Monday, October 21, 2002
Monday, September 30, 2002
I need Image::Magick damnit
Yeah... So I used to have this WONDERFUL tool built into Movable Type where I could upload a picture, choose whether I want an embedded image or a pop-up, and if I chose pop-up, I could specify the size of the thumbnail I wanted, it would make a perfectly sized popup window with no scrollbars or menus, and it would spit the lovely chunk of code out for me to paste wherever I pleased.
My webhost SWEARS that Image::Magick has been installed... Funny, Movable Type says it hasn't. And because of this, the reconstruction of my entire website is on hold until I figure out what the hell to do about this.
I think it goes without saying that I'm pretty peeved over it. So I got bored and changed templates... I don't particularly like ANY of the templates supplied with MT, but I got sick of looking at the navy blue/white one.
Enjoy.
My webhost SWEARS that Image::Magick has been installed... Funny, Movable Type says it hasn't. And because of this, the reconstruction of my entire website is on hold until I figure out what the hell to do about this.
I think it goes without saying that I'm pretty peeved over it. So I got bored and changed templates... I don't particularly like ANY of the templates supplied with MT, but I got sick of looking at the navy blue/white one.
Enjoy.
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Reflections of the past
It's been one year. One year ago today the world was changed. Today, on this first anniversary of September 11th, 2001, the pain of what we've witnessed has not faded for many, but rather intensified. I am one of those people who feels more sorrow today than I did as I watched the horrific events live on my television.
I, like everyone else in the world, will never forget where I was and what I was feeling as terrorists brought down the World Trade Center, four planes, and part of the Pentagon. Being in California, it was just past 6am when my mother came in to wake me up for work. Being a deep sleeper, I didn't pay much attention when I heard her say someone crashed a plane into the World Trade Center and dozed back off for that extra precious fifteen minutes of sleep. Shortly after, she came in again and told me that a second plane had hit. I can still hear her softly saying "Christine, we're under attack." Still not quite understanding what she meant, I quietly slipped out of bed so as not to wake my (at the time) boyfriend. I followed my mother up to her bedroom where the news was blaring from the television, and was instantly awake the moment my eyes fell upon the screen. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Initially, I was still confused as to what was going on and stood in front of the TV numb with shock as my mother summed up what had happened so far. It seemed like every three seconds the news reporters were talking of other suspected planes in the air whose whereabouts were unknown and I wondered what kind of lashing (if any) I would get for not coming into work that day. I finally resolved to go into the office, but ended up being quite late because I couldn't pry my eyes from the TV to get dressed and brush my hair. As I watched the towers burning, though the cameras were far away, I could see things falling from the windows and it hit me: My god, those are people. How bad must it be in there for them to decide that leaping out the windows would be a better fate? I had not been thinking of the people on the floors below the crash sites. It never occured to me that they might not make it out. I started counting what windows were left in the areas where the planes hit and from that guessed that about ten floors had been destroyed. I wondered how the people above those floors would possibly get down. I was suprised I saw no choppers heading for the roof to lift away any people who thought to get up there, that is if there was any way an aircraft could navigate through all that smoke in the first place. Then the camera zoomed in on the missing floors of Tower One and I got a good glimpse of how empty all those floors were. Not much other than a few steel beams appeared to be supporting the numerous stories above, and in a daze, I said to my mother, "Oh my god, look at where the plane hit. There's nothing there, just a hole! How the hell is that building still standing?" And literally no more than five seconds after I finished that sentence, the steel beams gave and Tower One was no more. As I watched the building coming down and realizing how many people must be inside there, and imagining the horror of what the victims must be feeling at that very moment as they lost their lives, I couldn't breathe and ran to the bathroom as the contents of my stomach made their way up my esophagus. I was so confused and filled with so many mixed emotions that I couldn't think straight at all. But unable to look at my television any longer, I hugged my mother, told her I loved her, and headed out to the office. And just minutes later, sitting in traffic while listening to the radio, I heard a report of the second tower having come down as well.
