Now what am I doing?

So I can go on about the jobs I searched for, and how lucky I am to find ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but I’m in Day 2 of being a dutiful Asian son while my ma is in Japan, and I’m trying to keep my dad from driving me completely nuts. I took him out to lunch and to a bakery. He loves buying pastries, but he usually doesn’t eat them. My mom usually uses me as a human garbage can to get rid of them.

In any case, I was asking him what he wanted for dinner, hoping that I could avoid cooking and also find something I could take out so I could finally see the Marlins beat the Yankees, but he said he’d eat leftovers. He had some turkey from lunch, and I knew there was rice in the freezer for emergencies like when my dad promises to take my mom out to dinner and at the last minute decides he’s feeling too bad to go out.

What happened was I realized why my mom should empty out the refrigerator before she leaves. My dad put a bunch of awful looking things together in a small pot, heated it up and ate it. My mom had left cooked rice sitting out on the counter in a Tupperware container, some stewed Japanese radish from Saturday (stewed in some sickly sweet soy sauce-based broth) that also had konnyaku, which is barely edible Japanese rubbery stuff. He also opened a can of Spam to put into this mess. That was his dinner.

I offered to take him out, I offered to buy him something at the store, I offered what is my own weakness — Popeye’s Fried Chicken but he wanted to eat leftovers.

Since this afternoon he’s been complaining that he has, “A touch of the ‘flu,” but that’s a common complaint from him, as well as, “A cold settled in my back,” and, “Give me a good rubdown.” He also likes asking questions I can’t possibly answer, like, “How much do you think it costs to sponsor a softball team like that?” or “What kind of oil do you get in Yugoslavia?” or “What do you think is wrong with my back?” and gets mad when I can’t give him an answer.

It’s proved one thing to me, though, that my college degrees are useless if I can’t answer those questions.

It’s a good thing that my sister is coming to make sure we don’t drive each other nuts.

My ma is probably in Japan by now.

We took my mom to the airport this morning, a place I’ve grown to dread. They swabbed the inside of her suitcase, but didn’t require the full-on x-ray scan (or whatever they do when the stick your suitcase in the front-loading washing machine in the lobby.) We left her to manage the security checkpoint on her own after seeing a line that rivalled the one leading to Space Mountain in Disneyland.

This evening my dad has been wandering around lost, but I was ignoring him and trying to watch the Marlins beat the hated Yankees. That wasn’t to be. I ended up driving to Popeye’s Chicken to get him the drumstick he was asking for and the hated Yankees scored four more runs. What I thought would just be a 2-1 score ended up as 6-1.

But the worst news came from two phone calls. One was from a friend I’ve known since kindergarten. His mom just passed away, and he was calling to let me know. A little later on I heard from a family friend that her sister-in-law had passed away. My mom always says these things come in threes (mainly because we like to group things in threes) and I’m not looking forward to hearing about the third.

On an up note, my friend Megan’s chemo seems to be working, and her tumor is shrinking!

My ma is going to Japan tomorrow.

There’s a good chance that my father

and I will drive each other nuts before my sister arrives on Saturday.

And what did I do today? Played with my computer, looked for nonexistent job postings, etc. In other words, nothing much. I suppose the biggest event was trying to find my digital camera to take my dad’s picture.

I suppose I should set some goals. I can volunteer like I did when I was unemployed before. I’ve spent hundreds of hours sorting forms, changing linens, watching patient’s children, copying prescriptions, and — this is key in hospital volunteer jobs — folding and stapling. At one emergency financial service, I double-checked people’s math to make sure they weren’t blowing the budget.

It takes a lot of “training” to get to the point where you’re allowed to do anything: stack boxes, alphabetize records, promote safe sex, etc, and I should probably look into it before I go stir crazy looking at job posting sites on the web. I should probably also make sure I know what I’m getting into before “outreach” turns into “passing out condoms at the gay bar,” again.

“Welcome to the Dollhouse” is an cruel movie.

I suppose I just don’t “get it.” The only part I thought was funny was when the little sister disappeared, but that didn’t last. It was all very cruel and unfunny to me.

Sort of like how “Citizens Against The Government Takeover,” (of the local electric utility) is mostly funded by Enron and PGE.

Sort of like how Rush Limbaugh, who said we should jail white drug abusers, is a white drug abuser.

Sort of like how there are no weapons of mass destruction.

Actually, the movie was nothing of the sort. The movie was just mean and made me glad I’m no longer in Junior High School.

In running news, I got a little gun shy after feeling like throwing up last time I went out running on Friday. I did a lot better because I took it easier. Maybe I’m feeling better.

If you have a lot of time to read, Margaret Cho has a blog now.

Oh crap, the Yankees won.

Double crap, Hanshin lost.

I should quit rooting for teams I like.

I hope that I’m not getting migranes.

My headaches lately have been making me sick to my stomach. That’s only one of three problems on the list according to Men’s Health Magazine:

  • In the past 3 months have headaches limited your activities?
  • Does headache pain make you sick to your stomach?
  • Does light bother you?

Yes to two are supposed to be bad. And last night I had a headache that made me sick to my stomach and kept me from eating dinner. A trifecta. That ain’t good. I just hope my friend Megan is feeling better than that during her chemo. I was feeling worse than miserable.

