I'm still not used to the strange California ways. Like kids never being in school. Ever. I'm unemployed and poor, so I spend a lot of time at home. Therefore I have lots of first-hand knowledge about it. Most days, the neighborhood is overrun by 1:30 P.M. with children who apparently have no adult supervision. They like to congregate outside our living room window. Of course, except, when they are outside our front door. I liked the afternoon 3 boys decided to play catch. The kid in front of our door apparently couldn't catch a ball to save his life because I kept hearing it bang against our screen door. It was fun to play the mean neighbor lady when I told them to move. It was one of those moments that you yearn for when your a kid, bossing around other kids. I won't go into the spring break and days off out here.
I must not forget the pitter patter of little feet overhead in the apartment above us. I can't help but wonder if the feet aren't attached to elephants. The sounds of the neighborhood children have effectively hit the snooze button on my biological clock.
Tonight, I experienced a rare "treat," the people in the apartment next to us in our fourplex having a fight. These are always memorable because they feel free to argue and shout as loud as they can without any regard for their neighbors, much less their children, who I feel really bad for. I can understand arguing, but my small town midwest upbringing always indicated a certain amount of modesty regarding fighting due to the fact that the gossip vine was the only thing in our town that had a better crop than wheat. The worst hear was one day when I heard a woman next door yelling horribly with a little girl crying. I don't know how the b/f didn't hear it. I almost went over out of concern for the girl, and I am the shyest most nonconfrontational person you will ever meet. If it happens again, I'm intervening in some way. Even if it means miraculously showing up at the door with a cake to break the tension.
One thing is certain, I'm practically counting down the days until we leave California.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Monday, April 26, 2004
Woo hoo, the Day Is Done
California has it's nice points, don't get me wrong. But today it hit 99 degrees out and it's only April. My midwestern blood may not be able to handle the heat out here. The window a/c unit in our apartment just isn't keeping up. Plus, the cat has decided to spend the better part of the evening meowing for no obvious reason. Grrr.
The Clarett Draft Petition
I am not a fan of professional athletes. I think that most of them are overpaid and overglorified. (I know that there are exceptions to every rule.) I also think the greed extends to almost everything connected to professional sports. As such, I avoid them. I may be poor, but if I get any wealth I'll share it in non-sports related venues.
I have only two connections to sports. 1) An passionate love for Notre Dame football (and it's not connected to w/l record). 2) My boyfriend loves football, so I follow it vaguely so that I can actually have conversations about it with him.
I have been watching the ongoing Maurice Clarett saga for the past year. For those not familiar with Clarett, some background is in order. During his freshman year, 2002-2003, at Ohio State, the running back phenom contributed to his team's championship season.
Things haven't been going so well for Clarett since then. Last year, a NCAA investigation revealed that Clarett had broken the rules and received money from a family friend. He sued Ohio State for violation of his privacy for cooperating with the investigation and releasing information the university had pertaining to his bad behavior. Wow, trying to strongarm a university into covering for you. Amazing, Maurice. My personal favorite is how he filed a police report regarding items stolen from the car he was driving, on loan, from a dealership. Oooh, that's not something NCAA likes, and he remembered that and tried to cover about the theft, and then he was questioned for filing a false report. I'm guessing Clarett was studying pre-law.
It gets better yet. In what was most likely a proactive move to avoid NCAA wrath, OSU gave him a year suspension from the team. Can you feel the love in the locker room? Clarett broke the rules and was being punished for it, and I'm sure he felt he was being done a great injustice. Since "they" wouldn't let him be paid for his college career, he decided to go legit and head for the pros. There was one little problem, an NFL eligibility rule that would requires draftees to be out of high school for 3 years before joining the NFL. Poor Clarett wasn't even a full 2 years yet.
But if you're an athlete, especially this one, rules shouldn't apply, so Clarett took the NFL to court claiming the rule denied him his right to make a living. Excuse me while I go cry a river. After winning his case initially, Clarett's win was reversed on appeal. He submitted appeals to two Supreme Court justices to be included in this year's draft. Now, I generally like my Supreme Court justices to be serious, but I like to think that when they took time from considering the case recently presented to them regarding the detainees in Cuba to look at the appeal of a whiny college football player (technically former, he dropped out of OSU), I hope they had a good laugh. Both justices decided they matter wasn't as urgent as Clarett made it since the NFL indicated they would hold a supplemental draft should the rule be overturned. To make matters even better, while the NCAA said that they would consider making Clarett and his other agent-acquiring defectors re-eligible for college play should they lose their case, OSU has indicated they don't want Clarett back. There is some justice.
As a result, I really rather enjoyed watching 5 out of the 7 rounds of the NFL draft with my boyfriend because Maurice Clarett was barely mentioned all weekend. It's nice to know that he wasn't missed. On the other hand, Pat Tillman was discussed everywhere which I consider more than fitting.
