Friday, April 30, 2004
Pierce
Well, well. Pierce Brosnan is on Inside the Actor's Studio. Black shirt, jeans, Irish accent. Damn, I could watch this all day.
Well, well. Pierce Brosnan is on Inside the Actor's Studio. Black shirt, jeans, Irish accent. Damn, I could watch this all day.
Numb
One of the most popular pictures on Yahoo this morning was a shot of Michael's plane approaching the second tower while the first stood burning. Every time I see those pictures I just go numb. I can feel the blood drain from my fingers and my throat start to tighten. I think I deal with it all by pretending it's not real, believing that the towers never really existed and it was all some extremely vivid dream. I don't know how to handle it otherwise.
One of the most popular pictures on Yahoo this morning was a shot of Michael's plane approaching the second tower while the first stood burning. Every time I see those pictures I just go numb. I can feel the blood drain from my fingers and my throat start to tighten. I think I deal with it all by pretending it's not real, believing that the towers never really existed and it was all some extremely vivid dream. I don't know how to handle it otherwise.
Early Morning
Airports are a depressing place at 5:30am. They're not filled with families and leisure travelers excited about their vacations. Instead, it's an expressionless mass of business travelers, surrounded by an air of sleeplessness and depression, latching onto their cell phones and PDAs like security blankets to connect them to something familiar. They shuffle forward towards security, an unenthusiastic conga line led by an invisible bandleader driving them forward with a steady beat.
When the first light of morning starts to creep over the eastern hills, the sky gradually brightening from navy to cobalt, the hills look artificial, like a child cut them from construction paper for an elementary school art project. I always half-expect a perfectly round yellow sun to pop up from behind the hills, followed by a white puffy cloud for this arts and crafts landscape.
The world is quiet. There are birds chirping with an enthusiasm that the business travelers will never have. The local streets are so quiet that I can hear the hum of the highway in the distance, and the slow-moving rotors of the med-evac helicopter parked on the landing pad. This part of the morning is like a private secret for those of us who are awake to see it.
Airports are a depressing place at 5:30am. They're not filled with families and leisure travelers excited about their vacations. Instead, it's an expressionless mass of business travelers, surrounded by an air of sleeplessness and depression, latching onto their cell phones and PDAs like security blankets to connect them to something familiar. They shuffle forward towards security, an unenthusiastic conga line led by an invisible bandleader driving them forward with a steady beat.
When the first light of morning starts to creep over the eastern hills, the sky gradually brightening from navy to cobalt, the hills look artificial, like a child cut them from construction paper for an elementary school art project. I always half-expect a perfectly round yellow sun to pop up from behind the hills, followed by a white puffy cloud for this arts and crafts landscape.
The world is quiet. There are birds chirping with an enthusiasm that the business travelers will never have. The local streets are so quiet that I can hear the hum of the highway in the distance, and the slow-moving rotors of the med-evac helicopter parked on the landing pad. This part of the morning is like a private secret for those of us who are awake to see it.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Sudden Death
The fiancee of one of the newer PMMs in our organization was killed in a hit-and-run accident in Portland earlier this week. Of course, we're all shocked, not that we knew her, but because you realize that this could just as easily be someone you love. So I feel this compulsive need to call my friends and tell them that I love them, but I fear that I'll seem like some sort of hysterical loony if I do. So for those of you out there (you know who you are), I suppose you know how I feel, but you should know that you mean a lot to me.
The fiancee of one of the newer PMMs in our organization was killed in a hit-and-run accident in Portland earlier this week. Of course, we're all shocked, not that we knew her, but because you realize that this could just as easily be someone you love. So I feel this compulsive need to call my friends and tell them that I love them, but I fear that I'll seem like some sort of hysterical loony if I do. So for those of you out there (you know who you are), I suppose you know how I feel, but you should know that you mean a lot to me.
Company in the Toilet
So yesterday was our corporate all-hands meeting, where they didn't even bother blowing sunshine up our asses. Stock was down 15% and the CEO basically just shrugged it off and promised layoffs from "every single department" after the divestiture of one of our divisions July 1. Hello? Headhunter? Anything out there for me?
I am still looking, of course, but no other company seems to want to cooperate with my schedule. Rat bastards. All I want to do is get out of here. Just set me free and I'll promise to be a good girl. Really, I swear it.
So yesterday was our corporate all-hands meeting, where they didn't even bother blowing sunshine up our asses. Stock was down 15% and the CEO basically just shrugged it off and promised layoffs from "every single department" after the divestiture of one of our divisions July 1. Hello? Headhunter? Anything out there for me?
I am still looking, of course, but no other company seems to want to cooperate with my schedule. Rat bastards. All I want to do is get out of here. Just set me free and I'll promise to be a good girl. Really, I swear it.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
50 Most Beautiful
So Brad Pitt & Jennifer Aniston get to be the most beautiful people, huh? Well what about me? I think that I could hold my own against these people in the right clothes. I mean, if Armani dressed me, the world would think I was gorgeous, too.
So Brad Pitt & Jennifer Aniston get to be the most beautiful people, huh? Well what about me? I think that I could hold my own against these people in the right clothes. I mean, if Armani dressed me, the world would think I was gorgeous, too.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Security
Won't the US Security detail assigned to Blogreading be disappointed by my boring observations?
Won't the US Security detail assigned to Blogreading be disappointed by my boring observations?
Sunday, April 25, 2004
Stiff
Just finished reading Stiff: The curious lives of human cadavers. Yes, it's as it sounds, and it traces the afterlives of people who have donated their bodies to science, new methods of disposing of bodies, how forensic medicine can look at a body and determine all sorts of interesting info about time and cause of death, etc.
So, for the record:
Organ donation, if I happen to be rendered brain-dead? Yes, emphatically. I'm not using them. They belong with someone who needs them.
Burial? No.
Cremation? Yes.
That freeze-dried Swedish composting process that's in development? Sure. I wouldn't mind being converted into a rose bush or some nice tulips.
Afterlife as a med school cadaver? Uhhhh... I'd like to think that I'm open-minded enough for it, but I'm not sure. Having done cat dissections, I just don't like the thought of those same people tweaking with my body.
Funeral? No. What's that about, anyway? Why do we feel some weird compulsion to see the embalmed deceased? That really struck me particularly hard with my grandmother's death in October and C's grandmother's death in January.
