I'm goin' home and hiding in my bed now.
Hanging on the edge of your seat were you? Yep. By the way, Prana (who's so lovealee!) interperated (grin) my dream, and you know, I agree with everything she said too. ::grin:: Hey Pran, translate this one...lol..
Ready? Here we go...
I'm not in this dream, generally that's the way it is, I dream about other people not myself. My made up dream actors. These are usally the stranger dreams, and sometimes work out to be good story plots. The poor sods in this dream are a lady who looks to be in her late 20's, nameless. A boy about 10 named Timmy. Who looks like a stereotypical Timmy. Blond hair, blue eyes, freckles. I have a discriminating little brain. Two guys, early 20's, both suprisingly cute. I guess I have some taste in my head somewhere afterall. Who would have guessed?
The problem with this dream, is like most dreams, I can only remember tiny bits and parts of scenes. However, I do remember the overall theme, so I'll try my best to discribe it. Some creature is stalking these dream-people. I don't know why these people were singled out, and I'm not sure where the creature came from. Outerspace, abandon temple, mystic curse. Who knows, it was just there. The creature was faceless, average weight, average height. If it DID have a face, it would have been one of those people that, from the day their born, are destined to be average, unnoticable, easily overlooked. But, it's not, and it doesn't have a face. It's entire body is covered in some grey stuff, it looks like plastic, it looks like someone took a semi-translucent grey bodybag and vaccum sealed it over the creature. It even has flaps of plastic all the way around, like some peice of steak you vaccum-saved would.
It gets weirder.
It inhales it's victims. Sneak up, lean over, breath in. Think Kirby, except this dream land is a little lacking in pretty pastel characters. Just a grey plastic guy who sucks in his dinner like Jello through a straw
He sucks you up....and then he's not faceless anymore. His face looks like yours. It doesn't have expression, it's just...your face.
It's not right.
Like I said, I can only remember a couple parts...:
One: The guys are running from the creature-who-now-looks-like-the-lady and it catches up. They grab ahold of the top of it's plastic-type rim and somehow they tear it open and the lady falls out. "Hey," one says, "If this is the lady, where's the thing?" A shadow appears over them, and they look up, there's the thing but he looks like Timmy now, and it sucks them in.
Two: I don't know why, but this part happened AFTER that last part. Both the guys are standing on a hill overlooking a highway in a desert. Below them is a scene, military men shooting at our grey-lunchon friend and nothing is happening to it. He's not interested in anyone but these four, he spots the guy (one who's name is Jake...I remember now) up at the top of the hill. Jake turns to his friend and says something about their last trick not working, and for the sake of the world, they've got to implement their last plan. Why for the sake of the world? Again I'm not sure. Maybe these were the only ones immune to their seed of evil planted in our food source, maybe they were the only ones who could stop it so they had to be eaten, I don't remember. I don't think I want to remember.
Their last plan? They don't want to do their last plan...but if it's what they have to do....
Their last plan...Ingesting C4 capules that are programed to go off with a hand-held detenator. Blow ourselves up, and it can't eat us. Sounds logical to me. Yeah.
So, the thing gets close, and they swallow these things. The one reaches out and holds the hand of the other, and pushes the button.
That's when I woke up.
It upset me.
The first was one that wasn't odd enough that it bothered me, only enough that I raised my mental eyebrows to it a couple of times before I rolled over, clamed the pillow down on my head and went back to sleep.
I'm sleeping. Astounding, isn't it? I wake up to the sound of crying from my living room, dragging my lazy sick self out of bed, I decide to investigate. After all, crying in my living room is odd. The hallway between my bedroom and the living room is short, about two feet long, but since this is a dream, and everyone knows dream hallways are always longer, this is about ten feet long. Panneled in the wood that pannels my Grandmothers house, not mine, strangely enough. Blond wood...sealed with something that makes it look like it was put through a laminator, on the floors and walls. Very very cold on my feet. The end of the hallway is all lit up, from the lamp in my living room. I remember being frustrated beacuse I never leave my living room lamp on, even when I'm sick. It wastes power, that's not kewl, man.
I reach the end of the hall, and step into my living room. Right in front of me is the 100000 pound desk I got from Bridge that took four guys to move, and hurts something wicked when you hit your elbow on it. A boy is sitting there, he looks maybe 11, on my comphy black computer-chair with no computer, making weepy sniffle noises. In his lap is another boy about one, both of them look very pale, and the older boy is dressed in overals with a greek fishermans cap on his head.
