought Me
I’ve been sitting at my desk for almost 2 hours now, and I have yet to accomplish anything work-related, whatsoever. My inbox is the same as it was when I came into the office this morning, and I have not even logged in to the software database. At first glance, this would appear to be the result of laziness, or perhaps a lack of a work ethic. I assure you, this is not the case. My inability to effectively manage my time and job duties is a direct result of the following:
1-I have a hangover
2-I hate this job
The reason behind the hangover is simple: I drank too much last night. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “No, Eric you don’t know what I’m thinking.” Or, you might be wondering why I would allow myself to become inebriated on a school night?
Please…allow me to explain the events of last night in a little more detail.
Last night, Jen’s brother Bryan came home from his second (and hopefully last) tour of duty in Iraq, and arrived safely back in the United States to his mother’s outstretched and panic-stricken arms. When Jen got the phone call from Bryan in North Carolina to say hello, it was cause for celebration and joy. Well, it wouldn’t be a celebration without a drink, would it? So we had a drink, and this was followed by phone calls to loved ones and family members, and friends. Then we had another celebratory drink. Next, was the drink to celebrate the first celebratory drink, in its honor of being the first drink. Later, we decided to have a drink to celebrate the fact that it was Wednesday, and the week was almost over. Of course, after that it was only fitting to have a drink to celebrate the fact that Jen changed into her comfortable clothes, and that I turned my hat around. Then we played games and had fun. We had a drink to toast the winner, and after that, we decided to have a drink to celebrate the fact that Bryan was coming home from Iraq. Then there were the calls to loved ones, family members, and friends…who did not seem to understand why we were calling twice to relay the same news. Then we had a drink to celebrate cheese. Later on were the inevitable intoxicated violin performances, as well as drunk dials to friends (sorry to keep you up so late, Greg).
That was pretty much how the evening progressed. Now…fast-forward a few hours, throw in a bad breakfast burrito and only 4 hours of sleep, and you have a completely worthless worker bee. Ta-dah!
I have found ways to remain productive, however. For instance, I did complete a level of Mah Jong with no cheats or hints, all by myself. I was also able to drink some apple juice, and later on, practice sleeping while sitting up. My tentative goals for the remainder of the afternoon involve deep meditation and prayer, which will of course occur in the quiet sanctuary of my “under desk” area. I fully intend to ignore the phone when it rings, which takes a lot of personal and professional courage and patience. I also plan to add a new paradigm of quality control business unit tasks to my goal-seeking upper management potential projects.
I shall remain busy, do not worry. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go find the bathroom and say "Europe" to the sink. Have a nice day, and don't warn the tadpoles.
1-I have a hangover
2-I hate this job
The reason behind the hangover is simple: I drank too much last night. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “No, Eric you don’t know what I’m thinking.” Or, you might be wondering why I would allow myself to become inebriated on a school night?
Please…allow me to explain the events of last night in a little more detail.
Last night, Jen’s brother Bryan came home from his second (and hopefully last) tour of duty in Iraq, and arrived safely back in the United States to his mother’s outstretched and panic-stricken arms. When Jen got the phone call from Bryan in North Carolina to say hello, it was cause for celebration and joy. Well, it wouldn’t be a celebration without a drink, would it? So we had a drink, and this was followed by phone calls to loved ones and family members, and friends. Then we had another celebratory drink. Next, was the drink to celebrate the first celebratory drink, in its honor of being the first drink. Later, we decided to have a drink to celebrate the fact that it was Wednesday, and the week was almost over. Of course, after that it was only fitting to have a drink to celebrate the fact that Jen changed into her comfortable clothes, and that I turned my hat around. Then we played games and had fun. We had a drink to toast the winner, and after that, we decided to have a drink to celebrate the fact that Bryan was coming home from Iraq. Then there were the calls to loved ones, family members, and friends…who did not seem to understand why we were calling twice to relay the same news. Then we had a drink to celebrate cheese. Later on were the inevitable intoxicated violin performances, as well as drunk dials to friends (sorry to keep you up so late, Greg).
That was pretty much how the evening progressed. Now…fast-forward a few hours, throw in a bad breakfast burrito and only 4 hours of sleep, and you have a completely worthless worker bee. Ta-dah!
I have found ways to remain productive, however. For instance, I did complete a level of Mah Jong with no cheats or hints, all by myself. I was also able to drink some apple juice, and later on, practice sleeping while sitting up. My tentative goals for the remainder of the afternoon involve deep meditation and prayer, which will of course occur in the quiet sanctuary of my “under desk” area. I fully intend to ignore the phone when it rings, which takes a lot of personal and professional courage and patience. I also plan to add a new paradigm of quality control business unit tasks to my goal-seeking upper management potential projects.
