March 18th, 2003

running, bomb tech

Ok, I go offline now.

I sleep!

Yay, for I shall sleep the sleep of the just and the mighty, snoring away like someone with salt water still in her sinuses, slightly snotty but oh-so-REFRESHED!!!
running, bomb tech



I really need to start getting to sleep earlier.
running, bomb tech


votania brought Little Fayoumis to school and dropped him off with me before leaving for work. He was quiet and good in the computer lab, and quiet and good in McGuirk's class with me. He had One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish to read, but wound up drawing with my ten-color pen instead. He got very excited when I raised my hand in class and got to contribute, and noted down the "points" that I'd gotten.

Competitive education. Wow.

He did eventually get bored, and squiggle, and he did begin to use the pen as a gun, but all in all, a success.
Little Fayoumis, Nephew


Instructed on the distinction between polite and rude and silly. Polite when you drink is when it's not a mess and when it's quiet. Making noises when you drink can be silly, but if you're being silly when you're supposed to be polite, it's rude. If you're not supposed to be polite, silly is just silly. So silly noises are for silly time, and no noise is for polite.
running, bomb tech

Relations, thoughts.

Terrorism is bad.

Unless my conception of the whole idea behind terrorism is completely off, terrorism is what happens when a segment of political view that is not being listened to has a few of its people decide, "Fuck it -- they're going to listen to us if we KILL PEOPLE, maybe?" and go about instilling terror in people by blowing stuff up and pitching the adult and lethal version of a temper tantrum.

From everything I have seen and heard, terrorism takes place when people of a sufficiently lethal mindset are convinced that they are not being listened to, and nothing short of terrorism is going to have them get their message through. Bad international relations make for a more promising target for terrorism.


I'm not being clear even to myself. My point is:

  1. Listening to the viewpoints of potential terrorists and giving them careful consideration is more likely to prevent these potential terrorists becoming actual terrorists than clamping down is. If somebody's bound and determined to cause destruction, they're going to cause it, but if all they wanted was someone to listen to them, then why bother terrorizing?

  2. If you're an asshole to the rest of the world, everyone in the rest of the world with a bone to pick with you is that much more likely to pick it with you violently rather than talking it out peacefully.
running, bomb tech

...More death

I went on a road trip last summer with Aunt-Fayoumis. We wound up in Iowa, visiting relatives.
I don't know if anyone has told you yet but our cousin Freddy that you met last summer was killed in a wreck last week. He went off the icy bridge near their house and went into the creek. Mom said she didn't know if he was killed by the crash or if he drowned. I really wish I had gotten around to telling him how proud of him I was for taking care of his folks. You have to do stuff like that right away because you hate it if you are too late.

I didn't know him other than the little I saw of him, and what I did see of him was not his best side, but... I regret his death.
documentation, writing, quill

i hate

you can take your fucking war and your fucking oil and your fucking mandatory patriotism and your fucking peace protest drama and your fucking news media and your fucking foreign policy and fold it until it's all nice pointy corners, and go beat off as someone shoves it up your ass with a missile.

i hate all of you. i hate my apathy and yours too. i hate you for caring. i hate you for not reading anarie111. i hate your duct tape and plastic sheeting, i hate your pot leaves, i hate your fucking candelight vigils, i hate your superstores especially when i shop there. i hate your cigarettes. i hate your economy. i hate the fact that your tourist and government money supports my homeland*, which whores itself out for oil.

i hate the people who claim that the schools in the bush are overfunded because they get x amount per student to build modern facilities. what, so the kids out there are supposed to commute to another school or take substandard facilities? Bite yellow snow.

i hate the man who called me on valentine's day. i hate the guts of shawn thomas weixelman forever because i loved him. i hate speaking only english. i hate speaking english. i hate the fact that i can't say i live at home anymore; i have to say i live in the us. i hate computers, and how i can't program worth a damn. i hate the way i'm faking my way through college. i hate the way i don't want to get out of bed and skip out on my chores every other day in exchange for being superwoman the other day. i hate the way i already hate my job. i hate lj. i hate not seeing my friends enough. i hate not having friends i can see. i hate being in a relationship. i hate being single. i hate thinking i might love someone as more than a friend but finding out no, they're a great friend but they're a friend not a good lover that clicks with me. i hate junk food and how much i like it. i hate the way i emulate others' writing. i hate that some of the smartest and coolest people have defriended me, though we were getting out of touch.

i hate that i'm not a mother. i hate that i do have a child and i can't be a fucked-up single college student with no responsibilities. i hate how the friends i really want to see hardly ever come over.

...i hate that i had to write all that where everyone could see.


*alaska, you assholes.

thank You

for letting me have someone like Darkside in my life.

You were right, iroshi. When I called him and instead of hanging up right away let him know that I was feeling bad and needed a virtual hug.... I got something better than that.

Fifteen minutes of his day is a lot.
running, bomb tech

getting petted

His voice changed when he heard me. He started out annoyed upon hearing my voice, but when he heard how I was sounding, he kept me on the phone until he was sure I was OK.

Evidently I'm far less stubborn than he is. Evidently his father is the only other person in the universe as stubborn as he is... I would guess that I've been hiding the true extent of my stubbornness from him, as I'm in love with him.

Let him know he could call me any time.

He's still stubborn. I still want to give him butterfly kisses. He still cares about me. I called him "sweetie" by accident, then corrected myself: the proper form of address is "bee vomit".