Earlier in the day I went running and almost threw up. I haven’t thrown up from running since I was in 8th grade. That was almost thirty years ago. I’ve learned since then not to push myself quite that hard and, besides, I ran at my regular pace. I figure something is off.

So, I’m taking the usual path to medical awareness: I’m going to wait and see if things get better. It seems to work for most things. I figure all things are self limiting: if I’m dead or unconscious, I won’t care.

Crap. The Cubs lost.

My writebacks appear to be working. I decided to quit using the static web pages and re-did some of the web server configuration. Whee.

So the first write back I get is from another frigging premed. “You CAN be a doctor,” they said. Actually, I can’t be a doctor. I’ve been told that how many times? Sixty-three? And anyway, I hate frigging premeds, and since premeds become doctors I wouldn’t get along with many of them, now, would I?

As an added bonus, I called about a job posting and was told that my experience in school was worth nothing and that only on-the-job experience counted. Plus, with the economy the way it is, companies are asking for five years of experience and won’t take anything less.

Headhunters can be so cheery sometimes.

Will I ever get this writeback thing to work?

So I think this time I’m really coming down with something besides unemployment. I thought the trucks were beeping reverse awfully early in the morning, but what really happened was that I slept through my alarm. When I thought it was 7AM, it was 9AM. Later on in the day I got a cramp between my shoulderblades and now I can’t hold my head up straight. I’m falling apart.

In any case, I’m still fighting with one computer running MacOS X and Apple’s X11. It just doesn’t act like the X that I’m used to. I’m also still trying to get blosxom writebacks to work on a BSD box.

This weekend I get to house sit or at least watch my friend’s cat. The cat hates me, and hides from me whenever I go to feed her, but I have to replace cat-pee soaked towels off of the wall because the cat misses the litter box.

I am truly blessed.

One of those creepy days.

I got up this morning feeling like today, something would go wrong. So far, so good. I only have a couple more minutes to go and today, at least officially, will be over.

I did a lot of computer-fighting, called a recruiter who told me I was unqualified for any of his jobs, especially in this job market, bought some coffee for my mom to take to Japan as presents, and basically did nothing.

I’m beginning to think the creepy feeling is actually from the huge salt intake from the KFC I ate last night.

Well, I’m still jobless and looks like I’m going to stay jobless (unless I can somehow convince people to let me wait tables.) I think everyone who knows me knows that’s a bad idea.

Rainy running season.

In any case, my times are getting slower and I’m gaining weight. It’s just a couple minutes on a 45 minute run and five pounds but, still, that and the Marlins winning aren’t cheering me up. (I try to stick to superficial disappointments because the real ones tend to bother me a lot more.)

I’m not real sure about my weight gain, since I weight myself after running, and a 20°F drop in the temperature from the eighties to the sixties probably means I’m not losing as much water weight during the run. I’d measure it and graph it because I am that big a geek, but I’m also kind of lazy.

My friend Megan is starting to feel tired from her chemo, and she just started. I wish I could do more than just hope for the best. Maybe if I got her the proper talisman. There’s no proof it doesn’t work.

Watching monitors.

What did I watch today? My computers continuing to compile things, two Major League Baseball™ games, The Secret of Roan Inish, and since the Yankees winning and the The Secret of Roan Inish were a bit disappointing, I watched Antonio Banderas shoot up the bar in Desperado and parts of one of my favorite movies, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.

So someone asked me what my three favorite movies were. I suppose if I count the number of times I’ve seen a movie, it’s pretty easy, in no order:

  • Blade
  • Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back
  • Undercover Brother

And I suppose honorable mention goes to Batman and the gayest movie (in homoerotic terms) I have, Top Gun.

Actually, I’d like to see both the Yankees and Red Sox lose. I may get my wish. I’d like to see the Cubs win it all.

Computer destruction time.

Usually, one of my computers goes on the fritz about finals week. I don’t have any finals any more, so I figured I’d generate some trouble for myself now. I usually update my NetBSD system daily (the NetBSD-current churn) and that’s why I have my fastest computer doing just that. I also decided to update my Macs to the alpha-release of Fink where I can run gcc-3.3 on Jaguar. And I fixed some, but not all, errors on my web site.

So, basically, I spent all day trying to get my computers to do the exact same thing they did yesterday. Of course I screwed it up and ended up reinstalling the NetBSD and my fink install.

This is all very geeky. What it means is that I played with my computers today. And tomorrow and the next day too, I bet.

My friend has decided he needs to see naked women and the only way he can do that is to go to strip clubs (and there are many in Portland) and dragged me to another one. I’ve got nothing against them but I can’t imagine anything good happening in one. Except maybe I’ll get drunk by paying a lot of money.

Once I was minding my own business in the local strip bar, having a good time, when a young woman came in and wanted to start a fight. She told me, “She’s going home with ME, not YOU!” Heck, nobody’s going home with me. I was just trying to spend all my money, a dollar at a time. I told her that. Finally, the bartender had to tell her to knock it off.

So there you have it. I can go to a strip club and not only can I spend a lot of money for bad drinks and marginal food (though I’ve had better food than you’d expect at a couple of strip clubs) but I can also get beat up by women in their early 20’s who want to go out with strippers. Too bad I’m not into kinky stuff.

Some people don't believe my luck.

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