THE WITCHY WOODS: AN UPDATE

I'm leaning heavily towards naming the nature preserve (mentioned in the previous entry) The Witchy Woods. It has a nice alliterative ring to it, says something magical, and it sounds sort of spooky. So I like that name. There are various places within the woods which I may christen with monikers like 'Manda's Meadow, The Jordan Trail, Mara Glen, Junk Hill (get it?), Marie Dale, The Sally Bluffs, Joel's Polluted Pond, etc., etc. So you'll all be immortalized!

BLACK FRIDAY ... NOT FOR ME

There's a wonderful nature preserve north of the Quad-C campus. If you drive past the school, on Spring Creek, you'll notice a massive copse (if you will) of trees opposite it, on the northern side of the road. I made it my mission, today, to travel into those depths, staff in hand, and tramp about the trails and creeks. One has to park and walk behind an amphitheater to find the footpath which leads, almost imperceptibly, into the woods. (I kind of like the fact that the amphitheater blocks the trail entrance, because that means fewer people will know about it. The less traffic, the better, sez I.) The track winds through the trees for more than a mile. Maybe a mile and a half. Maybe two. It's hard to say, because it's quite a rolling trek; up hill and down dale. Invigorating! Most of the journey is well shaded, but for a few spots where the path crosses secretive glens. There is also a rivulet at the bottom of a deep ravine, crossing the trail or running beside it. A previous traveler had used chalk to mark the way. That was thoughful of them, but not necassary (for me, at least), since I had been here before.

I have twice had large snakes slither across my path (though not today); one of them directly beween my footsteps. Both times, I heard a rattle. I have seen armadillo here, too, and, I think, an owl. Also, when it's warmer, legions of fat, juicy spiders with long, gnarled legs, hang their webs across the path, making the trip particularly tricky.

With all those spiders, it's like Mirkwood.

I'll have to give this place a name. The Witchy Woods? The Forest Primeval? The Shadowy Woods? The Spidery Woods?

The Tiger Woods?
Maybe not.

Any suggestions?

There was a family (with three kids) wandering around the parking lot when I emerged from the path. It was nearly sunset. The man asked me if there were any trails leading back into the trees. "Follow the chalk," I said. I know, from experience, how dark it gets beneath those trees at dusk, but I didn't say anything. Maybe I should have. Pretty soon, those Stygian pathways would be hard to follow. I hope that family didn't get lost in the dark.

Anyway, it really is night time, now, and relatively cold. Rerun is curled up on my bed, asleep. I have to work early tomorrow. I must find something soporific to read.

TODAY'S QUOTE:
The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.
--- John Muir

NAME THAT MIDDLE-EARTHLING (update)

Another installment in the Name That Middle-Earthling game (see previous post: http://magicalmissives.blogspot.com/2005/11/all-over-place.html).

RINGWRAITHS:

They are old beyond guessing. They possess great power, but have become ensnared by the Dark Lord's evil. Now they live to serve him, and The Ring. And they enjoy pursuing gentle, weed-smoking people (like the hobbits) to the bitter end.

They are known to wear billowy black robes.

There are nine of them.

The following group of people are, undoubtedly, Ringwraiths:

Scroll down a bit ...

FANTASY VS. PROPOGANDA

Uneventful days like today call for desperate measures.

So, in order to keep myself from having to write a pointless, eventless blog, I decided to do something about it.

While at work, I tried to find something (even something small and silly) I could do, so that I could write about it later. Luckily, I spotted a coffee table book called George W. Bush: American Hero prominently displayed on a Holiday table near the store entry. So, in an impish moment, I pulled it off and replaced it with Letters From Father Christmas: J.R.R. Tolkien's Christmas Cards to His Children; much more fitting for this time of "peace on Earth" and "good will towards men".

I'm planning to compare sales and see who is the real hero!

As long as Tolkien outsells the goober, I'll be happy!

So, if nothing happens, I'll buy it, myself, and give it to my Republican friend, Fred, for Christmas. Little will he suspect the subterfuge which led to his receiving such a seemingly innocent present from his old pal, Ben.

