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  • Silvertree

    Mod post: No wishlist posts in blogs

    By Silvertree

    Please be aware that we do not permit swap-related content on profiles or in blogs. Please post this content only in the For Sale, Swaps, and Wanted forums, or in the Wishlists topic. ~from Swapping 101  Thanks!
    • 5 comments
    • 6,604 views
Sourball Ho!
 

Quick hits!

--I know I’m evil, but I laughed out loud at the title of a thread in Get Personal, “Anyone ADD?” by “capricious.” I don’t know this forum member (who hasn’t logged on since March) and it’s nothing personal, but how funny is that? A word that means “impulsive or unpredictable” is starting a thread about Attention Deficit. Hee! I haven’t read it, but I want to hop into the thread and say, “oh yes, me too, I will be doing something and – ooh! Shiny! That reminds me, I need tinfoil from the store. What were we talking about again?” I’m going to hell.   --I’m not an Oprah fan, but now that my work schedule includes working from home, and afternoons are quieter than the mornings, I’ll have it on in the background sometimes. She had a great series last week called the Debt Diet which revealed what I have long suspected: many people are living way beyond their means and using credit to inflate their earnings. They followed 3 families, one of which seemed nice enough (2 schoolteachers), but the other 2 families were flat-out clueless. Seriously, one family ate out for every meal, they never cooked, they didn’t own a toaster or coffeemaker or dishes and ate everything off plastic plates and cups. They had 5 cars for 2 people!   So a big part of the series was not just saying “stop spending money” but asking why. At one point one of the women was saying how she didn’t even think about spending money, she just shopped. She didn’t know how much they owed for the second mortgage or credit cards, she just kept it out of her mind. When she was asked, “Why are you absent from your own life?” it was a lightbulb moment. “Oh, so this is my life? It’s not at the mall? It’s not in InStyle or Lucky? It’s not getting the jeans that Jessica’s wearing, or getting my glowing orange MysticTan?”   Celebrity culture is nothing new – I have a Photoplay from 1926, and in between movie reviews are “the latest fashions from Paris” so you could presumably throw out all your old clothes and run out to buy the new ones. But it’s so pervasive now. How do we know where Britney is shopping for baby clothes? Because the store manager is calling every news outlet to report it. Why should we buy the new $500 Louis Vuitton bag? Because they sent a free one to Lindsay Lohan to be photographed as she’s buying coffee.   So be like Chuck D and don’t believe the hype! Yeah boyeeee!
dawndie

dawndie

3
Gone Batty
 

Can you see the real me?

Sometimes - ok a lot of the time - I wonder exactly what people think of me. If I don't know someone I tend to be very quiet and reserved. I don't speak up, don't really offer my opinions, don't expand on my thoughts or comments. Flying under the radar, being invisible, that's my usual MO. I think this is what an old friend meant when they told me I was very un-Leo-like. Inside, however, I am quite the Leo. I want attention. I want people to laugh at my jokes. I want to be engaging. I take pride in my appearance. The inner Leo always fights with my low self confidence but usually loses. Most of the time just can't shake that ugly, unpopular, wallflower kid feeling from middle school. I feel that anyone I meet immediately sees that I don't measure up and that I am not worth consderation. It's not as though people come up to me on the sidewalk and ask just what business I have going out in public but sometimes it feels that way. My husband tells me that he wishes I could see myself through his eyes. I wish I could too.   There are days when I do open up. Then I talk and laugh and joke. In the moment everything feels fine but afterwards doubt creeps in. Did I talk too much? Was the person just humoring me? Do they think I'm just nuts? I have a caustic sense of humor and a keen sense of observation - does that make me appear harsh or critical? I think I notice these things more the older I get. Possibly because it's so hard to meet people when you don't have a ready made community like high school or college.   I'm not even sure where this post is going...just some random thoughts going through my head at the moment. I'm resisting the urge to delete it though.
miss apple

miss apple

5
Eoywin's Blog
 

Bad Days and Disney World

When Todd gave me the choice of Vegas or Disney World, the choice was easy. Disney!   I really wanted to go back to Disney World as an adult. I'd been there twice before - once when I was 7, and once when I was 16.   But Todd's been there 4 times (the last time he was about 17), so he always said he didn't want to go back there.   Todd pretty much made my birthday this past year into Todd's Day (he bought a truck for himself, and got a dog I didn't even want on the day we were suppose to celebrate my birthday - he was suppose to plan something special for us to do, and obviously didn't), so I think he wants to make it up to me... so that means I get my trip to Disney World!   We are also going to do something he likes - his favorite wrestling company, TNA, tapes their weekly show at Universal Studios in Florida, so we will be getting tickets to go see that. Plus we plan on spending a day at Universal anyway, since I've never been.   All in all, I'm really excited. It's going to be a wonderful mini-honeymoon.   Unfortunely, my mind always goes to my headaches when I think about doing fun stuff. I will have to make sure I have plenty of time to rest, so I don't get worn out and hurting.   I have good days and bad days when it comes to my headaches. Today is a bad day, because the pain is hard to ignore. It's a cold pack day, and I worry that I don't have enough to get me through the whole day.   Plus, Todd's still sick, so I'll have to go home and do housework, instead of resting myself
Eoywin

