The Tinklebeat

Well, for a while I've had a tune embedded in my mySpace profile so it played non-stop. That's right:

NON

STOP

MUSIC

ACTION!

action... action action action action action action action action action action action...

Well, anyhoo... I had made this song one night in Garageband in something like thirty minutes or so when I couldn't sleep. I had in my mySpace profile, yet when I did an edit a few weeks later, mySpace broke the function to add music without a flash player of some sort. So I gave up on it. Since I can post music here, I'm adding it for your listening enjoyment.

It's best with headphones or two big speakers at far sides of your listening space; as I've played with the stereo output while making this.

If you Really Loved me...

You'd buy me a Book or CD or...
My Amazon wishlist

Worlds Smallest PONG Game

This is just plane keen.
http://www.guimp.com/pong.html
Hold down the arrow UP ↑ & DOWN ↓ buttons (do not tap rapidly, hold them down...) to move your "paddle" and keep in mind the score is in the playing field. Go!

Where's my lute, damn-it?

My score on The Which D & D Class am I Test:

Bard
(You scored 55 Holy, 66 Tactful, 100 Natural, and 65 Arcane!)

Well hellooooo Mr. Fancy-Pants. Aren't you just something special? You can do everything to an extent, but nothing really well. You can pull off a spell or two, fend off a warrior in a fight for a minute or two, and you've been known to pick a lock or two, but chances are someone in your party can do these things better. You have one of two options... go it alone or in a small group and fill all the niches that are uncovered, or join up with a really huge group. You are the best of all worlds when it comes to leadership... you've got perspective on every person's strengths and weaknesses, you are a master at planning and cunning, you are in tune with the natural world, and you may have your God, but the last thing you want to do is impose it upon everyone else. Lastly, you can really whip a crowd up into a fenzy when you're wailing on your guitar. The trade off for being so cool is that you get beat up... a lot. And I mean this both in elementary school, middle school, and high school if you made it that far, as well as the rest of your life. Okay, well, maybe not, but bards do, so don't get caught in one of them trans-dimensional vortexs if you don't want a good drubbing now and again.


Link: The Which D & D Class am I Test

Net Neutrality explained on the "Daily Show" with Jon Stewart

The Daily Show revisits the issue of network neutrality. Featuring John "I'm a PC" Hodgman, who explains the issue for us.




FIGHT FOR A FREE INTERNET AND NET NEUTRALITY:


VISIT:

www.savetheinternet.com

Up late and Dancing... in my seat.

Up late and working on some HTML majiq for someone and need to keep the inspiration level high. So what do you do?

You slap on the headphones.
You turn on iTunes and go to the 80's dance playlist.
Turn it up and......


GO!




Thump



Thump



THHHump



THUMP

Tha-THUMP


THUMP

Fetch-e la vache!

Your Inner European is French!

Smart and sophisticated. You have the best of everything - at least, *you* think so.

Who's Your Inner European?

Jack-Ass Replies to mySpace Bulletins

MySpace Friend's Bulletins

You see them and you either read them constantly, now and then or just moan when they're there because you know someone is spending a lot of time taking a long questionnaire to reveal how mundane or predictable life is.

Other times, it's just a list of things you are encouraged to do that are just plain obvious. What is one left to do but retaliate with idiotic and perverted humor?

************************

27 Ways To Make A Girl Smile . . . . .

*1 . Tell her she is beautiful, not hott, fine or ***y.
HOW ABOUT NOT FLINCHING WHEN YOU WAKE UP NEXT TO HER IN THE MORNING? Y'KNOW, IT'S THE LITTLE THINGS THAT COUNT.

*2 . Hold her hand at any moment even if it just for a second.
WHAT IF SHE'S DRIVING AND CRASHES?

*3 . Kiss her on the forehead.
AGAIN, WHAT IF SHE'S DRIVING?

*4 . Leave her voice messages to wake up to.
WHAT IF SHE'S SLEEPING AND YOU WAKE HER UP WHEN SHE HAS TO WORK EARLY THE NEXT MORNING?

*5 . Always tell her you love her at any and all times.
EVEN WHEN SHE'S THROWING AWAY MY PORN COLLECTION?

*6 . When she is upset hold her tight and tell her how much she means to you.
WHAT IF SHE'S UPSET THAT YOU KEEP REPEATING HOW MUCH SHE MEANS TO YOU OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER...?