TODAY'S QUOTE:
Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand.
--- Mark Twain

MILD SPOILERS AHEAD...

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire...

I saw it Friday night with some old B&N friends; Joanne, Denise, and Lisa. Denise had pre-purchased the tickets, so the wait wasn't terribly long. The theater was, however (and as you might imagine), packed. The girl working concessions saw my Order of the Phoenix hat and we got into a conversation about the books and the new movie. (We're everywhere, you know - the Potter faithful. Rowling's Army. Look out world, we're taking over!)

The young lady was very excited about the new film, having seen it the previous night at the midnight premiere. "Best of the four!" she said. Being that this is my favorite book in the series, I was glad to hear it. A lot of people seemed to enjoy the Prisoner of Azkaban book more than any other, but almost uniformly, that movie is deemed the most disappointing by the same people (and me).

Well, I'm happy to say that, in my humble opinion, the concession girl was right. This was one scary, funny, very dark, emotional, sexy (yes, sexy), intensely acted, and visually grand piece of work. I especially loved Brendan Gleason, a classic character actor, as the new (and very paranoid) Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. He's covered in scars from his many battles with dark wizards and their ilk, limps around on a peg leg, and wears an over large, magical glass eye. It pivots around, robotically, and can not only zoom in and out like a camera, but can, apparently, see through the back of Moody's head at whatever is going on behind him.

Also new to Hogwarts are students visiting from the French school of magic, Beauxbatons, all of whom are lovely French girls in matching school girl uniforms. And from an eastern European academy called Durmstrang, all of whom are boys who look like strapping Russian wrestlers.

They're here for the Triwizard Tournament. This is a grand competition in which champions from each of the three schools (chosen magically by the Goblet of Fire, into which hopeful contestants place their names) compete in events that feature fire breathing dragons, trident-wielding merpeople, and a giant maze.

So what happens?
Hagrid gets a girlfriend. There's a big Yule Ball in which Hermione (transforming for the event like the proverbial duckling into a swan) attends with somebody other than either Ron or Harry. And it's someone who is a threat to both of them!
Of course Harry battles the dragons (and they're big ones), the merpeople, and ultimately Lord Voldemort, himself. The dark one has triumphantly regained his physical form, and now he's poised to destroy Harry, Hogwarts, and all that we hold dear! Their confrontation is extremely spooky. Ralph Fienes (as Voldemort, with a flat, slitted snake's nose) emerges from an infant-like state into a grown man, and all thanks to a drop of Harry's precious blood! The great actor does all kinds of creepy things with his hands and his body as he grows pleasurably accustomed to being alive at last. I was a little reminded of Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now (believe it or not), only this time I wasn't confused and annoyed. Just creeped out!

I should also mention that Ron gets sick and tired of the great Harry Potter always being the hero, and their friendship suffers; Moaning Myrtle comes up through a drain pipe and makes a pass at Harry when he's trying to take a bath (very funny); Harry meets a girl he really likes, and she isn't English; and everyone has someone to dance with at the big ball except Ron (who can't and/or won't).

At the end, there's the magnificent maze, in which contestants from the three schools get lost trying to locate the tournament cup. But there's more awaiting them than dead ends and wrong turns. One guess as to who emerges victoriously, although not as happily as you might imagine. Not happily at all, in fact.


With effects akin to Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings, the Potter series has stepped up its craft to a grander, more impressive scale. The young actors (and even the new Beuaxbatons and Durmstrang kids) have become a cohesive ensemble, each one knowing their role and playing it for what it's worth. And, naturally, the adult actors are some of the finest England (and, therefore, the world) has to offer. The new director has departed, to a great extent, from the franchise formula, which is what any extended series needs, to breath life into it and keep it from growing repetitive.

My Opinion: It's dark, it's fun, hormones run amuck, and it's the best Harry Potter yet. Loads of wicked fun!

ALL OVER THE PLACE

Shorter days, longer nights. It's finally cooling off. Winter is upon us. I want nothing more than to stay indoors with a cup of tea, a fire, a good book, and my fat cat.