Eoywin

2
Is Anybody Out There?
 

I'm a scaredy-cat

There are worse things to be. But I am. (Think the Cowardly Lion from Oz... only more dignified. Sometimes)   Y'know, for all that I've expressed a desire to pursue my interest in art, I'm really dragging my feet with the follow-through. I realized that I don't want to take Japanese this year, which leaves me another class, which I usually love. This time, not so much. Here's the thing. There's a design class open in my time slot. It's perfect. It's the one to take before you take, like, drawing and painting and whatnot.   I had such a horrible time with art the first time around that I sort of feel defensive about taking a class. That's an understatement. I'm afraid that someone else will tell me I'm no good. I've never been good with art.   I learned a lot from Bloody Mary. She was engaging with the topics, and I adored the people in the class. (I think it reminded me a little of high school, only now I'm not afraid. Well, I'm still afraid, but in comparison... yeah. You don't even know. But anyway, the class was fun.) When it came to her projects, though... She was a right bitch. Her syllabus stated that if we thought a grade was unfair, to go talk to her about it and see what could be done, but that was apparently code for "I don't have time for you, you talentless, tasteless, obnoxious creature."   She'd publically ridicule ideas from people. People like me, obviously. She has no way of knowing that speaking out in class at all; going up to her about things... they're huge deals for me. My social anxiety kept me housebound for months at a time. Starting college was one of the most terrifying things I've ever done. I don't expect her to be a mind-reader, but to say, "I suppose we can bump it up a little if you're going to slit your wrists over it..." complete with the eye-roll, I found inappropriate. "I can't grade on effort," she told me. "I have to grade based on end product. Do you think yours looks anything like the ones on display?" And, honey, if you don't grade on effort, I'm not going to give you any, because I'm not an artist. No, mine didn't look like the ones the art majors did. This is not a high level art class. It's intro to art. If she'd said flat out at the very start that she was looking for quality art, I would've dropped the class, because I've never had art instruction. But she said the opposite; "You don't need to be an artist to ace this class; we don't judge based on talent..." Royal we. Blech.   She also expected us to complete the projects without guidance regarding technique, might I add- We watched a video on Maria the amazing pot-maker (There is no sarcasm in this- this woman really is amazing, and world famous.), and that was ALL we got about pottery before we had to make our own. That was our last project, and anytime she'd walk by, I'd crumple my attempt up and start over, because she was laughing at people. Not in a kind way, either. She guised her jabs in humor a lot of the time, but we were all bloody by the end of that class. Hence "Bloody Mary."   So what did I learn from Bloody Mary? I learned to get angry. I learned to stand up for myself. I learned to hold my own and not back down. These may seem like silly little things, but they're important.   I wish she hadn't been so mean. I learned a lot about artists from her. If it hadn't been for the projects, I think I really would've liked her class a lot more. How's that for irony? Decent teacher (assuming she's not making fun of students), rotten art teacher. I'm still glad I took the class, despite how much I complain about it to this day.   But this makes me afraid to take more. I'm not good. Sometimes I see things and I copy them. But I don't know the first thing about actual technique.   I should take the design class. I probably won't. I'm a scaredy cat.
smallvoice

smallvoice

4
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

Name That Blend!

I have this tendency to layer my BPAL scents, and then name the blend, as in Smut-O-Rama. I also mixed Lovitar and Smut one night. I'm still surprised that I didn't explode -- that's mixing two incendiary substances! And it's a bit of a BDSM mix that wouldn't be for public consumption, and would naturally need to worn with leather underwear. It was dubbed Joe Perry Bait. (And of course, thanks again to the Diva of Icons, minilux, for providing me with the customized beauties!)   I really do try out these blends because I get curious, or more often than not, I want to juice things up a bit. Every time I get something a bit low-key, I decide to toss in some heat. (I'm a Leo.) So tonight, I decided to see what would happen if I put down a nice layer of Coyote and then dabbed a bit o' Smut on top. It's nice. I went out to get some iced tea and read at a coffee house, and the girls working there were leaning over the counter inhaling me, because they liked it that much. Of course, they now have the Lab's web site address and are officially enabled.   But that blend... do I call it Coyote Smut or Smut E. Coyote?
valentina

valentina

7
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Back to your regularly scheduled shallowness

I think I got swap-lifted. I reported it, but I feel utterly deflated. That was my carefully negotiated (with the FormerFiance-PresentlyHusband) order of decants (Beltane (!), Enraged Bunny Musk (luckily I ordered one from crescentwench), and Monster Bait: Underpants (Not to sound greedy, but this one makes me particularly sad. I've got two decants, but I had a use in mind for all three of them, and I'm going to have to eliminate one, for the time being. Maybe two.)) and a bottle of Dragon Moon.   I don't want to think that someone took off with them. I'd prefer to think of them as outstanding swaps (as in, 'outstanding warrants'), until I know for sure. It's easy to get overwhelmed, which leads to embarrassed, which leads to running away. That doesn't make a person bad. Life can get hectic, and I'm the first one to admit that I've fallen behind in swaps before.   There's my pep-talk for the day.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Whiskers and Whispers
 

I'm going to be an aunt! And it's so. bloody. hot.