Memorial service? Maybe, but nothing with the body present. That's really all dependent on how the survivors feel about handling things. It's not about me at that point, is it? I'm long gone. And for god's sake, no prayers over my dead body. I really got that at C's grandmother's funeral. She'd been dead for 5 or 6 days and there was this priest praying over her body, as though the corpse was what was going to move on. I finally saw that there was far more sense (from a spiritual perspective) in the last rites: bless the spirit and soul before it departs the body. After the fact... well, it's like throwing a bon voyage party days after the cruise ship has left the port.
Just finished reading Stiff: The curious lives of human cadavers. Yes, it's as it sounds, and it traces the afterlives of people who have donated their bodies to science, new methods of disposing of bodies, how forensic medicine can look at a body and determine all sorts of interesting info about time and cause of death, etc.
So, for the record:
Organ donation, if I happen to be rendered brain-dead? Yes, emphatically. I'm not using them. They belong with someone who needs them.
Burial? No.
Cremation? Yes.
That freeze-dried Swedish composting process that's in development? Sure. I wouldn't mind being converted into a rose bush or some nice tulips.
Afterlife as a med school cadaver? Uhhhh... I'd like to think that I'm open-minded enough for it, but I'm not sure. Having done cat dissections, I just don't like the thought of those same people tweaking with my body.
Funeral? No. What's that about, anyway? Why do we feel some weird compulsion to see the embalmed deceased? That really struck me particularly hard with my grandmother's death in October and C's grandmother's death in January.
Memorial service? Maybe, but nothing with the body present. That's really all dependent on how the survivors feel about handling things. It's not about me at that point, is it? I'm long gone. And for god's sake, no prayers over my dead body. I really got that at C's grandmother's funeral. She'd been dead for 5 or 6 days and there was this priest praying over her body, as though the corpse was what was going to move on. I finally saw that there was far more sense (from a spiritual perspective) in the last rites: bless the spirit and soul before it departs the body. After the fact... well, it's like throwing a bon voyage party days after the cruise ship has left the port.
Permanent Psychological Damage
I tried to make my 2-year-old neighbor touch the worm in the garden. She let loose with a shriek like I was jabbing her with a red-hot poker. I remember thinking that worms were cool when my dad showed them to me. I guess I was more of a guy-girl than she is. She's a pink-bedroomed girlie girl.
I tried to make my 2-year-old neighbor touch the worm in the garden. She let loose with a shriek like I was jabbing her with a red-hot poker. I remember thinking that worms were cool when my dad showed them to me. I guess I was more of a guy-girl than she is. She's a pink-bedroomed girlie girl.
Closet Purge
It's official: after this closet purge I no longer have any clothes in my closet that existed when I started at this company. No jackets, no shirts, no pants, no skirts. I'm a whole new woman, it seems. Not sure if that's a good thing or not.
It's official: after this closet purge I no longer have any clothes in my closet that existed when I started at this company. No jackets, no shirts, no pants, no skirts. I'm a whole new woman, it seems. Not sure if that's a good thing or not.
Saturday, April 24, 2004
Saturday Afternoon
It's 2:30pm and I've just returned from watching my T-ball team play a game. Kids are really hilarious when they're 4 and 5 years old. No attention span whatsoever. But there's one kid on my team that can really hit. Without effort, he whacks that thing solidly over the head of the outfielders... all the more impressive when you see that he's one of the small guys on the team.
I feel like something has changed inside me. I've become infinitely less patient about everything. On Tuesday night, C said that we were going to go to the movies. He then proceeded to hide in the office, working on god knows what, until 9:30 (now too late to get to the movies anyway). He emerges and starts playing PlayStation baseball with his brother. Wow, that was a really exciting date. Thanks, babe. Today, he announces a halt to all eating out... about ten minutes before noon, post-workout, when I'm starving. So I have to make my grocery list, plot out a week's worth of meals (there is great conflict if the meals aren't planned ahead of time). So I sit there with a boatload of recipes, tossing out ideas. "How about...?" "Nope." "What about...?" "Yuck, no." We finally settle on a menu. We get to the store and I send him to the butcher. He comes back with different stuff than I requested. "What's this?" I ask, pointing to the veal cutlets. "Veal for scalloppine," he says. "I wanted to make veal scalloppine." I take a really deep breath and say, "Why didn't you suggest that when I was making the list?" And he says, "I can chose to make veal anytime I want." What does that have to do with anything? Fine, next time you plan the menu. And last night, it was hot in the house and I was tired. So I turned on the house fan and went to bed. Evidently he wassn't tired, so he came to bed and talked and talked and nagged at me until I nearly beat him to death. If you're not tired, go elsewhere and do some work or something. It's what you prefer to do anyway. Eventually I fell asleep in spite of his best intentions to keep me awake, but I still woke up really irritated.
I think it's the kid thing. I think my temper is short because of that. I don 't want to do this because I know that I'll be a single parent in a two-parent household. Who will have to cut their hours down at work, effectively stopping their career, and who will still be working 11-12 hours at the office and more at home? Who will be traveling for work and who will be full-time caregiver? Who will be the one to have to take the day off if the kid is sick, or pick him or her up from daycare or the school or whatever? It's not him. Barring the fact that eating out and vacationing will be harder for him, I don't think it would affect his life one bit. Meanwhile, I'll be juggling things and stressed and feeling like I'm the only one dealing with any of it. Why would I want to do that?
No patience, no desire for change, no interest (interest in me, the kid, the lifestyle, the house... nothing).
It's 2:30pm and I've just returned from watching my T-ball team play a game. Kids are really hilarious when they're 4 and 5 years old. No attention span whatsoever. But there's one kid on my team that can really hit. Without effort, he whacks that thing solidly over the head of the outfielders... all the more impressive when you see that he's one of the small guys on the team.