I'm about ready to sign up for more classes. Maybe next week. First I must collect various transcripts from other colleges I've attended. What a long, illustrious trip down memory lane that'll be! (That's sarcasm, if you can't tell!)

Had coffee today with Mara. We met at the Creekwalk Starbucks (where we bumped into my old friend, John E.), then wandered over to Barnes and Noble. It's changed a lot; new layout, new faces. We saw Lisa, who seemed sweet and a little sad. I used to be so (unrequitedly) infatuated with her that I was barely able to concentrate on anything or anyone else when she was around. I could hardly even drive a car if she was my passenger. It was like I was drunk or something. But not anymore. She is not suited to me at all. Her beliefs are too conventionally Bibical and conservative for my tastes. Jesus and George Bush - all that biz. And these aren't really big convictions of hers (except for, maybe, the Jesus part). They're just something she has accepted. Never the less, I always loved that provocative way she had about her, and her secret warmth. And her singing.

ANYWAY! Enough about her. As I said, I'm over that!

Besides, I prefer women who don't cause me to wreck my car!

I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Mara, today. I could sit and share a conversation with her for hours. She's a mature woman, with intelligent ideas to express, and beautiful, bottomless green eyes. And a sensitive heart. And a mean wit. And she can read a book in one sitting while drinking coffee in the Borders cafe! And she doesn't like Bush or the war, nor does she buy into conventional religious beliefs. This means we can both speak freely without it becoming a debate.

Damn! All the good ones are taken!

She's probably going to read all this.

--- so ---

Hi, Mara. I had fun. Thanks!

Tonight, I had dinner at Aunt Sally's. Chili and a big salad. Dump cake for dessert. Great food and better company. And I didn't even pass out during the mystery program! Sally and I discussed religion in depth, and she made some good points about God's infinite nature being something that cannot be limited or defined by human conventions (like religion). It was from something she was reading by an author named Spong (who I've read before); something that I will likely borrow from work and read, myself.

I'll have to have Sally and the gang over to my place again, some day.

Tomorrow is the premier of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I will be going with some friends.

When I came home tonight, I discoverd that Marie, a regular commenter on my blog, has started a blog of her own. She's another smart cookie, and quite fetching. She's the slender witch in the short skirt I mentioned in a previous blog. She's also a dedicated scholar (sort of like Hermione Granger). She writes a lot about brainy, science subject matter that I will only ever understand if I ask a million questions. She likes Japanese culture and even taught me a few words of Japanese (but I forgot them).

Hi, Marie, welcome to the wonderful world of blogging!

All these interesting, intelligent, strong, amazing women.

I love them.

P.S. I've dreamed up a simple game to waste your time. Take a famous person or persons from history and categorize them (in a very abstract way) as inhabitants of Middle Earth. For instance, hobbits. They love peace; playing, singing, and composing songs and poetry; and they like to smoke funny weeds; but they can be petty and often fight over things like wealth and property. I'd say the following (completely random) group of people are clearly hobbits:

Wizards, however, are brilliant and eccentric problem-solvers, and they do and think things that seem like magic to the rest of us. And, though they are often, by virtue of their sheer greatness, involved in the world's larger politics, they (the good ones, at least) would probably rather spend their time having fun with the hobbits.

The next image you will see, is definitely that of a wizard:

Nothing to it. Just a time waster.


TODAY'S QUOTE:
"If you can spend a perfectly useless afternoon in a perfectly useless manner, you have learned how to live."
--- Lin Yutang

A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY...

There's no real reason for this entry. I just felt like it.

And why I love it ...

Way back in 1977, when I was but a wee sprout, rumor spread of a great new movie that, with little anticipation, had taken audiences by surprise and was conquering the world. You have to realize that, at that point, movies had become depressingly real and raw. There was a general tendency to show the ugliness in the world that had always been ignored before. We were paying the price for years of happy endings and propogandistic war movies. Films were now introducing us to the anti-hero, moral ambiguity, satire, irony, and unflinching views of death, drugs, war (especially Vietnam), and, basically, just how much life can suck. The days of the great Hollywood musical were long gone. The Western had become less adventure epic and more dark morality play. The old guard was challenged at every turn by rebellious anti-establishment newcomers. They were presenting everything on screen that could never be shown before - from Dustin Hoffman dying in a puddle of piss to Ned Beatty being raped by hillbillies to Slim Pickens riding a phallic A-bomb to its inevitable conclusion. About the most fun you could have at the cinema, back then, was when satanically possessed Linda Blair spewed vomit and profanities at priests (The Exorcist) or a great white shark ripped hapless swimmers and fishermen to shreds (Jaws).

