If you’re going to try to learn Cascading Style Sheets in Dreamweaver 8, I don’t suggest trying to do so first thing in the morning. I’ve been trying, and now I have a huge headache. I don’t know why we have to learn something we don’t care to use, and that is making the whole class both homicidal and suicidal. First we kill the teacher, then ourselves. I’d rather do that than try to learn it.  For some reason, it is making us feel that we aren’t worthy of existing if we can’t learn it, or that we are just too stupid to live.

Even the features we’ve already mastered in Dreamweaver have their bugs. The program seems to be designed not to work. Even though you do everything correctly, there is some microbe somewhere that prevents an image from opening, or your link from working for no reason at all. I am convinced the designers of this software want to slowly drive the population mad, so we can’t create our own websites. They want all the control and the power over the Internet. As web designers and programmers, they are afraid of going out of business, so by making the software frustrating, they are banking on the fact that people won’t  bother. And even those who overcome the frustration suffer the ridicule and shame of  the amateur, cheap look of the do-it-yourself page. The web-control-geeks can then charge an arm and a leg to create the website for you, or to provide tech support over the phone where they talk to you in such a condescending way you don’t feel worthy of their time.

That’s it. All the computer geeks are out to get us. They are really the ones ruling the world. We can’t do anything without them, since we can’t live without our computers. We need them to check emails, pay bills, register, inform, shop, Ebay, update our Myspace, use online banking, download music and chat with our friends. It’s hopeless, really. And they are constantly adding updates, new features and new looks just to throw us off track, and make us spend more money on new software. New features and technologies are just more things to learn, especially when designing your own site. They are trying to overwhelm us, and convince us that we somehow need it all.

Take the Windows operating system, Every two to three years, there is a new version. First it was Windows 95, then 98, then XP, now it’s Vista. To get it, you have to pay big bucks to upgrade your system. What makes me crazy is that in a few years’ time, XP will be inoperable, and we will all be forced to by the newest version. And they are always making things faster with more space, more megabytes. Now everything is measured in gigabytes. In a few years, those will be useless, and there will be terrabytes. Why can’t they just let a good thing be? Why keep adding for the sake of adding? Marketing, profit, planned obsolescence,  which to me is pure evil.

The geeks are getting their revenge on mainstream society for all the torture and abuse they suffered in highschool. The football teams and cheerleaders of the past are now the losers of today, unable to function properly without having to come crawling for help. These techies now proudly call themselves computer geeks instead of hiding in the debate club, boldly stepping out of the AV closet. They know how much we need them, and that they are making the most money. This gives them more power to own more things, travel the world, marry the hot chick, become famous.

It’s a cruel world really. I’ll try not to kill myself today. I can’t give them the power.

What shall I write about today? They say (people like Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way, The Right to Write,) that the best time to write is in the morning, first thing when you get up, before you do anything else, even before you have to pee. They also say it is best to write when you feel the most resistance, when you think you have nothing to say. That supposedly results in your best work.

I’d have to agree with that. The stories I had the hardest times with have always been my strongest. The half-assed blogs I posted on a whim got the most responses, the most enjoyment from my limited audience. The stuff I think is my best usually bores people. Not always, but most of the time.

Okay, I still feel I have nothing to say, except that I feel fat today. Last night during our weekly Public Relations class, I was craving fries and gravy, and the grill was closed by the time I got to it during the break. I thought about A&W afterwards, since they make the best fast-food burgers and fries with gravy in the whole world. But then I thought, “Should I? It’s bad for me. I should go home and make something healthy, really, and save money.” Ah, what the heck, it’s a craving that won’t go away.

I asked Sara if she’d join me. As soon as I uttered the famous initials, she shouted with glee, “Oh! I have a coupon!”  Our recent body dysmorphia and promises of eating better were transformed to a deep-fried, bacon-layered, gravy-dipping necessity.   After all, we had a two-for-one teen burger coupon. We were saving money. Yum! It was all I could think about on the Skytrain ride there.

