2008/6/6
just like in a movie...
You know those plots – a world is built up, then suddenly it’s all confusing and bad, and then you discover what you are sure is the context, the explanation… only to discover that while the context is true, the bad-confusion continues, so it’s not so much causal as accidental, and the author is sitting there, snickering into hir fist?
Yeah, Author? I’d like to request less misleading like that, please. If you would. (0)
2008/3/30
curiouser and curiouser...
…and not necessarily in a good way. Spring is definitely springing; everything is happening all at once. Some of it is very, very good (more on that soon). Some is… not. My heart aches for its attendant body-and-mind, and – in a different way – for a loved one. My mind reels. My body is a bit shell-shocked by all the house-painting and weight lifting and weather changes, but this part is good, it reminds me I’m still alive and not suspended in some alternate universe, flailing a bit and effecting change whose ramifications won’t become clear for months to years hence. And so we walk on. (0)
Albert Hofmann’s dead. At the age of 102, in good health almost right up until the heart attack at the end. As someone on a mailing list said, he had a good run.
Thank you, Dr. Hoffman, for the wonder and perspective you’ve brought into the world.
If you’ve used ticketing systems, do you have a favorite? And/or one you particularly dislike? It would live on a unix server with mysql or postgresql, or it could be a java app. (Edit: Of course, open-source and free is best. Way best.)
Why, yes, the new job is going well. My time management skillz as regards sleep, however, leave something to be desired. On the other hand, fine people and good food and spring. Today I had lunch on a lawn, in the sunshine. All the students are out playing frisbee and juggling and squinting through their sunglasses.
In an hour and a half or so I leave for the T (public transport!! don’t have to drive!) to start my new JOB.
Why, yes, I’m pretty thrilled at the prospect. The title keeps changing in the various documents they’ve sent, but the most recent one is Digital Librarian / Computer Support Manager at the Boston U School of Theology Library. The potential range of what my work days will involve is too large in my head right now, which means life will totally fail to be boring, and I’m likely to get flooded by information overload for the first few weeks, and I am so looking forward to that. I’ll tell y’all more when I get oriented. But… it’s an exciting job in my field. Holy cats.
Thus ends eleven months of unemployment.
On another note: praised be the sun and the moon and cycles, and spring. Did you know they’re saying 71 degree high today in Somerville?! And – just looked this up: there may or may not be a 5-degree difference between my house and my workplace at any given time. Well, of course: Commonwealth Ave is a wind tunnel, and work is also closer to the big water. Good to know.
I have other thoughts to post, perhaps later. But just look at this for 40 seconds:
Molly rightly says, “I have never seen a more bad-ass pink cardigan.” Gods, I’d love to see this woman as our first lady.
Penultimate drum-and-dance of the year in South Amherst yesterday. I brought my drum, even though I don’t have a bag for it yet and it was raining a little – but Molly and I threw garbage bags over the drums, and I’m very happy we did. By the end of the evening my hands were somehow hurting and a little numb at the same time, and I could still feel the just-played drumbeat in my ribcage.
I did better than had seemed possible, given how out of practice I’ve been with things that require sustaining a regular rhythm with my hands (drumming, juggling, playing the guitar which I haven’t done in any sort of sustained way since my first year in grad school). Concentrating on picking out, playing and sustaining relatively simple rhythms for several minutes at a time was great practice.
Molly and Natalie and I stayed over at our friends’ place in Hadley (Inspirit Common), and had breakfast at Cafe Esselon there. Natalie kept feeding us pretend food. The more ridiculously we reacted, the more giggles scattered, sparkling, across the table.
Today my father would’ve been 71 years old. But he’s seven years gone, buried on a gorgeous hill in Lost Angels. I miss him a lot.
I’ve inherited a lot of him. I have his eyes, and his love of driving, and his dislike of being in financial debt to anyone, and his temper – though, I like to think, version 2.0. And also I have his indomitable will, and his analytical skills, and his sense of commitment (with some additional flexibility thrown in; I tend to tinker with recipes).
Thanks, dad. Happy birthday. And to the rest of you, have a fitting instrumental by Daniel Lanois; it’s called “JJ Leaves LA.” I left LA in 1994 with no regrets, having hated it there, and now mom doesn’t live there anymore either – but I’ll go back to visit dad.