My folks saw the movie before I ever did. I didn't feel like going out the night they went. I don't remember why. All I know is that they came back raving, and insisted I go and see this exciting, swashbuckling, outerspace dynamo of a film. But I thought, "What do parents know?" Then I began to hear talk on the playground; something about someone named Dark Vader. Who was this Dark Vader?

"He's a big black guy," said my friend, Larry. I pictured Geoffery Holder or James Earl Jones. I was partially right.

There was banter about something called "The Death Star" and talk of wookies, droids, and light sabers. It was like a different language, and I was beginning to feel left out.

So, of course, I went and saw it. I'm a little sorry I don't remember who I went with. It was a momentous ocassion for me, as it was for a lot of kids at that age, seeing "Star Wars" for the first time. I'd like to remember all the details, but unfortunately, I don't. It might have been with Garland; my best friend at the time. Or it might have been with my parents. I just don't remember. All I can recall is sitting in the darkness of the old Northpark I and II theater (a great place, gone forever) and seeing silent blue words appear on a black screen: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away ...
Oooooh..... mystery, intrigue ... I wondered what lay ahead. And then - BOOM! - a vast explosion of John Williams and the LSO as a calvacade of giant letters scrolled off into space beginning with EPISODE IV: A NEW HOPE.

Episode ... IV? What happened to one through three?

There wasn't time to ponder this question, because the movie took off pretty fast. I sat there and watched it unfold. There was a rebellion, it seemed, because the galaxy was in danger from an evil empire. And when the "big black guy" first appeared, his aqualung breathing would forever after be his calling card (like that two note musical phrase that always announces the shark from "Jaws").

It was Darth, I discovered, and not Dark Vader. And he was not a black man. He was just in a scary black suit with a big black helmet and cape. But his voice sounded an awful lot like James Earl Jones.

Then there was little r2-d2, with his fussy robot sidekick c3p0. At first, I thought, for sure, the little droid was the story's main protagonist. I watched as a mysterious woman in the mists loaded a secret message into his memory. Then I followed him through the bleak deserts of Tatooine and saw him shanghaied by small, yellow-eyed scavengers. How cute, I thought. A movie about a funny, courageous little robot! But, of course, he was only leading us to the real hero; the fatherless, motherless, blond-haired, blue-eyed farm boy, Luke Skywalker.

I still think there's little in the movies to match that moment when Luke gazes up, longingly, at the two moons of Tatooine at dusk. He dreams of adventure and escape. The eternal yearning of youth.

Luke was the hero.

But he wasn't the star.

Not even the great Sir Alec Guiness, as decrepit Jedi mentor Obiwan Kenobi, could make that claim.

Not when Han Solo was so cool.
Not when Harrison Ford was, suddenly, the heir apparent to Errol Flynn and Douglas Fairbanks.
Not when he says things like, "Cheap parlour tricks and hokey religions are no match for a good blaster by your side." Or "Ain't no all powerful force controls my destiny." Or "Where did you dig up that old fossil?" Or "No reward is worth this!" Or "It was a boring conversation, anyway".

Or, finally, at long last:

"Hey Luke ...

...may the force be with you..."

That's one for the ages, people.

They cheered. That crowd went crazy when the Death Star (not a small moon, no way!) exploded into space dust. And Darth Vader, in his damaged tie-fighter, spun wildly into space leaving us open for a parade of sequels and prequels.

There was so much to wonder about. What was the secret of Luke's lineage? Who would the Princess choose - Luke or Han? How could they all be happy if she chose just one of them? And, since Darth Vader murdered Luke's dad (and now Obiwan, too), did that mean that Luke must avenge his father's betrayl, and his mentor's sacrifice, by killing Darth Vader?