I shall remain busy, do not worry. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go find the bathroom and say "Europe" to the sink. Have a nice day, and don't warn the tadpoles.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
The Tiny Pond, part 1
The tiny pond by the old tree, as it was known by the inhabitants of the small Midwestern town of Applecroft, was just that. A small, gentle pond with very few fish and even fewer distinctions. It was situated near the old oak tree by the abandoned windmill, near Oak’s Grove. For years, the windmill of Applecroft was a source of pride for most people there; it had once been made famous by a big, important Hollywood director who had used the mill in his newest release called Death on Windmill Hill. He had come in with his big production dollars, cameras, props, actors, and extras to find the perfect spot for his latest vision. He chose to film the movie (at least parts of it, anyway) outside of town, near Oak’s Grove and its soon to be famous windmill.
The film was completed, and the movie production moved on, back to Hollywood. The director received fairly good reviews, although many critics argued that the best performance in the entire motion picture was the old mill. It was this, more than anything, that gave the windmill its fame. Of course, the movie left something to be desired, at least for the quaint people of Applecroft, who were not quite used to those city “horror flicks”. The town was grateful, nonetheless, of being a part of a big Hollywood motion picture event...even if it was for nothing more than having their old mill used in a movie.
For a brief period of time, people would visit the small town and make the mile-long journey to Oak’s Grove to get a glimpse of the old windmill, and take photographs and videos. They would have picnics and laugh, and take turns pointing out certain places along the way that seemed familiar to them from Death on Windmill Hill. Many would re-enact scenes from the movie…most especially the famous death scene that involved the killer shooting the policeman, who promptly fell into the tiny pond by the old tree. Some of the older members of Applecroft were not too happy with so many strangers disrupting their old fishing pond, but their grumbles of annoyance fell on deaf ears. After all, tourists coming to visit the old windmill would always buy souvenirs, shop in the stores, stay in the inn, or just sit down to a nice dinner. There was money to be made, and most of the young people of Applecroft knew a good thing when they saw it. For the most part, the “Millers” (as they would be later called) would come visit in the summertime, when the grass was bright green, and ducks swam in the tiny pond. They would take their tours and their pictures, and would most often drive back home the next day, staying at the inn over night for a very reasonable (to them) price. Some tourists would even try to sleep the night inside the mill, but the caretaker Mr. Sutherland would have none of that.
As the years passed, the windmill lost some of its appeal, and the crowds that gathered to admire it grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, the tourists stopped coming, altogether. The town slowly changed from a tourism hot-spot, into the same quiet, peaceful town that it once used to be. The old mill became nothing more than an old landmark; an ancient remembrance of a more exciting time. Time and weather took their turn on the windmill, until it became nothing more than a shell of its former self. The walls were crumbling, the well was dry, and the windows were broken. Moss and weeds had even begun to grow along the base and north wall, facing the pond. During a full moon, the old windmill would become more ominous than it was in the horror movie. For all its history and fame, however, the windmill became nothing more than a derelict structure in a small town, near a tiny pond.
It was not until that horrible night in November…when the pond was stained red, and the old tree burned with orange fire, that people began to take an interest in the windmill again.
The film was completed, and the movie production moved on, back to Hollywood. The director received fairly good reviews, although many critics argued that the best performance in the entire motion picture was the old mill. It was this, more than anything, that gave the windmill its fame. Of course, the movie left something to be desired, at least for the quaint people of Applecroft, who were not quite used to those city “horror flicks”. The town was grateful, nonetheless, of being a part of a big Hollywood motion picture event...even if it was for nothing more than having their old mill used in a movie.
For a brief period of time, people would visit the small town and make the mile-long journey to Oak’s Grove to get a glimpse of the old windmill, and take photographs and videos. They would have picnics and laugh, and take turns pointing out certain places along the way that seemed familiar to them from Death on Windmill Hill. Many would re-enact scenes from the movie…most especially the famous death scene that involved the killer shooting the policeman, who promptly fell into the tiny pond by the old tree. Some of the older members of Applecroft were not too happy with so many strangers disrupting their old fishing pond, but their grumbles of annoyance fell on deaf ears. After all, tourists coming to visit the old windmill would always buy souvenirs, shop in the stores, stay in the inn, or just sit down to a nice dinner. There was money to be made, and most of the young people of Applecroft knew a good thing when they saw it. For the most part, the “Millers” (as they would be later called) would come visit in the summertime, when the grass was bright green, and ducks swam in the tiny pond. They would take their tours and their pictures, and would most often drive back home the next day, staying at the inn over night for a very reasonable (to them) price. Some tourists would even try to sleep the night inside the mill, but the caretaker Mr. Sutherland would have none of that.
