see ya
See you soon, Superstar. In your native habitat.
jeevan
I'm starting to think my host provider is a one-man taco stand. When I first set up my web site with them, I filed about three support tickets in the first month, and had them all answered by an entity named "Jeevan." What I'd like to know is if Jeevan is a real person, or if Jeevan is just the name of all the support people at the company, so as to protect them from misguided terrorist customers.
Now don't get me wrong, the service has been really good for $3 a month, and I'm not complaining. I just find it curious that Jeevan is up at all hours of the night, responding to my tech support questions. I haven't filed any tickets since February, but recently my beloved site statistics went down. Unable to ignore this, I filed a ticket and waited patiently for nearly a week, checking the ticket status everyday and finding that it was still Open.
There's only so long I can go without my site stats. It's the only way I can stalk people back. I logged into the control panel for my account today and saw this curious new icon that said "Online: click here for LIVE HELP." Live help? How can I turn that down? I clicked and waited for the chat window to open.
Jeevan: Hello. This is Jeevan. How may I help you?
I was enthralled. Wow, it's my old buddy Jeevan. I almost felt like I knew him. I wanted to type "Hey Jeevan, how are the kids?" or "Jeevan, I have this problem with my ex that I thought you could help me with..." But instead I just wrote "Hi, wanted to find out the status of a support ticket I submitted." I'm so boring. Geez.
Jeevan investigated and told me apologetically that he didn't know why my ticket hadn't been answered in 6 days, and that he would look into it. And so my conversation with the omnipotent Jeevan ended. I feel a little spiritual now.
Mr. Jeevan better fix the damn problem with my site statistics, or I'm renouncing my faith.
Now don't get me wrong, the service has been really good for $3 a month, and I'm not complaining. I just find it curious that Jeevan is up at all hours of the night, responding to my tech support questions. I haven't filed any tickets since February, but recently my beloved site statistics went down. Unable to ignore this, I filed a ticket and waited patiently for nearly a week, checking the ticket status everyday and finding that it was still Open.
There's only so long I can go without my site stats. It's the only way I can stalk people back. I logged into the control panel for my account today and saw this curious new icon that said "Online: click here for LIVE HELP." Live help? How can I turn that down? I clicked and waited for the chat window to open.
Jeevan: Hello. This is Jeevan. How may I help you?
I was enthralled. Wow, it's my old buddy Jeevan. I almost felt like I knew him. I wanted to type "Hey Jeevan, how are the kids?" or "Jeevan, I have this problem with my ex that I thought you could help me with..." But instead I just wrote "Hi, wanted to find out the status of a support ticket I submitted." I'm so boring. Geez.
Jeevan investigated and told me apologetically that he didn't know why my ticket hadn't been answered in 6 days, and that he would look into it. And so my conversation with the omnipotent Jeevan ended. I feel a little spiritual now.
Mr. Jeevan better fix the damn problem with my site statistics, or I'm renouncing my faith.
anticipation
B said I should write in my blog. Actually, a lot of people have said this, so I don't know why it makes any difference that she mentioned this today, but she'll be flattered to know that I'm writing an entry simply because she said I should write in my blog instead of doing work.
She actually specifically said I should write about my new love, polo, and how polo busted my knee for the second time and has prevented me from playing hockey for the past two weeks. Ok, not really, she actually wanted me to tell my polo story about the crazy rich people and their various affectations, affinities, and disorders. Yes, these rich people are crazy, but so am I, so I am not sure if money has anything to do with this, or just the natural inclination some of us have to invent really hairbrained schemes and then try to make good on them. If Superstar and I have anything in common besides hockey, it must be this, which is probably much more in common than we actually realize.
I am currently sitting here with one black sock on and one off, and my nails recently painted "Opal Truth." The truth is that the rainbow nail polish I bought sucks, and I am returning it to Walgreens tomorrow and demanding my money back or an exchange for Ruby Red. That is, after all, what I imagine the Wicked Witch of the West wears, so as to yield high contrast to her emerald skin.
In high contrast this month to afflictive months gone by, I am going to Montreal over the weekend, to make love to a Canadian and otherwise be completely and utterly confused as to where we stand in the grand scheme of life, but what would life be without confusion, just a long conversation that starts with "Why" and ends with "I don't know" and in between makes some references to novels read and movies watched.
