WebKittyn Warbles
Monday, October 18, 2004
dum-de-dum
"Just looking for a new direction
In an old familiar way
The forming of a new connection
To study or to play
And so the conversation turned
Until the sun went down
And many fantasies were learned
On that day
Keep feeling fascination
Passion burning
Love so strong
Keep feeling fascination
Looking learning
Moving on"
In an old familiar way
The forming of a new connection
To study or to play
And so the conversation turned
Until the sun went down
And many fantasies were learned
On that day
Keep feeling fascination
Passion burning
Love so strong
Keep feeling fascination
Looking learning
Moving on"
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Definitions
in·sen·si·tive - adj.
1. Lacking in sensitivity to the feelings or circumstances of
others; unfeeling.
cal·lous - adj.
2. Emotionally hardened; unfeeling.
1. Lacking in sensitivity to the feelings or circumstances of
others; unfeeling.
cal·lous - adj.
2. Emotionally hardened; unfeeling.
Friday, October 08, 2004
Baby You Can Drive My Car
I've been driving longer than some of my MUDders have been alive. That's a sobering thought.
I've had five cars since I got my license, 4 new and one sort of used. Let my cars be my first documented piece of reminiscing.
The first car was a 1985 Buick LeSabre Limited. This was my first car and the car I learned to drive in. Yah, yah, it was the 80's and Reaganomics were good to my family.
The car was massive, they were still making long cars back then and this was a large car. It was white with blue pin-striping and it had every possible cushy option. It had a moonroof and the softest dark blue interior (I hate leather interior, I need velour), opera lights and it was a truly gorgeous machine.
I was the first one in my immediate circle to have a car and it helped to have a massive beast that Dale and Fay an Wiltie and whomever else was around could fit into and get down to Hudson Park. I remember a dude named Cecil who had the exact same car and everytime we'd pass each other or he would go through the park we'd honk and flash the lights.
Unfortunately it soon became obvious the car had a bum trannie. This was before the lemon law, there was nothing we could do and thousands were spent in trying to fix it. Eventually it became obvious the car was hopeless and as much as it hurt me, my parents told me to use it as a down payment on a new car.
While not exact, the closest to my car I could find is:
located here.
Down at the bottom in the left-hand corner is the closest one but it's missing the pinstriping and it doesn't look as pimped out. This was truly a pimped out car and I loved it. (2 doors, not 4 doors)
Then came the 1985 Mercury Grand Marquis. If I thought the Buick was large and impressive the Marquis was all that and then some. The car had every option including my much-loved opera lights, special limousine-sized moonroof, heated lighted electric mirrors and the softest grey interior under the sun.
Seven or eight people could fit easily in this car. I got a decent amount on the Buick and paid the rest up front. This car was a head turner that I was too young, too spoiled and too stupid to appreciate.
I should have known it was doomed when it was inside the first three days of having the car that it got hit while I was parked. We were at Hudson Park hanging out and I had all these open bottles of booze in the trunk and the back, it was a typical weekend summer night. Some dude comes flying around the park and slams right into the back right panel, boom. The guy was so drunk he got out without realising he had hit me and asked if we had a light.. Oy.
I truly am ashamed of how I treated that car. I beat it into the ground for 2 years and then got bored with the mess it had become and decided to get a new car. Twas the curse of the over-indulgent 80's and I had it bad.
While not exact, the closest to my car I could find is:
located here.
Mine was a deep maroon, it's not exact but it's close. I treated that car terrible, I'm sorry about that.
Next came the "Firechicken." I had been looking at a 1985 Trans-Am GTA but I had an attack of the cheaps and decided instead to go with a new 1987 Pontiac Firebird. Unlike the past, I got no extra options. I was too caught up in the look of the car, the outside was gorgeous. So what if it was a 6 cylinder with nothing electric, no t-tops, no cassette and nothing at all, it LOOKS nice! Yug.
As momma said, there's more to life than looks and I quickly got tired of the car.
While not exact, the closest I can find to the car is:
located here.