I ask him what's wrong, feeling all dizy because I'm sick, and sounding annoyed because damnit, I hate it when strange little boys cry in my living room in the middle of the night. He tells me his little brother is sick, and I have to give him something to make him better. Fine, I say. Stomping over to the cabinet in the kitchen, I grab a bottle of adult liquid tylenol with about one dose left(something I don't even HAVE) and thrust it at him. Give this too him, I grumble, and leave me alone. I'm sick.
Ahh...I'm such a caring soul. I go back to bed, and pull the covers up over my ears and fall asleep. A while later I feel someone shaking me. Rolling over I see it's the older boy again. I ask him what's wrong, and he tells me the tylenol has worn off, and I have to give him more. Sorry...I say...it's all gone, that's all I have.
He starts wailing and throwing a fit, and I roll over and go back to sleep. The room gets VERY cold, and I gradually wake up. The boy is standing there again, but this time he's all translucent and blue. He's holding his little brother and glaring at me. You killed him, he starts wailing, you didn't give him any more medicine and now we're both dead!
Sorry, I manage to say, trying hard not to open my eyes too wide because the light from his deadlyness hurts. I told you I was all out.
He starts screaming and stuff starts flying all around my room. I'm entirely not feeling well enough to deal with this, so I get up and flick my bedroom light on and it stops. I hear a bunch of banging in my living room, so I decide to turn all my lights on, so maybe the guy will leave me alone. I turn the one in the hall on, and the dining room, and the living room. When I turn around from turning the lamp on (which oddly, is on the opposite side of the room from where it really is) I notice my bedroom, dining room and hall lights have gone off. Frowning, I go back to turn the hall light on, when the living room light starts to flicker and dim. I rush back and turn it on, but it starts faiding and goes off. I twist it a few times, but it never comes back on. I try the hall light, and the bedroom light, but they won't come on eaither.
My house is super dark now, and I'm a little on the freaked side becides feeling like crap. I yell into the empty room that I'm not at all amused by this, and stuff in the corners starts to bang. Figuring I won't get any sleep now, I grab my keys, and go to my Grandmas house. Her front door is wide open, and I turn on all her lights, and her TV (Blue's Clues....geesh) and fall asleep on her couch.
I wake up about dawn, and figure since it's light, I might as well go home. I go home, go back to bed, and wake up again about noon. I walk back to my Grandma's house, and her front door is wide open, and the whole front of her house is windows, no curtains, and I can see all the lights blaring and hear Blue's Clues (still on...) I think nothing of it, and walk to my Moms house.
My mom has two fold up beds unfolded in the driveway. She's in one, and her ex husband is in the other. I walk up to them, and she turns around and asks me what's up. I tell her about my weird night, and going to Grandma's to sleep and going back home. No you didn't, she says, you went over there and watched Blue's Clues....Yeah, I say...and went home. No you didn't, she argues, you went over there and watched Blue's Clues, I can see from here. I turn around and I can see my Grandma's house (which you can't) and the whole side is windows, the lights are all going, and Blue's Clues is on TV, and I'm asleep on the couch.
Then I woke up.
Well...woke up long enough to go..."eh?" and roll back over and have the next one...which was the one that really disturbed me. (TBC...sorry, I feel like creeping crud and I keep coughing up major organs and you'll just have to wait till tomorrow. :) )
If I'm normal (which is really weird, but reserved...yes, I can be reserved.) people think I'm not weird enough...if I'm hyper or in 'a mood' when someone IMs me (which happens every other 8.25 minutes) I'm too weird and they find some reason to leave really quick.
Regardless the reasoning, usally they never IM me again.
It breaks my heart. :( I'm not THAT bad! I've got my momments, sometimes I'm even kind of entertaning.
Really I am.
So, if you choose to IM me because you got my SN off here (and I absolutely don't mind if you do...that's why it's here obviously, I like to chat.) Please don't:
1: Be offended because I'm not that talkative. I tend to be very quiet when new people IM me and I'm trying to figure out who you are without looking like a total rude idiot.