I stink of: Tulzscha, and sweat...ick.   Well, maybe step-aunt is more accurate. I just got some wonderful news from my older half sister-she's pregnant! I'm so pleased for her, I always though she and her husband would make wonderful parents. The baby's due January. This is so exciting!   Anyway, it's the hottest day of the year-so hot that even my BPAL ultimate heat-beater, Tulzscha, isn't working. Maybe I should apply some Lick It, since that worked wonders in Crete. I love sunny hot weather, and it's the same temperature here as it was in Crete and I coped with it ok there, but for some reason, it's much more unbearable in London. Maybe because it's not coastal or dry heat, or simply because there are no decent pools in the vicinity to dip in-I'm craving a dip in an outdoor swimming pool right now, or a dip in the sea...   And I think I might be getting a job come August-I've had a lot more offers for some simple courier jobs, market research/telesales and even a job at Lush. I hope that I can get at least one of those jobs. Although maybe not when it's too hot, since the Tube is treacherous at this time of year...
PurringPulsar

PurringPulsar

0
Do you have a flag?
 

Entire GC Swap Reviews - cordia Package #1

Cross-posted to the reviews forum.   cordia #1 package: Aizen-Myoo, Asphodel, Blood Countess, Follow Me Boy, Hunger, Seraphim, and Yggdrasil. I have all these imps, so I didn't have to use any of the oil from the swap package.   Aizen-Myoo - Yuzu, kaki, and mikan with cherry blossom and black tea. Aizen-Myoo smells like stank on me. It is one of my least favorite BPAL oils. And it's weird, because the Lab has frimped me with Aizen-Myoo at least four times. I feel like Aizen-Myoo keeps saying "Try me again. This time you'll like me. Go on, try." And I try it, and it's horrible. It smells like the very worst bitter citric acid smell you've ever smelled combined with weeds that sort of smell like tomato leaf but four times sharper. And the scent lingers around for hours making me regret ever putting the damn oil on my skin. I know there are people who really love Aizen-Myoo, and I'm honestly glad that someone likes it. But I don't. Yick.   Asphodel - The grey and ghostly flower that fills the fields of Hades. Light and floaty, but extraordinarily floral. Like I just stuck my nose in a flower. It's one of those heady floral scents that would be cloying if it were stronger. (Luckily it's not very strong.) I'm not a floral gal, so I can't say which flower this smells like because I'm not very familiar with floral notes. I can say that it smells kind of pale pink, rather than yellow or purple. I like this better than some of the other floral blends but not well enough to want to wear it.   Blood Countess - Corrupted black plum, smoky opium and crumbling dead roses covered by a deceptive veil of Hungarian lilac, white gardenia and wild berry. Blood Countess is one of the blends I knew for sure that I would like -- the plum, opium, lilac, and berry sounded wonderful! The only listed note I don't get along with is gardenia. (I wore a gardenia-scented oil in the 90s and got burned out on the scent.) And guess what Blood Countess smelled like on me? Yep, you guessed it. Gardenia. A fruity gardenia, but still gardenia. I tried it at least three times because I kept hoping that this time it'll be just plum and opium. You'd think I would have given up after three tries, but I refused to give up my imp hoping that one day my skin would play nice. And I am happy to announce that TODAY is that day! Today this is definitely a plum and lilac scent on my skin, and it's lovely! I'm thrilled that this finally worked on me. And now I know for sure that this particular oil is affected by my hormones. Now that I know when to wear it and when not to, it's officially a keeper!   Follow Me Boy - No notes listed. Hmmm. An odd scent. I'm not sure how to describe it. It starts out smelling kind of floral and herbal. Green, but not sharp. It's not unpleasant, but it doesn't seem particularly enticing to me. After a while it starts to smell a little milky and floral -- kind of like sour milk. Still an odd scent. I wouldn't wear this as perfume.   Hunger - Evokes sheer, unadulterated carnal lust. An undeniably warm and sensual scent. Black narcissus, orange blossoms, and vanilla. When it's wet, this oil smells dark and powerfully sexy. It's almost all black narcissus with something deep and smoky underneath that reminds me a little bit of vetiver. As it dries I can begin to smell the orange blossom. The vanilla makes it slightly creamy. The first time I tried this oil a few months ago I thought it smelled like a creamsicle. This time when I tried it, it was much darker. I like it this way better. Very nice blend. I think this imp might get upgraded to a bottle.   Seraphim - A perfume sacred to the highest of the angelic hosts: calla lily, wisteria, white sandalwood, Damascus rose and frankincense. Woah. This scent goes straight through my head. It's white and sweet and so piercing it makes my teeth ache when I sniff my wrist. I'm not sure why this combination is so disagreeable to me -- the notes don't offend me individually. Frankincense often goes too sweet on me, but I can't really smell any frankincense in here. And oh great, I get the extra special bonus pounding headache from this one. Perhaps this blend is too angelic for me. 'Fraid this one's getting washed off.   Yggdrasil - The World Ash. Nine woods, nine leaves, and three herbs each for Ratatosk and Vidofnir, with three final herbs to placate Nidhogg. A very woodsy scent. Is there mint in this? Or menthol? It's odd, the first time I tried Yggdrasil a few months ago I thought it was a very dry, light, wood scent, and I kept the imp around because I thought I might want to try it again later. I had in mind that it was the sort of light comforting scent I'd want to wear at bedtime. I definitely don't remember anything like menthol in it -- that is not comforting to me at all. After the wet stage dies down, that minty scent fades away. What's left is wood and herbs. This is much more herby than I remember. Also it gets a little powdery when it's dry. It's not the comfort scent I thought it was. Hunh. Off to swaps, I guess.
filigree_shadow

filigree_shadow

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Death and Suicide

I think I need to crawl into the land of the sims now.   I hate when people die. And I feel guilty if I haven't spoken to them in a while.   I've been thinking about my friend, Charlie. He died about two years ago. He's been on my mind all week. I cried so hard when I found out.   "I could never commit suicide," he once told me, when I was feeling particularly suicidal. "It goes against my religion. I don't want to go to hell."   I don't believe he's in hell.   I miss him a lot.     Love you, Charlie.   Love to you, Cove and Judy.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Eoywin's Blog
 