I feel like something has changed inside me. I've become infinitely less patient about everything. On Tuesday night, C said that we were going to go to the movies. He then proceeded to hide in the office, working on god knows what, until 9:30 (now too late to get to the movies anyway). He emerges and starts playing PlayStation baseball with his brother. Wow, that was a really exciting date. Thanks, babe. Today, he announces a halt to all eating out... about ten minutes before noon, post-workout, when I'm starving. So I have to make my grocery list, plot out a week's worth of meals (there is great conflict if the meals aren't planned ahead of time). So I sit there with a boatload of recipes, tossing out ideas. "How about...?" "Nope." "What about...?" "Yuck, no." We finally settle on a menu. We get to the store and I send him to the butcher. He comes back with different stuff than I requested. "What's this?" I ask, pointing to the veal cutlets. "Veal for scalloppine," he says. "I wanted to make veal scalloppine." I take a really deep breath and say, "Why didn't you suggest that when I was making the list?" And he says, "I can chose to make veal anytime I want." What does that have to do with anything? Fine, next time you plan the menu. And last night, it was hot in the house and I was tired. So I turned on the house fan and went to bed. Evidently he wassn't tired, so he came to bed and talked and talked and nagged at me until I nearly beat him to death. If you're not tired, go elsewhere and do some work or something. It's what you prefer to do anyway. Eventually I fell asleep in spite of his best intentions to keep me awake, but I still woke up really irritated.
I think it's the kid thing. I think my temper is short because of that. I don 't want to do this because I know that I'll be a single parent in a two-parent household. Who will have to cut their hours down at work, effectively stopping their career, and who will still be working 11-12 hours at the office and more at home? Who will be traveling for work and who will be full-time caregiver? Who will be the one to have to take the day off if the kid is sick, or pick him or her up from daycare or the school or whatever? It's not him. Barring the fact that eating out and vacationing will be harder for him, I don't think it would affect his life one bit. Meanwhile, I'll be juggling things and stressed and feeling like I'm the only one dealing with any of it. Why would I want to do that?
No patience, no desire for change, no interest (interest in me, the kid, the lifestyle, the house... nothing).
Friday, April 23, 2004
Woman Looks Great for a 32-year-old
http://www.theonion.com/news/index.php?issue=4016&n=2
I'm getting close to telling people I'm 40, so they tell me I look great.
http://www.theonion.com/news/index.php?issue=4016&n=2
I'm getting close to telling people I'm 40, so they tell me I look great.
Weekend
The weekend has finally arrived, and what's happening? Well, C is playing PlayStation baseball with his brother over the internet, cursing and trash talking like a New Jersey-based sailor. I'm blogging. Tomorrow? Class, I guess, and then a 1pm little league game for the team I sponsor. I should be cleaning, but whatever. Sunday is class in the morning, and I have no plans at all for the rest of the day. So I realize that I'm feeling like a total lameass for not having anything planned to do with my life.
I don't even have Emily from next door to play with -- she's down at Big Sur this weekend for her daddy's marathon run. I hear you have to finish the race in 5 1/2 hours or they close the course whether you're done or not. Harsh.
I should be writing. I've been doing a bit of fiction in another blog, the fully-anonymous one (apologies to my one loyal reader, but I need to draft things there before they can ever be released to someplace where someone can read it). Don't take it personally. Writers are very sensitive and don't take criticism well. When I was in high school and desperately struggling with writing, a guy I knew told me that I couldn't be good at everything, and since I happened to be a good kisser, my writing would suffer as a consequence. Lovely. If only I could make a career as a kisser. Not that I really trusted the judgement of a 17-year-old with limited dating experience.
It's only five or six weeks until I go home again. I get to see grandmom's house before they sell it, and they tell me that it looks really good with the fresh paint job. I just need the chance to say goodbye to it. Too bad it's not later in the year when the grapevine is in bloom. I loved those grapes. I loved the little veggie garden patch where daddy would hand me worms while we planted the garden -- I remember them being enormous, but dad tells me that I was just that little, so they only seemed big in my little hand. There's so much stuff at that house, almost as much as the house I grew up in. I just need to say goodbye to it all.
Christ, it's just a game... not only that, it's a game about a game. Let it go, C. Stop getting so riled up about it.
Anyway, had a nice talk with the former boss today. I miss her, and she tried to give me some survival tips ("Get out, get out, get out") in the hope that I won't lose my mind. She did tell me that G has been on the chopping block for a while, and that the Bitch was going to rif her a few months ago when she laid off others, but E begged her not to. Now I feel like I have to worry about them whacking her and leaving me alone to do it all. I would go completely fucking nuts.
I feel so lost. I think I need a hug, as corny as that sounds.
The weekend has finally arrived, and what's happening? Well, C is playing PlayStation baseball with his brother over the internet, cursing and trash talking like a New Jersey-based sailor. I'm blogging. Tomorrow? Class, I guess, and then a 1pm little league game for the team I sponsor. I should be cleaning, but whatever. Sunday is class in the morning, and I have no plans at all for the rest of the day. So I realize that I'm feeling like a total lameass for not having anything planned to do with my life.
I don't even have Emily from next door to play with -- she's down at Big Sur this weekend for her daddy's marathon run. I hear you have to finish the race in 5 1/2 hours or they close the course whether you're done or not. Harsh.
I should be writing. I've been doing a bit of fiction in another blog, the fully-anonymous one (apologies to my one loyal reader, but I need to draft things there before they can ever be released to someplace where someone can read it). Don't take it personally. Writers are very sensitive and don't take criticism well. When I was in high school and desperately struggling with writing, a guy I knew told me that I couldn't be good at everything, and since I happened to be a good kisser, my writing would suffer as a consequence. Lovely. If only I could make a career as a kisser. Not that I really trusted the judgement of a 17-year-old with limited dating experience.
It's only five or six weeks until I go home again. I get to see grandmom's house before they sell it, and they tell me that it looks really good with the fresh paint job. I just need the chance to say goodbye to it. Too bad it's not later in the year when the grapevine is in bloom. I loved those grapes. I loved the little veggie garden patch where daddy would hand me worms while we planted the garden -- I remember them being enormous, but dad tells me that I was just that little, so they only seemed big in my little hand. There's so much stuff at that house, almost as much as the house I grew up in. I just need to say goodbye to it all.
Christ, it's just a game... not only that, it's a game about a game. Let it go, C. Stop getting so riled up about it.
Anyway, had a nice talk with the former boss today. I miss her, and she tried to give me some survival tips ("Get out, get out, get out") in the hope that I won't lose my mind. She did tell me that G has been on the chopping block for a while, and that the Bitch was going to rif her a few months ago when she laid off others, but E begged her not to. Now I feel like I have to worry about them whacking her and leaving me alone to do it all. I would go completely fucking nuts.
