My Madness

Todd IM'd me while I was at work today and reminded me that we'd been friends for almost 10 years now. That is, 10 years ago today, I was in Wales, and we met pretty much after after I got back.

As happy as I am to have been friends with Todd for 10 years (I am), thinking about Wales made me a bit melancholy - not just for missing the country that immediately and ever since felt like home to me, but for what it represented to me at the time.

Now, what I'm about to divulge is my deep, dark secret. Well, not dark, and not especially deep - it's only a secret because it makes me sad to talk about it, and because I am certain enough most people will consider it a sign of moderate insanity. Of course, it may not be secret at all - at this point, I can't remember who all I might have told over the last 10 years.

The reason I went to Wales was to meet my "fated bride". I was interested in Wales anyway, by the time I went - it's British and Arthurian and all that, and while I was there I fell in love with it - but I went particularly for her. Remember how I was set on going to North Wales, to the Bangor campus? That's because I thought it was where she was. When that program fell through, I switched to the South Wales campus of Swansea, but visited Bangor as often as I could. Remember how I made a big deal of going my sophmore year? I wanted to go that whole year (95-96), but that was expensive, and you aren't supposed to be able to study abroad your sophmore year anyway. So I took an extra class to be a Junior, unit-wise, my second sophmore semester so I could qualify for the program.

Let's back up for a bit. This started back in '94, as I was graduating from High School and coming out of serious, persistant depression. (Jill might remember this depression because I refused to listen to her practice her guitar - missed notes hit me in some kind of obsessive-compulsive nightmarish all-e's calculation that was worse than 100 nails scraping a chalkboard, but she was very kind about it and even offered that tonal errors could be particularly jarring to a mathematical mind, giving me an excuse other than being an ass.) Remember those pictures I drew? They're not only the germ, the seed for my Coera-Ohida serious, they're a fantasization of what was going on in my mind at the time. The one woman, the goodly woman, was my fated bride, and the other was a face thrown over temptations to de-virginize myself and thus unravel the fundamental requirements for satisfying my fate.

Who was this fated woman? Bethany Rebecca Jones. "Beckari" to her friends. Redhaired. One year older than me. Her mother was a university art professor, and just a little bit snippy. Her father had a moustache and smoked a pipe and retired young. I forget their names, now, but I thought I would get along with with her dad. He would be in my corner, and teach me how to get along with her mother. I used to draw pictures of Beckari, even while I was dating Pam - it was a bit of an obsession. Hmmm... I'm digging them out of an archive now. Here are a few I kept: [Link] [Link] [Link] [Link] (See, I dug her back up again recently to keep the wound oozing.) Granted, these are post-adolescent fantasies, but that was about the most personality and individuality I could put into the female form then (Seductress Beckari aside). Can't say I'm much better now.

But this is where the madness lies: I used to talk to her - regularly. Every night for years. During the day, when I was alone. I'd ask her test questions if I was stumped. We'd talk about things I didn't know about, but she did. I worried that I was mad - certifiable type - so I'd pose questions to her that I was sure I didn't know the answer to, then check up on them. I wanted to make sure I wasn't talking to myself, and for about two and a half years, I was absolutely certain I was not. The majority of our conversations were of a personal nature, but as I was solidifying plans for Wales, she described some of the places at the university, and I was even able to see them through her eyes. When the brochure arrived for the university, I wasn't terribly surprised (though I was terribly pleased) to see the places I'd envisioned photographed, and matched in detail. We discussed the way we would meet and how we would know each other. And when I went to Bangor, I kept my end of the bargain. Or at least, I kept some very small portion of it - the bare minimum, and almost more than my stunted courage could manage.

Of course, I never met her. I wondered over it, I worried over it, I cried. I rationalized. I decided since I'd kept my end, she'd chickened out, or we hadn't gotten dates straight, or something like that. But I never really heard from her again. There were maybe one or two brief conversations, but nothing like the hours-long in-head talks we had before. We decided to give it a rest for a year or two, and if it was really fated, we'd meet again when we were both State-side. But I didn't.

Now, ten years away, it's easy to dismiss those years as the product of what is still an over-active imagination tinged with mental imbalance. It might even fit some psychological pathology profile - I haven't had the heart to investigate it. But at the time, it was a devastating blow to a world-view I'd come to believe in with even more faith than I had in Christianity. And it still makes me sad to think about.

California Trip!

Beware, all ye who enter! In a short time, you shall be inundated with aerial and cloud photography. I shall not spare you this time.

As you may or may not know, I was awarded a trip out to California by Netifice (my employer) for service, good behavior, and keeping my nose clean. They put Kim and I up in a very fancy hotel for a few days, and allowed us to extend the trip a bit more so we could visit with friends and family.

As you may also know, it is my wont to pick a window seat and take pictures out the plane window until my neck gets stuck sideways.









We had some free time to play golf, go shopping, visit a spa, or "sightsee". We chose to "peoplesee".





The hotel room was beautiful. You know how sometimes you see pictures of hotel rooms online, but when you get there you're not sure if they made a mistake, or if they took the picture from some odd angle that made the room look twice as big? Not here. We didn't get any good pictures of the room, but this is very accurate. The bathroom was almost as big as the bedroom, and the tub was a small pool. Unfortunately we didn't get any really good pictures, except from the balcony.



By Mom's request, Kim took a picture of me in my new (first) suit:


Splendid.

After we left the hotel Saturday morning, we took off driving in the convertible Netifice rented for us and visited more friends and family.

