8 November 1998
 
  With a Mocha, No Less  
 
    I'm in an internet cafe in Baltimore right now. El Prez gave it a good try, getting my machine to go, and for one instant, it worked perfectly, then agin the cascading illegal operations. I suspect it has to do with remembering the password. I dunno. 
    It's hard to care. I'm taken by such a case of apathy, it's hard to care about much, and what I do care about infuses me with anger. So what's worse, being angry or not caring? My internet life grows dim these days, with only Daveworld to keep me company, really. I pulled out of Active Worlds, Outer Worlds, and ICQ several weeks ago, and am survivng decently without them. My job really takes all my attention. 
    I must say, my page looks so much cooler than I thought in high resolution. 
    I'm so distracted. There is much on my mind that I wanted to write, but having the Huz and kids here, and all these people, and the espresso machine, and this flat, normal keyboard, and a mocha cooling nex to me, well it is taking some getting used to. 
    My work has been stressful, if that's anything new. We thought we were getting someone new who could bring more order to the chaos than I have been so far, and that I could move into a set of duties that would make more of my abilities, but this new person turned out to be beyond our grasp. The funny side effect is that I began to perform already the job I'd hoped to have, so now I've come out of this with more on my plate, not less. 
    I'm working more closely with El Prez, going to appointments with him, and even a sales expedition to Cherry Hill next week. I'm coordinating our appointments and really getting more into the sales end of the operation, which would be fine if we had an office manager, which we don't. I'm it. But I refuse to let go of the work I like so much. 
    We hired four new sales people last week. We'd only been looking for one, at first, to replace a guy we had who went on to greener pastures that didn't require much travel. Then El Presidente decided to break up the one huge territory into three, but we got four excellent candidates. So, we took on all four for now. Either we will grow to support the fourth, or one will wash out. We'll see. It's quite a challenge to sell beverages in the winter. 
    My hair is shorter, by quite a bit, and once again purple. The purple works out much much better than the blue. The short cut is quite cute, when I can get at it with a hair dryer and curling brush. Otherwise it sucks, so I guess I'll be making the time for it. Seriously, it's the cutest cut I've ever gotten, and for $15 as well. I need to take pictures so I can get it again. Beats the snot out of my last salon experience. 
    I have a new mouse at work, actually the one I originally asked for, a Logitech Treackman, the kind that's shaped like a baseball mitt. First couple days my hand hurt worse, making the adjustment. Now, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I've been warned, though, that lots of bits of gunk get in these trackballs, and that they are high maintenance. We'll see, though. How much worse can it be than my Agiler from before? I'd clean the hell out of it and still get sticks and bumps. 
    There is so much more on my mind, some of it floating between upper consciousness and the subconscious. Some things I don't even know are bothering me until they fall out of my mouth. Things with work mostly. Things I can't really spell out here. It all really amounts to not knowing what my true role is, or what it should be, or how to best utilize my talents. I hate feeling like a failure for my meager performance in areas that are not my strengths. Like anyone, I like to shine, I like to be appreciated. And while it probably grows me to keep doing things I am not good at, it doesn't do much for my self-esteem. Every time I don't quite cut it, it cuts me, 
    I used to be such an achiever. 
    I don't do crossword puzzles. Know why? They make me feel incredibly stupid. 
    I read an article today in Men's Health magazine about a guy who went back and took his SATs, at the age of 43. When he was a kid, he made 740 on the math and 780 on the verbal, I think. As an adult he made in the 500s on math and a perfect 800 on the verbal. I'm just quoting what I remember him saying. I myself never took the SATs. Where I grew up, the ACT is the standardized test of choice, and it covers a lot more subjects than just mathematical and grammatical ability. I don't recall now what my score was. I just remember Delta State University offering to take me in after the end of my junior year, without actually graduating high school. I didn't take the offer. 
    Anyway, I'm wondering if it couldn't hurt to take the SATs now. At least, I'll finally understand what everyone else is talking about. It's supposed to be pretty hard, isn't it? I know people get really caught up in their scores and how they can affect their entire lives. 
    The whipped cream in my mocha left globules of transparent fatty stuff floating on the coffee once it vanished within. 
    Moomie said something that floored me the other day, something I want to work into my art, so much did it inspire me. 
Mom, what if the earth was space, and space was the earth, and God was one of us, and he cut a planet with a knife, like it was a ball, and he could eat his cereal in it?

    I think he's a philosopher. He says he wants to be a scientist when he grows up. A scientist and a moutnain climber. I wanted to be a scientist, too. 
    I had chosen polymer science as my life's work. The University of Southern Mississippi had a program that captured my fascination, this whole new arena of chemistry that blew my mind. I'd planned to do my first two years at Holmes Community College then transfer over. 
    I let a professor get in my way. I let my math instructor screw me up. My first semester, I tested into College Algebra. I wound up with an instructior who moved at the speed of light, had very little patience with questions, and never offered constructive criticism or tips. I wound up dropping the class to save my GPA. Rather than think anything was wrong with him, I thought something was wrong with me. I was a math imbecile. It wasn't until much later, lots of college courses later, that I discovered the blame was on his end. I saw what other professors did, how people learned, what the standard was in various colleges all over the country, and discovered that he was just a plain lousy teacher. Years later, as my cousin entered the school, I heard that the same guy is still teaching there, and that he has such a reputation that people offer money and favors of all kinds to avoid getting placed in his classes. Kids would rather put off earning their math credits for a year than take a place in his tutelage. 
    I now have a problem to overcome, though. I let him get to me, and have felt like a math failure for years. It's probably a really good idea to take some math courses, bring myself back up to speed, regain my confidence. I still don't know what I'm going to be when I grow up, but the better my math, the better my chances. 
    Ok, my kids are getting wild and I'm paying $8 per hour for this thing, so I better get going. 

PS - Huge thanks to the guy at the Strand who answered the phone tonight.  I had emailed this entry home from one of my web-based email accounts, but the attachment never made it.  I called the Strand and the guy very kindly emailed it to me.  What a gem!

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