This message brought to you by the letter F, the letter U, and the number 2.

So. Hoo-boy. Life flies by. June already. Taken the old mtb out a grand total of twice. That's $400 per ride, kids. I probably could have given up those two rides and purchased the bike now, and saved myself another hundred bucks. Oh well. I wish I could say it was all worth it, that those two rides were really my new reason for living, that I discovered great new friends and stretched my irrational boundaries, charting new physical and psychological territory... but I cannot.

In fact, speaking of friends, lately I'd say I'm about two friends shy of an OldKate. Coincidentally two mountain biking friends shy. I hate to be a vidictive bastard* but this is not the first time in my life that a birthday party was planned five feet away from me and I wasn't invited... and I was right about the intention of the last transgressors**. Or maybe I'm just being too sensitive. I dunno.

* oh who am I kidding?? That's my real reason for living, folks!
** it was ninth grade, it was Becky Heumann's birthday, and my friends decided to dump me. My father was the principal. Kids are cruel. I was empty.

Libby LaPier had grown-up eyes.

Hey, speaking of irrational acts of adolescent silliness, I was in the bathroom at the movies the other day, thinking about sixth grade and how I had basically the same haircut I have now, which is to say no haircut, mostly just a giant mop of knots cascading down my back or spiking off my crown, and how all the other girls in my class had perms or perfect straight braidable hair.

I was never one for hair... fancy girl hair, I mean. My mother had short hair forever and she would put my hair in a ponytail and then drag it up to the top of my head. Other mothers did pigtails, french braids, twisty sparkly ribbon-trimmed works of early morning art; my mom poured me coffee and never said anything mean when she couldn't get the comb through my knots. And that's why I love her so much. And that's also why I love my hair so much. It is real and it is big in a small way and it is me.

Anyway, this one girl had just the tamest, most braidable hair you've ever seen. And Libby LaPier, who sat next to me in desks and always looked happy, used to leave her notes like this: Wear your hair down! -Secret Admirer.

And Libby LaPier had grown-up eyes. I remember thinking that they looked blank back then. I was wrong. I get the same look from the Mexican ladies at work, from the skinny cream cheese girls at Bagel Street, and from the snottier of the grad students I know, the ones trying to induce degree envy. Heh. Just try to bring me down.

notice i am not listed.

Results from the CCW Sprints. Self-esteem can only make you so good -- Sometimes, I am only a winner in practice.

For the record, work still sucks.

Hey, does anyone want to hire a Mechanical Engineer, with 4 years of product design experience and above-average communication skills? I would sure like a new job. I'll be available starting in December of 2001 and I'd sure like to relocate to the Albany/Bennington/Saratoga area. Resume to follow.

Hopefully in my next job I can avoid debacles like this one: I am totally swamped at work and I've given up the absolute perfect vacation, so that I can stay here and dig my life away-o.

Ta.

That's all for now, mostly I just wanted to re-publish so I could get my intermediate entries*** back.

***heh, don't want to lose those. right.

Posted at 6:23 PM in category Old (this category is huge!)