As the years passed, the windmill lost some of its appeal, and the crowds that gathered to admire it grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, the tourists stopped coming, altogether. The town slowly changed from a tourism hot-spot, into the same quiet, peaceful town that it once used to be. The old mill became nothing more than an old landmark; an ancient remembrance of a more exciting time. Time and weather took their turn on the windmill, until it became nothing more than a shell of its former self. The walls were crumbling, the well was dry, and the windows were broken. Moss and weeds had even begun to grow along the base and north wall, facing the pond. During a full moon, the old windmill would become more ominous than it was in the horror movie. For all its history and fame, however, the windmill became nothing more than a derelict structure in a small town, near a tiny pond.
It was not until that horrible night in November…when the pond was stained red, and the old tree burned with orange fire, that people began to take an interest in the windmill again.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Damn You, Cheese!
Well, I hope everybody had a great weekend because mine sucked. I had some bad cheese (or maybe just bad cheese for me) on Saturday at the winery, and I spent the rest of the weekend in agony closely akin to having one's teeth drilled. It was not fun, and I had to miss a party and a brunch.
Stupid French cheese.
Oh, and my Jayhawks lost ANOTHER FRIGGIN' GAME. AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHH!
Stupid French cheese.
Oh, and my Jayhawks lost ANOTHER FRIGGIN' GAME. AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHH!
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
A Dark Shroud Has Fallen Over Lawrence, Kansas
Happy Day After Valentine’s Day! I trust that everyone had a good day yesterday? Well, if you’re a Jayhawk fan then no matter how romantic or fun your evening was, it ended in a very depressing way. Our beloved KU basketball Titans have suffered another terrible loss. We are now 20-2, and even though we have only 2 losses for the season, I think you will agree with me that they were both stupid losses. Villanova beat us, and now Texas Tech? That’s just dumb.
Last night’s game was, at least, a very noble effort and nail-biter. I know of at least 2 people last night who suffered heart-attacks once we made it to DOUBLE OVERTIME. I myself felt a bit weak in the knees when Keith Langford missed an important free throw to tie the game….so the game did not lack in drama and stress. I guess that’s what sports are all about, aren’t they?
Anyway, enough about my mourning period.
Yesterday was a good Valentine’s Day for me. After work, Jen and I went to a nice little Italian café called Carmen’s Café. It was a nice place for Latin and Italian food…very swanky. You can get fried mozzarella sticks, or some tapas or empenadas. Jen and I decided to stick the Italian food portion of the menu, and that was probably a good thing. Now, while the atmosphere and wait-staff were great, and the wine was warm in the tummy, the food left something to be desired. Upon first inspection of my Shrimp Scampi dinner, a feeling of pea soup kept springing to mind. Now, I don’t even know what pea soup tastes like…but I’m pretty sure I know what it looks like, and my dinner looked like pea soup with noodles and 4 shrimp. It was…not the best meal I’ve ever had. Jenni’s dinner was pretty much like mine, except her ravioli was more like Chef Boyardee, instead of a swanky Italian restaurant.
So going out to dinner was nice, but it left us wanting. Oh, although Jen did tell me that they had the best tiramisu she had ever had, in her entire life. So that must be saying something.
After dinner, we went to see the Kansas City Chamber Orchestra play, for a special Valentine's Day concert. Ah, yes. Very romantic, and also fun for people like us, who are former high school orchestra students (violin, thank you very much). I enjoyed the performance, especially the Adagio for Strings….ah, beautiful sadness. They also did the Brandenburg Concerto by Bach, and I must say I was not impressed with it. I think the 1st Violin, 2nd chair needs a little work on pitch and rhythm. Anyway, the performance was great, and we enjoyed it.
After the KCCO, Jen and I stopped by the Blue Moose bar to try and catch some of the KU game. After some beers and a few Jager Bombs, we decided to pack it up, and head home. Then there was the yelling and screaming and fainting and swearing and jumping and banging…at the game, not each other.
So I guess I had a great Valentine’s Day yesterday! I wish my team had won the game, but all the great things that happened make up for that.
OH WAIT I forgot the best part of last night. Jen got me a Valentine's Day card. Isn't that sweet? Oh, there's just one thing: We decided not to do cards, chocolates, candies, presents, balloons, or anything else this year. So, of course I didn't get her anything because that was what we agreed on...and then she cheats and gets me a card. It was a very nice card, too. It had felt on the cover, and bows and everything. Then she looks at me for a second, almost expectantly. I was like "Hey! We agreed no cards! What is this crap? You little sneak! I can't believe you expected me to cheat, just because you did! Now I look like a creep!"
She didn't disagree with me.
So apparantly, not only am I a jerk for obeying our guidelines and not buying her a card or flowers, but my meal was bad and my team lost. Hell, maybe I DIDN'T have a great Valentine's Day, afterall.