By now, of course, all these questions have been answered.

The main thing, I think, was that people left the theater happy. We all went out with stupid grins on our faces and the word "Wow!" on our lips. The good guys won. And nobody overdosed on drugs, or stepped on a land mine in Vietnam, or got sodomized by the Clampetts.

Star Wars was proof that artistic greatness isn't necassarily reliant on heavy messages and unblinking views of life's harshness. Nor does popularity indicate a lack of merit. Annie Hall won the Oscar for Best Picture that year, but you tell me which movie has had the greater effect on the world's culture. I mean, seriously, you can say the words "Boba Phett" or "Tuscan Raider" or "Jabba the Hut" or "May the Force Be With You" almost anywhere on Earth, and people know exactly what you're talking about.

EPILOGUE: In the period following the release of Star Wars, as we awaited the next installment, my friends and I debated, over Luke and Vader action figures and repeated playings of the John Williams soundtrack, about what might happen next. There was a little Korean boy, named Tony, who insisted that Darth Vader was, in reality, Luke's father. We all laughed at that, because everybody knew that Obiwan had said, "A young Jedi named Darth Vader betrayed and murdered your father." How could Darth Vader be Luke's father if he was the one who killed Luke's father? "Gah! Tony you idiot!"

Last I heard, Tony got a near-perfect score on his SAT and ended up going to M.I.T.

The Force was strong with that one.

TODAY'S QUOTE: "Never tell me the odds!" --- Han Solo

THE BENEFITS AND DANGERS OF BEING MASSIVE & INVINCIBLE

I am back into my workout routine.

For two weeks now I've been hitting the weights like there's (forget tomorrow) no five minutes from now. I'm starting to see the results, and my body is starting, slowly, to take back its old Massive & Invincible dimensions.

In days of yore (high school) my nickname was, in fact, Mister Massive & Invincible, because I worked out all the time. M&I. My old super-hero alter-ego. I've let that old physique come and go. But I find that, after letting myself go for a time, and I can always get it back. It just takes work, determination, and discipline. It's fun to be underestimated during an "off" period, then to come back strong and say "Sucka!"

I love the power of transformation. I love to see my body (or anyone else's) change by virtue of exercise and diet. It's like puberty all over again. Of course, the one who's morphing always sees it first. I'll notice the changes long before anyone else does, and, in fact, I'm already seeing them. But, in time, others will start to see them, too. I'll also need to take up some rigorous jogging for my cardio workout. Flatten the old stomach. Lose the extra fat around the face.

Naturally, working out and looking good are, in the end, not to please or impress others (much). True massiveness is its own reward.

Words to live by.

However, it is great when girls start looking at me. They treat me differently when I look different. They're just as bad as guys about that. Oh well, it's good for the ego. Customers are more respectful, too, as are co-workers. I know this seems shallow, but it is also very true. It helps to look and feel good. People respond differently to a happy, healthy, good-looking, self-confident person than they do to someone who seems edgy, weak, and lacking in self-confidence. However, it helps to have it together in the knowledege department, too. I can be as magnetic and charming as I'd like, but without knowing what the hell I'm doing, I might as well be .... Gilderoy Lockhart.

Which is why I'm going back to school.

Anyway ...
Last night, Chris came over and we watched "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory". I made a stew with lots of curry powder, ground turkey, stewed tomatoes, carrots, onions, potatoes, etc. Very tasty. The movie was strange and entertaining. The oompa-loompas were all the same miniature Indian fellow, CGIed into mass numbers. Is Willy Wonka outsourcing? There were a couple of big laughs (killer squirells and the shameful truth about cotton candy), and Johnny Depp's performance as Willy Wonka (widely underrated) was, I thought, appropriately weird. And I was pleased that Christopher Lee cameoed as Willy's dad, in flashbacks. He's one of the all time greats, in my opinion, and a superior Dracula to all the others, except maybe Bela Lugosi. Shame on Peter Jackson for cutting his death-scene from The Lord of the Rings. I hope to be as healthy, attractive, and mentally fit when I'm in my eighties. Thank you, Mister Lee. You're an inspiration!