*7 . Recognize the small things . . . they usually mean the most.
WHAT IF IT'S HER BOOBIES AND SHE'S SENSITIVE ABOUT ME STARING AT THE LITTLE THINGS ALL THE TIME?

*8 . Sing to her no matter how horrible your voice is.
EVEN IF YOUR VOICE CAN EASILY HIT THAT SPECIAL OCTAVE THAT MAKES PEOPLE INVOLUNTARILY CRAP THEMSELVES?

*9 . Pick her over all the other girls you hang out with.
WELL, DUH. SHE GIVES ME BLOWJOBS.

*10 . Write her notes. {she loves them}
EVEN IF I'M TALKING ABOUT HER TINY BOOBIES AND ASKING FOR BLOWJOBS?

*11 . Introduce her to family and friends as your girlfriend.
YEAH, AND HOPE NO ONE REPLIES, "OH, SHE'S MUST BE THE ONE THAT SWALLOWS, RIGHT?"

*12 . Play with her hair.
WHAT ELSE AM I GOING TO DO DURING A BLOWJOB? I CAN'T REACH HER TINY BOOBIES.

*13 . Pick her up, tickle her and play-wrestle with her.
WHAT? SHE MAY HAVE TINY BOOBIES, BUT HER HIPS ARE HUGE!

*14 . Sit in the park and just talk to her.
I DO THAT ALL THE TIME, WHO ELSE IS GOING TO TELL HER TO GET HER FAT ASS OUT'A THE FOUNTAIN?

*15 . Tell her funny jokes, tell her stupid jokes, just tell her jokes.
WELL, I THOUGHT TELLING HER TO GET HER FAT ASS OUT'A THE FOUNTAIN WAS FUNNY. I WAS JOKING, 'CAUSE SHE NEEDED A BATH ANYWAYS.

*16 . Throw pebbles at her window in the middle of the night just because you missed her.
YEAH, MAYBE AFTER HER EYE HEALS FROM THE LAST TIME I THREW ONE TOO MANY STONES UP THERE. ALTHOUGH, I MUST ADMIT THAT WITH THE EYE-PATCH I LIKE HOW KINKY IT IS TO BE HAVING SEX WITH A PIRATE.

*17 . Let her fall asleep in your arms.
SHE PASSED OUT THE OTHER NIGHT AT THE BAR. DOES THAT COUNT?

*18. Carve your names into a Tree.
SHE'S A TREE HUGGER, SHE'LL KICK MY ASS IF I TRIED THAT.

*19 . If she's mad at you, kiss her.
YOU JUST WANT ME TO TRY AND GET CLOSER TO HER SO SHE CAN TAKE ANOTHER SWING AT ME FOR CARVING UP THAT TREE.

*20 . Give her piggyback rides.
HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING TO WHAT I SAID ABOUT HER FAT ASS?

*21 . Bring her Flowers just because.
JUST BECAUSE OF THE BLOWJOBS?

*22 . Treat her the same around your friends as you do when your alone.
I'M NOT SHOVING HER HEAD DOWN IN MY LAP AROUND MY FRIENDS, I DON'T WANT THEM TO SEE THE GOOFY FACES I MAKE.

*23 . Look her in the eyes and smile.
SHE'S A LITTLE PARANOID AND FREAKS OUT WHEN I TRY THAT.

*24 . Let her take as many pictures of you as she wants.
I LET HER THROW OUT ALL MY PORN. DOES THAT COUNT?

*25 . Slow dance with her, even if there isn't any music playing.
THAT WAY IT'S HARDER TO NOTICE SHE HAS NO RHYTHM IF THERE'S NOTHING TO COMPARE HER SWAYING TO.

*26 . Kiss her in the rain.
YEAH, I GUESS THAT'S THE ONLY CHANCE WHERE SHE'D MENTION SHE'S ALL WET WHILE I'M KISSING HER.

*27 . If your in love with her . . . Tell her
I DO THAT EVERY TIME I PLAY WITH HER HAIR.

Oh, Miss Moneypenny...

Woo-Hoo!!

Your results:
You are Sean Connery

Sean Connery 68% Pierce Brosnan 60% George Lazenby 47% Timothy Dalton 45% Daniel Craig 39% Roger Moore 28%

The original actor to play James Bond in a movie is generally regarded as the best. Sean Connery has always been the epitome of sexiness, suaveness and sophistication.

Click here to take the "Which James Bond am I?" quiz...

Bugger!

Which Trainspotting Character Are You?