Presents

I feel slightly bad, and greedy... but I love presents!   I, of course, got a lot of neat things for my bridal shower this past weekend, but it sucks because I couldn't taken hardly anything back with me because I was flying and only had a large-ish duffel bag (I didn't want to mess with checking luggage in).   Luckily, my sister had the foresight to just mail my presents, and put pictures in the card she gave me. So I have a brand new spice rack (with spices in it!) and a 4 canister set (which I plan on putting flour and sugar in two of them).   Todd is home sick (he's got a nasty stomach bug), and emailed me that we had a package. I called him, and had him open it while I was on the phone (work is dull, I wanted a little excitement )   We are now the proud owners of a 6 mixing bowl set! It was sent by someone who couldn't make my shower.   I really hope people send us wedding presents in the mail, so we don't have to haul all the presents back from Michigan... and because I love packages with presents in them!  
Eoywin

Eoywin

0
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

One of my better ones

I came up with a descriptive line today that I felt was one of my better ones -- I was talking to a friend about how I'd been in an insanely bad mood a couple of weeks ago. In hindsight, I realize that it was because I was coming down with a bad summer cold, but at the time, all I knew was that I was not a happy camper. I characterized my mood in this manner:   "I wanted to shove kerosene-soaked tampons up everyone's butt and walk around with a flame-thrower."     Maybe TMI, or maybe a visual you'll enjoy. It probably depends upon your mood.
valentina

valentina

8
Fishnets and Frankincense
 

No regrets, Coyote

I am so much older than most people around here, so please excuse the ancient person song subreference, but there's a Joni Mitchell song called "Coyote" that starts out with Joni speaking, more than singing, the words "No regrets, Coyote..." THAT SONG HAS BECOME A BRAIN WORM! I got a bottle of Coyote in the mail yesterday, thanks to the lovely and generous GypsyRoseRed, who went to Will Call to make purchases for the non-L.A. dwellers. This no-coast girl owes her a serious debt of gratitude. Of course, I tried out Coyote right away, and after getting a sinking feeling because the grass-woods element of the scent bloomed so strongly at first, it mellowed into an outdoorsy amber-musk smell. And I can't stop "No regrets, Coyote...we just come from different sets of circumstances..." from playing in my head. That song, BTW, is from the album "Hejira."   And in a confluence of random mutant thoughts, darkitysnark's latest entry about the yin and yang of her personal style -- either femme or what I could call cute earth mother (because who can't look at the tree photo in her hair travelogue and not say "that's just cute!") -- reminds me of a line in "Song for Sharon," which is also on "Hejira." It's a song about about growing up as a romantic at heart, while still being a little wild and rough-and-tumble, and the line is "mama's nylons underneath my cowgirl jeans."   Since I was a kid who used to ride my bicycle up and down gravel roads while wearing my mother's old dresses, with lipstick no doubt applied clownishly on my face, I do understand that song a lot. I never was a normal farmer's daughter -- and that was probably one part disposition and one part environment. My father's mother had to run the farm and raise 4 children because her husband was chronically ill and was unable to work for long periods of time. She looked 60 by the time she was 30, and my father wasn't going to make any daughter of his work that hard. There are snapshots of her where she literally looks like a man -- weather-beaten, stringy-skinny, in work clothing, not a smile to be seen.   My mother has since told me that my grandmother didn't even want to live on a farm that badly, much less run one -- but through a series of circumstances, my grandfather took over the farm instead of his two older brothers. I'm sure when my grandmother and grandfather married, she thought they'd eventually move to a town or a city. But instead, she accepted the hand that she was dealt and became not just a farmer's wife, but a farmer herself.   Damn, and I think I have things to bitch about. I get to bathe with Villainess soaps, anoint myself with BPAL, pay absurd amounts of money to get my hair done, make my skin soft with oils and lotions, run about to the gym and to yoga class, and generally be a bit of a vain diva who likes to throw in touches of androgyny in the midst of her girlyness.   My life is pretty good, and no regrets, Coyote!
valentina

valentina

0
Diplomatka
 

Taliban opens office

This was in the news today. And while all of the ISAF, American and British forces are focused on the Southern Provinces like Helmand, Uruzgan, Zabul and Kandahar, the Taliban has gone and set up it own governmental office in the Southeastern province of Ghazni.   This is a big deal: mostly because Ghazni is not on the front lines. While there have been bombings and assasinations in Ghazni this year, there are no foreign military troops there to keep peace, but this is the new front. Especially when these Southeastern provinces are on no one's radar (no pun intended) and the Taliban can hang out a shingle without anyone stopping them. There are also reports that the Taliban have met with men over 60 in Ghazni center to ask them to become suicide bombers.   What's more, in talking with some of the Afghans I work with, apparently in Peshawar (in Pakistan on the border with Afghanistan), the Taliban is openly recruiting people with storefronts to travel to Afghanistan to carry out bombings, kidnappings, etc.   All of this really saddens me. When I came to Afghanistan in spring 2005, Ghazni was the first place outside of Kabul that I visited. It was gorgeous: the fruit trees were in bloom and the fields were bright green. The mud walls of the buildings and the remnants of the ancient empire that once ruled parts of India made it seem like I was in another time. It bothers me that the little girls I visited in their classroom might not be able to go to school much longer and the peaceful, sleepy town I visited might be irrevocably changed for the worse.
Confection

