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Jul. 4th, 2006 11:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lenora_roseHappy Fourth of July to those of you in the US who still believe in the whole constitution and the things the US used to try to stand for.
This ended up longer than planned, and as ever, jumps subjects, so I bolded the keywords whenever I shift topics.
The basement is now almsot entirely a big mud pit. Most of the concrete is gone, the washer and dryer, though hooked up, are on the back porch. My genius brother has still managed to find sufficient excuses to go down into the basement at night to set off the burgler alarm 3 times (It went off a fourth, but he claims he didn't touch it, or try to go downstairs). :)
Colin's dad is, of course, the main reason that so much progress has been made. Not that we're lazy, but we do work slower, know less about the details of what we're doing (Especially me), and take more breaks withut other incentive to keep us on the job, and besides, we work full time. He's also hired two people -- a friend and a neighbour's foster-son -- to work with him during the day during their respective summer breaks.
That doesn't keep me from sometimes itching about the lack of free space/time/late night access to my own computer. Or the amount I have to be social in my own house. He's a good conversationalist, able to come up with endless topics and usually to keep some interest, but... I score as an introvert on most personality quizzes (though not a really strong one), and I do fit the profile of a weak introvert; I find socialising fun, but tiring in the long run.
I don't blame Elmer, really, he does his best not to be in the way and to give me as much time in my own room as he can and still sleep when he wants to. It's the situation.
That, however, hasn't really been the reason I've ended up barely writing over the last weekend and the start of this week. That's a combination of all kinds of things, one of which is a bit of an "I suck" run, but mostly that I've been every which where but home.
And folk festival is coming! Which means after tomorrow (when I just barely have a writing time set aside -- which should probably be used finishing a mostly-done review to Green Man, even if they can't use it until August due to theme issues coming up.), no more writing until Monday. At which point I *will* lock myself in my studty from waking to sleeping. (I'll be bringing the paper notebook, but I don't anticipate opening it more than once.)
But the festival will rock, and energize me, and all will be cool. I won't be able to visit the Baggie-con crowd until Saturday night, I think. Baggie-con is a collection of folkies, filkers, and fellow travellers from Winnipeg, Minneapolis and the places between who set up a music circle in camp after the mian concerts. Very fun, and they soemtimes let me participate. (I could go Friday Night, but I do have a Saturday 6:00 AM shift), and Sunday I usually pack up everything and head back to the city after the final concert. So this will be a year mainly of listening (And hopefully dancing) and not much singing myself.
I'll see how the new crew does, too. I switched from wandering around selling raffle tickets to directing traffic into the campground site. Which sounds waay less fun but means I'm not *on* all the time, so I can let loose and dance, and wear what I like, and all those good things, through the rest of the time. Also, free camping pass! After the sell-out debacle last year, this is a significant perk...
Work is... itself. One of my co-workers gave up on the radio and bought a cd player, which so far I've been using more than anyone. I brought a selection of CDs I knew nobody would complain about (and a tiny handful they might) and so far have just left them there. If it weren't for the F-sharps, it does make it seriously tempting to swap the limp easy-listening oldies CD in our "hold" player for Oysterband's "The Shouting End of Life". But I ahven't.
I'm really uneasy about telling the managers about the back to school thing. Some I don't think will mind, so long as I'm not up-and-quitting, which I don't intend to be, some... I can't predict. They'll probably be encouraging, but possibly just upset that they aren't my priority. There's been yet one more incident of bass-ackwards reaction to an event downstairs to keep that doubt fresh. But I said I'd do it this week, and the one co-worker who knows is waiting on tenterhooks, though for some reason she's sure that if they end up mad at me for going to part time and hire someone new, she'll be the one out of a job. Not logical, but logic isn't her strong suit. (Being a decent person is, and I'll take the trade.)
I saw a high school friend over the weekend for the first time in some months (He was invited to the wedding, but couldn't make it). Theoretically an old flame, really, and I was amused to find there's a touch of lingering sexual tension, because, A) I first dated him literally half my lifetime ago, and B) I find the attitude that our very first love ever is "the one", promoted in many hollywood movies (And by Lynn Johnson) is complete and utter and absolute bunk. My fifteen year old self hadn't a clue, and even she doubted that she could make the right choice. He's not the one, or even remotely close. I wouldn't want to date him again, much less spend my life with him, though we should ahng around more than we do. I feel far more sexual tension with my husband (Except, of course, when that gets, ah, relieved) and we mesh in a great many other ways as well.
Alas, too, the biggest thing that came out of that encounter was worry. Said friend is in better physical condition than he has been in a while other ways. Except in all the ways he isn't. And he's a doctor-phobe, and he's already managed to get himself looked at a bit, which is as much a very bad sign about just how things are doing even as it's a good sign about how he's delaing with the fact. He tried to downplay it, which was very very odd when he did it in the middle of a "migraine" peak.
Well, that's a high note to end on. Well, it could be worse, I could start talking about global warming and apocalyptic dreams (I really want it to rain, and yes, I know I'm saying that right before the folk fest and inviting disaster. So be it.) The two are getting closer linked, although the last two bad dreams were presonal tragedies, and not always mine. But the topic haunts me. The world is changing, and not in the defeatable way it was in the mvoie trillogy that opens with that line.