The rest of that morning, the thing I remember most is the faces of the people I encountered. I stopped near my work for a smoothie to try and calm my stomach and get something cold in me to help stop my tears, and this smoothie shop that is normally full of life seemed so surreal to me. There were several people in there, but no one spoke a word. All the faces had a somber blank stare, as did mine, while everyone was trying to comprehend what was happening. When I reached the office, I was suprised and appaled that my coworkers were not mourning, but rather spewing racist remarks about turning the whole middle-east into a parking lot before we even knew who had attacked us. I was so angry that day. And confused, scared, and overwhelmingly sad.
Now, one year later, I still feel those emotions, but the one that has grown in intensity is my sadness. I did not know anyone who was killed that day in the attacks, but my heart goes out to all those lost lives and the families and friends who mourn them. Details from survivors have been told and we now know some of what was happening inside those buildings. A flood of pictures have been released of the faces of those who were there in Manhatten as well as the families of those lost. And though I can never fully understand what those people must be feeling, I have had a year to absorb the details and understand what this all means for the future, and my grief over what happened has only grown. I am terrified for what the future holds now, what it will hold for my children, if I live long enough to have any. Nothing we do can ever bring back the people who died that day, but I hope the American people banding together and comforting each other will continue to make us stronger and be a part of what is written in the history books for generations to come. I will never forget the emotions from that day (as well as today, I can't seem to stop crying no matter what I do) and I will be sure to tell my children and grandchildren about those events from the perspectives that their classrooms will not include.
I for one will never forget what was lost one year ago today.
I, like everyone else in the world, will never forget where I was and what I was feeling as terrorists brought down the World Trade Center, four planes, and part of the Pentagon. Being in California, it was just past 6am when my mother came in to wake me up for work. Being a deep sleeper, I didn't pay much attention when I heard her say someone crashed a plane into the World Trade Center and dozed back off for that extra precious fifteen minutes of sleep. Shortly after, she came in again and told me that a second plane had hit. I can still hear her softly saying "Christine, we're under attack." Still not quite understanding what she meant, I quietly slipped out of bed so as not to wake my (at the time) boyfriend. I followed my mother up to her bedroom where the news was blaring from the television, and was instantly awake the moment my eyes fell upon the screen. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Initially, I was still confused as to what was going on and stood in front of the TV numb with shock as my mother summed up what had happened so far. It seemed like every three seconds the news reporters were talking of other suspected planes in the air whose whereabouts were unknown and I wondered what kind of lashing (if any) I would get for not coming into work that day. I finally resolved to go into the office, but ended up being quite late because I couldn't pry my eyes from the TV to get dressed and brush my hair. As I watched the towers burning, though the cameras were far away, I could see things falling from the windows and it hit me: My god, those are people. How bad must it be in there for them to decide that leaping out the windows would be a better fate? I had not been thinking of the people on the floors below the crash sites. It never occured to me that they might not make it out. I started counting what windows were left in the areas where the planes hit and from that guessed that about ten floors had been destroyed. I wondered how the people above those floors would possibly get down. I was suprised I saw no choppers heading for the roof to lift away any people who thought to get up there, that is if there was any way an aircraft could navigate through all that smoke in the first place. Then the camera zoomed in on the missing floors of Tower One and I got a good glimpse of how empty all those floors were. Not much other than a few steel beams appeared to be supporting the numerous stories above, and in a daze, I said to my mother, "Oh my god, look at where the plane hit. There's nothing there, just a hole! How the hell is that building still standing?" And literally no more than five seconds after I finished that sentence, the steel beams gave and Tower One was no more. As I watched the building coming down and realizing how many people must be inside there, and imagining the horror of what the victims must be feeling at that very moment as they lost their lives, I couldn't breathe and ran to the bathroom as the contents of my stomach made their way up my esophagus. I was so confused and filled with so many mixed emotions that I couldn't think straight at all. But unable to look at my television any longer, I hugged my mother, told her I loved her, and headed out to the office. And just minutes later, sitting in traffic while listening to the radio, I heard a report of the second tower having come down as well.
The rest of that morning, the thing I remember most is the faces of the people I encountered. I stopped near my work for a smoothie to try and calm my stomach and get something cold in me to help stop my tears, and this smoothie shop that is normally full of life seemed so surreal to me. There were several people in there, but no one spoke a word. All the faces had a somber blank stare, as did mine, while everyone was trying to comprehend what was happening. When I reached the office, I was suprised and appaled that my coworkers were not mourning, but rather spewing racist remarks about turning the whole middle-east into a parking lot before we even knew who had attacked us. I was so angry that day. And confused, scared, and overwhelmingly sad.