Cause of frustration?

Possible reason for the issue at hand with previous post.

Internet Explorer Still Sucks Eggs

Well, I finally took the time to boot into Windows and use Internet Explorer to fix the freakin' CSS properties so the page didn't wig out with IE. It was the fact that MySpace removes the # character, and I had some color codes in the same line with some other values and IE was confused by that and took the color ID numbers as the border width.

Damn you, Microsoft. Damn you.

~jon

Silly Star Wars Quiz

I'm the droid.... Isn't that nice.
My results:
You are R2-D2

R2-D2 81 Obi-Wan Kenobi 81 Qui-Gon Jinn 78 Chewbacca 78 Yoda 77 Boba Fett 73 Padme 70 Han Solo 68 Princess Leia 67 Lando Calrissian 67

What you lack in height and communication skills, you make up for in industriousness, technical know-how and being there when others need you most.

(This list displays the top 10 results out of a possible 21 characters) Click here to take the Star Wars Personality Test

Internet Explorer Sucks

I got some complaints that people could not view my mySpace profile and it was all white. The reason for this is that Internet Explorer for Windows doesn't support transparent PNG images very well or at all and it screwed up my whole stepped transparency design. It worked great with Mozilla, Firefox and all the Mac browsers, except Mac IE 5.2.3 (which freezes up when viewing any profile on mySpace).

So as of this posting I'm using a GIF with transparent pixels removed for the TABLEs and TR tags, but it fills in with white eventualy as the nested tables fill in over eachother. *sigh*

Since I need to test Windows Browsers, I'm getting XP and dual booting my Macbook Pro so I can check how it handles stuff.

Darn... I'll have to play with some other ideas to make it look cool again.

Foot in the Door

This is a follow up to my previous post in regards to my misadventures with getting my apartment phone number entered into the building security panel.

Here I am waiting for the UPS guy with my cellphone number posted out on the front door hoping he has a cell phone. After a while I'm too tired to keep working at the computer and decide I want to do some reading (still working through The Da Vinci Code) since I hadn't done any reading for a couple days. I opened the blinds up more to let in more light for reading and hunker down to read.

After a bit, it dawns on me that the building courtyard has some benches in it and I could keep an eye on the front door for the UPS guy while reading. I felt dumb for not thinking of it sooner. By the previous delivery attempts time stamps online, I know the UPS guy was due in the area within the next 30 minutes or so. So I head downstairs and sit in the bench facing the front door and go back to reading. Damn, should'a brought my iPod with me, I thought after a minute but I'd grab it later when I finish a couple more chapters. While I'm reading a hummingbird comes down into the courtyard and I watch it feed from the bell shaped flowers. The bird only makes buzzing noises when it moves from one space to the next and reminds of the sound this one cowboy I once knew would make through his pursed mouth and nose to his horse to make it sidestep.

Time goes by and I start to get chilly and I go back to my apartment and grab my wool jacket and go back to the bench. I realize I forgot the iPod again. Doh... I justify not having the headphones on is good as I may not hear anyone at the front door if my eyes are down in the book.

Dark clouds came over head and it started to sprinkle a bit, but it wasn't that bad. I head up to my apartment to check email and see if anyone called and go back down to read more. I'd given up on the iPod idea by then, yet now that I think of it - I had my Motorola SLVR which plays music, and I have some songs saved on it. Double-doh.

Well, 8:23 pm rolls around and I know the UPS guy ain't comin' tonight. I go back to my apartment and take care of some things, such as watching an episode of South Park I downloaded. I realized I was hungry after a bit and decide to order a pizza to go pick up. When I was due to head out to pick up my order, I open my door and right there walking by is the manager. I said hello then mentioned I found the security panel manual online and downloaded it earlier. The look he gave me was like I told him he'd just won a large sum of money.

"Oh wonderful," he said, "I need to give you a key." We went to his office, I got the key, which he admitted he'd not used for three years, and he told me to keep it while I still live here since I'll be programming the thing. I drop the key off in my apartment and went to get my food. The pizza retrieved and back home, I opened the PDF I had downloaded earlier and jot down the simple stuff I'd need to enter in my apartment number and phone number, grab the panel key and go to the front door.
I scan the Post-it™ note I brought & remove the Post-it™ for the UPS guy (that won't be needed anymore), unlock the panel and swing it down to reveal it's guts so I could press the program button the PDF said was inside. Yet, what I see is not the same circuit board layout that was in the manual I downloaded, plus off to the side, in a plastic bag, was the real operating manual. I just stare at it for a couple seconds.

