LetMeBeClear

Tonight I rebooted Three servers. It is funny, all of the times I have rebooted servers as part of my job, I still get a little sick nervous feeling. Its a fear that I rebooted the wrong one. I have only done that once - probably. Hundreds of servers and dozens of years, and I still get the same feeling. OOps, did I do the wrong box?

I am an insomniac. I didn't refill the prescription for the sleeping pills yet. If I take them every night for too long, then they don't work as well, and I am going to need them to work. Last week I slept without them at all - if you call that sleeping.

This week I switched to an herbal sleeping pill. It has me sleeping. Now I am dreaming. I think I know what is bothering me. Why I am curling up inside. Every night I dream about my son going to away. Twenty Three more days. He will take his one-way ticket and his student visa and get on a plane and not comeback until May. And that will just be for a visit. And that is not even definite.

I feel pressure to make this Christmas extra-special. But that goes against my nature. I have worked hard to make Christmas something that is not filled with fake happiness and real anxiety.

I feel pressure from people telling me how I should feel. I hate that.

I feel pressure from people who want to "remind me" of all the things that still need to get done before he goes. He needs to clean his room. He hasn't packed. He is going to be in for a shock when he has to start doing his own x.y.z. People who have never been anywhere or taken any BOLD steps are not allowed to criticize him and definitely not allowed to criticize him then say they are just trying to help.

I feel like the person in my life that I have known and loved for the longest is leaving me and I am happy for him and proud of him. BUT he is still leaving me and it still hurts. And yes of course, others love him. And he is just going to the other side of the world. And all of this makes rational sense to me.

Reason doesn't stop you from curling up into a little ball inside of yourself. Reason doesn't help you sleep at night. sleeping pills do.

I was Almost going to go with Bronte, but Shakespeare won this month. It probably had something to do with the 16 inches of snow and the 4o mile per hour winds I enjoyed at work today although the snowball fight with the family before work was much more fun. I do like the snow, but the wind blows.

As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII [Blow, blow, thou winter wind]
by William Shakespeare

Lord Amiens, a musician, sings before Duke Senior's company

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing . . .

You just can't trust what is in your food. I swear that in a couple of years I am going to have to grow my own food in order to be able to eat anything.

I carefully planned Thanksgiving so that I wouldn't get a migraine. I never eat poultry because most of it is full of some horrible unlabeled, inedible swill that sends me writhing in pain to a small dark space. I risk it with organic turkey on Thanksgiving. This year I even baked my own bread to make stuffing with so that I wouldn't get anything on the menu that I didn't know the origin of. Well, well guess what? About thirty minutes after I happily pushed my empty plate aside, my dining room became too bright. My family became too loud. My head was smashed in by the familiar pain of a migraine. My darling rushed for the Imitrex. We were done giving thanks.

My turkey wasn't a Tyson, but it was crappy-ass practices like this antibiotic scam where agri-businesses lie and do anything to protect their bottom line instead of the integrity of our food that leave me not able to even safely read labels.

I'm going to have to grow my own food to know what is in it.

We all get terrible customer support these days. Especially phone support. I think we have been slowly conditioned to accept it.

Since I was surprised today by excellent support, I had to say something.

I made plane reservations for my brother, his lovely wife and my cutie nephew. I was on the phone with my brother while making the reservations and holding the phone in my left hand. It is my only excuse.

When I received the confirmation, I realized that I had left the R out of Christi - so she became CHISTI. That could have been a terrible problem with the travel restrictions these days.

I reluctantly called the airline and just pressed "0" to get a person. Almost immediately a cheerful person came on the line. I explained the problem, she looked up the reservation, stifled a quick chuckle and said it was not problem but she would have to get someone else to change it. She put me on hold. Less than a minute later, she was back and confirmed that the change had been made and asked if there was anything else she could help with.

Cheers! to Excellent Customer support. It matters.
And if you are wondering, it was SOUTHWEST.

According to the Urban dictionary :


Hippie

A Hippie is a person who was raised under the ideological system that came out of the tumultuous 1960's in North America and western Europe. They are either of the flower-child/baby boomer generation or that generations' subsequent offspring. They possess a core belief set revolving around the values of peace and love as being essential in an increasingly globalized society, and they are oftentimes associated with non-violent anti-governmental groups.

I have wanted to be a Pirate when I grow up ever since I first went to Disney world when I was little. Or was it when I read Treasure Island? I am somewhere between Pirate and Hippie, but maybe I will join the Peace Corp and work toward ending hunger. Clean water is a fixable problem. I either want to help fix the world or hide from it on a boat in a secluded sea and listen to the ocean breeze and smell the salt spray. Right after I finish raising my last couple of young 'ums or maybe I can't wait that long.

My son has always said he can picture me as an old hippie lady on a beach in a long flowy dress with long wild hair walking barefoot when I am old. Sounds just about perfect to me.

Alright - your turn. What does the dreamer in you want to be when you grow up? Why? What picture of yourself in old-age do you have?