Now, one year later, I still feel those emotions, but the one that has grown in intensity is my sadness. I did not know anyone who was killed that day in the attacks, but my heart goes out to all those lost lives and the families and friends who mourn them. Details from survivors have been told and we now know some of what was happening inside those buildings. A flood of pictures have been released of the faces of those who were there in Manhatten as well as the families of those lost. And though I can never fully understand what those people must be feeling, I have had a year to absorb the details and understand what this all means for the future, and my grief over what happened has only grown. I am terrified for what the future holds now, what it will hold for my children, if I live long enough to have any. Nothing we do can ever bring back the people who died that day, but I hope the American people banding together and comforting each other will continue to make us stronger and be a part of what is written in the history books for generations to come. I will never forget the emotions from that day (as well as today, I can't seem to stop crying no matter what I do) and I will be sure to tell my children and grandchildren about those events from the perspectives that their classrooms will not include.
I for one will never forget what was lost one year ago today.
Wednesday, September 4, 2002
Thursday, August 15, 2002
The Pit Report - San Jose State Event Center 4/14/02
Ah, I was all ready to go. I found free parking right by the arena, had my bottle of water with a sport cap, my ticket in hand, and of course, Spinny Chuck in my purse. I ventured through the door, where they took my WATER away from me! I asked if I could at least bring the empty bottle to fill at a drinking fountain instead of braving the germs on those things, but they said no and admitted it was because the venue wants you to pay a ridiculous amount for THEIR water. Bastards. So I chugged as much as my tummy would hold and headed for the floor. There were already hundreds of people sitting out there, so I worked my way toward the front until I found a space just big enough to plunk down my not-so-small booty. Shortly after, the color of the lights on the Hoobastank banner changed, and everyone stood up and rushed to the front. No, the show was not starting. It was just idiotic sheep mentality.
Finally at 7:30 as scheduled, Hoobastank took to the stage and played a 30 minute set. I'd never heard these guys before, but I must say I totally dug their music. Things in the pit were still fairly calm. After they were done, and after about a half hour of waiting around and being pressed against people from all angles, Incubus appeared. The crowd went INSANE. I was so crushed that I could not take a full breath of air and I was in imminent danger of losing my footing and falling down as the crowd surged in every direction. Ah, it was perfect. After a couple songs, things calmed down a bit, well at least I could breathe anyway, and a nice pit opened up just to my right. I love Incubus pits. Yeah, we're all running into each other and going crazy, but there's still some degree of courtesy in there. Spinny Chuck was up in full effect, and helped me locate my friends from enjoychuck.com, Gerlando and Andrea pretty quickly. Eventually I ended up about 20 people from the front and on the edge of the pit where I could finally admire the stage set-up. (Read Gerlando's review at enjoychuck.com for description) And of course, Incubus sounded amazing. The only downside I experienced was the intense heat down in the front, and twice I had to make my way out of there to get some air. I swear I could feel a 10 degree temperature change just when I got to the side of the pit. (and if only stupid security didn't take my water away, I wouldn't have had to get out of there at all.)
As far as the odd events that occured that evening, I did not see the moment where something hit Dirk's instument (I think I was outside buying a t-shirt), nor did I see the crowd surfer hit the ground (I say good - that's what they get!) but I did see a couple of interesting things out there. First of all, during "Echo" there was a girl on someone's shoulders near me who was singing along, reaching out to Brandon, and CRYING. Yes, crying. Like the women you see footage of weeping at a Beatles concert back in the 60's. Can you say FUCKING DOUCHEBAG? Never the less, I got a pretty good laugh out of it. But the next thing really takes the cake: In the middle of the mosh pit, an Asian guy with spikey hair ran out into the middle of the craziness and started BREAKDANCING. Breakdancing like nobody's business in the middle of the chaotic pit! That guy gets the Evil Carrot Madd Props Award for that one!!! Definitely an awesome thing to have witnessed. All in all, it was an amazing show, a good crowd, lots of energy, and tons of fun! (Even if I am a little sore today!) See you tomorrow in SF!