No, no...I did. I did have a great Valentine's Day. But now I owe Jen two. I owe her a heart attack for the scare-job she pulled on me the other night (see her blog for more info about the Ringu incident), and now I owe her some major-league guilt.
Pack your bags, Jen. You're going on a guilt-trip.
Last night’s game was, at least, a very noble effort and nail-biter. I know of at least 2 people last night who suffered heart-attacks once we made it to DOUBLE OVERTIME. I myself felt a bit weak in the knees when Keith Langford missed an important free throw to tie the game….so the game did not lack in drama and stress. I guess that’s what sports are all about, aren’t they?
Anyway, enough about my mourning period.
Yesterday was a good Valentine’s Day for me. After work, Jen and I went to a nice little Italian café called Carmen’s Café. It was a nice place for Latin and Italian food…very swanky. You can get fried mozzarella sticks, or some tapas or empenadas. Jen and I decided to stick the Italian food portion of the menu, and that was probably a good thing. Now, while the atmosphere and wait-staff were great, and the wine was warm in the tummy, the food left something to be desired. Upon first inspection of my Shrimp Scampi dinner, a feeling of pea soup kept springing to mind. Now, I don’t even know what pea soup tastes like…but I’m pretty sure I know what it looks like, and my dinner looked like pea soup with noodles and 4 shrimp. It was…not the best meal I’ve ever had. Jenni’s dinner was pretty much like mine, except her ravioli was more like Chef Boyardee, instead of a swanky Italian restaurant.
So going out to dinner was nice, but it left us wanting. Oh, although Jen did tell me that they had the best tiramisu she had ever had, in her entire life. So that must be saying something.
After dinner, we went to see the Kansas City Chamber Orchestra play, for a special Valentine's Day concert. Ah, yes. Very romantic, and also fun for people like us, who are former high school orchestra students (violin, thank you very much). I enjoyed the performance, especially the Adagio for Strings….ah, beautiful sadness. They also did the Brandenburg Concerto by Bach, and I must say I was not impressed with it. I think the 1st Violin, 2nd chair needs a little work on pitch and rhythm. Anyway, the performance was great, and we enjoyed it.
After the KCCO, Jen and I stopped by the Blue Moose bar to try and catch some of the KU game. After some beers and a few Jager Bombs, we decided to pack it up, and head home. Then there was the yelling and screaming and fainting and swearing and jumping and banging…at the game, not each other.
So I guess I had a great Valentine’s Day yesterday! I wish my team had won the game, but all the great things that happened make up for that.
OH WAIT I forgot the best part of last night. Jen got me a Valentine's Day card. Isn't that sweet? Oh, there's just one thing: We decided not to do cards, chocolates, candies, presents, balloons, or anything else this year. So, of course I didn't get her anything because that was what we agreed on...and then she cheats and gets me a card. It was a very nice card, too. It had felt on the cover, and bows and everything. Then she looks at me for a second, almost expectantly. I was like "Hey! We agreed no cards! What is this crap? You little sneak! I can't believe you expected me to cheat, just because you did! Now I look like a creep!"
She didn't disagree with me.
So apparantly, not only am I a jerk for obeying our guidelines and not buying her a card or flowers, but my meal was bad and my team lost. Hell, maybe I DIDN'T have a great Valentine's Day, afterall.
No, no...I did. I did have a great Valentine's Day. But now I owe Jen two. I owe her a heart attack for the scare-job she pulled on me the other night (see her blog for more info about the Ringu incident), and now I owe her some major-league guilt.
Pack your bags, Jen. You're going on a guilt-trip.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Most. Boring. Day. Ever.
Here I sit, confined within my walls of corporate servitude, staring at a computer screen as if searching for answers to life itself. The stretched, grey patterned wall carpet surrounds me; just tall enough to hinder my ability to see what is happening in the world outside. No, not outside as in trees, and birds, and grass, and fresh air. I mean outside, as in “outside of my cubicle”. The hallway, the bathrooms…the break room filled with chairs and vending machines. The world that is so close, yet so far away from me. Even though the chances of anything important and/or interesting occurring outside of said cubicle are very slim indeed, it is a hope I cling to on days such as these. A hope that, somewhere nearby, something entertaining is blooming.
Yes, faithful and few readers, today is a very boring day for me. Today I find myself yet again in a predicament so very familiar to me, that I have begun to see it as an inescapable trap filled with staplers and emails and phone calls; a swirling abyss of doom hurtling towards monotony and repetition. It is 2:38pm on Friday afternoon...and I have absolutely nothing to do.