I feel so lost. I think I need a hug, as corny as that sounds.
No More
They're trying to rif G. How the hell am I going to do all of the work of this entire department if they get rid of her? Oh my god, it just keeps getting worse.
They're trying to rif G. How the hell am I going to do all of the work of this entire department if they get rid of her? Oh my god, it just keeps getting worse.
Thursday, April 22, 2004
I Hate It
I actually just got criticized by my interim babysitter boss for not having my laptop with me, and just dialing in through webmail.
"i think its very unprofessional of you to be online and unprepared to handle situations that may arise. you should consider that in the future. thx."
I started my day with a cell phone call from work before 7am, and now I'm being criticized for not being in full work mode at 10:30pm? Bite me.
I actually just got criticized by my interim babysitter boss for not having my laptop with me, and just dialing in through webmail.
"i think its very unprofessional of you to be online and unprepared to handle situations that may arise. you should consider that in the future. thx."
I started my day with a cell phone call from work before 7am, and now I'm being criticized for not being in full work mode at 10:30pm? Bite me.
Why I Need a New Job
In no particular order of importance...
1. Because this morning at 5:30 AM, people were actually calling me and G at home because they wanted us to send out an e-mail. 5:30 AM really ought to be about life-and-death calls. This is ridiculous. Should you really have to be on call for the company 24 hours a day?
2. Because I know of no one in this company that shows me the slightest bit of respect or consideration. I had more power, authority and respect at Martin Marietta during my college internship.
3. Because the company itself is fucked up, and I can't imagine that it will ever be straightened out.
4. Because I don't respect the company or the people I work for.
5. Because I hate the interim babysitter.
6. Because I have to interview potential bosses for a position that I can and should be doing, but no one will let me because they don't respect me (see #2).
7. Because E has shown us that the grass really is greener on the Adobe side of the fence.
8. Because they've taken away our water and our plants. What's next, toilet paper?
9. Because imbeciles get promoted and smart people languish.
10. Because my sanity depends on it.
In no particular order of importance...
1. Because this morning at 5:30 AM, people were actually calling me and G at home because they wanted us to send out an e-mail. 5:30 AM really ought to be about life-and-death calls. This is ridiculous. Should you really have to be on call for the company 24 hours a day?
2. Because I know of no one in this company that shows me the slightest bit of respect or consideration. I had more power, authority and respect at Martin Marietta during my college internship.
3. Because the company itself is fucked up, and I can't imagine that it will ever be straightened out.
4. Because I don't respect the company or the people I work for.
5. Because I hate the interim babysitter.
6. Because I have to interview potential bosses for a position that I can and should be doing, but no one will let me because they don't respect me (see #2).
7. Because E has shown us that the grass really is greener on the Adobe side of the fence.
8. Because they've taken away our water and our plants. What's next, toilet paper?
9. Because imbeciles get promoted and smart people languish.
10. Because my sanity depends on it.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Interviews
I'm interviewing my next boss tomorrow. I already have a strong negative opinion, based on the strong positive opinions from people I don't respect. I can place solid bets on the fact that she'll have no sense of humor and won't be a good personality fit.
I'm interviewing my next boss tomorrow. I already have a strong negative opinion, based on the strong positive opinions from people I don't respect. I can place solid bets on the fact that she'll have no sense of humor and won't be a good personality fit.
David
I watch David from across the street. He is oblivious to the world around him, crying with that pained moan that is his only verbal contact with the outside world. He's grown much taller lately, although he's still thin as a rail and looks too fragile to pound on the door like he does. He sits down on top of the parked lawn mower, a tangle of arms and legs grasping for a handle that they can't quite find. He cries again, out of frustration or anger or pain. He sits unbalanced on the motor, his bony legs in constant motion to keep him from toppling over, his arms curled back on themselves and offering no support.
His sister approaches and tries to wrangle him back into the house where they don't have to worry about him wandering into the street. He doesn't look into her eyes, and possibly doesn't even realize who she is. He stares into space, resisting her attempts to pull him to his feet, and then lets loose with a sucker punch that nearly levels her. He's infinitely stronger than he looks. She curses, grabs him by one arm, and nearly drags him to the front steps. He moans loudly and swings his contorted arm as she pushes and pulls his rigid body up the steps and into the house. The door slams shut with a loud bang. You can still hear him moaning inside.
I watch David from across the street. He is oblivious to the world around him, crying with that pained moan that is his only verbal contact with the outside world. He's grown much taller lately, although he's still thin as a rail and looks too fragile to pound on the door like he does. He sits down on top of the parked lawn mower, a tangle of arms and legs grasping for a handle that they can't quite find. He cries again, out of frustration or anger or pain. He sits unbalanced on the motor, his bony legs in constant motion to keep him from toppling over, his arms curled back on themselves and offering no support.
His sister approaches and tries to wrangle him back into the house where they don't have to worry about him wandering into the street. He doesn't look into her eyes, and possibly doesn't even realize who she is. He stares into space, resisting her attempts to pull him to his feet, and then lets loose with a sucker punch that nearly levels her. He's infinitely stronger than he looks. She curses, grabs him by one arm, and nearly drags him to the front steps. He moans loudly and swings his contorted arm as she pushes and pulls his rigid body up the steps and into the house. The door slams shut with a loud bang. You can still hear him moaning inside.
For Those Who Don't Get It
From Reuters: "HIV infections of two porn stars has prompted local health authorities to seek unprecedented inspections of California's multibillion-dollar adult film industry and press for mandatory condom use during sex scenes, officials said on Tuesday."
Do they really need to specify that they want mandatory condom use "during sex scenes"? What's the other alternative? It's like they wanted to be really specific for those of us who might think that they need to wear the condom while reading the newspaper or taking a shower.
From Reuters: "HIV infections of two porn stars has prompted local health authorities to seek unprecedented inspections of California's multibillion-dollar adult film industry and press for mandatory condom use during sex scenes, officials said on Tuesday."
Do they really need to specify that they want mandatory condom use "during sex scenes"? What's the other alternative? It's like they wanted to be really specific for those of us who might think that they need to wear the condom while reading the newspaper or taking a shower.
Fortune.com Management Quiz
CAREERS
Quiz: What Kind of Manager Are You?