Confection

0
This Old Snark
 

Tree Dimes a Mady

(WARNING: Disjointed metaphors ahead and underfoot!)   Ever since she became conscious of the differences between boys and girls, Snarky has been trying to figure out that line between the feminine and masculine. She's unsure of not only the coordinates of the various demarcation points, but also where she stands in relation to those teetering little points in the shifty sand.   She vascillated between Girly-Girl (ballet training coupled with a near drag-queen level obsession with her mother's 1960's wardrobe) and Tomboy (tusseling with the neighborhood boys in the snow, wading waist deep in creeks in order to catch minnows) as she grew up. The advent of body hair and the constant battle to eradicate it was an absolute nightmare (tutus and 'pit hair don't mix) but she also became sporadically lacksadaisical about maintenance (surely Snarky isn't the only girl who has "winterized").   Snarky was lucky to have either indulgent or equally laissez-hair paramours during these experimental times.   Thusfar she's developed a duality fluctuating between the extremes. Some days she does the full get up: make up, matching shoes (as in: shoes that match the outfit, Snarky usually has presence of mind enough to match the shoes to eachother on any given day girlie or no... most of the time), matching underthings, matching BPAL, matching earrings... just matchy matchy all over the place. Other days she's lucky if a shower happens, let alone color coordinated not-nekkidness. (The Mister has been known to serenade her with "Ebony & Ivory" on the days that her bra/panty choice is chromatically challenged.)   For the past year Snarky has evolved away from platform heels and slinky skirts to Mary Janes and corduroy pants due to working closely with contractors, engineers, and ginormous, filthy machinery. This practical work wear attitude has bled in to her off hours as well.   On top of her sartorial schizophrenia is the concept of the masculine and feminine in attitudes as well. Snarky is constantly battling it out between her perceived dominant/submissive, Asian/American, intro-/extrovert, and male/female halves.   (For example, body hair is a Big Issue for Snarky. How does a self-proclaimed feminist explain her need to eradicate naturally occuring body hair to suit some wholly unrealistic sexualized pre-adolescent imagery?)   Then the cherry on top of this sundae of textbook gender identity woe are the emotional eggshells Snarky has been treading upon since The Mister's recent health scares (more honestly, these eggshells have been cropping up for as long as the Snarks have known eachother). She's been swathing their weekends in safe, neutral tones and non-aggressive, granny pantied conversations to keep things bland as oatmeal at home. She's been more mother than wife lately, and that sort of extreme imbalance can skew more than just the one boat in the marriage flotilla. She can't help but think that a wave of equal amplitude in the other direction is needed to put everything back on course.   The Snarks have been recovering long-buried and forgotten portions of their wardrobe as they are expanding into their house. Almost single handedly Snark's hootchie-mama arsenal increased ten-fold (OK, more like two-fold, but ten-fold is so much more impressive) just by finding and liberating the right tub of clothing.   So she's easing herself back into more feminine attire. Perhaps with the physical donning of her old "split up to there" skirts and flirty ankle strap heels, she will also be able to also mentally shed the metaphorical sweatpants. Time to Wake Things Up a little and return to feeling completely human (and girly, and ROWRy) again.   And if she needs to wear the pants for a little while in order for The Mister to get back on track, she'll do that too. But they'll be tailored and leather and just the right kind of snug.
darkitysnark

