trash

i had a really crappy day at work today. and there’s some tech stuff i could post on here, but who wants to read that crap? besides, i’m tired of thinking about it.

i have been so busy at work this week i haven’t had time to be disillusioned. after work emily and i grabbed some chinese food and i decompressed. emily took me home and headed over to her parent’s house to take care of her uncle keith. me, i’m sitting at home listening to toots and the maytals, cat curled up beside me, and i’m trying to decide whether i want to read or make some stencils.

yup, life at home is pretty good.

while walking home yesterday i found a big piece of board leaning up by a trash can. it was heavy but i only had a block to go so i ended up lugging it home. well, now it’s here, and it’s some crap piece of board that was probably the top to a walmart desk. i don’t know why it was so heavy…maybe just it’s shear size. i don’t really know what to do with it except put it back out on the dumpster.

my whole month has been like this.

entourage vs. exchange server upgrades

The scene: One distraught user, working on a Very Important Project (aren’t they all – this one really was, though), whose entire email heirarchy had duplicated itself and then systematically deleted all messages from within all folders (including contacts, calendars, etc).

The culprit: Entourage 2004, with all patches applied. And, an Exchange server migration of said users mailbox.

The solution: Who wants to wait around to restore from tape? The easiest way to fix this (without restoring from tape) is to have the user log into Outlook 2003 on a machine that has this registry fix applied: http://support.microsoft.com/kb/246153 – and then systematically restore deleted items from each subfolder.

If you do end up restoring from tape, delete the munged Exchange profile (not identity) within Entourage *before* the restore, and then recreate the Entourage profile after the restore is complete. Otherwise, this will be an endless cycle.

stormclouds and rust

went puttering around yesterday and came back with this:

there’s something to be said about being okay, and there’s something to be said about not. there’s a story behind that photo, one of joy and sorrow and emptiness and the way the sunlight shines off your hair in the morning, but i’m not sure what it is yet.

Le Salaire de la peur

ok, i take back what i said about not being able to sit through very many two hour movies. this one runs right about 2hr20min, and for the last hour and a half i was glued to the seat, biting my fingernails.

this movie is fantastic. it is the story of desperate men in desperate times, who take desperate measures in search of a little financial stability. in english, that means they are hired by an oil company to transport a truckload of nitroglycerin across rough terrain to an oil field. the storyline takes a bit to develop, but it is well worth it.

best movie, hands down. ever.

i’m not a citizen

stolen from xquerenciax, who stole it from someone else.
Trapped miners! Have you guys been following this? It’s horrible. Apparently, more than 40,000 miners in West Virginia are trapped in lives of crushing poverty and hopelessness. All of the networks just cut in to their programming to go live on location.

Not sure what happened yet … some kind of explosion in the global economy and domestic political culture. The miners were just trying to put food on their families when they all got left behind.

Rescue teams are on the way armed with health insurance, good public schools and responsible energy policy, but it’s not clear whether they can make it in time.

—

this mark on my arm, a product of my privilege. when i am sick, i can go to the doctor without worrying about how to pay for it. when i am hungry, i can cook something to eat without having to dig in a dumpster first. when i am bored, i can listen to music or read a book in my library without having to leave the house. when i am restless, i can go for a walk without worrying about roadside bombings or abductions.

everything i do is a product of my privilege.

my tears taste like the ocean

the window is open behind the blinds and the sounds of a still monday evening in the city drift in. a train sounds its whistle on tracks near my favorite forgotten place, just a mile or two from here but how easily i too forget the peace found within its burnt walls and cracked marble siding.

last night i was beyond sad, and my girl took me out driving in the fog. put in the cd and shut your eyes quick, who knows where the wind may take us. we found some houses i have never seen, homes without a soul, larger than my block but with old growth forests intact. it’s tricky how forests make me feel at ease, tricky how they can transport me somewhere i’d rather be. fast forward to the suburbs of strip malls, where the only trees were landscaped and i feel the ache return.

whistle while breathing in, whistle while breathing out. the city still breathes with me at night, even when i’m sober, but my breath has grown shallow.

what i should have said

these tattoos that you don’t understand, think of them like this. you do a bunch of stuff that should have killed you, and you come to a sort of realization about it all and make some pretty drastic changes. and then, without warning, you are *this* close to dying again.

“memento mori”
“memento vivere”

remember these things. you must die, you must live. do your best every time you can, don’t lie in the cesspool of doubt you would love to sink in.

weary as water

every time i blink i have a tiny dream

Monthly Archives: January 2006