Finally at 7:30 as scheduled, Hoobastank took to the stage and played a 30 minute set. I'd never heard these guys before, but I must say I totally dug their music. Things in the pit were still fairly calm. After they were done, and after about a half hour of waiting around and being pressed against people from all angles, Incubus appeared. The crowd went INSANE. I was so crushed that I could not take a full breath of air and I was in imminent danger of losing my footing and falling down as the crowd surged in every direction. Ah, it was perfect. After a couple songs, things calmed down a bit, well at least I could breathe anyway, and a nice pit opened up just to my right. I love Incubus pits. Yeah, we're all running into each other and going crazy, but there's still some degree of courtesy in there. Spinny Chuck was up in full effect, and helped me locate my friends from enjoychuck.com, Gerlando and Andrea pretty quickly. Eventually I ended up about 20 people from the front and on the edge of the pit where I could finally admire the stage set-up. (Read Gerlando's review at enjoychuck.com for description) And of course, Incubus sounded amazing. The only downside I experienced was the intense heat down in the front, and twice I had to make my way out of there to get some air. I swear I could feel a 10 degree temperature change just when I got to the side of the pit. (and if only stupid security didn't take my water away, I wouldn't have had to get out of there at all.)
As far as the odd events that occured that evening, I did not see the moment where something hit Dirk's instument (I think I was outside buying a t-shirt), nor did I see the crowd surfer hit the ground (I say good - that's what they get!) but I did see a couple of interesting things out there. First of all, during "Echo" there was a girl on someone's shoulders near me who was singing along, reaching out to Brandon, and CRYING. Yes, crying. Like the women you see footage of weeping at a Beatles concert back in the 60's. Can you say FUCKING DOUCHEBAG? Never the less, I got a pretty good laugh out of it. But the next thing really takes the cake: In the middle of the mosh pit, an Asian guy with spikey hair ran out into the middle of the craziness and started BREAKDANCING. Breakdancing like nobody's business in the middle of the chaotic pit! That guy gets the Evil Carrot Madd Props Award for that one!!! Definitely an awesome thing to have witnessed. All in all, it was an amazing show, a good crowd, lots of energy, and tons of fun! (Even if I am a little sore today!) See you tomorrow in SF!
Tuesday, August 6, 2002
The King
...of STUPID FUCKING QUESTIONS! And who else but Bill should wear that crown. So this morning I come in, and there's a purchase order on my desk directly between my computer monitor and keyboard. Do you think there's any way in hell I might NOT notice it sitting there? So anyway, Bitchass Bill is like watching me out of the corner of his eye, and the moment I pick the thing up to start working on it, he leans over my cubicle (another thing I HATE), looks at the piece of paper in my hand and goes "Oh Chris, did you see that order I left on your desk?" and then just keeps looking at me waiting for me to answer. I didn't immediately speak because I was busy in my mind rephrasing "Now what do you think you stupid fucking douche bag" so it wouldn't sound QUITE so bad, and finally I raised my eyebrows and said "You mean the order that's right here in my hand Bill?" and he says something like "Yeah you saw it right?"
LIKE FUCKING DUH!!!!
And this is by no means the first time he has done this. What a goddamn tard.
LIKE FUCKING DUH!!!!
And this is by no means the first time he has done this. What a goddamn tard.
Thursday, May 23, 2002
Just a poem
My First Poem For You
I like to touch your tattoos in complete
darkness, when I can't see them. I'm sure of
where they are, know by heart the neat
lines of lightning pulsing just above
your nipple, can find, as if by instinct, the blue
swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent
twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you
to me, taking you until we're spent
and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss
the pictures in your skin. They'll last until
you're seared to ashes; whatever persists
or turns to pain between us, they will still
be there. Such permanence is terrifying.
So I touch them in the dark; but touch them, trying.
-Kim Addonizio, 1994
I like to touch your tattoos in complete
darkness, when I can't see them. I'm sure of
where they are, know by heart the neat
lines of lightning pulsing just above
your nipple, can find, as if by instinct, the blue
swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent
twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you
to me, taking you until we're spent
and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss
the pictures in your skin. They'll last until
you're seared to ashes; whatever persists
or turns to pain between us, they will still
be there. Such permanence is terrifying.
So I touch them in the dark; but touch them, trying.
-Kim Addonizio, 1994
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