For those unaware, Pat Tillman was a pretty amazing man, and a former NFL player for the Arizona Cardinals. He played for Arizona State, got his degree in 3 1/2 years with a GPA of roughly 3.8. He was well rounded and gave his all to everything. This man had his priorities right. After 9/11, he felt he could be doing more, and with his brother, they joined the Army Rangers. In today's state of sports media, he refused to do interviews regarding the decision because he apparently didn't want to stand apart from his military brethern. He died in action in Afghanistan last Friday. He doesn't have the choice now, people are talking about what a great man because that's what we do about great people. This man was a role model.
We could all learn something from Pat Tillman, but for the time being this is about Maurice Clarett and what he can learn from Pat Tillman. I'm not without feeling for Clarett and would like to see him drafted, into military service. He could do with a little less self-entitlement and a little more self-sacrifice. Plus, he could learn the true meaning of teamwork. In the end, he would be a man worth the respect he isn't getting now. I like the idea of petitioning Clarett for military service because I think it would do him good. Maybe the MiscKaren fan club will back me on it.
I have only two connections to sports. 1) An passionate love for Notre Dame football (and it's not connected to w/l record). 2) My boyfriend loves football, so I follow it vaguely so that I can actually have conversations about it with him.
I have been watching the ongoing Maurice Clarett saga for the past year. For those not familiar with Clarett, some background is in order. During his freshman year, 2002-2003, at Ohio State, the running back phenom contributed to his team's championship season.
Things haven't been going so well for Clarett since then. Last year, a NCAA investigation revealed that Clarett had broken the rules and received money from a family friend. He sued Ohio State for violation of his privacy for cooperating with the investigation and releasing information the university had pertaining to his bad behavior. Wow, trying to strongarm a university into covering for you. Amazing, Maurice. My personal favorite is how he filed a police report regarding items stolen from the car he was driving, on loan, from a dealership. Oooh, that's not something NCAA likes, and he remembered that and tried to cover about the theft, and then he was questioned for filing a false report. I'm guessing Clarett was studying pre-law.
It gets better yet. In what was most likely a proactive move to avoid NCAA wrath, OSU gave him a year suspension from the team. Can you feel the love in the locker room? Clarett broke the rules and was being punished for it, and I'm sure he felt he was being done a great injustice. Since "they" wouldn't let him be paid for his college career, he decided to go legit and head for the pros. There was one little problem, an NFL eligibility rule that would requires draftees to be out of high school for 3 years before joining the NFL. Poor Clarett wasn't even a full 2 years yet.
But if you're an athlete, especially this one, rules shouldn't apply, so Clarett took the NFL to court claiming the rule denied him his right to make a living. Excuse me while I go cry a river. After winning his case initially, Clarett's win was reversed on appeal. He submitted appeals to two Supreme Court justices to be included in this year's draft. Now, I generally like my Supreme Court justices to be serious, but I like to think that when they took time from considering the case recently presented to them regarding the detainees in Cuba to look at the appeal of a whiny college football player (technically former, he dropped out of OSU), I hope they had a good laugh. Both justices decided they matter wasn't as urgent as Clarett made it since the NFL indicated they would hold a supplemental draft should the rule be overturned. To make matters even better, while the NCAA said that they would consider making Clarett and his other agent-acquiring defectors re-eligible for college play should they lose their case, OSU has indicated they don't want Clarett back. There is some justice.
As a result, I really rather enjoyed watching 5 out of the 7 rounds of the NFL draft with my boyfriend because Maurice Clarett was barely mentioned all weekend. It's nice to know that he wasn't missed. On the other hand, Pat Tillman was discussed everywhere which I consider more than fitting.
For those unaware, Pat Tillman was a pretty amazing man, and a former NFL player for the Arizona Cardinals. He played for Arizona State, got his degree in 3 1/2 years with a GPA of roughly 3.8. He was well rounded and gave his all to everything. This man had his priorities right. After 9/11, he felt he could be doing more, and with his brother, they joined the Army Rangers. In today's state of sports media, he refused to do interviews regarding the decision because he apparently didn't want to stand apart from his military brethern. He died in action in Afghanistan last Friday. He doesn't have the choice now, people are talking about what a great man because that's what we do about great people. This man was a role model.
We could all learn something from Pat Tillman, but for the time being this is about Maurice Clarett and what he can learn from Pat Tillman. I'm not without feeling for Clarett and would like to see him drafted, into military service. He could do with a little less self-entitlement and a little more self-sacrifice. Plus, he could learn the true meaning of teamwork. In the end, he would be a man worth the respect he isn't getting now. I like the idea of petitioning Clarett for military service because I think it would do him good. Maybe the MiscKaren fan club will back me on it.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Misc Me?
Sorry for the lack of posts lately. Here are some updates on what has been going on.