darkitysnark

2
Diplomatka
 

Another Version of Events

This is the account that one of my co-workers wrote who stayed behind the day of the riots. Damn, this makes my stomach turn and just makes me mad all over again.       HRD Manager, account of the Monday, May 29, 2006 (Jawza 8, 1385) incident.   The demonstration that I found out about only a few minutes earlier was becoming more intensified by 11:00 am which is why we decided to send the international staff home.   To find out exactly what was happening, I took a rented car to Taimany where I faced a group of angry demonstrators on the 7th street. I returned to the office and asked Shah Mohammad to evacuate the office completely. Shoaib, Driver, and I accompanied the last two international staff to the International Guesthouse. On our way back to the office, we were caught in the middle of the demonstration in front of the Attorney General’s office. I asked Shoaib to take the car back to the guesthouse and I walked along the demonstrators to the office, pretending to be one of them. The demonstrators dismantled the security box in front of the Attorney General’s office and set it on fire in the middle of the road.   When I came back to the office, I found that a small number of the staff had not left the office, including two female staff, from Admin and an income generation staff and her children (later I found out the two kindergarten teachers and a handful of kids were hiding in the kindergarten). I asked Ramazan, our Admin Assistant, who had also remained behind, to take them to a safe location. He took them through Kolola Pushta to a safe place before returning to the office.   I, along with 14 other staff, stayed at the office during the looting and the fire. Those who had stayed behind did not to hesitate to protect the office. Their courageous actions saved much of the organization’s properties, assets and the entire adjacent building, about 50 rooms, along with furniture and equipments. They rescued more than 20 vehicles, 6 large generators, approximately 90 computers, 55 printers, 9 stores (containers) 2 of which were storage of fuel, oils and vehicle’s spare parts etc. The credit of having all the remaining stuff in our office goes to these people.     We locked all the entrance doors to the office. The crowd was approaching from two sides: Kolola Pushta and Qala-I- Fathullah. I was in front of the transport gate which was locked from inside. I watch as their leader pointed to buildings to be attacked. They damaged the security box in front of WFP office (located next to the office). Next, they tried to attack our gate but the transport gate was too strong for them to break down so they moved on to join the crowd coming from Qala-i– Fathullah toward Shar-I- Naw, all the while breaking our windows around the corner. As this was happening, I managed to move to the other end of the building, in front of the mosque, watching them move away. When they cleared our building, I went back to the office and assured my colleagues that the mob was gone.   At 12:30 the mob returned from Shar-I- Naw, and broke the wooden gates located in north side of the main office. Over 100 people raided the office in looting what they could and destroying the rest. Later, one of my colleagues told me that a gunman was standing next to the finance department, his head wrapped in a handkerchief. I soon realized that, even though we were doing our best, we could not resist them because they were a handful of people with guns among the crowd. I did not want to risk any of our colleagues’ lives. I though that they were a group of thieves, who would leave after they took what they wanted. I never thought that they would finish their action by setting the office on fire.   I could hear the flames but was not able to see them. I kept looking all around to see where it was coming from. And suddenly there it was, all powerful and engulfing everything in its path. The steel bars on the windows, meant for protection, had now become an obstacle against salvaging equipments.   The fire was soon raging out of control and no matter how hard we tried we could not put it out. The staff was looking to me for guidance, but I was concerned for their safety. I had to tell them to back away. Watching the office burn was like watching my own home burn and not be able to do anything about it. This will be one of the worst memories that I will carry through life; the office bunt as I looked on helplessly.   While we were fighting the fire, one of the looters was stealing a laptop and a DVD player but was not able to go through the main gate which was on fire. Assuming we too were looters, he asked us for help over the western wall. We gave him a hand and more before we locked him up in the transport department.   Another young looter who was throwing items to his gang from the kindergarten roof , was apprehended by one of our colleagues and joined the other looter at our makeshift jail.   Three invaders entered the car park and tried to steal a Corolla when Yama, our Mechanic, ran after them and told to get out of the car. They found the car first and that there are plenty more for him to choose from. At this point Yama reached in through the open window and pulled out of the driver. A group of our staff joined him and rescued the car. Yama ceased another car-thief who told him that he was a staff member. He joined the rest at the transport department.   Nasim, the Head of IT and Communication, did his best to save the finance department’s server from, but despite his heroic act that brought him to a few feet from the fire, he was not able to save the server.   Nasim was fighting the fire off from the generators and three guards were fighting the fire away from the next building. I sent the cars out of the office, we carried the damaged cars away from the wall of the burned building and succeeded to pull out one the generators but we couldn’t take out the second one.   To prevent the spread of the fire to the next building we pulled out all the cloths and furniture from the office’s shop. I asked the staff to take out all remaining materials out of the office. We took out 14 laptops, 2 satellite phones, 1 IT Server, radio sets and computers and put them all in a car which driver Hanif took to Mr. Ebadi’s house who is an employee of the Parwan office; we sent 8 cars to Shir’s house.   I asked Ehsan and Satar, a Guard, to keep a watch from the Kindergarten’s roof and I went outside to stand by the mosque next to the office. I watched as a small group of looters returned back from Haji Yaqoob square and broke into the reception. I followed them and with the help of a group of our staff ceased them. Our staff continued their heroic acts and after throwing the mob out of the reception and removed a couch that they had set on the fire. It was timely act that protected the second building and offices from the fire.   The Fire Department refused to get involved without protection. So we all watched as our dear home burnt.   1. Shir, Driver; took 8 vehicles and some other stuff to his house, resisted the looters on the street and retuned them back to THE OFFICE in good condition. 2. Yama, Assistant Mechanic, beside saving a laptop and a VCD player that he took from the looters, he saved 3 vehicles by taking them out of the office. 3. Humayon, Guard; despite his disability, he acted bravely. 4. Ihsanullah, managed to grab a camera from a looter and take pictures of the office while burning. 5. Shafi, Guard, he acted bravely 6. Satar, Guard, he acted bravely and he was very active and became very tired in that day 7. Abdul Wahab, Guard; he acted bravely. 8. Khoja Sayed Jan, he acted bravely by pushing back the rioters from reception. 9. Baseer, Mechanic, took coaster van full of shop stuff and some other things for safe keeping 10. Shoaib driver; he acted bravely 11. Fazel Guard he acted bravely 12. Nasim, Head of IT and Communications, did his best to save properties and collected about 13 laptops, sat phones, radio sets and a few desktops and put them in a car and took to Mr. Ebadi’s house, we received it back in good condition 13. Wahab Mechanic; he acted bravely and saved a vehicle by taking it for safe keeping during the riot 14. Ramazan; he took Samira, Misha and Ferozan with her children from the office to their houses in very bad condition. Also he assisted others in pushing back the rioters from reception.   1. Sayed Khalil 2. Fazel Haq 3. Musharaf driver 4. Hanif driver 5. Abdul Sabor 6. Karim, 7. Hafiz 8. Eng Sulaiman
Confection

Confection

0
Filling the Periodic Table
 

It's Sunday night, you know what that means!