I have no emails to read, no phone calls to return. I have no Excel spreadsheets to go over, nor any databases to update. I do not even have any queries to write. All the work that I had scheduled for this day has been accomplished. All the emails and reports and spreadsheets are finished; I have nothing to do but wait for more tasks to be assigned to me by my ever-present supervisor Kathy.
But alas! Kathy is not here this afternoon. She was rushed to the hospital with chest pains just before lunch by a co-worker, a fact which was not known to me until just moments ago. While I sympathize with Kathy, and wish her a fast and speedy recovery (if there are, in fact, heart problems occurring), I cannot help but feel annoyed with the fact that I sit here now alone and without purpose. I have nothing to do.
There will be no new tasks put forth in front of me; no questions to be answered, or puzzles to be solved. My inbox is as empty as desert lake, and my voicemail has committed sepaku. So here I sit, writing this post, in the hopes that some of my boredom will dissipate.
It has helped, to be sure…but I am almost done. Soon, then, will I sit here again, staring at my computer screen with the grey carpet cubicle walls surrounding me. Soon I will be randomly and needlessly searching the internet for entertainment. Soon I will be reading the same news articles again and again, and memorizing units of Pi (3.1415926535897….), and throwing penguins through the air like Frisbees.
It is now 2:55pm on Friday. Here I sit, chained to this desk until 5:00 with nothing to do to occupy my time, nor keep my sanity. My only hope is that someone will read this post today, and take pity on me…and post a comment. A comment that I can read, and perhaps even chuckle at…and forget the clock for one fleeting moment.
Perhaps this is asking too much. I think it’s time to see what is on the news is again.
Yes, faithful and few readers, today is a very boring day for me. Today I find myself yet again in a predicament so very familiar to me, that I have begun to see it as an inescapable trap filled with staplers and emails and phone calls; a swirling abyss of doom hurtling towards monotony and repetition. It is 2:38pm on Friday afternoon...and I have absolutely nothing to do.
I have no emails to read, no phone calls to return. I have no Excel spreadsheets to go over, nor any databases to update. I do not even have any queries to write. All the work that I had scheduled for this day has been accomplished. All the emails and reports and spreadsheets are finished; I have nothing to do but wait for more tasks to be assigned to me by my ever-present supervisor Kathy.
But alas! Kathy is not here this afternoon. She was rushed to the hospital with chest pains just before lunch by a co-worker, a fact which was not known to me until just moments ago. While I sympathize with Kathy, and wish her a fast and speedy recovery (if there are, in fact, heart problems occurring), I cannot help but feel annoyed with the fact that I sit here now alone and without purpose. I have nothing to do.
There will be no new tasks put forth in front of me; no questions to be answered, or puzzles to be solved. My inbox is as empty as desert lake, and my voicemail has committed sepaku. So here I sit, writing this post, in the hopes that some of my boredom will dissipate.
It has helped, to be sure…but I am almost done. Soon, then, will I sit here again, staring at my computer screen with the grey carpet cubicle walls surrounding me. Soon I will be randomly and needlessly searching the internet for entertainment. Soon I will be reading the same news articles again and again, and memorizing units of Pi (3.1415926535897….), and throwing penguins through the air like Frisbees.
It is now 2:55pm on Friday. Here I sit, chained to this desk until 5:00 with nothing to do to occupy my time, nor keep my sanity. My only hope is that someone will read this post today, and take pity on me…and post a comment. A comment that I can read, and perhaps even chuckle at…and forget the clock for one fleeting moment.
Perhaps this is asking too much. I think it’s time to see what is on the news is again.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
LOST in Translation
For those of you who watch Lost on ABC Wednesday nights, this is your post. If you are debating whether or not to start watching Lost, then this post may also be for you. If you do not watch it, nor do you care to watch it, then I’m sorry to tell you that this post will probably bore the crap out of you. I apologize to you, my faithful readers but sometimes a good television-inspired rant is in order.
What the hell is up with Claire? She goes into the jungle and gets abducted by some friggin’ crazy guy and then she comes back two weeks later with no memory? And, I’m sorry, but can this show just ONCE tell us something that’s going on, besides in a flashback? I’m starting to think that every episode uses the same X-Files based formula:
1-Give Background
2-Wrap Up Old Plot
3-Start New Plot
4-Exciting Incident
5-Show Glimpse of Scary Monster/Alien/Magical Creature
6-Create New Questions
7-Answer No Old Questions
8-Climax
9-Ending
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great ploy...they reel you in with the big, loud, scary (yet unseen) monster to get you thinking it’s a “Land of the Lost” type of situation...and then they start focusing on other things and seem to forget about said monster. Then, just when you’re starting to think you’ve figured out their little formula, they spring a new unseen scary thing…and now you’re focused on that. It’s brilliant…every week you’re hooked in again. Great marketing, I tell you.