I never caught the zombie virus from work, and now I find myself in the midst of two consecutive days off. Very happy. Monday, I'm closing the store. This means I'll be able to go to school, early in the day, to start the sign-up process for classes. I'm going to whip this thing if it kills me!

As for now, I'm back to the weight room (M&I's secret hideout) for more repetitions!

P.S. I know the dangers of proclaiming oneself to be Massive and Invincible. It often facilitates a crashing and burning of the ego into "I'm not worthy" lowliness. I intend, after my workout, to mellow out and be cool. A puffed-up ego is often the cause of grave disappointment, resentment, stupid mistakes, and even temper tantrums. The M&I uppitiness is reserved, these days, for getting myself pumped so that I can get back to working out, and create the body I want.

Hopefully, this time, I'll have the same passion for school.

I also know that not everybody will love me just because I'm in shape.

They'll love me, rather, because I'm so sexy.

TODAY'S QUOTE (roughly):
"Working out in the gym is as satisfying to me as - um - cumming; having sex with a woman; cumming. So you can imagine how much I am in heaven. I am cumming in the gym. I am cumming at home. I am cumming when I pose in front of 5,000 people. I am cumming all the time."
--- Arnold Schwarzenager

English was not his first language.

AN INVITATION...

...to anyone who reads this blog. Next Friday is the opening of "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" in theaters everywhere. So I'm sending out the word to any of you who might like to accompany me to the movie next week. It'll be a blast! I imagine the Legacy movie-plex here in Plano would be the best place to see it. I have Friday off (by request, of course). I also have Thursday off, if anyone is fanatical enough to want to go to the midnight maiden voyage of the film. I'm open to suggestions. But don't expect me to wear the Gilderoy Lockhart costume. I'm retiring it until the next book. And that'll probably be the last time I wear it -- a sad, sad day.

THE ZOMBIE VIRUS FROM HELL!!!

As if 80 degree weather in November wasn't freaky enough, now we've got a killer zombie stomach flu to contend with! Everyone got sick today. The premature employee exit rate at work was astounding as, one by one, people got the gut rot and stumbled out. I, personally, am still okay, which is surprising since I always seem to get any stomach ailment that's going around. I think half the staff is out sick, though. Poor Jordan is in the hospital. I'm really worried, because he is unable to keep down any liquids and he could dehydrate. He also has a heart condition which has been compounded by all the excessive barfing. His heart-rate was up to 200 beats per minute! Poor guy.
Brian called in, too, saying he was at death's door with a vomitous ailment. Jerry S. fell ill towards the end of his shift and could barely manage to finish a conversation, because he was so nauseous. Tabitha walked out looking green around the gills. Margaret broke her wrist when she fell out of her car in mid-vomit. Several of the new people claimed they were sick and would probably not be back tomorrow. I have one more day until I get a two day reprieve. I'm praying to God that I don't catch it. I just want to stay home with my doors locked. I don't want to answer the phones at work, because they might be contaminated. It's like a zombie movie - Dawn of the Dead. The evil zombie virus is claiming people everywhere and I am one of the last survivors. Who'll be next? Please don't let it be me!

P.S. I was joking about people writing to each other on my blog, nothing being sacred, etc. I hope it didn't come across as serious. That's why I threw in the bit about Rerun. Without vocal tone and inflection, it's hard to tell, sometimes, what people are trying to put across. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves, please.

GUY FAWKES DAY

Today is Guy Fawkes Day. It's my second favorite holiday (next to Halloween). Only the English would celebrate a failure. I mean, here in the States, we have Independence Day; the result of a successful revolution; with fireworks and explosions which, obviously, represent the destruction and tumult of war. Yippeee!

Over there, however, they celebrate the bungled attempt of an inept revolutionary (Fawkes) to blow up Parliament. He was discovered and arrested in a cellar beneath the House of Lords (into which he and other malcontents had tunneled) with a massive supply of gunpowder. Apparently, his co-conspirators evacuated when they learned that their plot might hurt innocent people, leaving Fawkes to guard the kegs of powder. Whether or not he was still planning to ignite them is unclear.