A relationship then, is just a very long conversation, with moments of silence here and there, and knowing smiles, and sometimes a joke and sometimes a complaint, but overall just the constant stream of talk that shouts during the day and whispers in the night across satin sheets and sometimes says things that no one else gets to hear.
I am so confused. But only in that fanciful cotton candy kind of confusion, where the clingy pink and blue tufts spin around the cardboard cone and sometimes escape upwards, only to turn into a sugary vapor somewhere above the carnival. It's that kind of confusion. Pink and blue and sweet and altogether ethereal.
She actually specifically said I should write about my new love, polo, and how polo busted my knee for the second time and has prevented me from playing hockey for the past two weeks. Ok, not really, she actually wanted me to tell my polo story about the crazy rich people and their various affectations, affinities, and disorders. Yes, these rich people are crazy, but so am I, so I am not sure if money has anything to do with this, or just the natural inclination some of us have to invent really hairbrained schemes and then try to make good on them. If Superstar and I have anything in common besides hockey, it must be this, which is probably much more in common than we actually realize.
I am currently sitting here with one black sock on and one off, and my nails recently painted "Opal Truth." The truth is that the rainbow nail polish I bought sucks, and I am returning it to Walgreens tomorrow and demanding my money back or an exchange for Ruby Red. That is, after all, what I imagine the Wicked Witch of the West wears, so as to yield high contrast to her emerald skin.
In high contrast this month to afflictive months gone by, I am going to Montreal over the weekend, to make love to a Canadian and otherwise be completely and utterly confused as to where we stand in the grand scheme of life, but what would life be without confusion, just a long conversation that starts with "Why" and ends with "I don't know" and in between makes some references to novels read and movies watched.
A relationship then, is just a very long conversation, with moments of silence here and there, and knowing smiles, and sometimes a joke and sometimes a complaint, but overall just the constant stream of talk that shouts during the day and whispers in the night across satin sheets and sometimes says things that no one else gets to hear.
I am so confused. But only in that fanciful cotton candy kind of confusion, where the clingy pink and blue tufts spin around the cardboard cone and sometimes escape upwards, only to turn into a sugary vapor somewhere above the carnival. It's that kind of confusion. Pink and blue and sweet and altogether ethereal.
vacation in pictures
The Boston, Newport, Pittsburgh, and Erie pics are now up on the images page. Yes, some of them have made it to the archives without ever being on the main page first. How behind is that.
industrialnation
I'm having an allergy attack, I haven't updated my blog in months, I have two major presentations this week at work, oh, and I seem to have made the cover of IndustrialNation. Forgot to mention. I think that last one's actually a good thing. Thanks to the Bear for making it happen. Buy a copy at your local Tower Records -- I get no money whatsoever, but I get to be on your coffee table, and that makes me happy.
anytime you want
I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow
I want more
It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along
My heart is full and my door's always open
You can come anytime you want
- Maroon 5, She Will Be Loved
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow
I want more
It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along
My heart is full and my door's always open
You can come anytime you want
- Maroon 5, She Will Be Loved
reader's digest version
So what is the deal with my blog? I'll tell you now, there's not a lack of posts for lack of stories to tell. In fact, it's getting to the point where I'll never be able to catch up, so I'll either have to tell the Reader's Digest version or just set this whole thing on fire. That's right, it's like my office and the non-filing of paperwork that's been accumulating since February. I'll have my coveted fire pit in the patio yet.
What happened last month? Firstly, I haven't forgotten the vacation entries or the photos. I will backdate. In the meantime, I must try to catch up. In July I returned from my trip to New York, Boston, and Pittsburgh with a huge vacation hangover and somehow couldn't get back into the spirit of blogging or sitting at a desk and drawing widgets in Photoshop. In silent rebellion, I think I subconsciously took a hiatus from blogging to protest my forced return. I did manage to pass my motorcycle riding test in July (I know, unbelievable since I can hardly drive a manual transmission car), and just have to take the written test sometime this month to get my class M1 license. I also cleaned my bedroom (yes, that is significant enough to blog about), and started taking polo lessons down the road from the barn where I ride. I'm frenzied about polo. B has asked me to post the polo story I wrote to a friend, just so she could read it over again and have a laugh. Maybe, after I've cleaned it up to protect the identities of the innocent, I will do that.