First we met Dad and Sandy at the San Clemente pier.




(The problem with impromptu photos is that people seem to develop spontaneous, momentary narcolepsy. Dad posted better photos here.)

Next we caught up with Kim's friend Christina and her family. I took pictures of their resident pixie, Taylor.



As we drove off to visit Kim's family, Kim took a few more cloud shots for me.




Lizzie joined us that night. We spent some time with Kim's family, and with her other neice Michelle, then skedaddled for a short night in a somewhat less exciting hotel.




We spent the better part of the next day with Cindy and Todd. Lizzie had some fun in the convertible, Kim took pictures of her rings, and we picked up a hitchhiker.






The next morning was our last in California. We drove by the office to say thanks with a smile, and Kim got more proof that SoCal is loaded with palm trees.




Then it was time to fly back home.






Next up: Pictures from Lizzie's stay with us!

Another weekend of house projects

Since it was so pleasant outside (and since I'm a procrastinator and putting off patching the two spots in the ceiling), I did the better part of my household work outside this weekend. There was a big, droopy, prickly bush that stuck out in the middle of the yard and needed to be hacked down to a stump, so I had at it.

While I was out there, I realized that not only was it pleasant, it was beautiul. I suppose most of you have had enough of cloud pictures, so I won't post any here today. But I will show you the evidence that springtime is upon us: all of our weeds are begining to bloom!


These little guys are everywhere - in the front yard, in the back yard, and in most of the flower beds. I think they're Kim's favorites.



We have Dafydils! They were almost in time for St David's Day, too. There are bunches of them here and there around the house. Kim and I like them enough that we'll probably intentionally plant them next year.
By the way, I don't know the names of any of the other flowers. I haven't spent any energy to look them up, so you shouldn't either, but if you happen to recognize any of them, let me know!


These lavendar flowers grow in one little patch of the ivy in the front. I think they just might be where I emptied a flower pot last year.


These purple flowers have a pretty strong colony going in another patch of ivy in the front.


This tree isn't really ours; it's our neighbors. But I think it's pretty and we can see it from the front of the house, so there. Actually, these trees are really common around the parts of Atlanta I've seen. Can you imagine driving down a curvy, liesurly avenue where these trees crown out over the median?


I'm pretty sure these flowers belong to the clover.


This is another bush I'm supposed to whack, but now I think I'll move it instead. He definitely needs a haircut, but that will be another day, since he seems to be a favorite of the bees.



This tree is in the corner of our backyard. It's definitely a different species from the white-blossomed tree our neighbor has. I think it's my favorite.



This pink-blossomed tree is in another corner of our yard. It's a close second.

And no, our backyard isn't that big. See? The trees are right next to eachother.

Random thought: A band name

So I thought, the other day, that this might be a good band name:

The Trojan Whores

Note: I did not say a good name for a band, just a good band name.

Note 2: I freely offer up this name to any band desperate enough for a name that it would use this one.

Update: Apparently I was right: it is a good band name.

Car Trouble: update

So, mention the Devil and he'll find you, right?

This morning no amount of banging on the key would allow it to turn, and I had to give up on being any kind of on-time to work and call AAA.

They sent out a locksmith, who fixed the problem for a reasonable sum of $150. I learned a little more about how locks work (locksmithing seems like it might be a pretty good profession; if this internet thing dies out I might look into it), I learned a little more about how my car works, and I learned that my key has a microchip in it, which means it costs $120 to get a spare. Yay!

But the most important thing I learned was that you should try not to have a heavy keychain. The problem my car had (the wafers in the tumbler were bent and blunted and would not slide easily) was caused at least mostly by the weight of my keychain levering my key up against them for hours at at time while I drive. I have a stiff suspension, so all of the knocks and bumps make the keys bounce and wear on the wafers.

So it seems that Todd's plan of keeping a thin billfold and a sparse keychain is not only ergonomically and philosophically pleasing - it's helpful advise!

Another home repair project...

Since I'm trying to get back into the habit of doing something to improve or maintain the house every weekend, this weekend I chose to fix a leaky shower knob and "accidentally break" the shower-head (that is, I took out the restricter that makes a shower into a dribble).

Actually, despite my call to Dad for advice in the midst of a family breakfast, it went reasonably well. I was able to jimmy a few stuck pieces back where they needed to go, and now there's no leak and the shower is showering!

So, for the house it was an improvement. The car, however, suffered an exprovement.

When I was popping out to Home Depot to stock up on shower repair parts, I stuck my key in the ignition and it wouldn't turn. I wiggled the steering wheel, and the key wouldn't turn. I figured out how to put the car in neutral and I rocked it back and forth, and the key wouldn't turn! It was very frustrating. So I googled for "key will not turn in ignition ford focus" and found an endless stream of pages and forums and blogs detailing how the Focus has a poorly constructed tumbler that wears out - some people have had to replace theirs three or four times, so I guess so far I've been lucky! How frustrating!

I learned a trick, though - if I bang on the key while it's in the tumbler, it will knock the pins into place in the tumbler and let the key turn. I don't know how long that will work without breaking something more, but at least it buys me some time to figure out what I want to do about a locksmith.

Hmph.

I'm not the first one to say this

...but this could turn out to be the best videogame ever made:

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=8372603330420559198&q=spore

Warning: this is a link to a 35 minute video demonstration of a game that hasn't even been finished yet. But if you like games, you should watch it.

Happy St. David's day!

Since I like to pretend we're Welsh.