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Saturday, Sept. 06, 2003 / 1:58 p.m. ~I'm Off Center/Kilter~ I just got up about a half hour ago, after 14 hours of sleeping... on the sofa. My back hurts a bit. I feel congested, I have a sore throat, I'm still trying to clear it, and first thing I did when I got up was floss my teeth and brush them, wash the oil from my face. I didn't do anything last night besides close my eyes and drift off. I remember Kilborn being on, but it was after 3:00, and he comes on at 12:35, so that was weird, and then I finally turned the TV off, maybe 5:00 or 6:00, and I finally turned the lamp off a bit later - I guess I feel that if I leave it all on, it's still sort of casual, like "Oops, I guess I fell asleep on the sofa", and if it's all off, "I'm sleepiing on the sofa tonight and that's that". Gladys doesn't get it, she runs around, she grabs the doorknob on the front door, like she wants to leave, she bounces off me, she finally joins me, she finally sleeps with me, with stars and moon blanket, for hours. And I toss a bit, and I dream and dream and dream, and I wake and go over each dream segment, and wonder at them, the dreams. And then I hear my neighbors, and there are only a few occupied apartments here now, but they're loud, especially the women upstairs. I don't know how many there are, or what their relationship is, but one must weigh a lot because she jumps down each step and it sounds like an elephant must sound, if elephants lived in apartments and jumped down their stairs. I got a phone call on the new phone - wait, let me clarify, since I plugged it in last night after work, after charging it, and had fun playing with the readout, programming names and numbers into the memory, calling the time and temperature, and moviephone, and wishing someone would call me for the first time in forever, the phone has rung three times, all 'unknown number', which means it's telemarketers. I can't have the other phone base/answering machine (not that many of the telemarketers leave messages, but some do) hooked up at the same time because I only have two phone jacks in this apartment, there is not one in the kitchen, which sucks, because then I'd have a wall phone, like everyone should, but there are no ceiling outlets for lights in this apartment either, and I've never been able to use my ceiling fans either, six years now. It's not perfect here, but just the same, it's my home. Anyway, I had to unhook the answering machine until I can go buy a jack splitter and some extra cord. So this phone is all that's hooked up in the bedroom, and the corded phone is still in the living room, in case the electricity goes out and there is an emergency, or something, and it has a splitter and extra length of cord attached to it... so I can be here, online, right now. Duh. Right, so the first 'unknown caller', or 'unknown number' call I simply turned the ringer off. Then back on. The next one was early this morning, and I answered and hung up, one finger action, then this one while I was making coffee (it's ready, I need to go get it), was this poor thing with a bad head cold, "Hey, this is Kelly, I'm calling from Charter, may I speak to Mr or Ms Joleen?". I know, she didn't say that exactly, but she sounded really sick, and I felt so badly that this was my first call on my new phone, and that I was going to have to piss on her telemarketing parade, but yes, it's me, and yes, I have a computer, but I know what this is about, and I am not interested, "You've heard all this before?", yes, oh yes, no thank you. I hadn't, but it was an offer to subscribe to cable internet service and I don't want it. Coffee... Better. So, since I have the digital cable with all the HBOs and Cinemaxes, which is one of my only concessions to all that's available for subscription, technologically speaking, I seldom go to the theatre to see a movie, unless it's something foreign or indy, and destined to come and go quickly, and I really want to see it, or a huge blockbuster type that is also purported to be quite good, which is extremely rare, or something that simply MUST be seen on a big screen. Only then do I tolerate the obnoxious modern moviegoing audience, and the drive, and the rush, and the parking, etc. As in today, I plan to finally see the surf movie, not really 'finally', as it's only been out a couple weeks, but I fear it won't last too long. "Step Into Liquid". I'd link to some info, but screw that, I'm too wasted right now. Very, very out of sorts, and prone to rambling. That being said, I watched "The Good Girl" last night, finally, because it was on one of the HBOs, and I've wanted to see it since I first read about it. Jennifer Aniston was wonderful, as I'd read, and the screenplay, by Mike White, of "Chuck and Buck" fame, was really odd and quirky and fun, and very acerbic, sarcastic, funny, poignant, irreverant, sort of off the wall, as was "Chuck and Buck", the only other movie of his with which I am familiar, but I just read he's writing others as we speak, others shall be released this Fall. Yay! And Jake Gyllenhaal (we'll hope I'm spelling that right) is just really cute, and I love the 'older woman, unavailable really/totally smitten cute younger man' storyline. He did it in "Lovely and Amazing" with Catherine Keener too. Right? Is my memory serving me correctly at this hour? I think so. So, it was good, and it didn't go where one might expect, nothing was terribly predictable, which was nice. And the one negative thing I'd read, about the audience not knowing the 'why' of Jennifer's character, as in Why is she so miserable?, didn't seem to matter. She simply was. Her past was of no importance, I didn't think. And I loved that her husband was the very odd looking John C. Reilly, playing a stoner housepainter. It was just good. It must've been sometime shortly after the movie ended, and I got to see the protest yesterday outside of Ashcroft's speech/visit to the city on the 11:00 news, that I closed my eyes, and that brings us to here. Now. I omitted something fairly important Thursday, but Thursday was fairly incoherent as well, I think, as all days are lately. But there was an 'ice cream social'/farewell party for the outgoing Site Manager, at work, Thursday, and for once I stood my ground and refused to participate. The guy dissed me. He totally disrespected me, and I have fought against a general lack of respect of ME my whole life, I have. I am milquetoast-y, in general, when I'm not scrapping and fighting, and people just fuck me, so he fucked me, I needed him to hear me out about the management of our department, I requested a meeting, he acknowledged my request, with no intention of responding to it, and I didn't care if he left again - yes, this was the second time, in the 5.5 years I've worked there, that we had a farewell party for him. Fuck him. So, the whole site went to this thing (free food, of any kind, and they're there!), really, and I started to, but when I heard the noisemakers (yes, noisemakers!), and the hooting and hollering, and saw the big dyke woman/Corporate Liaison, I said, "Do we HAVE to do this?", to the receptionist, and she looked me up and down and answered, "Do we HAVE to do this?!", and I said, "I can't do this", and went back to my desk, sat alone in our department and answered the phone when it rang. The Supervisor, H., came back early and asked if I'd not wanted to go, and I said no and that was that. So, I must drink coffee, shower and head to movie, and I look forward, as I love waves, I love to watch the surfers, so this should be good. I'm sure I'll do the appropriate Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB research on the film, online, when I get back. Oh, but I plan to fix tacos too, or 'make', but since there is much fixing to be done, I think 'fix' is the better word. I've pulled ground beef from freezer for the occasion. I have cheddar cheese and lettuce and black olives, and I intend to buy some more tomatoes. Should be good, I love to fix/make my own tacos. I feel weird, I had far too many dreams, and sleeping on the sofa, not even making the attempt to get in bed in the a.m., is just weird, all of it. I'm off. As in, not on. Cost of the War in Iraq
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