I find myself every week thinking like some Ed Wood Jr. reject director saying things like “What’s this guy’s motivation? Where is he coming from? When are we going to wrap up the French Woman plot twist? Where’s that extra with the blonde hair and nice jugs?” I have a plethora of questions and theories but no real answers and that scares me.
It scares me because that was my main reason for giving up on The X-Files…too many questions, and not enough answers. Eventually, the idea of always giving the audience a tiny scrap of information in the hope that they will crawl desperately back for a bigger piece becomes lost on people like me. I need answers, or I get bored….simple fact. Now, I’m not saying I need the entire plot twist/surprise ending type of answer…no no no. What I’m saying, is that I need SOME closure on old events that have not been expanded on since their inception. For instance…the big metal door in the middle of the forest? The isolated, crazy yet seemingly brilliant French woman alone in the jungle? The big bad scary (faceless) beast? The “black rock”? The other tribe? Why is Claire’s baby so important? Why are there Polar Bears on a tropical island? Who shot JR?
It’s these questions I wouldn’t mind getting answers to. Heck, at this point I’d even take simple hints!
But in the end, I think that the reason I’m so irritated is that I do like the show, and I do watch it every week, and I can’t wait until next Wednesday to see what happens…and I’ll still hope that maybe this time I’ll get some answers. I’m such a sheep.
Baaaaaah!
What the hell is up with Claire? She goes into the jungle and gets abducted by some friggin’ crazy guy and then she comes back two weeks later with no memory? And, I’m sorry, but can this show just ONCE tell us something that’s going on, besides in a flashback? I’m starting to think that every episode uses the same X-Files based formula:
1-Give Background
2-Wrap Up Old Plot
3-Start New Plot
4-Exciting Incident
5-Show Glimpse of Scary Monster/Alien/Magical Creature
6-Create New Questions
7-Answer No Old Questions
8-Climax
9-Ending
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great ploy...they reel you in with the big, loud, scary (yet unseen) monster to get you thinking it’s a “Land of the Lost” type of situation...and then they start focusing on other things and seem to forget about said monster. Then, just when you’re starting to think you’ve figured out their little formula, they spring a new unseen scary thing…and now you’re focused on that. It’s brilliant…every week you’re hooked in again. Great marketing, I tell you.
I find myself every week thinking like some Ed Wood Jr. reject director saying things like “What’s this guy’s motivation? Where is he coming from? When are we going to wrap up the French Woman plot twist? Where’s that extra with the blonde hair and nice jugs?” I have a plethora of questions and theories but no real answers and that scares me.
It scares me because that was my main reason for giving up on The X-Files…too many questions, and not enough answers. Eventually, the idea of always giving the audience a tiny scrap of information in the hope that they will crawl desperately back for a bigger piece becomes lost on people like me. I need answers, or I get bored….simple fact. Now, I’m not saying I need the entire plot twist/surprise ending type of answer…no no no. What I’m saying, is that I need SOME closure on old events that have not been expanded on since their inception. For instance…the big metal door in the middle of the forest? The isolated, crazy yet seemingly brilliant French woman alone in the jungle? The big bad scary (faceless) beast? The “black rock”? The other tribe? Why is Claire’s baby so important? Why are there Polar Bears on a tropical island? Who shot JR?
It’s these questions I wouldn’t mind getting answers to. Heck, at this point I’d even take simple hints!
But in the end, I think that the reason I’m so irritated is that I do like the show, and I do watch it every week, and I can’t wait until next Wednesday to see what happens…and I’ll still hope that maybe this time I’ll get some answers. I’m such a sheep.
Baaaaaah!
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Ash Wednesday Jumped Out of the Closet and Scared Me
Well, it snowed here in Kansas again…dammit. I thought we were done with this crap already? As if my life wasn’t complete enough, I now have the opportunity to defrost the car, drive slower, slip on ice and shiver in the mornings…what a great gift for my birthday.
Although, every annoying situation does have its funny quirks. This morning while Jenni was getting ready, I took it upon myself to go outside and start warming up the car. I started it up and turned on the window defroster, and then promptly headed back inside to the warm apartment air. As we were watching TV and waiting for the car to become drivable, Jen looks out the window and then says “Hey…did you do that?”. Well, as an honorary member of the What the Heck Are You Talking About club, I went over to the window to see what the heck she was talking about. Her front windshield had been wiped…wiped free of snow and ice…wiped free in a way that only a windshield wiper could do.
Yes, gentle reader…you guessed it. I did not turn on the windshield wipers while I was in the car this morning. The best guess that Jen and myself could come up with to explain these semi-disturbing and very confusing turn of events was: 1-Somebody walked by, saw that the car was warming up, opened the door, and hit the windshield wiper button. 2-The ice and snow had warmed up just enough to slide down the windshield, and off of the car to make it appear as if it had been wiped.