2: Be irked because I'm a dork. I am a dork, I like being a dork, nothing wrong with it. Don't IM me if you don't like dorks. `Cause it probably means you just don't have it in you to keep up with us. ;)
3: Say "Hi" and then drop the conversation two seconds later. It confuses me.
4: IM me just to yell at me. I'll cry. Then I'll have my cousin Guido with the one eye hunt you down and take you for a little swim with the fishies and a pair of pretty new concrete boots.
4: Never IM me again. It confuses me and generally makes me wonder what's wrong with me. Did my breath smell? Was I not good enough? I'm never good enough! I'll never be good enough! I'm worthless!
See, you don't want to be the one that caused all that turmoil, do you?
I didn't think so. So, IM away my little snookemses.
Thank you James, have I ever mentioned how wonderfully great you are? ::grin::
Wonderfully great. ::nods::
I've decided since my current one seems to not want my money pretty badly, I'm just going to switch to someone better.
(Say it with me...subdomainsubdomainsubdomain...the things that make me happy.)
This of course means, that Hot Lake's opening MIGHT be set back just a little tiny bit, but we'll have to see about that, it could, in fact, open on time. Depending on how much offline work I do on it, and how fast I am once everythings changed, getting everything back up. We all know I'm slow, this'll be like...a test.
Yeah...that's it...to see how bad I fail. Will I make baby Jesus weep? We'll see.
Aaaah..Baby Jesus...that brings back memories. Not fond ones...almost...surreal.
Want another story? You know you do...
(Please realize that everything I write is with a small grain of humor, I don't mean everything I say. So don't take it literal. I don't think anyone is evil, terrible, wicked or demon-spawn. I just say it because it sounds good.)
Once upon a time, in a small land far-far away known as the great territory of Oregon, lived a lovely young woman named Robin. (applause) Now Robin had two small children, who were decent children, in the grand scheme of things, and were really quite pleasant to be around. Other then the normal children things, that is.
One day, a good friend of Robins introduced her to a man named John. Now on the outside John seemed normal. Good job, nice house, nice guy. On the inside however, he was an oozing black pit of evil poison religion spit. (Dum dum dum..)
Now, this isn't the story of John, and his lunatic fantasies of starting a Jim Jones like cult, or Robin and her flee from doom, no, this story is on John's mother.
Soon after John and Robin were married, John's mother began her wicked plan to brainwash Robin's children into mindless God-fearing drones, who would do her every command. At the start, she didn't like the child named Jamie. (Who would have guessed?) she said Jamie was sneaky, and a liar. (Oh..and I am.) She told Jamie all the time how she was failing because she didn't do dishes right, or sew like the neighboor girls, because she didn't keep her dresser drawers in perfect order, and how she made Baby Jesus cry, and what was she going to do about that?
Jamie decided this lady was a raving bag of white hair-topped wind, and she could care less if Baby Jesus cried. What kind of parent was God anyway, she wondered, if God just let Jesus throw fits about things like shirt folding and floor mopping. Didn't Jesus have bigger fish to break? Didn't Jesus have better things to do, then weep over the toilet paper roll being put on under insted of over?
What was this Jesus' problem anyway?
The evil Grandmother however, failed to see the point of these questions. Jamie, being smart, and having to only learn once or twice from the smack of a belt, kept her little mouth shut, and put the damn paper on the way the evil Grandmother wanted it.
And bided her time.
(No, I never pushed her in a freakin' oven...what kind of person do you think I AM?)
I feel like telling a story. No, not a good one...sheesh, I told you...I save those for my other journal.
I'm at work (of course) and today we had a four year old come in about a half hour early, (This is the same four year old that is spoken about in an earlier post...you know, the one about child eating disorders? Well..that's what it is Refresh yourself.) and when his mother came in, I was sitting there trying to get a nail I had just broken off my poor finger, because it was still stuck by a scrap of skin. (Guys just don't understand. Broken nails hurt, especally if you break them down past the skin...which is what I did, then they bleed, which was what it was doing when I was oh-so not attentive enough.)
She gave me that look, you know "hands on the hips, why don't you dance and sing because oh JOY of joys my son has arrived to grace your childcare with his light and laughter and ooshy gooshie snoogems, kiss him and hug him and love him so much" look. I know this, not because I'm looking at her, because it's drilling little holes into the top of my poor little head.
