January 6th, 2004

_schools120835, IRL, professional, Naomi, _schools3485

Mortal Terror, or at least unaccustomed caution

I had two moments today, of the warning twinge that tells me when something ungood is going to happen, associated with a particular person and location. This doesn't happen so often that I'm used to it. I've been riding the Phoenix busses for a good three years, and walking around at night at least as long. I've learned street presence, and how to walk so that no one messes with me. I can easily lift a 200 pound man in an embrace and spin him around in circles. Not much bothers me.

Two things today did.

When I was on the bus coming back from the plasma donation center, there was a man who was not ... quite ... right on the bus with me. The 19 had been exceptionally crowded; I'd gotten off at Camelback to catch the Red Line. A guy sprinted up as the 19 departed, and flipped the retreating bus the bird. I made a comment about the bus (standing room only), and how he probably wouldn't have wanted to be on that bus anyway.

We got on the Red Line. I was happily reading my duct-taped edition of Cyteen. The fellow inquired about cross streets. He didn't seem to know where the hell he was, or, indeed, where the hell he was going. I told him what street we were on, and what that cross street was. I continued reading. At one point, I grinned and closed the book, clasping my necklace in my hand. The guy asked was that book a Bible. "No." I read again. After some silence, the fellow asked was I single. That took a few moments to decipher. "No." More silence, and then another inquiry about the streets: was this 7th Street? Since we were on the other side of Central from the Streets, and were in fact on 19th Avenue, I decided that he really didn't know what he was about, and my warning bell started ringing louder.

When the Red Line turned to go West down Dunlap Avenue, which had been the stop I'd been intending to get off at, he got off in a great flurry of mixed and boggling and frantic emotion. I heeded my internal voice of caution, and stayed on the bus as it proceeded to the mall, despite the conviction that my body held that it would soon collapse from low blood sugar if I didn't get some food in me pronto. Years of dealing with my mother's sugar crashes, and those few teenage years where I'd pass out a minute after standing up, have left me with a great respect for the messages from the body on issues like that. I stayed on the bus regardless, and in fact didn't pass out, thanks to some water and a chocolate-covered espresso bean.

After returning home from the mall and feeding myself, I had to go grocery shopping -- cat food, ketchup, lettuce, mayonnaise, lunch meat, potato soup -- the staples. It was after 10:00 pm by the time I pried myself away from the fanfic, and later by the time I got out of the store.

As this is a one-car family, and votania drives the car to work, I walk to and from the grocery store. Happily for me and my arms, the grocery store in question has an agreement with the surrounding apartment complexes -- we carless customers may drive the shopping cart containing our purchases home with us, provided we leave it in a designated spot once we get home, and a truck will come around periodically to pick up the shopping carts. It's a very nice deal, and probably makes the store more money than they otherwise would, as the carless shoppers buy more than they otherwise might.

So, at nearly 11:00 pm, on a crisp night with a nearly full moon, the Lunatic pushes a shopping cart across the street. This is normal. What is not normal is the youths in the sporty red car, honking loudly and shouting things out the window, things that are best left unheard. The Lunatic flips them off, and continues on her merry way -- with a sudden feeling of danger buzzing in her bones.

The car continues up the road. Ahead at the next traffic light, I see the turn signal flash. There's nothing in that direction but a storage facility, I know. They are turning around.

I alter my course, and stand by the well-lit door of the liquor shop where I get my good plum wine. "There were some creeps who honked at me," I tell the proprietor from outside, "and I want to stay around people until I'm sure they're gone."

It takes a few minutes, as I watch each car that goes by, but finally I think I see them, and they zoom off down the other way. The danger-feeling passes, and I wait a bit more, but I don't think I see them. I head off, certain that they're going to come back, despite what my instincts are telling me, and I feel relief as soon as the gates of the apartment complex close behind me.

That was my brush with danger today. I feel like something important about me's changed, something that people can feel, but I can't imagine what it could be.
trust, best friends forever, snot-nosed brats

Happy Birthday to Me: Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban comes out on June 04, 2004, which is coincidentally my birthday.

I pointed this out to Darkside, on the 17th when we were watching Return of the King together. He groaned, in the way that means (I think) that he's amused and that there is a chance in hell that we'll get to see it at the same time in the same place.
teddyborg, geeky

Computer Happy Funtime!

In our last update about the computers in my Server Admin lab project, I merrily assured everyone that the graphical user interface was hosed, but we were working on repairs.

I missed the last lab of 2003, and therefore got to miss three hours (or so) of the class's sharpest minds boiling over the poor computer, the utter failure to salvage anything from the installation, and the subsequent wipe and reinstall of Red Hat.

Soooo... looks like I'll be revisiting my little DNS exploits happy fun tomorrow. Joyyyy. This was what wibbble referred to as "the Black Arts," unless my memory utterly fails me.

Ah, well. It's less painful the second time, unless it's slamming one's nose in the kitchen door repeatedly, in which case it does not hurt less the second time, even if one does happen to be That Idiot Shawn.
running, bomb tech

Joanie no baka: bad mouse type in Red Hat

So I got grumpy that the mouse I was using wasn't set up to use the scroll wheel, and tried to change it.

This, of course, made things so that the mouse was hovering at the upper right-hand corner of the screen, and occasionally responding to user input by scuttling along the top, and then back to the corner again, and popping up the right-click menu.

Fortunately, I was able to Google, and found someone on a mailing list who'd had the same trouble, who was likewise looking for a FAQ on how to navigate the GUI with keys in order to fix it.

Alt + F1 is my *friend*, my very very good friend.
running, bomb tech

Cats are such fun: ornaments

Woke up this morning to find shattered glass on the floor. The cats got into the tree ornaments.

I had to shut them in my room until I could vacuum just now.

Now I have to do what repairs I can to the carpet, because shammash does not take nicely to being shut in places, and shredded carpet.
running, bomb tech


Unloaded dishwasher. Saved frying pan that would have been left on the burner for five-ten minutes without anything inside it. Reloaded dishwasher. Made lunch. Changed out vacuum cleaner bag. Vacuumed up shattered glass ornament fragments. Retrieved Harley elf that had been used as cat toy. Refilled cat food dishes and water bucket.

Discovered that the apartment building external washing staff had ... assisted ... the Temple with our aloe vera plants. I picked up the severed stalks and brought them inside and washed them; my face is feeling smooth and well-loved now.

Am avoiding the male half of the household, as their pattern of interaction includes yelling at each other. Have decided that this is "normal" for them, and am avoiding them whenever possible. This involves a lot of my door being shut, firmly.
running, bomb tech

Items: friends, holidays, etc.

ywalme and memnus are in town! Yay! I hope we will have coinciding schedules.

The cats, shammash and eris_raven, are clean, because I washed them this evening.

The Senior Bachelor of the Bachelor Apartment from Hell and I spent some time this evening chatting via Y!

I made popcorn. marxdarx downloaded episodes of South Park.

There is the Downsized Elves thing going on this weekend, unless my dates are off.

I have my resumé at least in halfassed shape for my Career Development class tomorrow.

The guy in stronae's default icon is hotter full-length than just the face, because I go for the toothpick-boys more than I go for the pretty-boys.