This... This is irony. I start giggling. All I ever needed from the manager was the damn key and I could have done this weeks ago.

I grab the plastic bad and remove the manual to compare with what I had downloaded. While I'm going through the manual the delivery man for the same pizza place I was at arrives to deliver to another apartment and I let him in. Nice.

I find the pages I need and see that: a) this version of the panel has no program button and needs a security code punched in on the keypad; and b) the number codes to give erase and enter commands is completely different from the PDF I downloaded too. So, the PDF I found was useless and I never needed it. Although finding it and telling the manager I had something led to me having the key to find the real instructions.

I reviewed the new instructions for a minute, logged into the security panel, erased the previous tenant's code and replaced it with mine. I logged out, tested it and heard my answering machine upstairs play my idiotic greeting which is barely audible and needs to be changed.

Now I can have some furniture delivered. Yay!

When One Door Closes, A New One Gets Stuck

<bitching>

I've been living at my new apartment now for over a month and I'm still not set up in the front door security system. Which means no one can dial up to my apartment to let me know they're here. Luckily my friends just call my cell, but when I get a delivery I have to hope there are multiple packages to deliver for other residents here too so Mr. UPS or Fed-Ex or pizza-man can just come knock on my door. Bwah! If I want takeout, I have to go walk down and pick it up myself, no delivery. So my range of food when I'm too lazy to cook is pretty limited. Oh, how I suffer!

Now before I start going into how frustrated I am with my manager, I must say that I like the guy. He's nice, he's well read, and I can have a nice conversation with him. Yet, as a manager, he's not that organized. Bugger!

I set up my new phone line before I even moved down from Oakland. Since the girls who had still been living in the apartment had cell phones only, I was able to turn on the phone line for myself while they were living here. I wanted to be able to have all my services ready so the manager had everything he needed from me for set up immediately and just have it done within the first week. So when I told him my home phone was already on, he had me write it one the back of an envelope - which was then lost/recycled. Gave him my number again but put it on the contact sheet he keeps - it's in a pile somewhere... |8>[ *grumble*

Another little move in item was that the girls who had lived here previously kept their mailbox keys so they could keep checking for their mail, but gave the manager no new contact info so he could call and ask for the keys back. So here I am with no access to my mail box for the first week and a half, and it only wasn't until I asked him to change the lock, again, that he finally did it. I was there while he was forcing the little mail door open to break open the old lock and replace it. While we were there, another of the new tenants, who's been here longer than me, was also asking the manager when she can get her number added into the security door panel as well since she'd been having to go down to the delivery depots to get her packages since no one could buzz her apartment. He told her he'd do it soon, and I was standing there hoping mine would be entered at the same time.

So, two days later when rent is due I also check to see if I was in the security door system yet, I'm not. I head up to my apartment, grab one of the super-stick Post-it™ pads I have, write my name, apartment number and home land-line on it in nice big block letters. I almost wrote "For the front door", but didn't. I stuck the Post-it™ to my rent check and went over to the manager's apartment. He has his door open and he's doing his dishes and calls for me to just come in when I knocked on the doorjamb. He tells me to just leave the check on his piano, which I do and then I hold up the sticky note.

"I put my home phone and info on this so you can't lose it," and I stick it plain sight on the standup piano too.

"Jon, my friend," he begins, "About that..."

Oh, this can't be good. I'm thinking. Yet, he goes on to ask me if I'm good with electronic things and programming things like the door security panel. Finally I see why I and any other new tenants don't have ourselves entered in the thing. "Yes, I'm very good with that kind of thing. I just need to see the manual and I'll go do it now."

He waves me off, "No, not now. The instructions are in the office and I need to get the other people's numbers."

Damn.

We agree to set up the numbers within the next two days, and we'd work something out in compensation for me. How about getting my phone and name added to the damn thing, that's what I really want now. Since I was going to be busy with a trip to Santa Monica and other things, I couldn't do it the next. When I see him next three days later, I tell him to get the stuff together and I'm free to help him that day. He says okay, he'll come by later, but never does. This happens a few other times.

Then today, I have a package from UPS coming and the driver won't deliver to me, and I'm not on good terms with anyone who's around at the time, otherwise I'd have him call a different apartment for me. The guy next door already kinda hates me, but that's another story all together.