Now, it's not that I don't love them, it's just at this point and time in my story, I had a broken nail that was bleeding all over the place, and it hurt, so I didn't greet her with great enthusiasam. (Pity...snicker) So, I'm sitting there preforming major surgery on my finger, (Thumb, left hand, for those that care.) and she's pretty much giving me the all mighty 'don't forget you're just my babysitter' look.
Now, this is the conversation that followed her entry into our humble childcare. I've, for your viewing pleasure, translated from 'client speak' or 'Jamie-eese' into plain english. You're welcome.
"Where's Robin?" (Means: I don't want to leave my child with HER, she didn't even kiss my feet when I walked in. Jamie isn't good enough.)
Tug...tug...OW..."I don't know, in the other room?" (Means: Do I look like the babysitters babysitter?)
"Well...have they had lunch yet?" (Means: I slept until 11:45 which gave me exactly enough time to get dressed and come here. My child hasn't eaten, because I don't know what an apple is, and becides...you always feed them.)
"Well...um..we had a rabid dog." (Means: I can't admit I didn't feed my child, so let me change the subject to something unsuspected so Jamie, who we all know is easily confused, is sidetracked.)
Of course, this point in the play, I had to quit messing with my poor abused nail and pay some sort of attention. (This paints me in such a bad light, I swear I'm not this unprofessional all the time. Just..my nail...) She relayed the story, which...in essense boils down to calling animal control, and went outside to put her kid on the table for lunch. All the while, her child is sniffling and crying because he knows right after lunch is nap time, and naps hurt.
Anyway, shortly after she leaves, Robin asked me to look at the kid, because it looked like someone smacked him in the side of the head. I go outside and he's got this lovely horseshoe type mark, bright red, right by his right eye. (Jakie says it looks like someone smacked him with the claw side of a hammer, and it does.)
So now, since the state demands we track and report these things, or else WE get fines and jail time if it comes out someone at home was abusing the child. (I understand keeping track and reporting, however, if I'm unaware of things going on at home, or if I've just recieved a child and had them one day, I don't appriciate being fined or jailed because they were abused and I didn't know about it.)
Now, I don't want to say anyone was hitting him, or hurt him. (cough) When I asked him about it, he said moms boyfriend did it. (Note: Just so you know, I never take the word of a child. Why? Because children, especally those under seven, or wanting something when someone said no, twist, lie and forget details, and basicly are a DA's worst nightmare. I also can't stand parents who take the word of their three year old as gospel, and never ask an adult about it. That's stupid. Sorry, I know you parents want to think what you're kids saying is true...but kids don't get the whole story.) Now, I won't say he DID do it, but I also won't say it's not a posibility. Especally since he's done it to mommy before, and the kid watched. (Sick, no? She went back to him too...basicly that teaches the child it's ok to hit, because boyfriend hits mommy when she didn't do what he wanted, so it MUST be ok to hit when I don't get what I want. And he does too, all the time. )
I don't know, I just see more disfunction and stupidity (seriously, otherwise I wouldn't use that word) in parents with children today then I've ever seen. Out of probably 1,000 children we've seen come and go, only five of those children came from two-parent families, and only two of those five, lived with both biological parents.
I've seen only two single mothers, who were responsible to their children. I've never seen a single father who was responsible at all.
I've seen children so afraid of their step parents that they would jar themselves in doorframes and hide under furnature to keep from having to go home with them. I've seen children beat babydolls on walls and with other toys telling them they're bad, and how they should just die. I've seen children play 'I'm daddy, you're mommy, you hit me'. I've seen children with parents that are such big hypocondriacts that their kids, by age three, had been on every known child antibiotic, even though the child was never sick.
I've seen parents leave their children 18 hours every day, for days on end, and then bitch because they can't bring them over on their days off. I've seen parents care more about the party their going to, then the fact that it's 30 outside and we brought them with no pants on. I've seen them bring them late, get them late, tell them that they love one better then them, I've seen them act angry when they had to pick up all their kids, insted of just one or two because one of the other daddies didn't come get them and they didn't want them, you name it...I've seen it. Every day, every family, every child.
But these parents get assistance, they get out of their childcare bill, they don't ever get investigated by the state, they raise children who are more messed up by two, then any 30 year old out there.
But in the end, it's always the providers fault.
And people wonder why America is so fucked up.