Corporate retail doesn't like me. At my second interview that I was led to believe that I would be getting an offer. All I got was a notecard, a folded over posted card preprinted to say that they didn't have any suitable positions available and would let me know if anything opened up. Thanks. Thanks for nothing. I cried, off and on, for two hours. Over a retail job. This is not good. I began to think it was God's way of saying there was something better out there for me.
The following day I got a call from my b/f to meet him at his job and to bring a resume. An hour later I was interviewing for a receptionist position that would work out great for me. This was the shortest, least formal interview of my life. You have to love when the interviewer starts quoting old James Gardener movies. Yesterday, after they checked my references, I was called in to fill out a formal application. Today was the drug test. It was the first time I peed in a cup for something other than a physical. I'm already on friendly terms with the office staff and am referred to as, "the One" since I'm the only person who applied for the job. I don't mind winning by default. My paycheck won't know the difference.
The weekend got off to a great start. By great, I mean not really. The b/f and I needed to give Jack his followup treatment for earmites. For those not familiar with the treatment, it means sticking the tip of a tube into each ear and squeezing out the goop. I now know something cats hate more than baths.
I asked the boyfriend to hold the cat while I put the stuff in Jack's ears. We quickly realized we would have to outsmart the cat. Our methodology was to wrap him in a towel so as to better control him and prevent his escape. Using one hand as a muzzle, I put the tube in and squeezed. And squeezed. Jack cried and cried. I was surprised how much gunk there was. Pitching the earwax gunked up tube, I grabbed the other tube and repeated. Only when I paused to squeeze again, the b/f let Jack go. One would have thought would have first run away, but he first paused to shake his head, spraying up with the ear goo. Yuck. Realizing that the remaining tube still had a lot of stuff on it, we realized we needed to get Jack back to put it in. Yeah, Jack wasn't too keen on us. I proceeded to hunt Jack with the towel in a kind of matador style, hoping to toss the towel on him and have him lay there meowing "Uncle! UUUUUUUNNNNNCLE!!!!" The b/f finally calmed Jack down and conned him onto his lap. I came in with the towel, and the process was completed, even with more ear goo spray. Just thinking about it makes me go "Ugh!"
The weekend much improved. We went to Hollywood. We cursed the Hollywood traffic. We went to Venice Beach and got sand in our socks. We cursed the windy beach. We met our friend Dana, who had also moved recently to California and had a great dinner. It was great comparing notes on the California experience.
The past few days having been spent helping my mom replace the crappiest computer surfing the internet. My mom, God love her, is fairly computer illiterate, plus she doesn't have a lot of money to spend. I spend my freetime (a.k.a. life of an unemployed person) searching for a system that would be good enough to last her at least a few years before going out of date without tapping out her finances too much. So I printed off a quote and sent her a copy so she could call the company and place the order.
This afternoon, I'm surfing the net, when my mom calls and is shortly accompanied by the guy in the order department to whom she's been talking. This is good. The guy was talking to her about a more expensive system and she told him she'd have to get my advice first (which I advised her not to get talked into anything) so they conference called me.
The guy had some valid points but was downright pushy. My favorite question, "Well, do you know what a motherboard is?" No, the estrogen in my body prevents me from understanding all electronics. I advised my mom to take 24 hours to think about it, to let me do some independent research on what he was recommending, and so we could discuss it privately. I asked Mr. Pushy if they was anyway he could put a hold on the quote and give us a code so she could call back in and just give the code.
"No ma'am, we can't do that because we don't know when the specials end. Corporate decides that."
"Okay, so you can't guarantee the free shipping tomorrow. But if I remember correct, the rebates on these systems are being offered until April 25th, right?"
"I'm sorry ma'am. I don't know when the rebates will end. Corporate decides."
Gee, I'm disappointed that corporate retail turned me down? I advised my mom to wait the 24 hours anyway. Excuse my language, but I wasn't going to allow that assmonkey to pressure my mom into a decision she wasn't absolutely comfortable with. I'm glad I did to, if for no other reason than I realized that their company website would have held the quote for up to 3 days. Assmonkey.
My mom and I discussed it more and she decided to go ahead with the more expense system. I told her that if she got Mr. Pushy on the phone again to ask for someone else. She didn't. She called me afterwards to tell me how it went fine, but she was so nervous about the purchase that she went for a walk to keep from getting sick. I can only imagine how upset she would have been if she had caved under Mr. Pushy's pressure. Mess with my mom and you mess with me, assmonkey.
Before I sign off, keep John Ashcroft and his gang over at the USDOJ in your thoughts. Apparently he was too busy testifying before the 9/11 commission to swing by the site to check for my latest post. Happily, the gang managed to check back in this morning. I suppose I can overlook them not being the most devoted this time.