The fireworks, in this case, must represent something that didn't actually happen. The English probably wish all such terrorists were as inept as Fawkes.

I should note that Fawkes was, summarily, tortured and executed, and the English burn him in effigy every Fifth of November. Merry Olde England.

Poor olde Guy.

To read all about Guy Fawkes, go here:http://www.bonefire.org/guy/ .

And now for something completely different:

Yesterday, I learned that some of our brainiest science people have discovered that pigments found in curry can both reverse and prevent the brain plaque which causes Alzheimer's Disease. This is wonderful news for us all (if the research pans out).

India, incidentally, has one of the lowest rates of Alzheimer's.
To read all about it, go here:
http://channels.netscape.com/homerealestate/package.jsp?name=fte/yellowcurry/yellowcurry&floc=HR-1-L3

Anyone for Indian food?

I had a great day at work, today. Felt like a leader! Acted like one, too. I think we're going to survive Christmas. All the major merchandising and inventory is done, and now we can concentrate on keeping (getting) the store organized. I feel quite capable of raising the morale of the people around me. I can feel others being inspired when I'm in a good mood, and the whole crew seems down when I'm feeling low. What power! I have to be careful how I use it. I may also have to overcome some people's perceptions of me. Either that, or just ignore them completely. And I'm trying to empathize with even my most difficult co-workers. What else can a good manager do?

Did you know that there is a patron saint of booksellers (and/or librarians)? He is called St. Jerome. He is also the saint of the insane.

Anyway, thoughts of school still buzz in my brain...

.. .you see, I've got this plan to detonate a huge cargo of gunpowder in the catacombs beneath SMU, and then ... no?

TODAY'S QUOTE:

"Remember, remember
the Fifth of November."
-- John Lennon (again)

ART, DRUDGERY, ROBOTS, AND DESPERADOS

Well, today was a tale of two halves. The first half was great. The second was frustrating. Early on, I was in my own element and feeling good. I even looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. Not in any narcissistic way (much), but I like the way I look. I like me. Anyway, I spent the early part of the day thinking a lot about going back to school, and about some of the great responses people gave to my last blog. Thank you all. Then I drove down to Dallas, to the Whole Foods Market, where my great friend, Amanda, was showing her wares at a big art show. She introduced me to the other artists as "a writer". I'll luv her forever for that! It was really fun to see all the wild painting, sculpture, jewelry, etc. and the artisans (many of whom were very attractive females!). Amanda has dyed her hair this outrageous reddish colour that, definitely, suits her. I really dug one of her paintings; a surreal sort of collage of images related to the elements. I loved it and I bought it. Eighty-five dollars. A small price to pay to support good friends and the arts. I wish I had a picture of it to display here, but I don't. I do, however, have a picture of Amanda with her funky new hair. I borrowed it from her blog. (Hope you don't mind, Mandy.) That's her, to the left. Isn't she cool? Dig those puckered up lips, the krinkled nose. It's like somebody farted. Anyway, I now have two Amanda originals, and I'm betting, someday, they'll be worth some money. Hang on to her, Jordo, she's a goldmine!
So that's the good part of the day. The bad part began as soon as I got to work.
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Then, after work, things got truly weird. I came right home and started blogging, but then I got a distressed phone call and I had to log off and go see what was afoot. A situation had arisen that had nothing to do with me, personally, but involved a desperate friend (musicians!) who needed help. He was asking a lot of me. Too much, as it turned out. I absolutely refused to do what he asked. That's about as much as I can say about it, except that I'm certain I made the right decision, and I earned my own respect (and his, too, I think) from how I handled things. Sometimes, you have to tell a friend that they've made their own mess and now they have to clean it up. Other times, you have to tell them that they're completely crazy, and they're stretching the limits of your friendship. This is all very cryptic, I know, but the episode was so unusual that I had to get out of there, pronto, and come right back home and finish blogging. Now I'm safe and sound with Rerun, my attack cat.