Mine was all black and not nearly as sporty looking and it had nothing extra. Just a firechicken.
The moral of the firechicken was that if you really love something, go for it. Don't worry because it might set you back in the pocket a bit, don't ever compromise on something important. Nothing wakes you up like an $18,000 crew up that came out of your pocket.
I was working at a pretty big bank at the time and there was a kid who lived up the block that was one of the neighbourhood crew named Karl. Karl's family had a lot of money and Karl always had nice things. One of the nice things Karl had was a red 1984 Pontiac Z28.
Karl had invested in the car. It had a souped 8 cylinder 350, custom enlarged t-tops and every option possible. It
had been kept in his garage and in 1987 only had 8,000 miles on it. Bored with his toy, Karl decided to sell it for a flat 10k.
I took an employee loan out of the bank (no interest) and grabbed that sucker, it was everything the firechicken was not. It had funky louvres (louvers? I have no idea how to spell that word) and it was a beast.. The first time I got in it to drive it I had Fay with me and I almost put us through the parkway wall that was at the end of the block. The car had power.
It was my first 'muscle car' before the Guidification of the Z28 created the Iroc *shudders*.
Turned out the car had too much power but that should be its own reminiscing warble at some point. I wiped out in the car and while I wasn't hurt and got away with driving drunk and committing vehicular manslaughter on an exit sign (this was the last time I *ever* drove drunk, I took the wisdom of the experience), something inside me turned off and I wasn't in love with the car anymore.
This dude's car is black and mine was red with pinstriping and silver on the bottom but it's daaaamn close and it's: located here.
I kept the Z28 longer than any of the other cars, the wipeout was in 1991, I had a long and happy relationship with the car. Driving it was always a challenge and it was useless in the winter but it was the car with the most attitude I had ever owned.
In 1993 my father's aunts died. These were the never-married sisters who raised my dad after his dad was killed in WWII and his mother decided she didn't want to be a mother anymore and left my dad with her deceased husband's sisters and mother. My father had never really liked the Z28 and he was tired of having to drive my ass to work at the college in the winter.
He decided to use some of the money left to him to buy me a stable car. My cousin Bonnie had a Geo Tracker and was always raving about how much she loved it and how good it was in the snow. We looked also at Chrysler LeBaron convertibles but decided instead to go with the Tracker.
When first ordered, I had requested a metallic purple paint. There were a ton of these Trackers in this colour all over, they were the crack jeeps on da bronx. We went with the LX hardtop model so it became less of a crack jeep clone.
I pretty much gave the Z28 to Dale, I think he might havepaid me $500 as a token but he pretty much got the car for nothing. And man, if I thought *I* drove it badly, it took no time at all for him to destroy my poor machine and sell it off to some freaky friend of his.
11 years later I still have the Tracker. It's more than a car for me, it's a link to my aunts. My aunts were two wonderful women I didn't treat nearly as well as I should have and it only makes the Tracker mean more to me. It's survived 11 winters and hasn't gotten stuck once. It slides into 4WD and laughs as it passes those who laughed at it.
And that is the history of the WebKittyn and the automobile. This went on a whole lot longer than I thought it would but I'm feeling that calming sense that comes with self-therapy. I can go as long as I want here, these are the warbles!
Here in my car, I am starting to think,
about leaving tonight, although nothing seems right.
In cars..
I've had five cars since I got my license, 4 new and one sort of used. Let my cars be my first documented piece of reminiscing.
The first car was a 1985 Buick LeSabre Limited. This was my first car and the car I learned to drive in. Yah, yah, it was the 80's and Reaganomics were good to my family.
The car was massive, they were still making long cars back then and this was a large car. It was white with blue pin-striping and it had every possible cushy option. It had a moonroof and the softest dark blue interior (I hate leather interior, I need velour), opera lights and it was a truly gorgeous machine.