Oooooo....square feet shopping. There's that math crap again. Someone should be able to just take a string, walk down the street and point at me and yell "This is xnumbero square feet" and then, by jove, I'd have it. All this number on paper stuff does nothing but confuse my lone brain cell.
Why, you ask was I shopping for square footage (Love that word...footage footage footage.), because I want a store. I've always wanted a store, but my inability to cement myself to one project has gotten in the way of that long tended dream. (That...and I'm broke, that puts a damper on everything.)
But, today...since I decided I'm not doing Childcare for much longer (I'm never having children. Never. Little nose wipin' cheese smellin' yellin' short people in socks.) and as fun as the idea of finding another building to open a bigger preschool is...the idea of a store just makes me ooze spittle (such an attractive picture) down the front of my shirt. It's a shoppers dream, to own the store in which all the items you love to molest in other stores live.
You know...shopping...it's like heaven with shoes. See, how could you go wrong with a store?
Anyway, I want a mélange store. Little bit o' this and that, all fun, all cute, all mine...er...well, mine to sell, that is.
So, I'm going to see if I can do up a buisness plan, and find some sweet sap to give me a loan. Maybe this will work out this time...none of my other ideas ever do. Why is that? Hrms...
Rhea Rhyolin: Is it a bad thing?
Rhea Rhyolin: So...you love me then?
Ganonon: Of course.
Rhea Rhyolin: ::grin:: Good.
See, that's all a girl needs...a little reassurance from her friends once in a while. Ben loves me...do you love me?
I'm runnin' out of room, what ever shall I do?
And yes, I read all of `em. Every single flippin' one. `Cause I can.
I knew that, why did I dump my darn cookies? Urgh.
(He's back to what he was before now...)
You know, there are alot of things I don't say here because I know someplace out there, there will be someone who just can't keep certain things they should, to themselves. Which frustrates me, because it's my blog, (not that I write the real stuff in here...mostly it's just...babble. My well written, soul wrenching, decent stuff is in my journal, so no one can snicker at it.) and because I should be allowed to say what I want without reprocussions from other people who just 'happen by' and probably will never come back again. (Personally, I don't know why ANYONE would come here...I'm boring. I swear.)
I don't write in here for anyone, just like I don't write in my normal journal, or even write fiction for anyone. I just...babble to babble. Adding the fact that I don't want to offend anyone (and lord knows there's always one in any group...) it makes it really hard for me. That's why I've always stayed away from alot of things going on in my life, because sometimes parties involved know where this thing is. ::grins:: (Not that I say anything bad about anyone in my other journal. But...you know.)
I think, when it comes to the point that you're stopping yourself from touching certain subjects, or censoring yourself on what you do talk about, it's time to get a journal no one sees. :)
The reason for that little speil....how do you ask people nicely to stop sending you gobs of 9-11 stuff, with out them thinking you're just a big fat glacial doo-doo head with no patriotic spirit? I realize it's only been almost a week, but my mail server is having a hard time with the huge amounts of (I'll be honest here...most of the time it's total blathering bullroar) stuff I'm getting in my box about it.
It dosen't mean I don't think it was a terrible thing to happen...I just can't have my box crashing when I have things of other topics that can be quite urgent coming through. Especally the things that will help me finish work that'll help me get paid that'll help me pay my over-due gonnashutitoffonyounowma'am power bill. (Overdue because I don't get paid, not because I don't pay. So...um there!)
Honesty is the best. No, I don't.
I'm a Childcare provider honey, I know what it's like to deal with people who are so set in their ways anything short of Jesus' second coming wouldn't make them change their minds. I know what it's like to work with people who'll take everything you can give, and stab you in the back just as fast. No, I'm not super woman, I don't have all the answers, and I can't make people see things they don't want to. (If I could, I'd stop my feet, do a dance, smack them all with my fairy wand and call it even. But I'm not a fae, and lord knows I can't dance...so there goes that idea.) I know they think the way think is correct, (And I'm not one to say 'you're wrong, I'm right' I'm just saying violence of any kind shouldn't happen...) and I can't change their minds. As much as I hate to say it, our collective society isn't ready to move past violence as the answer, so hence, violence seems to be the only way they can deal with this right now.
Dosen't mean I agree.