My tomato is getting so heavy, it's actually hanging crooked:   One cluster of ripening tomatoes:   Another cluster of ripening tomatoes:   Look at all of these peppers!   Here's the experimental tomato, it has really perked up amazingly since being re-potted. In this picture, you can see the support I'm using. It's designed to hold a flowerpot, but it makes a pretty tomato support.   Remember that little morning glory bud I posted last weekend? (Scroll down, I'll wait ) This is what it looked like tonight:   I'm pretty sure this one has got to be a moonflower bud, since it looks so different from the other one:
antimony

antimony

1
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Update

Good news! The A/C is working! We need to be careful about the filter, but the thermostat is fine and everything. This means that we won't be getting a new air conditioner for our birthdays, which is patently Good. I'm hoping he gives me a watch. And here's where I break off into a tangent, all day-dreamy-like:   Didn't I ever write about "Christmas?" (I can't ever remember if the question mark should be out of the quotes or in it.) The boy moved here on December 28th so that he could spend Christmas with his family for the first time in a long time. We postponed Christmas- the meal, the presents, everything- until the 29th. This left him rather overwhelmed, due to the fact that a vast majority of my large family showed up. He was great with them. It was memorable and such a delight.   He got me the coolest gift ever.   He'd been teasing me by talking about it. He found it on Amazon. It had puzzled him at first. Why would anyone want it? Then, he had an idea. He'd shared it with his dad. His dad was jealous that he hadn't thought of something like that for his mom. The moment arrived, and I opened the shiny, shiny paper to reveal a big, white box. I opened the box to find what appeared to be a jewelry box. Only it isn't one! It's a watch box. He took my hand and said, "It'll be full in about 20 years, but I'll get you another one." The symbolism of time, and marking the passage of time with a watch each year... it all took my breath away. It's SO gorgeous.   And, breaking away from the daydream-   That probably means he won't be getting me a watch for my birthday; just Christmas, but it'd be nice to have a couple to store in it. I love that thing. ...Yeah, I have to admit it, I'm really hoping for bpal. And I feel guilty. I wish I were a better person. But another watch would be nice.   I am so freaking sick. I feel gross. Swimming to kill the odd skin inflammation did not work. We are trying bleach today, which is gross, but seems to be working. I'm just so wiped out. I need to get out of my house, though. I've got swaps to deliver.   My mom is calling me Gracie. It's wierd, and hard for her. I worry that it's making her too uncomfortable. She knows why I did it, and that it had nothing to do with her, but... I almost feel like a stranger. I didn't know that the name change would affect me like it has. It's not bad, necessarily. Sometimes it's odd, but not bad.   I want to cut off my hair. I need to find a good style. Who'm I kidding? Heh. I'd never keep up with it anyway. I'm lucky if I bother to comb it out, these days. More people compliment it when I don't, come to think of it. People are so strange.   I'm really hoping the mods get back to me soon. I'm impatient.
smallvoice

smallvoice

2
Sourball Ho!
 

Independence

I emailed a girlfriend in California whom I haven't seen since Christmas. We've been friends since junior high and she doesn't have the highest self-esteem in the world, even though she's smart, pretty and hilarious. So I worry about her, especially in the guy department. The comedian Bill Hicks wrote a song called "Chicks Dig Jerks" ("Hitler had Eva Braun / Manson had Squeaky Fromme / I don't know how the world works / All I know is chicks dig jerks") and she picks these boyfriends (and a couple of husbands) who seem to treat her like crap and she doesn't see a problem.   Anyway, she's in a doozy situation, in that a few years ago her dad and stepmom won the lottery. They bought a huge house where we grew up, but they're barely there as they spend all their time now at their "ranch" in another state. So my friend is staying by herself in this massive house just a few minutes from her job. Sounds great, right?   I'm thinking initially that would be wonderful -- a big house where everything's fancy and new, everything paid for, close to my job so I could cover my own expenses and save huge amounts of money. But then reality would kick in: she can't redecorate anywhere, and the house is currently neo-Miami Vice. She's basically the 24-hour maid, gardener and unarmed guard for free. Nothing "belongs" to her, she's just house-sitting. Plus I'm afraid of her becoming a target, even though the house is all securitied-up, and I don't want anyone (that she knows or doesn't know) taking advantage of her.   So ultimately I would have to decline living in the big house for free. I wouldn't be independent and that's really important to me at this point. I need our own space, as shabby and homely as it is, but it belongs to us.
dawndie