Corporate retail doesn't like me. At my second interview that I was led to believe that I would be getting an offer. All I got was a notecard, a folded over posted card preprinted to say that they didn't have any suitable positions available and would let me know if anything opened up. Thanks. Thanks for nothing. I cried, off and on, for two hours. Over a retail job. This is not good. I began to think it was God's way of saying there was something better out there for me.
The following day I got a call from my b/f to meet him at his job and to bring a resume. An hour later I was interviewing for a receptionist position that would work out great for me. This was the shortest, least formal interview of my life. You have to love when the interviewer starts quoting old James Gardener movies. Yesterday, after they checked my references, I was called in to fill out a formal application. Today was the drug test. It was the first time I peed in a cup for something other than a physical. I'm already on friendly terms with the office staff and am referred to as, "the One" since I'm the only person who applied for the job. I don't mind winning by default. My paycheck won't know the difference.
The weekend got off to a great start. By great, I mean not really. The b/f and I needed to give Jack his followup treatment for earmites. For those not familiar with the treatment, it means sticking the tip of a tube into each ear and squeezing out the goop. I now know something cats hate more than baths.
I asked the boyfriend to hold the cat while I put the stuff in Jack's ears. We quickly realized we would have to outsmart the cat. Our methodology was to wrap him in a towel so as to better control him and prevent his escape. Using one hand as a muzzle, I put the tube in and squeezed. And squeezed. Jack cried and cried. I was surprised how much gunk there was. Pitching the earwax gunked up tube, I grabbed the other tube and repeated. Only when I paused to squeeze again, the b/f let Jack go. One would have thought would have first run away, but he first paused to shake his head, spraying up with the ear goo. Yuck. Realizing that the remaining tube still had a lot of stuff on it, we realized we needed to get Jack back to put it in. Yeah, Jack wasn't too keen on us. I proceeded to hunt Jack with the towel in a kind of matador style, hoping to toss the towel on him and have him lay there meowing "Uncle! UUUUUUUNNNNNCLE!!!!" The b/f finally calmed Jack down and conned him onto his lap. I came in with the towel, and the process was completed, even with more ear goo spray. Just thinking about it makes me go "Ugh!"
The weekend much improved. We went to Hollywood. We cursed the Hollywood traffic. We went to Venice Beach and got sand in our socks. We cursed the windy beach. We met our friend Dana, who had also moved recently to California and had a great dinner. It was great comparing notes on the California experience.
The past few days having been spent helping my mom replace the crappiest computer surfing the internet. My mom, God love her, is fairly computer illiterate, plus she doesn't have a lot of money to spend. I spend my freetime (a.k.a. life of an unemployed person) searching for a system that would be good enough to last her at least a few years before going out of date without tapping out her finances too much. So I printed off a quote and sent her a copy so she could call the company and place the order.
This afternoon, I'm surfing the net, when my mom calls and is shortly accompanied by the guy in the order department to whom she's been talking. This is good. The guy was talking to her about a more expensive system and she told him she'd have to get my advice first (which I advised her not to get talked into anything) so they conference called me.
The guy had some valid points but was downright pushy. My favorite question, "Well, do you know what a motherboard is?" No, the estrogen in my body prevents me from understanding all electronics. I advised my mom to take 24 hours to think about it, to let me do some independent research on what he was recommending, and so we could discuss it privately. I asked Mr. Pushy if they was anyway he could put a hold on the quote and give us a code so she could call back in and just give the code.
"No ma'am, we can't do that because we don't know when the specials end. Corporate decides that."
"Okay, so you can't guarantee the free shipping tomorrow. But if I remember correct, the rebates on these systems are being offered until April 25th, right?"
"I'm sorry ma'am. I don't know when the rebates will end. Corporate decides."
Gee, I'm disappointed that corporate retail turned me down? I advised my mom to wait the 24 hours anyway. Excuse my language, but I wasn't going to allow that assmonkey to pressure my mom into a decision she wasn't absolutely comfortable with. I'm glad I did to, if for no other reason than I realized that their company website would have held the quote for up to 3 days. Assmonkey.
My mom and I discussed it more and she decided to go ahead with the more expense system. I told her that if she got Mr. Pushy on the phone again to ask for someone else. She didn't. She called me afterwards to tell me how it went fine, but she was so nervous about the purchase that she went for a walk to keep from getting sick. I can only imagine how upset she would have been if she had caved under Mr. Pushy's pressure. Mess with my mom and you mess with me, assmonkey.
Before I sign off, keep John Ashcroft and his gang over at the USDOJ in your thoughts. Apparently he was too busy testifying before the 9/11 commission to swing by the site to check for my latest post. Happily, the gang managed to check back in this morning. I suppose I can overlook them not being the most devoted this time.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
A Big Wave to the MiscKaren Fan Club
I'm so excited. I have shown up on someone's radar. Last night, I was checking my stats on the site meter account I have for this site. I strolled over to the details of who was visitting, and there it was. Two page views for a total of 15 seconds from usdoj.gov.