I go over to the manager's apartment, to see if we could program the security panel today. He tells me, "I let one of my friends at another apartment who has the same system borrow the instructions. I asked him to give them back, but he hasn't done that yet. When he gives them back, I'll let you know." I wanted to scream, but held it in and cheerfully said okay and went back to my apartment.

Gwah!!

I grab the same super-sticky Post-it™ pad I used earlier, and wrote another note to the UPS driver to call my number with a cell phone if he can since I'm not listed in the security panel just yet. While I was down sticking the note to the glass of the front door, driving it in with extra pressure with my knuckles, I also took down the model name of the panel.

Back in my apartment, I look up the manufacturer online to grab the manual as a PDF which they had linked. I try opening the file but the PDF from them is busted and won't show anything but the first page. I just sit there staring at the contents table in the little side drawer of the PDF viewer as it shows all the contents. The programming bookmark is there taunting me, reminding me, it won't be that easy, Bub. BUgger!! Bloody, frickin' bugger!

I search through more of the manufacturer's website to try and find another link for the manual and find one, but it points to the same directory and file. I use it anyway and find that new download is busted too.

Back to Google, and do a series of searches for the product name and "manual", and get a lot of hits for manual that are unrelated. I make revisions to the search, but find only installation instructions. Finally after 25 minutes I find a retailer that has the right manual. Score!

I read through the manual to make sure I can walk up to the panel and just start jamming in the codes right away without having to stand there gawking and fumble at first. I don't have a printer just yet, so I need to go down with my laptop. After I'm sure I know just what needs to be done, I unplug my laptop, and head over to the manager's apartment since I need the physical key to set the panel into program mode.

I ring the doorbell and wait. Wait a little more. Ring the doorbell again. Stand there and admire all the nice plants and flowers we have in the courtyard. They're nice. I'm still waiting there holding on to my laptop outside his door. It's quiet and he ain't there.

Bugger...

Now I hate complaining, I say so in the About Me in my MySpace profile. Yet this is just too damn annoying, out of my control and I need to vent.

Man, when I see him next, he better not tell me he can't find the security panel key.

</bitching>

Am I Wronge?

I know how to properly spell the word "wrong".
Yet, when I was very young back in 1st grade learning to spell I was also watching a lot of PBS which had a few BBC shows. Some of the Brits had thick accents and when I heard the word "wrong" pronounced, I heard it as |ro ng| and not as |rô ng|. And I figured the English knew how to enunciate much better than us 'Mericans, so it stuck in my head as the proper pronuciation.

Then you add to this that my 1st grade teacher was trying to drill in the proper writing rules so when we were not sure we could refer to our rhythmic spelling points ['i before e, except after c' & all that whatnot]. By this time I was already really getting annoyed with all the American grammer exceptions that just flouted any rhyme I was getting brainwashed with.

No adult would ever attempt to explain why there were exceptions to the rules and they would just tell me, "That's just the way it's spelled. Look it up in a dictionary."

Yet like most young children, I was trying to figure out what the adults were up to and how to deal with them, so I'd retort, "If it doesn't follow the normal spelling rules and is unique, then how do you expect me to find it in the dictionary?"

The said adult would just look at me, and in their own way, dismiss me, my step-father was fond of threatening me with a spanking if I didn't stop asking him 'stupid' questions. Sometimes I was convinced all the adults were involved in some large conspiricy to screw with my head. These people that are supposed to be there to be my mentors and explain the world to me would never explain why the exceptions were the way they are {"Well, when creating the English language, words from the French, German, Dutch and others were borrowed and the spelling rules for the word in the native language were kept, my boy."}, mainly because they didn't know and did not want to admit ignorance to a child.
So, here I am with a phonetical error imprinted in my head {still do in fact} and set of knutty rules with too many exceptions, and I need to spell the word 'wrong'.

Now since I pronounced the word with a slight 'oh' sound, I figure there should be an e at the end. After many red marks on my returned spelling assignments that pointed to the contrary, I understood that spelling it w-r-o-n-g-e was incorrect.
However, this inforced another silly habit of mine to use symbols and ideas. Since it was wrong to spell 'wrong' with an 'e', and by it's very nature the word is to display the state of being incorrect & inaccurate, that it was a universal truth to spell 'wrong' wrongly. Which is also why I most often spell 'stupid' as s-t-o-o-p-u-d since if someone's stupid, then they'd spell it, well, wrong.

