bits move slow in the cold?

Inexplicably we're getting Internet speeds like dial-up. I mean... Safari times out trying to load livejournal.com, which wouldn't be so crazy except it does the same for gmail, which is, well, unusual. Dave is tinkering with the router, thusfar to no avail. Bummer.

The snowstorm was supposed to come in around ten. Here it is, ten til, and the snow's starting. So we're pleased.

Our checks arrived from HSBC. I was trying to get Dave excited-- look, we have checks together, isn't that cute? -- but all I got was a monotone 'woo'. Not finding money romantic, I guess.

Last night at work some woman handed me a dollar along with the $5 for her purchase, and as I was about to thank her for the tip asked for four quarters. OK, I thought, and gave them to her. So she left a 50 cent tip.
Ouch, yo.

Oh well. You don't get rich by hating money. (This was in the club, where only rich people are. The phenomenon of rich people being poor tippers is well-documented.) At least she left one; most don't.

Am listening to Curtis Mayfield, whose album has a shamefully low playcount except for "superfly", showing that I am as single-influenced as the rest of Wrong With America Today. (That's one of Dave's catchphrases. When someone does something he finds reprehensible, he informs them they are What Is Wrong With America Today. Although he acknowledges that often the singles are the only decent songs on the CDs-- and even without knowing beforehand what they are, it's easy to pick them out sometimes. They're better-produced, poppier, the artist's foibles are noticeably toned-down, there are more instruments, and sometimes they're even a little bit louder on the CD.) I like this song because it begins with the vocalist shouting: "Sistas! Niggas! Whiteys! Jews!" and the way he says "Jews" it resounds and sounds like "Jooooooooooos!" only more abrupt. And it's the kind of brilliantly amusing line one wants to repeat at inopportune moments except that such a combination of words is likely to get one decked if taken out of context thus.

I didn't take very many pictures at home and am reminded once again that I am no kind of photographer. Do I even have any shots of my house or neighborhood in the snow? No. Did I get a single shot of the Spirit of Christmas Excess vomiting on the neighbors' lawn up the street? (Five inflatables on a twenty-square-foot lawn, people.) No. There were even beautiful snowy evenings with all the lights on, a few of which I had off, and could have wandered up the street with my tripod. But I didn't.
So, so very sad. I love taking pictures and am so lazy now I never do. Today I really need to tidy at least my room, but it's unlikely I'll actually get around to it before work.
And I am so far behind on Chapter 5, it's not funny. I need just a chunk of time to catch up, but you know if I had a chunk of time I wouldn't spend it on the Vikings novel. Such is the sad pathetic slackerness that is Me.

Grim.

I followed various birthday-wishers' links to the livejournal of a certain tyellas, which was an enjoyable trip. There I found a link to this article from the Village Voice, discussing the question: how the hell does a young woman have it all or even just some of it nowadays?

The fact is that not all of us are going to beat the pay gap, shatter that transparent ceiling, and have it all. Whether our dreams pull us toward the Learjet or the Land Rover, we're going to feel torn. Confronting that reality can be painful, even shaming.

The first quoted person attended the same college I did and probably graduated the year before I did, though it doesn't say. U of R is just big enough that I wouldn't have known her. So that made the article more immediate right off the bat.
( Yeah... )

I sent the article to Dave, who was a bit confused by the fact that men weren't even mentioned in the article except as absent providers. He himself gave up a lucrative job to go back to school, and is even deeper in the hole than I am.

The article and the others linked to it depressed me, and pissed him off, because the first one seemed to assume that men never want families or have to struggle to go back to school. The one that from its title sounded like it would be exploring the male counterpoint just turned out to be about a guy who did stupid things with credit cards.

But yes, I'm depressed. I also read tyellas's little article on leaving the country, and both Dave and I still think it would be so awesome to go to school overseas. I have this fond little daydream that someday I will. But yeah, that's in the same category as above. If I do live the dream of hanging out overseas, I will be like 50 before I'm settled enough to have a family. So... I guess... too bad. My twenties are half over and I'm broke; all the things I want to do before I'm 30 require money: so, too damn bad.



p.s. It's snowing like crazy here and i'm going to have to leave way early to get to work.
also, there's a blizzard down in the NY area, a real blizzard, in that people are supposed to not leave their houses, or risk death. So, that's kinda cool.

Ah well. Must go prepare for the day. Dave won't go outside and play in the snow with me. Bummer.

I don't know.

I don't know why I'm so angry.
I don't know why the fact that yet again, my cast iron frying pan is rusty is enough to make me shriek in anger. It happens all the time, when someone doesn't understand that water cannot be left in contact with cast iron. It scrubs off, and then the finish can be renewed by using the pan. So it's not that bad.
I don't really know why.
The kitchen isn't that dirty. The squalor of the house is certainly as much my fault as anyone else's. I imagine my frustration at being unable to keep a house to the most basic of human standards of decency is a factor in my short temper, but I don't know really where it comes from. At least for the most part there's no rotting food anywhere but firmly tucked inside the closed garbage can.

But I really don't know. I was in an all right mood. Then, suddenly, I wasn't. I seem to have, in the ensuing tantrum, somehow hit myself in the face, because it stings.

My hands are red and slightly swollen, and not from doing dishes, because I didn't. What, did I wave them around too much? Because that happens...

No, I am not feeling well. And I am sorry to Dave, although I am unsure what happened.

He is angrily making lunch, which is good. Maybe my blood sugar is low or something.

(no subject)

Hm.
Departures from Buffalo Niagara International Airport, realtime.

Over half are cancelled, and some more are delayed.
??

All flights by American: Canceled.
All flights by Delta: Canceled.
All flights by independence: Canceled.
One flight by JetBlue claims to be on time, to JFK, which would be a neat trick. I doubt it's really leaving at 5 pm.
All flights by Northwest: Canceled.
All flights by Southwest claim to be on time.
United claims to be flying on schedule but those flights haven't left yet.
United Express is all delayed.
All of US Air's flights are likely to be delayed but only one is canceled.


And I should go into work why?


I feel like hell, and really want to make up and snuggle with Dave. He's not particularly interested in that, so I suppose I might as well go. Bleh.

edit: jetBlue just canceled all flights too.

A note: jetBlue, Independence, and Southwest are all in the higher-numbered gates, by Jakes and Landmark. United, US Air, United Express, and Delta are in the lower numbers, nearer to All-Stars and Landmark.
All the flights near Jake's are cancelled.
Bah. I bet they'll stick me over there.

Huh.

Came home from work, posted an entry...

It's gone. Didn't get an error message or anything, but it never posted, and it's not there when I click "edit last entry".

Weird.

Don't really remember what it was about. it was probably deep and important. Right? Sure.

yip yip yip yip boiiinnnggg

Customer: "What time do you close?"
Me: "When you leave."

( The Saga Of Flight 7751 To O'Hare )