I'm not stupid, or naive (Check it out! I can spell it!) in the least, I'm also very open minded and non-judgemental. (Well...I try, I try VERY HARD. I hate the idea of hurting anyone because of disrespect to the things they deserve. I deseve to not be hurt because of my views, so they do too. I'm by no means a saint...::snicker::...heaven probably is scared to death of the day I'll come around, but I still try.) I know they have reasons for what they're doing, and they believe those reasons to be right, just as we do. I know you can't sit down over tea and be good natured and come to a stable ground. Ain't gonna happen. No sewing bees for this lot.
I don't control their goverment, or their history, or their religion. Their way of life is much, much older then ours, so I have no right to demand they change the way they are. I don't have the right to demand ANYONE change the way they are.
It dosen't mean I agree.
I can only hope.
Oh...I also know they probably never (or very rarely) have childcare over there, it was used as an example of something deeper. :) Perhaps childcare provider wasn't the right word, how about nanny. I'm sure the weller-to-do families have them, don't they? What's the persian word for nanny anyway?
On a totally different note! I FINALLY got the number for Shirley Peters (one of the authors of 'The Town Under One Roof') I'm going to contact her Monday on the possibility of resale in Hot Lake's store. This is something I've been asked about since I had the Geocities site open, so hopefully she says yes. I'll give her half the sales, of course...it would only be right.
So, cross those fingers, I really want to offer this. I'm giving one away, actually, at the opening on Halloween. So if you REALLY want a copy, and can't find one for sale anywhere else, stop buy and fill out a form. You never know, you might win...and I'm giving away some other neat stuff too...`cause I'm kewl like that. (Well, I like to think so...anyway.)
Cass has abandoned me for Las Vegas, so that means I'm in charge of The Warriors all by myself. Kim is OL because of her wedding...::giggle:: so lets see how bad I mess up this time. I am NOT a score girl, I'm the behind the scenes do everything else girl. The scores scare and confuse me...can you say...math?
Gives me shivers just thinking about it.
It frustrates me that the general population refuses to believe that we have no more right to make another countries people feel unsafe in their own lands, then they do ours.
Really flattered...way to make a girl smile. :)
Oh and look...this'll make all you web designers out there happy...even big shot TV (ok...local big shot TV) stations webdesigners have to work out bugs.
Sometimes, the universe is so kind.
I remember the kids only paid attention to it the minute a parent walked in the door. Whoops, busted.
Anthony, who's four, was watching the TV so intently I thought his eyes were going to drop out of his head. Turned to me right after someone mentioned bombing, and said in his little voice 'what's bombing?'
Em..ah..er..splutter...splutter. "Bombing is when they drop explosives from airplanes" needent get into the people who stash them in buildings, not at four. No, let's avoid that one...wait till your six son, then ask your mom.
"Well...do we bomb people?"
How the hell am I supposed to answer something I don't even know? I don't know why we bomb, to me a life is a life, it's something no one should have the right to take away. I don't think we should bomb over there, and kill people who were just as innocent as the people in America were. I don't agree with eye for eye, nuke `em, it's the only way they'll learn, because at the bottom of it all, at the very end of the world, we're all the same. We're all people.
I can't say it's because we're protecting ourselves...because...because...I don't want anyone taking Anthony the way they took lives back east....that's true, but I'm sure in some daycare over on that side of the world, there's a provider who dosen't want her Anthony taken eaither, and she thinks they're just protecting themselves too.
Sing along with me boys and girls...Duck and cooooover...
Ok, I'm sorry..my humor is how I deal with things...becides, you got to admit...it's stupid and funny all at once.
I don't care if you think I'm terrible...I'm actually a sweet, kind, nice person...I just have a sick sense of humor...and damnit, it's my Blog! So there!
I've seen alot of posts from people who are angry with the very idea of anyone bringing up 'God'. How we should look back to God, put our trust in God, ect.
In their eyes, 'God' (Not the altertnate lifestyles? That was a JOKE! by the way.) is to blame for what happened.
Yeah...mmmmhuuu...God gets off on those new-fangled Omnipitant Controled Airoplanes
Me - "Hey God, what's with crashing those planes into that building? Don't you have better things to do?"
God - "No offence Ma'am...just weeding out the population."
::snickers:: I should be shot.