Your final score: 21 of 30
Results:
You have a balanced view of what is within your control and what is not. Your responses to circumstances are fluid and complex, leaning toward internalism in some situations and externalism in others. You might, for instance, believe that much of what happens at work is under the control of others (external), but once you get home, your life is under your own control (internal)—or vice versa. (And some areas of life are beyond anyone's control: a major illness, an economic recession, a terrorist attack...). As a manager, you're able to adapt your approach to each individual case. Bear in mind that externals and internals need to be handled differently to achieve their best work.
CAREERS
Quiz: What Kind of Manager Are You?
Your final score: 21 of 30
Results:
You have a balanced view of what is within your control and what is not. Your responses to circumstances are fluid and complex, leaning toward internalism in some situations and externalism in others. You might, for instance, believe that much of what happens at work is under the control of others (external), but once you get home, your life is under your own control (internal)—or vice versa. (And some areas of life are beyond anyone's control: a major illness, an economic recession, a terrorist attack...). As a manager, you're able to adapt your approach to each individual case. Bear in mind that externals and internals need to be handled differently to achieve their best work.
Monday, April 19, 2004
Writing
I need to start writing again, really seriously and with absolute commitment. I need to stop criticizing everything I write and just enjoy the process of telling stories. I have some ideas for things, intertwined lives... that sort of thing. I don't know if I can make it work. Would the kind of story I'd want to tell be the same sort of story that I actually could tell?
I think I need to determine if I have any value as a writer. If it's decided that we follow the life path that C is envisioning, I really need to either become a real writer (preferably quickly) or forget about it and let go of the concept of an advancing career.
I need to start writing again, really seriously and with absolute commitment. I need to stop criticizing everything I write and just enjoy the process of telling stories. I have some ideas for things, intertwined lives... that sort of thing. I don't know if I can make it work. Would the kind of story I'd want to tell be the same sort of story that I actually could tell?
I think I need to determine if I have any value as a writer. If it's decided that we follow the life path that C is envisioning, I really need to either become a real writer (preferably quickly) or forget about it and let go of the concept of an advancing career.
Buzzkill
Damn, there's nothing like going back to work on a Monday to ruin a perfectly good vacation glow.
So my babysitter temp boss is bringing in a candidate for the backfill of my former boss's position. She's graciously allowing me to meet with her, although she's not letting my coworker meet her. When there's a team of two, how do you justify that? I think it's rude.
But the best part was when the babysitter sent me instructions on how to conduct an interview. Then, talking to her on the phone later, she says, "She's really the best candidate so far. The others are more like you." Gee, thanks. Bitch.
Damn, there's nothing like going back to work on a Monday to ruin a perfectly good vacation glow.
So my babysitter temp boss is bringing in a candidate for the backfill of my former boss's position. She's graciously allowing me to meet with her, although she's not letting my coworker meet her. When there's a team of two, how do you justify that? I think it's rude.
But the best part was when the babysitter sent me instructions on how to conduct an interview. Then, talking to her on the phone later, she says, "She's really the best candidate so far. The others are more like you." Gee, thanks. Bitch.
Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
I may have to resort to advanced meditation techniques to get through the day. I've been in hell since getting back to work. I felt so good when I was on vacation -- no more knot in my neck, no headaches, no depression -- that I stopped taking my antidepressants. Like an ass, I thought I was cured. Now I'm suffering miserably, depressed as hell with an anxiety and irritation level that's off the charts. It's a dark, dark place to be.
I may have to resort to advanced meditation techniques to get through the day. I've been in hell since getting back to work. I felt so good when I was on vacation -- no more knot in my neck, no headaches, no depression -- that I stopped taking my antidepressants. Like an ass, I thought I was cured. Now I'm suffering miserably, depressed as hell with an anxiety and irritation level that's off the charts. It's a dark, dark place to be.
Sunday, April 18, 2004
Back to the Mainland
Last night, I was at my neighbor's house and tried to get their 7-year-old to come see my Hawaii pictures.
"Hey babe, come check out my vacation pictures. They're pretty cool. I even went for a ride on a helicopter." The 2-year-old is climbing my leg like a tree, and she stops and giggles. "Ellabopper! Ee-sa in a ellebopper!"
The 7-year-old snorts at me with skill rarely seen in the preteen age group. "So what? Cameron went to Mexico and he flew in a plane. Who cares about a helicopter?"
Anyway... Kauai is lovely. It's the most tropical-looking of all the islands, green and lush and filled with birds that sound like the exotic aviary at the zoo. Of course, the price of green and lush is the rain that you need to move around to avoid. No big deal, though. We found lots of cool beaches and did more than our share of offroading to get there. There are also incredible winds. I guess when you're out in the middle of the Pacific, there isn't much to block the wind from just pummeling you. But the island was beautiful and I had a really good time.
Midway through the trip, we're out to dinner. The waiter brings the bread, and we're sitting there, munching away, when C says, "I think we should have kids." I nearly choked on the bread. Excuse me? This from the man who can't be within six feet of kids without twitching? What makes you think that this would work? "I know, it's a leap of faith, but I've been thinking a lot about it and I think we should really start a family." Ok, let's put aside for a moment the fact that this is the only decision you ever make that you are absolutely stuck with for the rest of your life. Let's put aside my fear of pain, getting insanely fat, sick and sleepless. Let's ignore the fact that I totally fear screwing this child up and setting it up for a lifetime of therapy. Let's ignore all of that. Let's go for the immediate practicals. We have a two-bedroom tiny house, one room of which is an office, and too full at that. I run a business and work a full-time job. C works more than 60 hours per week, is on business trips 50% of the time and will be starting his MBA in the fall. We like to eat out and travel, and won't be able to do either if we have kids. How the hell will this ever work out?
"I think you have a lot of love to give," he says to me. "I think you would be a great mother. I really do." I'm flattered, I suppose, because there really isn't anything more significant and meaningful than saying to someone, 'I want you to have my child'. But I was still freaking out. I told him that this means my life, as I know it, is over. My career (albeit a pathetic one to date) will never advance because I won't be able to make it a top priority. Suddenly I have to come to grips with the fact that I will never be anyone, never make something of my life and career. I need to accept the fact that I will get fat for the first time in my life. I will cease to be me, as I become that nameless woman, mommy. I need to make sure the business is self-sustaining. We need to buy a new house. I need a bigger car. I never went to that spa I wanted to go to for a week. I'll never again be able to wear a bikini, and I just got my first ones this year! I will never be able to sleep with anyone else after because who the hell wants to have an affair with an old, stretched-out mother? I could feel the blood draining from my brain and extremities. Christ, how the heck do you do this?