B is actually coming home from Japan soon, which I'm very stoked about. Much to my surprise, her co-worker who is taking over for her has been inspired to start a blog to continue where she left off. That is now officially three (3) people who I have seduced into blogging who would never even have considered it without my incessant yammering. I'm on a roll, and I have at least three others in mind who I think I can seduce to the dark side eventually as well.
My favourite Brit was in town for a couple of weeks, in a bizarre twist of "It's a Small World," minus the scary animatronic children and hippos. Four years ago I took him to a rodeo, so I thought I'd be a little more upscale this year and take him to a grass polo match in Atherton. We were the worst dressed people there, but we still ran out onto the field between chukkers with our French champagne, to stomp the divets and otherwise pretend we were aware of polo party etiquette. I never thought I'd like champagne, but now I do.
Saturyne was in town too. Yes, everyone coming to visit me, it's fantastic. We played another sad game of pool and skated at Ice Oasis, and as Saturyne pointed out, we've now skated on both coasts together. Next stop has to be hockey in Canada, but I may have to wait until she moves to Vancouver for that.
The condo is taking shape. My only bit of advice as of late is, don't install a sink unless you're really sure you want it, because it's apparently easy to get sinks and not easy to find anyone to tear them out. I've been trying for a few weeks now to find a contractor to remove the rogue sink in my master bedroom, and they all recoil in horror after discovering the details of the project. It's not a haunted sink, or condo, and no dead bodies have been walled in behind the medicine cabinet, so I don't know what the deal is with these contractors. If someone could please just remove the sink, you'll at least earn a blog entry about it.
The couch is on order, the coffee and end tables are here, and the housewarming is, uh, I guess scheduled for sometime next year, if I'm lucky.
What happened last month? Firstly, I haven't forgotten the vacation entries or the photos. I will backdate. In the meantime, I must try to catch up. In July I returned from my trip to New York, Boston, and Pittsburgh with a huge vacation hangover and somehow couldn't get back into the spirit of blogging or sitting at a desk and drawing widgets in Photoshop. In silent rebellion, I think I subconsciously took a hiatus from blogging to protest my forced return. I did manage to pass my motorcycle riding test in July (I know, unbelievable since I can hardly drive a manual transmission car), and just have to take the written test sometime this month to get my class M1 license. I also cleaned my bedroom (yes, that is significant enough to blog about), and started taking polo lessons down the road from the barn where I ride. I'm frenzied about polo. B has asked me to post the polo story I wrote to a friend, just so she could read it over again and have a laugh. Maybe, after I've cleaned it up to protect the identities of the innocent, I will do that.
B is actually coming home from Japan soon, which I'm very stoked about. Much to my surprise, her co-worker who is taking over for her has been inspired to start a blog to continue where she left off. That is now officially three (3) people who I have seduced into blogging who would never even have considered it without my incessant yammering. I'm on a roll, and I have at least three others in mind who I think I can seduce to the dark side eventually as well.
My favourite Brit was in town for a couple of weeks, in a bizarre twist of "It's a Small World," minus the scary animatronic children and hippos. Four years ago I took him to a rodeo, so I thought I'd be a little more upscale this year and take him to a grass polo match in Atherton. We were the worst dressed people there, but we still ran out onto the field between chukkers with our French champagne, to stomp the divets and otherwise pretend we were aware of polo party etiquette. I never thought I'd like champagne, but now I do.
Saturyne was in town too. Yes, everyone coming to visit me, it's fantastic. We played another sad game of pool and skated at Ice Oasis, and as Saturyne pointed out, we've now skated on both coasts together. Next stop has to be hockey in Canada, but I may have to wait until she moves to Vancouver for that.
The condo is taking shape. My only bit of advice as of late is, don't install a sink unless you're really sure you want it, because it's apparently easy to get sinks and not easy to find anyone to tear them out. I've been trying for a few weeks now to find a contractor to remove the rogue sink in my master bedroom, and they all recoil in horror after discovering the details of the project. It's not a haunted sink, or condo, and no dead bodies have been walled in behind the medicine cabinet, so I don't know what the deal is with these contractors. If someone could please just remove the sink, you'll at least earn a blog entry about it.
The couch is on order, the coffee and end tables are here, and the housewarming is, uh, I guess scheduled for sometime next year, if I'm lucky.