Now, both options seem feasible to me. Option #1 is much more unnerving than option #2, in a very “Show me on the doll where he touched you” kind of way. To think that somebody would come into your car for any reason without your knowledge is just…creepy. It wasn’t even my car, and that thought made me feel dirty all over.
In the end, however, I used deductive logic to figure out that the windshield wipers could not have wiped off the snow and ice for the simple fact that they were still, themselves, covered in ice, and when used did very little to help the situation. So, the snow and ice must have defrosted enough to slide off the car, leaving no trace.
YES!
Crisis averted, puzzle solved, game-set-match, victory! Now all I have to do is figure out why Easter and Ash Wednesday are based on lunar cycles used by ancient pagan holiday structures, and I’m golden to have a great February and March winter wrap-up.
Happy Ash Wednesday
Although, every annoying situation does have its funny quirks. This morning while Jenni was getting ready, I took it upon myself to go outside and start warming up the car. I started it up and turned on the window defroster, and then promptly headed back inside to the warm apartment air. As we were watching TV and waiting for the car to become drivable, Jen looks out the window and then says “Hey…did you do that?”. Well, as an honorary member of the What the Heck Are You Talking About club, I went over to the window to see what the heck she was talking about. Her front windshield had been wiped…wiped free of snow and ice…wiped free in a way that only a windshield wiper could do.
Yes, gentle reader…you guessed it. I did not turn on the windshield wipers while I was in the car this morning. The best guess that Jen and myself could come up with to explain these semi-disturbing and very confusing turn of events was: 1-Somebody walked by, saw that the car was warming up, opened the door, and hit the windshield wiper button. 2-The ice and snow had warmed up just enough to slide down the windshield, and off of the car to make it appear as if it had been wiped.
Now, both options seem feasible to me. Option #1 is much more unnerving than option #2, in a very “Show me on the doll where he touched you” kind of way. To think that somebody would come into your car for any reason without your knowledge is just…creepy. It wasn’t even my car, and that thought made me feel dirty all over.
In the end, however, I used deductive logic to figure out that the windshield wipers could not have wiped off the snow and ice for the simple fact that they were still, themselves, covered in ice, and when used did very little to help the situation. So, the snow and ice must have defrosted enough to slide off the car, leaving no trace.
YES!
Crisis averted, puzzle solved, game-set-match, victory! Now all I have to do is figure out why Easter and Ash Wednesday are based on lunar cycles used by ancient pagan holiday structures, and I’m golden to have a great February and March winter wrap-up.
Happy Ash Wednesday
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Belated Birthday Blog
Well, my birthday is officially over. Now I have nothing but the memories in my head and the pictures in my camera to remind me of the good times when I was only 26 years old.
My birthday party was a lot of fun, though. We all had a blast, I think. Greg Kling drove down from Wichita, John and Erin drove down from Lawrence…people like me. We started off the evening at McBride’s Irish Pub around 9:30, or so. This would have normally been a great time to be there; however Saturday night was disappointing, to say the least. We arrived for Old People’s Night, I think. There were very few young people there, and I honestly felt as if any moment I would see my old history teacher from high school emerge from the bathroom and offer to buy me a drink. We made the best of it, though…no oldies are gonna’ stand in our way! We had some drinks and laughed and had fun. Connie and Jason stopped by as well, which was great since I hadn’t seen Connie since before I left for Europe….so that was good.
We did have some problems with our waitress, though. Apparently she was under the impression that we wanted to pace ourselves with the drinking…because it took her over 20 minutes to bring us another round! She was pretty bad…at one point my friend Elizabeth said the following, after I asked her if she wanted a drink: “Well I do, but I already ordered one when I first got here. It still hasn’t come, though….it’s been over 30 minutes, should I just go to the bar?” That was pretty much how it was, all night. But the bartender made up for the crappy waitress…she even made me a free birthday shot and lit the bar on fire for me while I drank it. She said it was a Chocolate Cake shot, but frankly I thought it tasted more like lemon sugar than chocolate...but it was free and she was cute so that’s all that matters.
After McBride’s, we all piled into our cars and headed back to the apartment for drinks and fun and games and such. Jen took pictures and we all poured drinks and just had fun. I’m not sure exactly all that happened, but I do distinctly remember mooning the geese outside in the pond, from my balcony. Good times. I also remember that we didn’t stop the party until well after 6:00am and that’s a good party for anybody’s standards.
All in all, I had a good birthday weekend and I’m glad for that. Maybe next year I’ll rent a pony and NOT go to the bar on Old Person Night.