So I told him that I need at least one more year, no less. I need another year to figure out who the hell I am before this all comes tumbling down. I need to find a new house (with what money?) and settle into it. And I need to make the business a success. How the hell do I do all of this?
I'm so numb.
Last night, I was at my neighbor's house and tried to get their 7-year-old to come see my Hawaii pictures.
"Hey babe, come check out my vacation pictures. They're pretty cool. I even went for a ride on a helicopter." The 2-year-old is climbing my leg like a tree, and she stops and giggles. "Ellabopper! Ee-sa in a ellebopper!"
The 7-year-old snorts at me with skill rarely seen in the preteen age group. "So what? Cameron went to Mexico and he flew in a plane. Who cares about a helicopter?"
Anyway... Kauai is lovely. It's the most tropical-looking of all the islands, green and lush and filled with birds that sound like the exotic aviary at the zoo. Of course, the price of green and lush is the rain that you need to move around to avoid. No big deal, though. We found lots of cool beaches and did more than our share of offroading to get there. There are also incredible winds. I guess when you're out in the middle of the Pacific, there isn't much to block the wind from just pummeling you. But the island was beautiful and I had a really good time.
Midway through the trip, we're out to dinner. The waiter brings the bread, and we're sitting there, munching away, when C says, "I think we should have kids." I nearly choked on the bread. Excuse me? This from the man who can't be within six feet of kids without twitching? What makes you think that this would work? "I know, it's a leap of faith, but I've been thinking a lot about it and I think we should really start a family." Ok, let's put aside for a moment the fact that this is the only decision you ever make that you are absolutely stuck with for the rest of your life. Let's put aside my fear of pain, getting insanely fat, sick and sleepless. Let's ignore the fact that I totally fear screwing this child up and setting it up for a lifetime of therapy. Let's ignore all of that. Let's go for the immediate practicals. We have a two-bedroom tiny house, one room of which is an office, and too full at that. I run a business and work a full-time job. C works more than 60 hours per week, is on business trips 50% of the time and will be starting his MBA in the fall. We like to eat out and travel, and won't be able to do either if we have kids. How the hell will this ever work out?
"I think you have a lot of love to give," he says to me. "I think you would be a great mother. I really do." I'm flattered, I suppose, because there really isn't anything more significant and meaningful than saying to someone, 'I want you to have my child'. But I was still freaking out. I told him that this means my life, as I know it, is over. My career (albeit a pathetic one to date) will never advance because I won't be able to make it a top priority. Suddenly I have to come to grips with the fact that I will never be anyone, never make something of my life and career. I need to accept the fact that I will get fat for the first time in my life. I will cease to be me, as I become that nameless woman, mommy. I need to make sure the business is self-sustaining. We need to buy a new house. I need a bigger car. I never went to that spa I wanted to go to for a week. I'll never again be able to wear a bikini, and I just got my first ones this year! I will never be able to sleep with anyone else after because who the hell wants to have an affair with an old, stretched-out mother? I could feel the blood draining from my brain and extremities. Christ, how the heck do you do this?
So I told him that I need at least one more year, no less. I need another year to figure out who the hell I am before this all comes tumbling down. I need to find a new house (with what money?) and settle into it. And I need to make the business a success. How the hell do I do all of this?
I'm so numb.
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Kauai
Lovely place, but that's where C decides to drop a bombshell: he wants kids. Unfuckingbelievable. Too tired to write now. Must sleep after crappy redeye return flight.
Lovely place, but that's where C decides to drop a bombshell: he wants kids. Unfuckingbelievable. Too tired to write now. Must sleep after crappy redeye return flight.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Insecurity
There's more pressure in a second interview than a first. I worry that I can't hold my own against the other candidates. I'm not sure that I'm really a good enough writer to take on this sort of thing. I worry about going to new places and having to prove myself all over again. I worry about having to work long hours that will keep me from my life and my studio. I worry that going on vacation next week has worked out to be the worst timing ever. I just wish that I had more self-confidence and knew that I could be the best that anyone could imagine.
There's more pressure in a second interview than a first. I worry that I can't hold my own against the other candidates. I'm not sure that I'm really a good enough writer to take on this sort of thing. I worry about going to new places and having to prove myself all over again. I worry about having to work long hours that will keep me from my life and my studio. I worry that going on vacation next week has worked out to be the worst timing ever. I just wish that I had more self-confidence and knew that I could be the best that anyone could imagine.
Norwegians
No jokes about Norwegia this time....
Why is it that Neutrogena promotes their "Norwegian Formula" lotions and moisturizers so heavily? Why do we believe that Norwegians have some sort of magical gift when it comes to skin hydration? Could it just as easily be Dutch or German or Greek formula? Would it see the same sales revenues?
No jokes about Norwegia this time....
Why is it that Neutrogena promotes their "Norwegian Formula" lotions and moisturizers so heavily? Why do we believe that Norwegians have some sort of magical gift when it comes to skin hydration? Could it just as easily be Dutch or German or Greek formula? Would it see the same sales revenues?
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
What is your favorite word?
What is your least favorite word?
What turns you on?
What turns you off?
What sound or noise do you love?
What sound or noise do you hate?
What is your favorite curse word?
What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?
What profession would you absolutely not like to attempt under any circumstances?
If heaven exists, what would you like to hear god say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
What is your least favorite word?
What turns you on?
What turns you off?
What sound or noise do you love?
What sound or noise do you hate?
What is your favorite curse word?
What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?
What profession would you absolutely not like to attempt under any circumstances?
If heaven exists, what would you like to hear god say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
Kevin Costner
Never better than Bull Durham. Crash Davis was one of the best characters ever. The scenes at the end, Costner and Susan Sarandon, eating cereal and dancing... those are just the best romance scenes ever. It seemed so real. I just love that.
Never better than Bull Durham. Crash Davis was one of the best characters ever. The scenes at the end, Costner and Susan Sarandon, eating cereal and dancing... those are just the best romance scenes ever. It seemed so real. I just love that.