I was the first one in my immediate circle to have a car and it helped to have a massive beast that Dale and Fay an Wiltie and whomever else was around could fit into and get down to Hudson Park. I remember a dude named Cecil who had the exact same car and everytime we'd pass each other or he would go through the park we'd honk and flash the lights.
Unfortunately it soon became obvious the car had a bum trannie. This was before the lemon law, there was nothing we could do and thousands were spent in trying to fix it. Eventually it became obvious the car was hopeless and as much as it hurt me, my parents told me to use it as a down payment on a new car.
While not exact, the closest to my car I could find is:
located here.
Down at the bottom in the left-hand corner is the closest one but it's missing the pinstriping and it doesn't look as pimped out. This was truly a pimped out car and I loved it. (2 doors, not 4 doors)
Then came the 1985 Mercury Grand Marquis. If I thought the Buick was large and impressive the Marquis was all that and then some. The car had every option including my much-loved opera lights, special limousine-sized moonroof, heated lighted electric mirrors and the softest grey interior under the sun.
Seven or eight people could fit easily in this car. I got a decent amount on the Buick and paid the rest up front. This car was a head turner that I was too young, too spoiled and too stupid to appreciate.
I should have known it was doomed when it was inside the first three days of having the car that it got hit while I was parked. We were at Hudson Park hanging out and I had all these open bottles of booze in the trunk and the back, it was a typical weekend summer night. Some dude comes flying around the park and slams right into the back right panel, boom. The guy was so drunk he got out without realising he had hit me and asked if we had a light.. Oy.
I truly am ashamed of how I treated that car. I beat it into the ground for 2 years and then got bored with the mess it had become and decided to get a new car. Twas the curse of the over-indulgent 80's and I had it bad.
While not exact, the closest to my car I could find is:
located here.
Mine was a deep maroon, it's not exact but it's close. I treated that car terrible, I'm sorry about that.
Next came the "Firechicken." I had been looking at a 1985 Trans-Am GTA but I had an attack of the cheaps and decided instead to go with a new 1987 Pontiac Firebird. Unlike the past, I got no extra options. I was too caught up in the look of the car, the outside was gorgeous. So what if it was a 6 cylinder with nothing electric, no t-tops, no cassette and nothing at all, it LOOKS nice! Yug.
As momma said, there's more to life than looks and I quickly got tired of the car.
While not exact, the closest I can find to the car is:
located here.
Mine was all black and not nearly as sporty looking and it had nothing extra. Just a firechicken.
The moral of the firechicken was that if you really love something, go for it. Don't worry because it might set you back in the pocket a bit, don't ever compromise on something important. Nothing wakes you up like an $18,000 crew up that came out of your pocket.
I was working at a pretty big bank at the time and there was a kid who lived up the block that was one of the neighbourhood crew named Karl. Karl's family had a lot of money and Karl always had nice things. One of the nice things Karl had was a red 1984 Pontiac Z28.
Karl had invested in the car. It had a souped 8 cylinder 350, custom enlarged t-tops and every option possible. It
had been kept in his garage and in 1987 only had 8,000 miles on it. Bored with his toy, Karl decided to sell it for a flat 10k.
I took an employee loan out of the bank (no interest) and grabbed that sucker, it was everything the firechicken was not. It had funky louvres (louvers? I have no idea how to spell that word) and it was a beast.. The first time I got in it to drive it I had Fay with me and I almost put us through the parkway wall that was at the end of the block. The car had power.
It was my first 'muscle car' before the Guidification of the Z28 created the Iroc *shudders*.
Turned out the car had too much power but that should be its own reminiscing warble at some point. I wiped out in the car and while I wasn't hurt and got away with driving drunk and committing vehicular manslaughter on an exit sign (this was the last time I *ever* drove drunk, I took the wisdom of the experience), something inside me turned off and I wasn't in love with the car anymore.
This dude's car is black and mine was red with pinstriping and silver on the bottom but it's daaaamn close and it's: located here.
I kept the Z28 longer than any of the other cars, the wipeout was in 1991, I had a long and happy relationship with the car. Driving it was always a challenge and it was useless in the winter but it was the car with the most attitude I had ever owned.