It was all I imagined and more. Hot, crispy fries dipped in creamy, brown gravy. The burger was divine, a juicy beef patty topped with melted cheese, crunchy bacon, ripe tomato and freshly toasted buns. Absolutely delicious. I had no regrets. I slept with stuffed delight, my all-day craving for salt and grease deeply satisified.

Then this morning came. I woke up feeling bloated, tired, foggy, gross. I stepped on the scale. I weighed five pounds more than I did yesterday morning. My gut turned in repulsion at the thought of five pounds of food just sitting there, slowly digesting, converting into body fat that will rest permanently on my thighs. My dysmorphic anxiety returned as I squeezed into unforgiving pants that stretched tautly across my ass. Great. Now I’m getting a lardy butt. Nice.

It’s amazing how a craving can take over all common sense. But even though I feel a tad pudgy, there is always hope.  I can lose those five pounds in a day or two. That happened to me once, where I ate a huge dinner, gained five pounds, and lost it the next day.  And there’s still that life-membership at Fit City For Women … right. I haven’t been there since, well, I don’t remember when. I sorely admit that I still need to get into shape and eat better, firm up my flabby middle tire and squishy thighs, but I’m not obese. Yet.

So for today’s menu, it’s a meager bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, vegetarian sandwich with an orange for lunch, and just a salad for dinner.

What a day yesterday. The tension was so thick in the air I couldn’t breathe. I felt like attacking someone, anyone. Eveyone else’s anxiety including my own, along with several carcinogenic personalities in the room mixed a cocktail named disaster. Yuck. Days like those make me want to curl up in a ball and hide, or crawl into the sewer and start an underground colony, live with the rats. Why not? Most rats seem nicer to live with than certain people anyways, because they don’t talk back. It’s just a road to survival, finding the basic necessities. Food, shelter and mating are all they worry about. If only life were that simple. Getting through the day without getting maimed or killed is difficult in any kind of life,  especially in the rat race we call humanity.

I was referred to the Keri Smith web site by my classmate.  It is a delightful website and blog with whimsical, insightful thoughts, drawings and exercises for artists and writers to get inspired and rev up their creative juices.  It really helped me this morning to have the courage to finish my projects and carry on back to that scary classroom, rather than going home straight after work and climbing in bed, starting another love affair with my pillow.  I’m so thankful I have these people in my life, the non-toxic ones, who are full of inspiration, positive thoughts and creativity, and make me laugh my ass off so I forget my worries (mostly because my stomach muscles hurt so much from laughing so hard). They are the kindred spirits who lift me out of the depths of depression, and help me see the right light at the right time.

This poster (taken from Keri’s blog) was a good one for yesterday, or for any shitty day that you want to forget. 

Or click here for a venting survival artist guide when frustrated or feeling dejected.

Even if you don’t consider yourself an artist (I believe everyone is), it’s good for when you’re feeling crappy about yourself , or if someone pisses you off and you need to get shit off your chest. It will release the negative energy and give you that boost of inspiration to carry on with whatever it is you’re doing: cleaning the house, making supper, writing a story, painting on canvas, creating a budget, writing software, organizing a convention.

Hang in there peeps. It always gets better. It has to.

I just can’t stop thinking about you lately. I know it’s been because of family events. I miss you so. Your mannerisms, your voice, your support, your laugh, your gentle presence, your strength despite your despair.. I even miss your despair.  Everytime I listen to music and feel that passion and beauty, I think of you and am so thankful to have inherited that from you.

Here is a letter you wrote to Yvonne and Father David, reciting the letter I wrote to you in which I thanked you for everything you have given me and others blessed to have you in their lives:

“December 5, 2002

 

Today is St. Nicholas’ birthday. December 5th. Brings back a lot of wonderful memories from my childhood. However, I hope you don’t  mind. I am trying to get out of my “depressive feelings”. This evening I was sorting out a lot of stuff and I found this. Please allow me to share this with you. It is a letter from my little “rebellious” daughter (that is what Wilt used to  call her). She has a wonderful way of putting things on paper. So here goes:

Dear Mom:

These are all the things that you have given to me as my mother that I am thankful for, that make me who I am and remind me of you. They are what make up our close bond as mother and daughter, and what we share with the rest of the family.

