| July 27 ,1997 | |||||||||||||||
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| I am a potato | |
3:41 pm
My little brother flew in from Hawaii last night, and boy are his jet engines tired! (fatigued! Maybe there are stress
cracks in his aluminum skin.) Well, I haven't actually seen him yet, but this morning as I went back to sleep
for the umptienth time, I could hear him and my dad talking. So I'll infer that he is here, and that it isn't a tape recording of him having a
conversation with Dad.
One thing about little brothers: It seems that no matter how old we both get, I'll always be the big brother. I'll always be able to pick him up and carry him around, and torture him mercilessly. The last time I saw him, he weighed over 200 lbs (that's the same as me carrying a tank of R-9) (a 50 lb tank) and I still picked him up and shook him while carrying him around the house. It's been a while since we last spoke in person, so I've got worries that he has somehow become stupid in my absence and I'm going to have to learn him a few lessons if he wants to do anything interesting for a living. His email to me is badly written. Hopefully he just can't type very fast. People who can't type fast tend to use all lower case and no punctuation. (Later) Yup. First thing I did was pick him up and shake him back and forth while walking around the house. | |
| Rant | |
This discussion has happened in every single newsgroup already, usually perpetuated by people who want to
say something but can't think of anything else to say. It's been done, and done BETTER. My personal take on it
is that you are not your country. You may be a part of it, but your part is so miniscule that if you put it next to the country
and magnified it ten thousand times, you still wouldn't be able to see it. That's why you shouldn't get puffed up over good things
that come out of your country. You weren't much responsible. I live in my country, unmindful of that fact. If there were a big war, I might end up
doing something to help stop it. Otherwise, I just follow the rules here. (mostly.) (One of my all time favorite rules protects
free speech.) (Censorship: As if our big problem is communicating too well.) | |
| Reality scan | |
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Looks like the Northwestern Burned Baby Association took down their billboard. Oh well. Now there's a dull purple ad for something unmemorable.
Today I talked to my little brother about how things are doing in Hawaii. Before I moved out, my mom made a big deal about how she couldn't
afford the house without the child support money she gets from dad (Hmm. Better move into a smaller house, then.). She asked me to contribute some of the money from my job. Seeing as how she finds
money to go to art shows (and Maui) and to buy frames for many of her paintings (framing things is expensive), I didn't feel bad telling her that my own expenses
precluded any large scale charity. How about that? I refused to give money to my own mother, who spent tens of thousands of dollars on me throughout my life.
Well, that was more than half a year ago, and my room has been turned into a little warehouse for her painting equipment, drafting table, junk, etc.
She managed to squeak on by somehow, and have her car detailed in the process. Listen... did you hear my guilt processor halt? Meantime my 27 year old sister continues
to live at home with Mom, with no real job, no education happening, no drivers license. She eats like a horse and is inconsiderate of others property (like, oh, my CDs and books).
She borrowed money from me a while ago, with the promise to repay me within a month. That was before I was employed at Hawaii Online (June 96). Haven't seen payment! Don't much care anymore.
I'm really trying to be employed this week. I want to have a job offer ,or at least a promising contact, by the end of this week. Unfortunately, I can find so many pleasant distractions. I play with my band, fiddle with music mixdown, read books, do THIS... instead of getting to work. In fact, I keep trying to call Lily back so I can go out, but when I can get through, it just rings. Perhaps that is for the best, as I should really be finding a job and housing... but I'll just find something else to do, anyway. I should wear one of those black shirts that just says "flake" on the front. It's not as if I don't know what I'm doing. I'll be sitting there painstakingly pixeling some pointless graphic destined to stay within the confines of my HD forever, and I know that I should be finishing and printing my resume, or sending copies out... but it seems like the LAST thing in the world I want to do. The way I can work is by setting deadlines. Monday. Dead. Line. Resume will be finished on Monday, no alternatives. Tuesday. Contact prospects. Yeah, I can do this. It's hard to output a log on Saturday. By the time I'm home again, sleep is imminent. |
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