I was stunned. Apparently someone in the federal government cares about me. I'll admit. My initial thought was, "Wow, big brother!" Upon further reflection, it was probably a bot just checking every page that mentions Bush. However, another hit from them this morning has me preferring to think the unlikely, I've got a fan at the U.S. Dept. of Justice.
So who could it be? I like to think it's some lowly grunt in the trenches with liberal tendencies. Until I have further information, I am dubbing the entire department the MiscKaren Fan Club with Attorney General John Ashcroft the honorary club president. (I wouldn't want to make him run for it because he doesn't do well with elections.)
So to John and his comrades I send a big hello and my sincere gratitude for their devotion to my site.
I was stunned. Apparently someone in the federal government cares about me. I'll admit. My initial thought was, "Wow, big brother!" Upon further reflection, it was probably a bot just checking every page that mentions Bush. However, another hit from them this morning has me preferring to think the unlikely, I've got a fan at the U.S. Dept. of Justice.
So who could it be? I like to think it's some lowly grunt in the trenches with liberal tendencies. Until I have further information, I am dubbing the entire department the MiscKaren Fan Club with Attorney General John Ashcroft the honorary club president. (I wouldn't want to make him run for it because he doesn't do well with elections.)
So to John and his comrades I send a big hello and my sincere gratitude for their devotion to my site.
Monday, April 12, 2004
My English Degree Finally Pays Off
I'm glad that I haven't lost what I learned during those four years studying for my B.A. in English. ND would be proud. Now I just have to worry about the pesky heresy of that god business.
You are a GRAMMAR GOD!
If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!
How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are a GRAMMAR GOD!
If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!
How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Sunday, April 11, 2004
In Which I Attempt to Fool the Adbots
I must say that I am quite satisfied with how my little weblog experiment is going. Friends and family have responded with flattering words. Then again, they know I don't take too well to criticism. In an effort to expand my audience, I've posted this address on my orkut profile and have joined blogsnob, in the hopes that more people might peruse the offerings.
My one pang of sorrow comes from the BlogSpot adbots. I love that BlogSpot hosts my weblog for free. I can even accept that they get run ads on it in return. I just wish I had a bit more control of which ads get shown. (I have a similar feeling about some of the weblogs that randomly get promoted on my site with BlogSnob.)
I never paid much attention to the ads on my site until I wrote the letter to Sen. Kerry. Shortly afterwards, I noticed all of these ads for the RNC. Anyone who read the letter or knows me at all knows that while I promote lively political debate I'm not big on the Republican party. I don't really want my weblog to inadvertently promote it. Could all my rantings about Bush's "leadership" have led to RNC ads? I've done a little research, and apparently they did.
So now I'm left wondering how many times I have to say ebay for ads about ebay to appear in the ads at the top of my weblog. Maybe if I talk about my boyfriend's items for sale on ebay I will have the word ebay in this entry enough times for the ebay ads to show up. But I honestly have little interest in discussing ebay auctions at this time.
Maybe I should talk about some of BlogSpot's competitors in the free weblog game. I don't know if they'd accept ads from sites like LiveJournal. I suspect they probably don't advertise competitors too much.
My only conclusion is that almost all of the ads look a bit suspect. While it probably goes against my user agreement, I advise you to NOT click on the ads. Laugh at them. That's what I do.
My one pang of sorrow comes from the BlogSpot adbots. I love that BlogSpot hosts my weblog for free. I can even accept that they get run ads on it in return. I just wish I had a bit more control of which ads get shown. (I have a similar feeling about some of the weblogs that randomly get promoted on my site with BlogSnob.)
I never paid much attention to the ads on my site until I wrote the letter to Sen. Kerry. Shortly afterwards, I noticed all of these ads for the RNC. Anyone who read the letter or knows me at all knows that while I promote lively political debate I'm not big on the Republican party. I don't really want my weblog to inadvertently promote it. Could all my rantings about Bush's "leadership" have led to RNC ads? I've done a little research, and apparently they did.
So now I'm left wondering how many times I have to say ebay for ads about ebay to appear in the ads at the top of my weblog. Maybe if I talk about my boyfriend's items for sale on ebay I will have the word ebay in this entry enough times for the ebay ads to show up. But I honestly have little interest in discussing ebay auctions at this time.
Maybe I should talk about some of BlogSpot's competitors in the free weblog game. I don't know if they'd accept ads from sites like LiveJournal. I suspect they probably don't advertise competitors too much.
My only conclusion is that almost all of the ads look a bit suspect. While it probably goes against my user agreement, I advise you to NOT click on the ads. Laugh at them. That's what I do.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
I hate to write again on politics so soon after my letter to Sen. Kerry, but I follow the news. As a result, I get quite passionate about the things I hear.