Wax
I believe that the bikini wax can prepare you to endure nearly everything. They should use it for secret agents to prepare them for torture. I suspect that the Brazilian wax is probably the closest thing to childbirth without drugs.
Christ, the redness and pain is unreal. Why did I do this to myself?
I believe that the bikini wax can prepare you to endure nearly everything. They should use it for secret agents to prepare them for torture. I suspect that the Brazilian wax is probably the closest thing to childbirth without drugs.
Christ, the redness and pain is unreal. Why did I do this to myself?
Previews
This is the best first chapter I've read in ages. The story is sad, but damn, it's well-written.
This is the best first chapter I've read in ages. The story is sad, but damn, it's well-written.
Morning Thoughts
Headline: Abba says "no" to reunion at any price. Uh, haven't we heard that from many old bands over the years? The Eagles? Fleetwood Mac? Never say never.
Mute: Why, when people are paying no attention on a conference call, and hear someone say their name, do they reply with, "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. I was on mute." Evidently there are many people in our organization who have a deaf-mute button on their phone.
Focal Reviews: First of all, I hate the word "focal". Secondly, I'm being reviewed by a manager who only met me three weeks ago, and it doesn't seem to me that her review is really incorporating all of the commentary that my former boss, E, prepared for her before she departed.
Post Offices: I need to mail gifts to my sister-in-law, both for her birthday and her bridal shower. I really hate going to the post office, so I've been putting it off. Now I'll be lucky if either one gets to her in time.
Headline: Abba says "no" to reunion at any price. Uh, haven't we heard that from many old bands over the years? The Eagles? Fleetwood Mac? Never say never.
Mute: Why, when people are paying no attention on a conference call, and hear someone say their name, do they reply with, "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. I was on mute." Evidently there are many people in our organization who have a deaf-mute button on their phone.
Focal Reviews: First of all, I hate the word "focal". Secondly, I'm being reviewed by a manager who only met me three weeks ago, and it doesn't seem to me that her review is really incorporating all of the commentary that my former boss, E, prepared for her before she departed.
Post Offices: I need to mail gifts to my sister-in-law, both for her birthday and her bridal shower. I really hate going to the post office, so I've been putting it off. Now I'll be lucky if either one gets to her in time.
Monday, April 05, 2004
Decisions
I have an old friend who's getting married later this year, and she asked me, in all honesty, about faithfulness and whether or not I ever cheated on C. So for the first time, I told her the story about how one time I came close, the only time I've even so much as kissed anyone but C since my wedding day, and how surprised I was by it all. It was so easy. I don't know if it's always that easy, or if it was just how I felt about that person, but that I knew that in an instant I could completely change my marriage. I wasn't ready for that change... or maybe more importantly, I knew enough to know that I shouldn't be making decisions like that while under the influence of a hell of a lot of vodka. But I honestly don't know that the vodka was clouding my judgement. At that moment, it was what I wanted. My only fear was regret.
But it's not something you set out to consciously decide. It's a spur-of-the-moment thing, not a decision that you make as much as a tornado that takes you away. That sort of thing scares me. I'm much more about making intellectual decisions about things that I can control, and wanting to be naked in the arms of another man doesn't really fall under the heading of intellectual decision.
Relationships are filled with decisions and tornados, and you're never more aware of it until you've been with the same person for years. I look at the vast majority of my friends, all of whom are having babies. For some, it was a decision. Others met the tornado. The tornado people are mostly overwhelmed and baffled by the experience, as I would expect I would be. I don't really understand the other group. One of our friends was in town this week, and announced her pregnancy at dinner. They decided, she said, that it was time. How do you decide? Do you intellectually determine that you should have a baby, the same way you decide whether to buy a new car or build a deck in the yard? Or do you wake up one morning and suddenly know with absolute certainty that there's something missing in your home, and that thing is a baby? Because I haven't had that emotional pull yet, and I can't ever imagine that intellectually it would seem like a smart thing to do.
The weirdest part is that C, child-phobic guy that he is, is more accepting of the idea than I am. I was trying to decide whether to stick with the pill or go with the patch, and I mentioned that I was fearful that one or the other would lead to an accidental preganancy -- either from me being too busy and distracted to remember to take the pill, or from the patch being less effective than they would like you to believe (how much do I trust the FDA?) And to my shock, as I'm worrying about the various modes and my fears of outcomes, C says to me, "So you get pregnant. Is that the worst thing that could happen?" At that moment, I burst out crying because I think my answer was yes, and I was shocked that he might not be on my side with this anymore. The freakish thing is that I love kids. I spent two hours this weekend with my two-year-old neighbor following me around like a shadow, nagging me, and I didn't really mind. But at the same time, I was endlessly relieved when she wanted to go home. I just don't know that I would ever be able to handle the 24-hour commitment of having kids of my own, of molding and shaping them into responsible, respectible members of society. I want to travel, to eat out, to be lazy on the weekends and take a nap when I want to. I don't want my house to be sticky, stained with the legacy of a thousand juice boxes, and filled with toys from top to bottom. I can't handle the thought of leaving the baby with a sitter while I work, or all the jillion things that can go wrong with them (working at Children's Hospital might not have been the best move for me). I really think I'd rather have a dog. But what if I woke up pregnant tomorrow? How would I deal with it? Would it work out ok? I just don't have faith that I would be a good mother.
I have an old friend who's getting married later this year, and she asked me, in all honesty, about faithfulness and whether or not I ever cheated on C. So for the first time, I told her the story about how one time I came close, the only time I've even so much as kissed anyone but C since my wedding day, and how surprised I was by it all. It was so easy. I don't know if it's always that easy, or if it was just how I felt about that person, but that I knew that in an instant I could completely change my marriage. I wasn't ready for that change... or maybe more importantly, I knew enough to know that I shouldn't be making decisions like that while under the influence of a hell of a lot of vodka. But I honestly don't know that the vodka was clouding my judgement. At that moment, it was what I wanted. My only fear was regret.
But it's not something you set out to consciously decide. It's a spur-of-the-moment thing, not a decision that you make as much as a tornado that takes you away. That sort of thing scares me. I'm much more about making intellectual decisions about things that I can control, and wanting to be naked in the arms of another man doesn't really fall under the heading of intellectual decision.