Alright...to reflect on my past post. There is some good that's coming out of this, but there are still far to many irrational and crude people out there who are taking it upon themselves to become little rambo-wannabies and 'just nuke `em', or worse, take advantage of the people who were victimized.
I wonder if they realize, it's a teeny tiny world...and if we 'nuke `em' we're pretty much all done for?
As glad as I am to see more comraderary (I can't spell...just...shut up) it's scary to see it tinged with anger, threats, and want of more innocent deaths. A life is a life, even if they live in Afganastan.
Would it hurt to be blendered?
On a good note, everyone I know in the path of that Tropical Storm down in FL is alright. That's a good thing...I'd hate to have friends get...blown away. ::coughs and runs at her bad joke::
For a country that thinks it is 'so united' and 'so together' I am disgusted.
Obviously this isn't going to teach America to grow up.
You think you're a great country America? You think you're in the right? Until you can stop this petty in-fighting, blaming, hurting of innocents because you're 'angry', and discriminating. We're doomed.
And that's the God honest truth.
So, maybe it should be...so I can buy it and restore it.
What's the legalities for that?
So far TSW has fighters who have family missing. Thankfully we haven't lost any of our fighters or staff, yet. (Don't take that wrong, alright?) I want it to stay that way...I love those guys. ::nods::
TSF has lost staff, WeeOne Glitter Star, I only talked to her once, but she was a sweet girl.
My prayers are still with those of you missing or missing someone...
I have the page pretty close to being ready to be all ready! Most of it...there will be a second part (tour.hotlake.com - don't go, it dosen't exsist yet...lol.) that will give you a virtual tour of Hot Lake, that also highlights stories/rumors/ect for each area, it'll also include video clips. It'll take a ton of work to get going and open, so it's the project that'll get most of my attention after the site is open.
I'm also going to do a store (shop.hotlake.com lol, that one isn't there yet eaither.), that includes e-cards, and what not, proceeds from the store will go to fund the domain and to the fund to rebuild the place. I'm hoping to get ahold of the authors of a book on Hot Lake, ask them about reproductions and if I can sell it, I'm not stupid, no way I'll do that without permission.
I have 30 rolls of film to develop, and 220 more minutes of tape to listen to and record though. So there is still a good amount of work for me to do. After Hot Lake is opened, I'm going to open BB...(Why? Because certain things I need haven't fell down the chain of command yet, and I'm out some information...grin...) so I'll get what I need, and work on it after this big things out of my way.
But it's really because I'm lazy.
Anyway...I've got to get back to work. ::cringes:: How about sleep...I'd rather sleep. ::cries:: Sleep!
If anyone knows anyone who knows how to set up something like that, could you possibly pass me along someone to talk to, or someplace to go?
Thanks bunches. I don't want to get into something that could cause great legal problems for me down the road. You know what they say...the road to hell...
Yes, it was a tragity.
Yes, it was terrible.
Yes, lives were lost.
Yes, it was something that never should have ever happened.
I have bills to pay. I'm not dead. My life continues.
I'm on a few lists that have people mad at other people, because they're not throwing themselves on the ground and weeping and refusing to work tomorrow.
I'm tired of people attacking other people, at a time where it's completely innapropriate, because people are realistic. ::shrug:: People have lives and work, and bills, and kids to feed. They can't go into complete shut down because this happened, it's not realistic. Our freaking country would fall if every person stayed home every day and didn't function because this happened.
I'm at work, STILL. I have bills overdue, my life can't stop because something happened. I'm terribly sorry for the lives that were lost, and they're all in my prayers. I've still got to work though, I have my own life to deal with.
I don't want to sound cold, I'm not cold. I've turned the news off a few times today, because it was too much. I'm numb, I don't want to explain to a bunch of preschoolers what terrorizim is.
No one I knew personally died, but I know peopIe who did lose people, but, if someone I knew, died there...yes, my life would still go on. I've lost people before...I'm still living. We can't stop it, tomorrow still comes.
So don't yell at me for it.
Here are some to get you started:
Searchable Page From Blogger (To find those pages) -
Scripting News Blog -
NYC DOT Traffic Cams in Manhattan -
Even worried about you ones I hate. ::sniffle::
They shut down state lines, airports, busses and trains here. I have relitives who live in CA who couldn't go home today because they're not letting anyone in or out. Personally, I understand. You can't take chances when something like this happens. What if someone got it in their mind to blow up the UAD? Gees, everyone on this end of the US would be in deep shit.