Before I go on to the subject of my wrath this time, I feel it is really important to say something about Iraq. It was a HUGE mistake. Granted I was saying this before we even sent troops, but the drastic increase in instability in the region only affirms it for me. Ignoring questions on the principle of war, the pragmatics of it would dictate that we have better long term plans for our involvement in the region.
On to the cause of my wrath. I was reading about corporate taxes. The line in particular was, "President Bush's budget forecasts corporations will pay $168.7 billion in income taxes in 2004 compared with $765.4 billion paid by individuals." It's one thing to be pro-business, but the sheer number of tax credits and and other incentives offered to businesses is ridiculous. I don't want to hear another Republican say that taxes are too high and that we have to do more to promote businesses. I'm more than happy to pay my taxes and I expect corporate citizens to do their share.
Before I go on to the subject of my wrath this time, I feel it is really important to say something about Iraq. It was a HUGE mistake. Granted I was saying this before we even sent troops, but the drastic increase in instability in the region only affirms it for me. Ignoring questions on the principle of war, the pragmatics of it would dictate that we have better long term plans for our involvement in the region.
On to the cause of my wrath. I was reading about corporate taxes. The line in particular was, "President Bush's budget forecasts corporations will pay $168.7 billion in income taxes in 2004 compared with $765.4 billion paid by individuals." It's one thing to be pro-business, but the sheer number of tax credits and and other incentives offered to businesses is ridiculous. I don't want to hear another Republican say that taxes are too high and that we have to do more to promote businesses. I'm more than happy to pay my taxes and I expect corporate citizens to do their share.
Monday, April 05, 2004
A Matter of Perspective
This morning I was on cloud nine. I went through my follow up job interview. It went well. Really well. I can expect a call next week. I was told, "on a personal note," that next time I interview with a company, I should ask for more money because I'll get it. Woo hoo job, but why must I wait for another company. Is there any room for negotiation with the job offer stage?
Nonetheless, much happiness as it would appear that I will soon be employed.
Later, this afternoon, I was reading my e-mail when I found out that one of my best friends from Notre Dame (who is getting her MFA from Columbia University) has been awarded a Fulbright Scholarship (Congrats again Amy!) and leaves for Israel in October. Hmmm. Working my way into retail management doesn't feel like such an accomplishment.
I eventually got to thinking about the family that lives next door. When we moved in, I went through my clothing and pitched some of my old ND t-shirts that I didn't think would be worth even sending to Salvation Army. I noticed that some animals tore open the bag when I was forced to place it beside the overstuffed dumpster. I have since seen my neighbors wearing my old t-shirts.
Retail management doesn't seem so bad when it means a paycheck for an honest day's work. If I feel like I should be doing more, I need to remember that I am more than just my job (or would-be job). If nothing else, I am writing more. Maybe someday I'll get off my duff and try to do something with it.
Nonetheless, much happiness as it would appear that I will soon be employed.
Later, this afternoon, I was reading my e-mail when I found out that one of my best friends from Notre Dame (who is getting her MFA from Columbia University) has been awarded a Fulbright Scholarship (Congrats again Amy!) and leaves for Israel in October. Hmmm. Working my way into retail management doesn't feel like such an accomplishment.
I eventually got to thinking about the family that lives next door. When we moved in, I went through my clothing and pitched some of my old ND t-shirts that I didn't think would be worth even sending to Salvation Army. I noticed that some animals tore open the bag when I was forced to place it beside the overstuffed dumpster. I have since seen my neighbors wearing my old t-shirts.
Retail management doesn't seem so bad when it means a paycheck for an honest day's work. If I feel like I should be doing more, I need to remember that I am more than just my job (or would-be job). If nothing else, I am writing more. Maybe someday I'll get off my duff and try to do something with it.
Sunday, April 04, 2004
A Post in Which I Do Not Use the Word "Generally"
Once in a blue moon, I get a burst of energy and get done an amazing amount of things I usually avoid. Tonight was one of those nights which is odd considering I've been up since 6 AM and I'm not a morning person. I suspect I'll be feeling this in the morning.
I did one of the tasks most frequent to this bouts of personal productivity. I cleaned. Dishes are done. The stove is clean, very clean. I even ironed. 3 pairs of khakis and a red blouse. Of course I'll be hitting up the blouse again tomorrow because I noticed a few creases.
I reward myself by crashing on the couch to watch Trading Spaces. I began to think ahead to my follow up job interview that is on Monday. If I make what I hope, I might be able to make my credit card payment, my student loan payments, when they come out of deferrment, and pay the obscene rate for gas for a job that is an hour commute.