For this reason I always spell it 'wronge' on my first pass, and only catch it after I've written a few other words after it, or when I use the spell check. One time, I actually added to to the Word spelling dictionary by instinct when that spell check window opened. After a while and one too many people mentioned 'wrong' was wrong in my document {Which at first I would stare at them and wonder what they are talking about, since that's how it is spelled. Then I would remember after a bit that they were right. Doh!}, I went into the Auto-correct feature in Word and added in a rule to auto correct 'wronge' to 'wrong' while I type.

I think it should be accepted universally that spelling 'wrong' incorrectly is correct. So when it's written as, let's say, 'rongue' that would be totally okay since it is (just by example) wrong afterall.

Maybe it's just plain wronge of me to suggest such an idea.

Livin' in L.A

Well, I was in need of some change and the Bay Area was becoming old hat to me after nine years there. So, I quit my job, became single [this was a whole other story and it was breaking up with my recent 'ex' that was the catalyst for the other changes], grabbed my savings and moved to Los Angeles. So here I am back in Southern California and closer to where I was born & grew up the first 8 years of my life. No, I have no car, and yes I'm able to get around this city. The mass transit here isn't that bad, although the car traffic really slows the busses down.

It's weird being back down here some days when the deja vu hits because of smell, a familiar skyline or whatnot, or just something hardwired from 25 years ago. I'm suddenly that 7 year old kid standing on a crumbling pavement street lined with evergreen & eucalyptus trees, wearing cheap tennis shoes bought at Thrifty that have a toe or two sticking out, with my orange Star Wars T-shirt and dark Batman cape.
I'd stand there in the shade of the trees listening to their branches beat and rub on each other in low tones accompanied by the rustle of the leaves. Some days I would scan or climb up as many of the eucalyptus branches I could hoping to find an escaped koala bear I could befriend. I'd call him Snuffles, and he'd eats leaves from my hand and eventually he'd befriend me and follow me around.
When the carnival or circus came to town, I'd should have Snuffles trained enough to do silly, yet cute, tricks and he'd let me dress him up in a little clown costume. We'd have our own act together and would be allowed to join the circus or other nomadic showcase that liked our act. Then I could leave my real life behind me and gain true independence at last, with only Snuffles to worry about.

Back then, and even for a few years after we left California for Seattle, Washington, my brother and I were always devising some outlandish fairy tale for ourselves that normally started with us running away from home or being lost in another city. Our mother and step-father would be beside themselves with grief when they realized we were gone forever. "If only we treated them better," they'd say to each other. "I should not have tried forcing them to eat Brussel sprouts all those times." my mother would sob into the shoulder of the policeman sent to take our descriptions for the search party.
The new lives we fabricated were built up so we ended up living with some rich family for each of us. We never wanted to live together in these fantasies, yet we'd at least live close by each other and would have some cool method of transportation to visit one another.
Other times my brother and I would joke that we didn't need to run away at all. We could just stay where we were when our mother moved again, and we'd just become hobo squatters in the place we had already been living in. We'd be playing outside or with any established friends by day in case the house was being shown to prospective new renters. Then by night we'd sneak back in the the key we kept to sleep in the house. We could rummage through the garbage of a different neighborhood to find cool stuff thrown out, and sell it to kids in a different neighborhood since it was new to them for food or money.
Some of our plans were outright ridiculous and we'd barely survive half a week if we ever tried them, although it was idea of escape that gave them a magic we lacked in the day to day real life we had.

True, I did run away from my old life in the Bay Area by coming back to So-Cal. There were things I wanted to do with my art and other skills, and I was constantly putting those plans on the back burner so I could concentrate on my job and other things that were just distractions from how unhappy I was. I had reached an odd static state that did have movement, yet it was in a cycle so small I wasn't really getting anywhere other than trailing around the same spot. I had to move. I had to break into a new routine.

My old life had built up a lot of resentment for the area down here near L.A., and I need to let go of it. That's why I chose to come back down here so I could clean the slate of the prejudice that layered up. When I have my own personal transportation, I plan to go visit the old houses and apartment complexes I used to live in, if they're still there. I don't even need to stop for the visit, I just want to drive by and see what's become of the places. Are the trees I frequently climbed still standing? Are those few rows of corn I planted still there in the back yard? Was the school across the street torn down to put up a strip mall?

My old life and my new life, and the years between, are details of the same whole. Some of them need reconciling so I can put them away at last. I have a real talent for ignoring pain, yet it's hiding there under the surface just waiting for the option to manifest.