Pardon my mouth.
I think they're going to start stuff moving again. I know some busses and trains are going, but only after big heap serches to make sure there isn't anything on them.
One of our 'sister preschools' had a client who's relitives work there. She didn't know about what happened until she dropped her kid off. What a way to start your Tuesday.
I remember when they blew up the Federal Building, I felt the same way then.
I'm in the middle of at TSW meeting right now. We're trying to figure out how to up fighter particapation. If you have a web site, and want to battle it out against others, sign up, become a Warrior. They're the best. (I don't just say this because I lead them eaither!)
So, come join the fun. Please? ::grin::
Don't ask me, because I'm still trying to figure it out. But to whoever you are, howdy!
Sorry for not having any micky stuff to hock you...I'm still missing the stuff I do have.
I am greatful, however, that the search wasn't for porn.
Sorry, you won't find any of that here eaither.
I haven't been posting because I'm lazy. And obscuring the fact that I'm lazy, I use the cover story that I'm busy. But ultimatly when it comes down to the nitty gritty bare-butt facts of things, I'm lazy.
Sorry. To make it up to you, I give you a recipie for kettle corn, which is my new straight to thine hips favorite snack.
I knew you wanted it, you like kettle corn right? Yeah, you better.
School started, which means my schedual has changed from 10 - 10 (Or, whenever I drag my lazy self to work to whenever I drag it back home) to 6 - 7 (or Holy Shit this is to early to be at work to dragging my lazy self home) It's not that bad, other then the getting up and going to work part.
Let's just face it, my life is boring. BORING! And people still come read this?
I'll start making up some trashy stuff for you, or something. I'll tell you all about the time I, armed with only a salt shaker and a hammer, single handedly seduced half the male flight attendants in the bathroom of a commertial flight to China....
So those of you who care...
I'm listening to Johnny Lang - "Matchbox"
I'm talking to myself
I'm reading Nevada Barr's "Liberty Falling" which is good so far
I'm working on something for someone
I'm wanting a computer at home...I got ink...yay for ink!
I'm not surfing anyplace, or watching anything.
That's it :)
It could be because I honestly have nothing remotely entertaining or worthwhile to post.
Do I ever?
So I've been tinkering with some new layouts, I'm getting better. Still having crap of troubles with tables. It's payback, they're out to get me. I bet I was a carpenter in a former life.
I'm taking ideas, requests, ect...challenege me! I've gotten into a phase where I'm seeing if I can reproduce everything and anything that's real. So far, it's been a blast. I've managed to get alot of neat things....I was flipping through a "Humpty Dumpty" (Of all things!) The other day and saw some neat frames they were using, I liked the shape so much, I kind of swiped it (a little, mines way different then theirs is..) and used it as a new image for my splash page. Tell me what you think? Yeah, I knew you would.
So, I've decided I'll have something done by December 31st to start sending to publishers after the first of the year. (Yes, I realize agent-represented authors get more bites...but I'm too lazy to be brave enough to actually contact agents and see if someone will represent me.) Anyone want to be my proof-putdown-howcouldyouwritethatcrap-kissbuttin-prereaders?
I'll love you forever. ::pleads:: You will? Great! But don't go thinkin' that means you get to know what it's about before it's done. No one getst o know. You have to be suprised. That's a rule of mine. Deal with it. ::giggle::
I'm working. (Of course...) Writing addaptions to our old policies. You know get to pay for an entire month if you've signed the contracts, regardless of if you use us or not. Will we get it? No...but I always enjoy writing new rules. Ahh...the power.
We have a kid in Childcare who's name is Elkie...I love the name Elkie...however, her last name is Bone. Am I the only one that finds that a sick and slightly unapparent to the normal Joe joke? ::giggle:: I'm sure her mom didn't do it for those reasons...maybe I'm just really starving and stretching it for good a good laugh. Maybe.
They're house sitting for some people who have a computer and DSL. So, she's online!
(Of course, like she could skip out on that op.)
She was here yesterday, but alas, I was at home doing home stuff, like cleaning my bathroom.
But, it's all ok! I get to talk to her now. ::dances::
Everyone send 'get computer' thoughts to her, she needs one bad.