I was beginning to worry because, well, that's what I do. They are other things I'd like to do. Chip in with the bills that my b/f pays for us to live in an apartment. Pay for the car insurance that my dad pays on the vehicle he lets me use. In general, be less of a bum. Maybe be financially solvent sometime. I've been asked what I'd like to do for a career. I'm to the point where my answer is, "Pay off my student loans." "No, really, what do you want to do?" "Listen Notre Dame and graduate school left me seriously smart and seriously in debt. In retrospect, maybe English Lit wasn't the best major. I need a job where I can make enough to pay off my loans, my credit card, and eat. This is no light request. I'm not horribly picky about the rest." Besides, I really miss the routine of work.
So, figuring in what I think I could get for the job considering experience in the field and both my degrees, I think I'm going light on the wage. It's still more than I made at my last job, but the cost of living here is much higher and minimum wage starts a lot higher too. What troubled me was the thought of the deductions. Mentally, the paycheck was getting stretched very thin. So I did some checking.
I think I found some real facts on the internet. I'm serious. I found tax tables for both my federal and state income. I think I can swing this. Hope springs eternal.
Unfortunately, sleep is not coming so easy. Not good on a night where I'm losing an hour as it is. Oh well. I'll go lay down and maybe be peaceful with the thought that I have done all I can do tonight.
I did one of the tasks most frequent to this bouts of personal productivity. I cleaned. Dishes are done. The stove is clean, very clean. I even ironed. 3 pairs of khakis and a red blouse. Of course I'll be hitting up the blouse again tomorrow because I noticed a few creases.
I reward myself by crashing on the couch to watch Trading Spaces. I began to think ahead to my follow up job interview that is on Monday. If I make what I hope, I might be able to make my credit card payment, my student loan payments, when they come out of deferrment, and pay the obscene rate for gas for a job that is an hour commute.
I was beginning to worry because, well, that's what I do. They are other things I'd like to do. Chip in with the bills that my b/f pays for us to live in an apartment. Pay for the car insurance that my dad pays on the vehicle he lets me use. In general, be less of a bum. Maybe be financially solvent sometime. I've been asked what I'd like to do for a career. I'm to the point where my answer is, "Pay off my student loans." "No, really, what do you want to do?" "Listen Notre Dame and graduate school left me seriously smart and seriously in debt. In retrospect, maybe English Lit wasn't the best major. I need a job where I can make enough to pay off my loans, my credit card, and eat. This is no light request. I'm not horribly picky about the rest." Besides, I really miss the routine of work.
So, figuring in what I think I could get for the job considering experience in the field and both my degrees, I think I'm going light on the wage. It's still more than I made at my last job, but the cost of living here is much higher and minimum wage starts a lot higher too. What troubled me was the thought of the deductions. Mentally, the paycheck was getting stretched very thin. So I did some checking.
I think I found some real facts on the internet. I'm serious. I found tax tables for both my federal and state income. I think I can swing this. Hope springs eternal.
Unfortunately, sleep is not coming so easy. Not good on a night where I'm losing an hour as it is. Oh well. I'll go lay down and maybe be peaceful with the thought that I have done all I can do tonight.
Friday, April 02, 2004
I Don't Know Jack
I've never been a very good practical joker. I can't bluff, which means I generally avoid poker too. Generally, the only person I can get is my mom. She's trusts me so much and I pull one on her every April Fools'. This year was no different, I got her. But I was gentle. I had some traumatic things in mind, but I knew they'd get me in trouble.
This year I was the one who was surprised. I met my boyfriend for lunch. We also stopped by the animal shelter. We stop there often. We like animals and have been thinking about adopting. I like dogs, but I've always wanted a cat. The b/f loves dogs and despises all but a few cats. Due to our current living situation, the only pet we can have is a cat. Surprisingly, the b/f has been seeing more cats he likes. But we agreed that it would take an extraordinary cat. We did see a few we liked a lot.
Well, on his way home from work, he calls me and says I need to be ready to run to Walmart with him when he gets home. I'm waiting by the curb when he pulls up. Imagine my surprise when I spy a cardboard cat carrier in the passenger seat beside him. It was not empty. Inside was a rather angry black and gray tabby. Apparently I'm not the only one who gets distressed at some of my boyfriend's driving. Jack is a playful, yet not hyper 4 year old tabby who we both liked.
Now Jack is laying on my lap bathing himself, pausing to ponder what I'm doing. He likes to meow when he's not geting enough attention. He's being exiled to the bathroom for his first night and I know I'm going to hear him. But he's already taken a nap with me on the couch. He uses the litter box (though I have the sinking suspicion that I'll be the one responsible for taking care of it). I've called a few friends excited about my bundle of joy. Yet it occurs to me that I'm absorbing a ton of responsibility. Gulp. There is a newfound respect for my mom.