Relationships are filled with decisions and tornados, and you're never more aware of it until you've been with the same person for years. I look at the vast majority of my friends, all of whom are having babies. For some, it was a decision. Others met the tornado. The tornado people are mostly overwhelmed and baffled by the experience, as I would expect I would be. I don't really understand the other group. One of our friends was in town this week, and announced her pregnancy at dinner. They decided, she said, that it was time. How do you decide? Do you intellectually determine that you should have a baby, the same way you decide whether to buy a new car or build a deck in the yard? Or do you wake up one morning and suddenly know with absolute certainty that there's something missing in your home, and that thing is a baby? Because I haven't had that emotional pull yet, and I can't ever imagine that intellectually it would seem like a smart thing to do.
The weirdest part is that C, child-phobic guy that he is, is more accepting of the idea than I am. I was trying to decide whether to stick with the pill or go with the patch, and I mentioned that I was fearful that one or the other would lead to an accidental preganancy -- either from me being too busy and distracted to remember to take the pill, or from the patch being less effective than they would like you to believe (how much do I trust the FDA?) And to my shock, as I'm worrying about the various modes and my fears of outcomes, C says to me, "So you get pregnant. Is that the worst thing that could happen?" At that moment, I burst out crying because I think my answer was yes, and I was shocked that he might not be on my side with this anymore. The freakish thing is that I love kids. I spent two hours this weekend with my two-year-old neighbor following me around like a shadow, nagging me, and I didn't really mind. But at the same time, I was endlessly relieved when she wanted to go home. I just don't know that I would ever be able to handle the 24-hour commitment of having kids of my own, of molding and shaping them into responsible, respectible members of society. I want to travel, to eat out, to be lazy on the weekends and take a nap when I want to. I don't want my house to be sticky, stained with the legacy of a thousand juice boxes, and filled with toys from top to bottom. I can't handle the thought of leaving the baby with a sitter while I work, or all the jillion things that can go wrong with them (working at Children's Hospital might not have been the best move for me). I really think I'd rather have a dog. But what if I woke up pregnant tomorrow? How would I deal with it? Would it work out ok? I just don't have faith that I would be a good mother.
10 Years
They were talking on the radio about the fact that it's been 10 years since Kurt Cobain's suicide. I was never a big fan of Nirvana, but I knew enough about him to know that he was married to some wild and crazy chick, and they had a little girl. When I pulled the New York Times out of my mailbox at school, I rememeber being so angry with him for leaving his daughter behind without a father. I think you lose your right to kill yourself once you have kids, because from that moment on, your life isn't about you anymore.
They were talking on the radio about the fact that it's been 10 years since Kurt Cobain's suicide. I was never a big fan of Nirvana, but I knew enough about him to know that he was married to some wild and crazy chick, and they had a little girl. When I pulled the New York Times out of my mailbox at school, I rememeber being so angry with him for leaving his daughter behind without a father. I think you lose your right to kill yourself once you have kids, because from that moment on, your life isn't about you anymore.
Friday, April 02, 2004
Abduction
I can't explain why I suspected that something was weird about the Wisconsin girl's abduction right from the start, even before she was found. I just think I had a sense that she was trying to escape from something, that there was a desperate cry for help. I feel like I understand it all on some level, like I can remember being 20 and needing to escape. She's going to get in enormous trouble with the law and be branded as a liar for the rest of her life. Her family is forever going to look at her like she's insane, and all because something snapped in her head and she tried to escape it. I wonder what will happen to her.
I can't explain why I suspected that something was weird about the Wisconsin girl's abduction right from the start, even before she was found. I just think I had a sense that she was trying to escape from something, that there was a desperate cry for help. I feel like I understand it all on some level, like I can remember being 20 and needing to escape. She's going to get in enormous trouble with the law and be branded as a liar for the rest of her life. Her family is forever going to look at her like she's insane, and all because something snapped in her head and she tried to escape it. I wonder what will happen to her.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
Power of Positive Thinking
Sometimes when we're in bed, drifting off to sleep, I'll say things like, "I'm really glad you're here," or "I'm lucky to have found you." C thinks this is some sort of insecurity on my part, like I need some sort of validation about the value of myself and our relationship. It's not that at all. At the end of the day, I could easily let myself drift into thoughts about work -- the fight I had with SC, the struggle to meet a deadline for RE -- but instead I spend my last conscious moments thinking about the good things in my life, the things that should make me happy. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?
Sometimes when we're in bed, drifting off to sleep, I'll say things like, "I'm really glad you're here," or "I'm lucky to have found you." C thinks this is some sort of insecurity on my part, like I need some sort of validation about the value of myself and our relationship. It's not that at all. At the end of the day, I could easily let myself drift into thoughts about work -- the fight I had with SC, the struggle to meet a deadline for RE -- but instead I spend my last conscious moments thinking about the good things in my life, the things that should make me happy. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?
CDbaby
Ok, I love this independent CD store website, even if only for their excellent post-sales e-mail:
Your CDs have been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with
sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.
A team of 50 employees inspected your CDs and polished them to make
sure they were in the best possible condition before mailing.
Our packing specialist from Japan lit a candle and a hush fell over
the crowd as he put your CDs into the finest gold-lined box that
money can buy.
We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party
marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of
Portland waved 'Bon Voyage!' to your package, on its way to you, in
our private CD Baby jet on this day, Friday, March 26th.
I hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. We sure did.
Your picture is on our wall as "Customer of the Year". We're all
exhausted but can't wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!!
Thank you once again,
Derek Sivers, president, CD Baby
the little CD store with the best new independent music
Ok, I love this independent CD store website, even if only for their excellent post-sales e-mail:
Your CDs have been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with
sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.
A team of 50 employees inspected your CDs and polished them to make
sure they were in the best possible condition before mailing.
Our packing specialist from Japan lit a candle and a hush fell over
the crowd as he put your CDs into the finest gold-lined box that
money can buy.
We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party
marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of
Portland waved 'Bon Voyage!' to your package, on its way to you, in
our private CD Baby jet on this day, Friday, March 26th.
I hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. We sure did.
Your picture is on our wall as "Customer of the Year". We're all
exhausted but can't wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!!
Thank you once again,
Derek Sivers, president, CD Baby
the little CD store with the best new independent music