In 1993 my father's aunts died. These were the never-married sisters who raised my dad after his dad was killed in WWII and his mother decided she didn't want to be a mother anymore and left my dad with her deceased husband's sisters and mother. My father had never really liked the Z28 and he was tired of having to drive my ass to work at the college in the winter.
He decided to use some of the money left to him to buy me a stable car. My cousin Bonnie had a Geo Tracker and was always raving about how much she loved it and how good it was in the snow. We looked also at Chrysler LeBaron convertibles but decided instead to go with the Tracker.
When first ordered, I had requested a metallic purple paint. There were a ton of these Trackers in this colour all over, they were the crack jeeps on da bronx. We went with the LX hardtop model so it became less of a crack jeep clone.
I pretty much gave the Z28 to Dale, I think he might havepaid me $500 as a token but he pretty much got the car for nothing. And man, if I thought *I* drove it badly, it took no time at all for him to destroy my poor machine and sell it off to some freaky friend of his.
11 years later I still have the Tracker. It's more than a car for me, it's a link to my aunts. My aunts were two wonderful women I didn't treat nearly as well as I should have and it only makes the Tracker mean more to me. It's survived 11 winters and hasn't gotten stuck once. It slides into 4WD and laughs as it passes those who laughed at it.
And that is the history of the WebKittyn and the automobile. This went on a whole lot longer than I thought it would but I'm feeling that calming sense that comes with self-therapy. I can go as long as I want here, these are the warbles!
Here in my car, I am starting to think,
about leaving tonight, although nothing seems right.
In cars..
So Very Close
I ... am .... excited. Yes, I said it. I am excited, ecstatic and euphoric. Very rare for me but I can't deny it when it's there.
The site is a mess. The blogs are amazing, we're coming up on 200 and some of them are works of art. The blogs are awesome, the site itself is a mess.
I never liked the look of the main page, an index page should be the thing that grabs the viewer and makes then want to wander the rest of the site. The BoRCom index page is choppy and it looks like it was done by someone just learning MT. Which it was. *grins*
For a year now I've been torturing my friends with talk of how the site needs finishing. Problem was I could never come up with a look that clicked for me. It has to click, it has to sing to me. And nothing did. I've started, worked on and scrapped so many ideas it's not funny. Bordering on manic (anal?), I've obsessed on the site with no results. It's very discouraging to spend hours working on a look only to gaze at it and realise it's ugly, doesn't do what I need it to and definitely does not sing to me.
Yesterday she sang to me.
Yesterday the tides were aligned and for whatever reason, the Gods of Creativity decided to cut me some slack. I sat down to putter with stuff and instead of puttering I found myself creating, tweaking, diddling and achieving.
It took me eight hours to go from nothing to a whopping two pages (out of what I expect to be about 60) which is probably a bad ratio but I'm still learning this all as I go.
But these two pages are stunning. They look amazing. Not too much content, no blaring colours or cheesy clip-art, no ads or fluff. Informative, aesthetically pleasing and they do exactly what I wanted.
When I finished with all I could handle for a day, I sat back and looked at it .............. and cried. Yah, ok, a moment of sentiment crept in there but I cried.
It was there. It was there, it was perfect and I had done it. There was a rare and intense feeling of pride and intensity.. I can finally see the end of a year of talk with no action... I see exactly what I had visioned in my head and it's out of my head and alive.
There is much left to do and I know this but for the first time ever I have a direction with it and it's about filling
in what's missing now. I have really made that step into the next level up and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel that is a completely finished community domain with no catches and good writing.
I'm not an egoist (t intentionally left out) and I don't sing my own praise often but this time I allow myself a few moments of kudos. I really hit the right note yesterday and it's given me a restored sense of pride in myself and hope for the site.
I thank the Gods of Creativity.
Blog ON!
The site is a mess. The blogs are amazing, we're coming up on 200 and some of them are works of art. The blogs are awesome, the site itself is a mess.