dawndie

0
This Old Snark
 

Hair Apparent

The Mister has a bit of a hair fetish to complement his foot/naughty secretary thing. And Snarky really never knew about the extent of it until recently.   When he first met Snarky, she had a slightly angled bob that just curled beneath her chin. She had been maintaining the relatively chic 'do after a free makeover going in to her third year in college. Up until then she had rather a rather laissez faire approach to her hair except for the white streak (a la Rogue of X-Men fame or Pepe le Pieu's paramour, take your pick) she tried to maintain until she burned a bald patch on the side of her head.   She lapsed back into just growing it all out while in Europe for a semester, ending with a dramatic chop off "mas corta, por favor" in a "Super Tall" in Spain. (Who knew Super Cuts had gone international?)   Leading up to their wedding, Snarky finally returned to letting it all grow out in order to fulfill some deep-seated conviction that All Brides Must Have an Up 'Do. Her hair continued to grow until 2002 when, after a successful run doing impressions of "The Ring"'s Samara (and scaring the bejeezus out of all her co-workers), Snarky allowed her hairdresser to give her bangs.   This was the beginning of the end.   The bangs became Bettie Page bangs one hectic morning after Snarky's shaky attempts to even out the regrowth.   After that, it was only a matter of time before she succumbed to the inevitable and chopped it all off for charity.   Since that fateful November day (she kept the long hair one more Halloween in order to channel Cleopatra) Snarky has more or less kept the 'do at either page-boyish or rather Pat Benatarian levels. The Snarks take their mini-golfing very seriously. Growing out the highlights, and no, Snarky is not Flamenco-ing. She's modeling a knitting thingamabobber (Glampyre's One Skein Wonder, if you're curious) A better look at The Benatar in all her glory.   After the unfortunate Hitler Bangs incident, Snarky finally agreed to let it all grow out again.   Lest we ever forget... re-posting proof of the Hitler Bangs.   This old photo most closely approximates the currently sideswept bangs (if you can make them out on her teeny tiny head). Is it just Snarky, or does it look like she's about to be plucked off the Earth by an Ent?   And for The Mister, there was much rejoicing. For while he has never once complained in all the years of Snarky's follicle fancies, he had been harboring a secret hope that she would return to the p0rn hair of yore. Every time she now wears her hair in the funky little pigtails - all she can currently manage - he gets a certain speculative gleam in his eye and breaks out into a boyish grin of delight.   It is this anticipation of his that is helping Snarky through some of the most difficult growing out phases she has ever encountered (and she's counting the skunky bald patch!). Right now she is currently at "vaguely choppy kinda-sorta rock mulletini-y" and would really just like to drop all the -y, -ie, -ishness and have a damn definitive 'do, already!   The things we do for love!   Edited to add: If she can find old pics of the old long hair, Snarky'll post 'em. She's also got a picture to be downloaded off the camera of the current oh-so-age-appropriate pigtails yet to post.
darkitysnark

darkitysnark

12
Filling the Periodic Table
 

Results come out today!

Between 3 and 3:30 eastern time today, exam results come out!!!!   I am completely useless today. There's a message board for actuaries (I guess there's one for everything!) and I keep reloading, looking to see if results are out early. I mean, I'm working and all, but not very efficiently.   Oof.
antimony

antimony

0
Is Anybody Out There?
 

Whining

I have some sort of a skin infection that's not going to kill me, but it is grossing me out. Plus, I have to take 4 pills a day to help clear it up. Because it's communicable, I'm going to have to bathe in bleach. Or just go swimming a lot, which is preferrable. On top of that, the air conditioner in my room froze over, so we've had it off to let it thaw out and it's freaking hot in here. It explains why the ac hasn't been putting out as much cool air as it probably should be.   And, uh, now it appears to be broken. Crap.
smallvoice

smallvoice

0
Eoywin's Blog
 

Flying Woes

I'm flying to Michigan tomorrow... and I'm really getting nervous about it.   The last time I fly was May 2000 when we took our last family vacation to Arizona, so it was before 9/11.   And this is the first time I will be flying by myself.   I'm an adult, and such, but being by myself and flying is starting to freak me out.   I'm afraid that I won't find my gate, I'm afraid I'll miss my flight when I have my layover, and I'm afraid no-one will be there to meet me.   I hope it turns out better than I'm thinking!
Eoywin

Eoywin

2
Diplomatka
 

The Wedding Party

Summertime is wedding time in Afghanistan. Long, boring, hot, segregated wedding parties are as unavoidable as dirt and scorpions this time of year. While the men sit downstairs drinking tea, eating mutton and listening to music at the wedding hall, me and the other “females” are upstairs, all painted up, dancing to the live band and trying to avoid the children running buck wild all over the place. While I have always been skillfully adept at fleeing Afghan weddings, I have seen enough to know that few social events anywhere in the world are as strange and tediously predictable.   Things to know when you go to an Afghan wedding:   1. There will be no ceremony. The ceremony takes place in a mosque a few days before. The “wedding” you are going to is really just dancing, food, music and no alcohol (while the men can get away with sneaking a few sips, this is strictly taboo for women).   2. If you bring your significant other and he/she is of the opposite sex, you are not going to see him/her all night. Men sit downstairs, women sit upstairs. Don’t ask questions.   3. If you are a woman, wear the brightest outfit you have, the highest heels and lots of make-up (when in Rome…).   4. Expect to see the bride and groom together for only a few minutes, after they have greeted guests for hours.   5. The bride and groom will be related.   The weddings are always held at a huge wedding hall that is covered in mirrored glass and neon colored bas-reliefs. The hall is rented out solely for such occasions. The food is thrown at you by 15-year-old Afghan boys on large, communal plates. Dishes at weddings always include rice, mutton, chicken, a salad of tomatoes, hot peppers and cucumbers, fried eggplant, spinach and some type of gelatin dessert. Green tea will be served without fail.   While I cringe when I see the pink frilly wedding invitation on my desk, sometimes it is good to get out and see what the Afghans are up to. It is refreshing to see women dressed in their finest, talking and laughing with each other without being self-conscious. For many of them with houses to keep and children to look after, weddings are the one event where they can come and (literally) let their hair down.   If you are un/fortunate enough to be invited to an Afghan wedding in your lifetime and decide to go, be prepared: practice your basic Dari, make sure you look good (everyone will be staring) and get ready to eat. It will be an event you will never forget.
Confection

Confection

1
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