I fought the law

Nothing like a little air guitar to start your day.

Long live The Clash.

2nd gig

authenticity. or is it?

1/365

xkcd: making me happy since, well, forever

Review: Today's emergency warning siren test

The test of the emergency alarm system on the Cal campus Wednesday, July 2, was utterly sub-par. With an initial long ramp up and tone with no warning, it didn't even begin to rival the subtle intonations of previous sirens. Indeed, it completed without fanfare, only to be duplicated a few minutes later with announcement.

The announcement was also sub-par. While adequately robotic, the pacing was completely wrong and unbelievable. It could very well be a Commie up there, pretending to be a human initiating a test.

The second test siren was also truly a disappointment. One solid tone, with no undulation whatsoever.

The only redeeming feature of this entire performance were the three chirps leading up to and after the human (or robot) announcement - perfect pitch, pace, and intonation, as always.

Overall, this was the worst civil defense warning system test I've ever born witness to. Only time will tell if the operators can return to their previous stellar level of craftsmanship - for siren operation is not just a job, it's a passion.

correlations

Correlation:

I spent all day on Telegraph Ave
I can't get the smell of hippie incense off of me

I woke up at around 6:30 - early, for me. I had breakfast, watched some Tivo, did some exercises. Took a nap from 9:00 to 10:00. I can't really remember what I did then - paid some bills, fucked around. Around noon or one, headed to Telegraph to sell some CDs.

I traded in a bunch of cds at Amoeba - the guy there was kind of a dick. I don't know what his problem was, but I'm pretty sure he underestimated my stuff. I had about 60 cds, about 1/3 of which were compilations and stuff I can understand being worth a quarter. But most of the rest were IDM/electronica stuff that is always in demand, some of it collectible. But they had swooped off my CDs and put the cash in my hand, so what the fuck. I'm not selling to them again. I'd rather give it away than sell it for pennies to people who act like jerks.

Went by Industrial Tattoo to look at portfolios and talk to someone about a prospective tattoo. Talked to a super nice guy who is an apprentice there. I like the shop a lot - clean, friendly. Totally unlike the crowded and dark Zebra across the way. I've seen nice work from Industrial, and I really like one artist's style... so when/if I decide to get it, they seem like a good option.

Bought a few books : Book of Leonard Cohen poems, Stardust by Neil Gaiman, a Ghost in the Shell novelization, and a copy of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep - which I'd lost my copy of a long time ago.

I also bought a big bag of spearmint. Seriously, to drink. Now everything that doesn't smell like hippie incense smells like mint. Yum. I actually put sachets of it in my closets.

Snow and I had lunch at a pretty decent taqueria. I had a gigantic pile of nachos, which tried to kill me. We headed back to Snow's - I took a shower, and we alternately napped.

We watched more MI:5 streamed from Netflix, and it is just fucking awesome. I'm really enjoying it. It doesn't pull punches, and it does things US tv would never do.

So yeah. I still smell like hippie incense, after all of that. go figure.

Hard to swallow

Every fucking day.

telling time

Some days, I tell time like normal people. I look at a clock, my phone, my computer. I know if it's morning or night, because people sleep at night and are awake during the day. Knowing the time isn't a problem.

Other days and nights, I get lost. Four isn't a reasonable number for time - four am? four pm? Four and twenty blackbirds? Sometimes, I tell time by the clocktower, those days. It only chimes during the day, so I know if I hear four chimes, when I'm lying in bed in the dim light, that it is four in the afternoon. I have lost my day. Night is approaching.

And sometimes I'll hear it chime eight, and know there's still hope of getting up at a reasonable hour. A reasonable hope of telling time in the way other people know.

light sound electricity

Self-portraits today:



Physical therapy today. I didn't realize how technological it would be. Ultrasound, electricity, lasers. It was good - I really liked the therapist.

Too tired to document anything else. Yay, useless.

silly girl, you always get lost.

Dreams:

Getting lost in LA on my way to meet my old coworker Jan for a study session for some test. Ending up in gang territory, unable to escape. Gang members wore masquerade robber masks. Found a closet to hide in with two other people. After the fighting stopped, a woman with a gun opened, and I was afraid she'd shoot us. Instead she beckoned me out, and said my only chance was to run. I asked, which way, but couldn't hear her answer - I ran out the front door with guns blazing at me. After a block or two, people started cheering and waving at me, so I knew I'd gone the right way. Called Morgan, who was sleepy, and was asking me about what part of LA I'd been in - I of course had no idea. Laughs ensued.

from the bottom

Wine. Cake. Tv. Done.

HR from Verizon called. Tried to make my case as well as I could. Stressful.

Arrived home, with lemon almond torte, blush champagne and roses in hand. Yum.

Whole foods yielded not the cake I wanted. Substitutions were made.

Doc listened to my litany of bleh. Told me he's cutting down his patient load, and to find a new doctor. Prescribed Abilify. I've seen commercials for that, so it must be good.

Went to the foot doc. Got an injection of lidocane into my foot. It doesn't feel better. He took x-rays and told me that while nothing is broken, I'll need an orthotic and I can't run for at least 6 weeks. I also should be wearing hiking boots.

Took a shower as to not be gross.

Painted my fingernails, a second coat. Painted my toenails. Going to the foot doc, may as well make them pretty, yeah?

Audrey did awesome at swimming today, putting her head underwater and moving up to the next level. She said it was even fun by the time she was done. Couldn't be more proud.

Talked to Dimitry, who I have an unending intellectual crush on. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to talk to him. He's going to go out on a limb (several limbs?) and help me out with my job search.

Cut off some tights that didn't fit, made them into thigh highs. Used sock glue to hold them up - totally awesome. Thigh highs in my future.

Woke.

'cos these boots are made for walking

Doc Marten is having a boot design contest. Mine rock. Go vote for them.

2am can't find it blues

So, once again it's late at night and I can't find something. Today it's Philip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, which I suddenly had a passionate need to read.

And which I can't find.

Now this shouldn't be *that* surprising. The last time I saw it was... at least five moves ago. And almost as many boyfriends likely to steal it.

But still. Fucking a.

imogen heap

How did no one point out to me that Imogen Heap is so awesome? I need savvier friends.

i'm sorry, it happens. you just can't do it again

Intervention is a show on A&E about addicts, in which at the end, the friends and family convince the subject of the show to go to treatment.

Some of the show is dedicated to showing what a miserable fuckup the addict is. All the shitty things they do to themselves and the people around them. How ruined their famliy's lives are.

Then they end up at the Intervention. The family and friends read prepared statements, which usually start with, "I remember when you were a beautiful infant and could do nothing wrong," and end with "You are making my life a living hell and if you don't go to treatment I'll never speak to you again."

This idea, that the family somehow has a corner on suffering, bugs the shit out of me. I've seen my own family do it - they think my ex somehow hurt them more than me, that my mental illness is harder for them than it is for me. How much I make them worry.

I don't think they ever really think about how much my life has been destroyed, what a fragment of a person I am. That their constant condemnation just makes it that much harder, and that there isn't enough "It's because we love you" that can hide that. They don't really care what happens, as long as they don't have to hear about it.

There are days when I think about leaving the state, ridding everyone of the misery that seeps into their lives. Find somewhere cheap to live, do clerical work. Maybe take up a drug habit. Because that's how some of these things get started.

There are times to be self centered. When your life is falling apart, it's ok to be self centered. Sorry, God, or whoever else I've offended. I just can't be obligated to give a fuck right now.




(Snow: I am not talking about you.)