 

– not forgetting our Dutch culture and heritage, incorporating this lifestyle into our lives which include the customs, cuisine, and contact with our relatives overseas.

– I love to travel ever since you first put me on the airplane and we arrived in Holland. I experienced a new land and the culture first hand. I love to try all sorts of new foods and tastes, because of your love and enthusiasm of cooking for people, and encouraging me to try new things.

– You have taught me compassion, gentleness, and kindness. You have shown me how important it is to carry out these traits everyday and how much they are a part of me. You have also taught me how important it is to be true to myself , no matter how sensitive or emotional, that it is okay to be this way, and not to be ashamed of those traits.

– You have always encouraged me to pursue my dreams. Never once have you ever told me that I would fail. You have never said any negative or discouraging things to me. You always believe in me, no matter what I do, and support everything that I do-never criticizine my actions. You don’t realize how much that means to me, and how that has helped me throughout my life. I always hear your words of encouragement and praise in my mind when I am down and hard on myself. You can never give too much of that to your child.

– Your love of music, art, and style have enriched my life in many ways, and have enhanced my own creativity and style.

– I thank you for large family dinners around the table, the aroma of good food, coffee, and freshly baked bread, classical music playing on Saturday mornings, trips to the garden market, the Dutch store, Albert’s Coffee Shop for raisin toast and tea, the taste of Worst (sausage) and kale and potatoes, Sunday soup, fresh whipped cream, letting me lick the bowl, stroopwafels, whatching outdoor evening Audrey Hepburn movies , Bing Crosby’s White Christmas, Harry Belafonte concerts, John Denver, Roger Whittaker, going to the Symphony, the Red Army Choir in Toronto (“Hey you in the red jacket, you should know better”) heh, heh! The list could go on and on.

Thanks for a lifetime of good memories.

I love you, Rochelle.

 

P.S. Re. the Red Army Choir. We went there, Rochelle and myself and when we came there was a demonstration across the street of Massy Hall in Toronto. That is when they said that “Hey you, in the red coat.”  She was still in Highschool in London and I remember her saying to me “No one of my friends mothers would ever take me to something like this”. But the music was wonderful and the dancing.

Anyway I better stop. Hope you don’t mind me sharing this.It made my day.

Frederika”

I can’t stop thanking you.

Disguised by striped and spotted fur, pointed ears and green eyes, she pokes at my ankles with her velvety paws whenever I sit down to write. I try to ignore her, but she jumps onto my desk and struts in front of my computer screen, blocking my view. Her tail is high in the air, swatting my face as it flicks from side to side. Bengal settles down comfortably into my papers, gazing at me with squinty eyes.

I stare back, awestruck by her cuteness. The vibrations of her purring can be felt through the desk, down to the hardwood floor, and back up the chair legs into my body. Hypnotized, I beckon for her to jump into my lap. She obeys, and snuggles into my chest as I rub her ears. I forget my deadline and am lost in the forest of super soft fur.

Instead of pushing her aside and plunging into my writing, I embellish her with play as she jumps off my lap. I shake a ball of newspaper tied to the end of some string which sends her into a chase of high leaps and scrambling tumbles. If I suddenly flick the ball up high, she opens her mouth and releases an odd, spitting chatter, threatening the would-be bird. Her claws skate over the hardwood floors as she slides from one end of the room to the other. This action is better than anything on television, and I hug my belly laughing as she crashes into the couch.

I  use the Bengal technique of procrastination with great caution, as I could be distracted for days without knowing.  It is practiced to relax me with feelings of well-being before the stress of the deadline wreaks havoc on my nervous system.

Awww, kitty-pooh-kisses-dooby-doo!