I never liked the look of the main page, an index page should be the thing that grabs the viewer and makes then want to wander the rest of the site. The BoRCom index page is choppy and it looks like it was done by someone just learning MT. Which it was. *grins*
For a year now I've been torturing my friends with talk of how the site needs finishing. Problem was I could never come up with a look that clicked for me. It has to click, it has to sing to me. And nothing did. I've started, worked on and scrapped so many ideas it's not funny. Bordering on manic (anal?), I've obsessed on the site with no results. It's very discouraging to spend hours working on a look only to gaze at it and realise it's ugly, doesn't do what I need it to and definitely does not sing to me.
Yesterday she sang to me.
Yesterday the tides were aligned and for whatever reason, the Gods of Creativity decided to cut me some slack. I sat down to putter with stuff and instead of puttering I found myself creating, tweaking, diddling and achieving.
It took me eight hours to go from nothing to a whopping two pages (out of what I expect to be about 60) which is probably a bad ratio but I'm still learning this all as I go.
But these two pages are stunning. They look amazing. Not too much content, no blaring colours or cheesy clip-art, no ads or fluff. Informative, aesthetically pleasing and they do exactly what I wanted.
When I finished with all I could handle for a day, I sat back and looked at it .............. and cried. Yah, ok, a moment of sentiment crept in there but I cried.
It was there. It was there, it was perfect and I had done it. There was a rare and intense feeling of pride and intensity.. I can finally see the end of a year of talk with no action... I see exactly what I had visioned in my head and it's out of my head and alive.
There is much left to do and I know this but for the first time ever I have a direction with it and it's about filling
in what's missing now. I have really made that step into the next level up and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel that is a completely finished community domain with no catches and good writing.
I'm not an egoist (t intentionally left out) and I don't sing my own praise often but this time I allow myself a few moments of kudos. I really hit the right note yesterday and it's given me a restored sense of pride in myself and hope for the site.
I thank the Gods of Creativity.
Blog ON!
Bleh.
Bleh, I say. Bleh. I haven't warbled in a few days and here I am with my first warble a bitch. Oh well, fits the mood.
So yesterday I spent eight (8) nonstop hours working on a new design. 8 hours is a long time. I did get up to pee and get some more water and check the mail but other than that, it was a marathon of creative attempt.
And when I was done, I have to say I was proud. Ok, I didn't write it from the ground up but there just isn't time at the moment for that. But I *did* rework the java, redo all the design and now I'm taking apart the Flash part of it.
Yes, I was proud of my work. I went to show it to my friends, to the most important people in my world. I admit openly that I am occasionally weak and sometimes even I need affirmation. Nothing wrong with that, I'm weak and I admit it.
Like a small child who has just returned home from school, excited to no end about a 'painting' she did in school today, running to the most important people in her world to show it off. I had the same smile on my stupid face, I had the same feeling of trepidation and the work was reviewed.
What did I get? It's nice and pretty cool but I'm downloading plug ins and nice work, hlyn.
I cannot verbalise how much that hurt me. I fled quickly after, not about to let anyone know that their nonchalance had in fact brought tears. This was the single biggest thing I have done in close to a year and FINALLY the start of the end of a project I've been talking about finishing for a year. And I was proud of it, so very proud of it.
Nice work?!?!? Plug ins??!?!? What the hell?!?!?
I'm still hurt, as I sit here and warble this I notice a stray tear running down my face. It is NOT oversensitive to expect those who count the most to actually care about something so big. But that was obviously not the case and needless to say, I have absolutely no desire at all today to continue my work.
Yes, I'm weak. Kill me for it now, I don't care. I need the occasional dose of validation and while I don't say I'm any sort of anything great but I try and do that for people, I try to encourage and validate.
I'm hurt. And I just want to sleep.
So yesterday I spent eight (8) nonstop hours working on a new design. 8 hours is a long time. I did get up to pee and get some more water and check the mail but other than that, it was a marathon of creative attempt.