This ended up longer than planned, and as ever, jumps subjects, so I bolded the keywords whenever I shift topics.
The basement is now almsot entirely a big mud pit. Most of the concrete is gone, the washer and dryer, though hooked up, are on the back porch. My genius brother has still managed to find sufficient excuses to go down into the basement at night to set off the burgler alarm 3 times (It went off a fourth, but he claims he didn't touch it, or try to go downstairs). :)
Colin's dad is, of course, the main reason that so much progress has been made. Not that we're lazy, but we do work slower, know less about the details of what we're doing (Especially me), and take more breaks withut other incentive to keep us on the job, and besides, we work full time. He's also hired two people -- a friend and a neighbour's foster-son -- to work with him during the day during their respective summer breaks.
That doesn't keep me from sometimes itching about the lack of free space/time/late night access to my own computer. Or the amount I have to be social in my own house. He's a good conversationalist, able to come up with endless topics and usually to keep some interest, but... I score as an introvert on most personality quizzes (though not a really strong one), and I do fit the profile of a weak introvert; I find socialising fun, but tiring in the long run.
I don't blame Elmer, really, he does his best not to be in the way and to give me as much time in my own room as he can and still sleep when he wants to. It's the situation.
That, however, hasn't really been the reason I've ended up barely writing over the last weekend and the start of this week. That's a combination of all kinds of things, one of which is a bit of an "I suck" run, but mostly that I've been every which where but home.
And folk festival is coming! Which means after tomorrow (when I just barely have a writing time set aside -- which should probably be used finishing a mostly-done review to Green Man, even if they can't use it until August due to theme issues coming up.), no more writing until Monday. At which point I *will* lock myself in my studty from waking to sleeping. (I'll be bringing the paper notebook, but I don't anticipate opening it more than once.)
But the festival will rock, and energize me, and all will be cool. I won't be able to visit the Baggie-con crowd until Saturday night, I think. Baggie-con is a collection of folkies, filkers, and fellow travellers from Winnipeg, Minneapolis and the places between who set up a music circle in camp after the mian concerts. Very fun, and they soemtimes let me participate. (I could go Friday Night, but I do have a Saturday 6:00 AM shift), and Sunday I usually pack up everything and head back to the city after the final concert. So this will be a year mainly of listening (And hopefully dancing) and not much singing myself.
I'll see how the new crew does, too. I switched from wandering around selling raffle tickets to directing traffic into the campground site. Which sounds waay less fun but means I'm not *on* all the time, so I can let loose and dance, and wear what I like, and all those good things, through the rest of the time. Also, free camping pass! After the sell-out debacle last year, this is a significant perk...
Work is... itself. One of my co-workers gave up on the radio and bought a cd player, which so far I've been using more than anyone. I brought a selection of CDs I knew nobody would complain about (and a tiny handful they might) and so far have just left them there. If it weren't for the F-sharps, it does make it seriously tempting to swap the limp easy-listening oldies CD in our "hold" player for Oysterband's "The Shouting End of Life". But I ahven't.
I'm really uneasy about telling the managers about the back to school thing. Some I don't think will mind, so long as I'm not up-and-quitting, which I don't intend to be, some... I can't predict. They'll probably be encouraging, but possibly just upset that they aren't my priority. There's been yet one more incident of bass-ackwards reaction to an event downstairs to keep that doubt fresh. But I said I'd do it this week, and the one co-worker who knows is waiting on tenterhooks, though for some reason she's sure that if they end up mad at me for going to part time and hire someone new, she'll be the one out of a job. Not logical, but logic isn't her strong suit. (Being a decent person is, and I'll take the trade.)
I saw a high school friend over the weekend for the first time in some months (He was invited to the wedding, but couldn't make it). Theoretically an old flame, really, and I was amused to find there's a touch of lingering sexual tension, because, A) I first dated him literally half my lifetime ago, and B) I find the attitude that our very first love ever is "the one", promoted in many hollywood movies (And by Lynn Johnson) is complete and utter and absolute bunk. My fifteen year old self hadn't a clue, and even she doubted that she could make the right choice. He's not the one, or even remotely close. I wouldn't want to date him again, much less spend my life with him, though we should ahng around more than we do. I feel far more sexual tension with my husband (Except, of course, when that gets, ah, relieved) and we mesh in a great many other ways as well.
Alas, too, the biggest thing that came out of that encounter was worry. Said friend is in better physical condition than he has been in a while other ways. Except in all the ways he isn't. And he's a doctor-phobe, and he's already managed to get himself looked at a bit, which is as much a very bad sign about just how things are doing even as it's a good sign about how he's delaing with the fact. He tried to downplay it, which was very very odd when he did it in the middle of a "migraine" peak.
Well, that's a high note to end on. Well, it could be worse, I could start talking about global warming and apocalyptic dreams (I really want it to rain, and yes, I know I'm saying that right before the folk fest and inviting disaster. So be it.) The two are getting closer linked, although the last two bad dreams were presonal tragedies, and not always mine. But the topic haunts me. The world is changing, and not in the defeatable way it was in the mvoie trillogy that opens with that line.