This year I was the one who was surprised. I met my boyfriend for lunch. We also stopped by the animal shelter. We stop there often. We like animals and have been thinking about adopting. I like dogs, but I've always wanted a cat. The b/f loves dogs and despises all but a few cats. Due to our current living situation, the only pet we can have is a cat. Surprisingly, the b/f has been seeing more cats he likes. But we agreed that it would take an extraordinary cat. We did see a few we liked a lot.
Well, on his way home from work, he calls me and says I need to be ready to run to Walmart with him when he gets home. I'm waiting by the curb when he pulls up. Imagine my surprise when I spy a cardboard cat carrier in the passenger seat beside him. It was not empty. Inside was a rather angry black and gray tabby. Apparently I'm not the only one who gets distressed at some of my boyfriend's driving. Jack is a playful, yet not hyper 4 year old tabby who we both liked.
Now Jack is laying on my lap bathing himself, pausing to ponder what I'm doing. He likes to meow when he's not geting enough attention. He's being exiled to the bathroom for his first night and I know I'm going to hear him. But he's already taken a nap with me on the couch. He uses the litter box (though I have the sinking suspicion that I'll be the one responsible for taking care of it). I've called a few friends excited about my bundle of joy. Yet it occurs to me that I'm absorbing a ton of responsibility. Gulp. There is a newfound respect for my mom.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
A Little Night Musing
Insomnia is a mixed blessing a mixed blessing for me. This is an upgrade from scourge. I'm hoping for, and working towards, insomnia being a pleasant little bit of productivity.
Traditionally, insomnia has been anxiety induced. It generally does not take much to get me worked about something but sleep is generally sacred and easy for me. Get me thinking about student loans and their deferments and I'm up for an hour easy trying to mentally calculate a way that I will not be poor forever.
This all was magnified when I quit my job and moved halfway across the country. My nighttime anxiety repertoire had expanded to include lack of income, fear of rejection on job applications, fear of failure, and how long could my savings holdout. There was a whole month that I didn't get to sleep until two hours later than usual.
There is, however, some truth to the old adage, that one get used to anything given enough time. Eventually, the drama became melodramatic and tired was tired. Sleep ceased to elude me. This too lasted a month.
However, in the art of a true worrier, in a class almost professional, I found something new to worry about, relationships. I don't think to much about relationships on a regular basis. I'm kinda like a guy in that sense. But when there is worrying to be done, you pull up your boot straps and find something to worry about. I don't just have work ethic, I've got worry ethic too.
The nice thing about my recent bouts of insomnia is that I've learned to move from the object of worry. Now I do a lot of thinking, mostly angry feminist, liberal, and/or political ranting. Grrr, Bush. Grrr, felonous athletes. Grrr, $2.10/gallon gas. Of course, not all of it is angry. There was the night I laid in bed thinking of "the list" for 45 minutes before finally just getting up and writing it. There are the things I can picture myself doing to improve the workplaces where I have applied for jobs. Hmmm, there's also the ideas I have for foods I'd like to try to make without a recipe and how'd I'd approach them.
So maybe insomnia is a good thing in the end. I may feel useless 7 to 7, but then my brain gets kicking and I feel like doing something because I'm passionate about it. Maybe getting to bed after midnight is a good thing.
Traditionally, insomnia has been anxiety induced. It generally does not take much to get me worked about something but sleep is generally sacred and easy for me. Get me thinking about student loans and their deferments and I'm up for an hour easy trying to mentally calculate a way that I will not be poor forever.
This all was magnified when I quit my job and moved halfway across the country. My nighttime anxiety repertoire had expanded to include lack of income, fear of rejection on job applications, fear of failure, and how long could my savings holdout. There was a whole month that I didn't get to sleep until two hours later than usual.
There is, however, some truth to the old adage, that one get used to anything given enough time. Eventually, the drama became melodramatic and tired was tired. Sleep ceased to elude me. This too lasted a month.
However, in the art of a true worrier, in a class almost professional, I found something new to worry about, relationships. I don't think to much about relationships on a regular basis. I'm kinda like a guy in that sense. But when there is worrying to be done, you pull up your boot straps and find something to worry about. I don't just have work ethic, I've got worry ethic too.
The nice thing about my recent bouts of insomnia is that I've learned to move from the object of worry. Now I do a lot of thinking, mostly angry feminist, liberal, and/or political ranting. Grrr, Bush. Grrr, felonous athletes. Grrr, $2.10/gallon gas. Of course, not all of it is angry. There was the night I laid in bed thinking of "the list" for 45 minutes before finally just getting up and writing it. There are the things I can picture myself doing to improve the workplaces where I have applied for jobs. Hmmm, there's also the ideas I have for foods I'd like to try to make without a recipe and how'd I'd approach them.
So maybe insomnia is a good thing in the end. I may feel useless 7 to 7, but then my brain gets kicking and I feel like doing something because I'm passionate about it. Maybe getting to bed after midnight is a good thing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)