And when I was done, I have to say I was proud. Ok, I didn't write it from the ground up but there just isn't time at the moment for that. But I *did* rework the java, redo all the design and now I'm taking apart the Flash part of it.
Yes, I was proud of my work. I went to show it to my friends, to the most important people in my world. I admit openly that I am occasionally weak and sometimes even I need affirmation. Nothing wrong with that, I'm weak and I admit it.
Like a small child who has just returned home from school, excited to no end about a 'painting' she did in school today, running to the most important people in her world to show it off. I had the same smile on my stupid face, I had the same feeling of trepidation and the work was reviewed.
What did I get? It's nice and pretty cool but I'm downloading plug ins and nice work, hlyn.
I cannot verbalise how much that hurt me. I fled quickly after, not about to let anyone know that their nonchalance had in fact brought tears. This was the single biggest thing I have done in close to a year and FINALLY the start of the end of a project I've been talking about finishing for a year. And I was proud of it, so very proud of it.
Nice work?!?!? Plug ins??!?!? What the hell?!?!?
I'm still hurt, as I sit here and warble this I notice a stray tear running down my face. It is NOT oversensitive to expect those who count the most to actually care about something so big. But that was obviously not the case and needless to say, I have absolutely no desire at all today to continue my work.
Yes, I'm weak. Kill me for it now, I don't care. I need the occasional dose of validation and while I don't say I'm any sort of anything great but I try and do that for people, I try to encourage and validate.
I'm hurt. And I just want to sleep.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Get Thee Up, Slug!
I have a ton of crap that needs doing.
I have to work on my father's hook rug.
I have the blog site to work on.
I have to clean.
I have templates to design.
I have warble stuff to work on.
Yet here I sit playing Text Twist Deluxe, unable to stop the madness. Madness = damns, ade, made, mass, mess, same, sane, ends....... GAHHHHHHHH!
Captain, I can't stop her!
I have to work on my father's hook rug.
I have the blog site to work on.
I have to clean.
I have templates to design.
I have warble stuff to work on.
Yet here I sit playing Text Twist Deluxe, unable to stop the madness. Madness = damns, ade, made, mass, mess, same, sane, ends....... GAHHHHHHHH!
Captain, I can't stop her!
Rodney Dangerfield.
Rodney Dangerfield - 82 years old.
I grew up laughing to this man, this makes me sad.
R.I.P. Rodney.
I grew up laughing to this man, this makes me sad.
R.I.P. Rodney.
All Hail the Master
"It's the dark of the sun. It's the hour in which worms sing madrigals, tea leaves tell their tales in langauges we once used to converse with the trees, and all the winds of the world have returned to the great throat that gave them life. Messages come to us from the core of quiet.
A friend now gone tries desperately to pass a message from the beyond but the strength of the ghost is slight; all he can do is move dust-motes with great difficulty, arranging them with excruciating slowness to form words. The message comes together on the glossy cover of a book casually dropped on a table more than a year ago.
Laboriously laid, mote by mote, the message tells the friend that friendship must involve risk, that it is merely a word if it is never tested, that anyone can claim friend if there is no chance of cost. It is phrased simply. On the other side, the shade of the friend now departed waits and hopes. He fears the inevitable: his living friend despises disorder and dirt; what if he chances on the misplaced book while wearing his white gloves?"
-Harlan Ellison, "Eidolons"
A friend now gone tries desperately to pass a message from the beyond but the strength of the ghost is slight; all he can do is move dust-motes with great difficulty, arranging them with excruciating slowness to form words. The message comes together on the glossy cover of a book casually dropped on a table more than a year ago.
Laboriously laid, mote by mote, the message tells the friend that friendship must involve risk, that it is merely a word if it is never tested, that anyone can claim friend if there is no chance of cost. It is phrased simply. On the other side, the shade of the friend now departed waits and hopes. He fears the inevitable: his living friend despises disorder and dirt; what if he chances on the misplaced book while wearing his white gloves?"
-Harlan Ellison, "Eidolons"
<-- Steal me!