My birthday party was a lot of fun, though. We all had a blast, I think. Greg Kling drove down from Wichita, John and Erin drove down from Lawrence…people like me. We started off the evening at McBride’s Irish Pub around 9:30, or so. This would have normally been a great time to be there; however Saturday night was disappointing, to say the least. We arrived for Old People’s Night, I think. There were very few young people there, and I honestly felt as if any moment I would see my old history teacher from high school emerge from the bathroom and offer to buy me a drink. We made the best of it, though…no oldies are gonna’ stand in our way! We had some drinks and laughed and had fun. Connie and Jason stopped by as well, which was great since I hadn’t seen Connie since before I left for Europe….so that was good.
We did have some problems with our waitress, though. Apparently she was under the impression that we wanted to pace ourselves with the drinking…because it took her over 20 minutes to bring us another round! She was pretty bad…at one point my friend Elizabeth said the following, after I asked her if she wanted a drink: “Well I do, but I already ordered one when I first got here. It still hasn’t come, though….it’s been over 30 minutes, should I just go to the bar?” That was pretty much how it was, all night. But the bartender made up for the crappy waitress…she even made me a free birthday shot and lit the bar on fire for me while I drank it. She said it was a Chocolate Cake shot, but frankly I thought it tasted more like lemon sugar than chocolate...but it was free and she was cute so that’s all that matters.
After McBride’s, we all piled into our cars and headed back to the apartment for drinks and fun and games and such. Jen took pictures and we all poured drinks and just had fun. I’m not sure exactly all that happened, but I do distinctly remember mooning the geese outside in the pond, from my balcony. Good times. I also remember that we didn’t stop the party until well after 6:00am and that’s a good party for anybody’s standards.
All in all, I had a good birthday weekend and I’m glad for that. Maybe next year I’ll rent a pony and NOT go to the bar on Old Person Night.
I am Older...and Now, Wiser as Well
I have learned my first real lesson about having a blog: when you are creating a new post, you should really write it using another program like MS Word or Notebook and then paste it into your blog page. If you choose not to do this, you run the risk of spending 30 minutes typing and creating…just to have the page not refresh properly and erase everything you just wrote!!! Arrrrrrgh!
I had this awesome post about my birthday party, and the people that were there, and the fun things that we did…all gone. It was offered up as a sacrifice to the gods of Cyberspace Quirks and Errors. Now I am forced to re-create this wonderful masterpiece from memory, which means that it will be like making a Xerox copy OF a Xerox copy…it won’t be the same, and it will most likely be a bit fuzzy and hard to read.
So…crap. Look for the new birthday party post later on today. For now, this is all you get because I have to get back to “work”.
“Why is it always me?” –Neville Longbottom
I had this awesome post about my birthday party, and the people that were there, and the fun things that we did…all gone. It was offered up as a sacrifice to the gods of Cyberspace Quirks and Errors. Now I am forced to re-create this wonderful masterpiece from memory, which means that it will be like making a Xerox copy OF a Xerox copy…it won’t be the same, and it will most likely be a bit fuzzy and hard to read.
So…crap. Look for the new birthday party post later on today. For now, this is all you get because I have to get back to “work”.
“Why is it always me?” –Neville Longbottom
Monday, February 07, 2005
Happy Birthday! You get a new Blog!
Sheesh, I can't believe I created a blog for myself...like I'm doing anything interesting whatsoever that requires me to have my own space on the Internet? Well, I've always been a bit of a whore for technology, so I guess this just goes one step closer to proving that. Who knows, myabe this will come in handy.
In my defense, I would never have done this if it weren't for my good friend Connie sending me the link to her new blog...so really it's all her fault. In fact, you should tell her it is all her fault by going here and posting a comment: http://www.conniethehottie.blogspot.com/ .
Well, as I said I have nothing really important to say as this is my first (and quite possibly last) post. Maybe I will use this for updates and fun stuff for people to check out, if they are interested in me..but I doubt that. Most likely, this page will slowly dissipate into a cloud of internet dust until it is a blog no more. Although this might be a fun place to post pictures and such...hmm.
Take care! If you're reading this, you must be as bored as I was when I created it.
In my defense, I would never have done this if it weren't for my good friend Connie sending me the link to her new blog...so really it's all her fault. In fact, you should tell her it is all her fault by going here and posting a comment: http://www.conniethehottie.blogspot.com/ .
Well, as I said I have nothing really important to say as this is my first (and quite possibly last) post. Maybe I will use this for updates and fun stuff for people to check out, if they are interested in me..but I doubt that. Most likely, this page will slowly dissipate into a cloud of internet dust until it is a blog no more. Although this might be a fun place to post pictures and such...hmm.
Take care! If you're reading this, you must be as bored as I was when I created it.
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