2.25.05
I’m thinking about shaving my head again. Not a great revelation to most, but it’s a biggish decision for me because I look to different. With hair I look like a pretty typical mid-30s guy who’s bald on top with this crop of hair haloing my head (except, thankfully, the forehead). Without it, I look like a bouncer.
Case in point: I was walking down Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood once, not too long ago, and, as I’ve said elsewhere in this blog, somebody rolled past me and asked their friend, about me, “Is that Vin Diesel?” I was the only person on the sidewalk at the time, so I can’t think they meant anybody but me. I foundthat very flattering, for lack of a beter term (well, maybe ego-building). I’ve been compared to him before, though he’d have to shrink a few inches and grow a pretty good gut for us to be similar-looking. I think it’s we’ve both got...borderline indeterminate ethnicity to some and we’ve both got some muscle (he more than I).
Anyway, it’s a thought. Might grow back the moustache, too, though I don’t relish the thought of that thing tickling my nose again. I’d let it get long and instead of growing straight out and down, it sorta curved, so sometimes I’d be looking like I had a habit or a cold when I was just brushing away irritating moustache hairs.
Why is hair, of all things, such a big deal with me, though? Would it be if I had a full head of it? I dunno. I do know that as I get older I’m getting hairier in other places, without being too specific, and it’s a little strange. I think it’s that I don’t feel like I’m old enough for such things to be happening.
I’m reading Stephen King’s “Dark Tower” series, and I’m writing some rather dark stuff of my own now, as well. Know what? It’s very liberating, writing about a certain amount of dark stuff. And I’m finding that fantasy it turning out to be less restrictive than science fiction has been. And maybe science fiction is old hat to me, since I’ve been writing it for a while. It’s nice to take a break, sort of add not necessarily more wood to the fire as much as it is to add a new kind of wood to it. To burn a different sort of fuel, as it were.
What else is going on? I’ve got, now, two films to film before long. One’s a five-minute “Yes, Sean can act” piece whereas the other’s a fifteen-or-so-minute short film. My co-star wants this done about mid-April or before so it can go to a local film festival. I’m not so hot on it as I am getting it to the Austin Film Festival and into Slamdance. Those, in my opinion, are reputable festivals that you still don’t have to be a USC or NYU grad to get into, and that industry bigwigs of whom I’ve heard will be going to. It’s all about maximizing your opportunities and striking a balance between getting a product out there and not compromising quality or situation just to put something out. One thing I won’t make is crap films. If I’m going to put make something, I want it as good as it can be. Otherwise, it’s not worth either the hassle or the hustle.
Oh, and I’ve started re-writes on a screenplay for a producer out in Hollywood to look at with an eye toward recommending it for representation. That’s where a lot of my energy is going to go for the next week or two, I think, as I told him I’d have it to him in mid-March. I’m just grateful I’ve leapt the last big hurdle in the screenplay, thank God. Now it’s just putting the pieces together and mixing it into a cohesive, organic unit.
Saturday, 26 February 2005
Saturday, 19 February 2005
blessings, blessings
Blog entry--2/18/05
Boy, oh boy. I gotta tell you, God’s really been blessing me in the financial arena lately. Not necessarily with cold cash, but with items that save me having to spend money on same. For example, my brother and sister-in-law have given me some nice furniture with a stereo to follow because they’re moving. That saves me over a thousand dollars, at least. I’ve been able to pay off some old, large bills, taking a hit now so I don’t have to extend the pain later. And my car continues to run, which I so appreciate at the same time as I tell myself what I really want is a new(er) car. And that’s true, about the wanting of a newer car.
I’m learning the meaning of gratitude and of the idea of god opening the windows of Heaven and pouring blessings down on me. I found a lot of this started happening once I started tithing again and claiming that hundred-fold return on the offering, though I’m still having trouble getting my head around the idea that I can also claim the same retun on the tithe. That, I’ll wait for confirmation from God on. I don’t know that my faith will stretch that far, though I might just claim it in faith and see what happens.
I injured my hand, prayed over it, called the Abundant Life Prayer Group at Oral Roberts Evangelistic Association and had them pray for it. Three days later, my hand’s nearly back to normal, or better, as the ganglion cyst that was on there is now gone. Glory and thanks be to God!
What else is going on...I’ve gotten done with another first draft of a story, and I’m coming along with the storyboards for the short film I’m going to make, on which I need to do more work because I’ve a meeting with my co-star and co-producer tomorrow morning. I’m pretty happy with what I’ve gotten done so far, but it’s taking a lot more panels than I thought it would. Seems like the only real problem with drawing them that I have is the same one as I’ve had for a long time: perspective. It can be hard drawing perspective, but if you don’t think about how things really look and just follow untrained instincts, you’ll wind up with things, like doors, streets and so on, looking wrong. Don’t look now, but it’s actually fun. Drawing. Really, so’s the whole creative portion of the filmmaking process. With good people with you, it’s fun collaborating as well, but I really relish the writing, editing, storyboarding and setting up shot lists. It’s probably a control thing with me.
Brother and sister-in-law, I LOVE the tables--thank you so much. I love you. Not just based on this, but...you know what I mean.
Y’know, I started this blog tonight in a not-very-good mood, but I’m preaching myself happy, as my pastor might say. Try it. It works.
Here’s a poem:
_Rise_
by Sean Johnston
Alone in the dark
I toiled and fought
Met
Nothing
Resistance
cloaked in tenacity
a blanket of black
A spark of light
burned in my eyes
Hole in the impenetrable
Ripping
Birthing
Hard path winding
Up the slickshale mountain
Eighty-nine degrees with a rope
Scratch and claw and plead
Hand up
Rise and walk
Wind at my back
Help at my hand
Boy, oh boy. I gotta tell you, God’s really been blessing me in the financial arena lately. Not necessarily with cold cash, but with items that save me having to spend money on same. For example, my brother and sister-in-law have given me some nice furniture with a stereo to follow because they’re moving. That saves me over a thousand dollars, at least. I’ve been able to pay off some old, large bills, taking a hit now so I don’t have to extend the pain later. And my car continues to run, which I so appreciate at the same time as I tell myself what I really want is a new(er) car. And that’s true, about the wanting of a newer car.
I’m learning the meaning of gratitude and of the idea of god opening the windows of Heaven and pouring blessings down on me. I found a lot of this started happening once I started tithing again and claiming that hundred-fold return on the offering, though I’m still having trouble getting my head around the idea that I can also claim the same retun on the tithe. That, I’ll wait for confirmation from God on. I don’t know that my faith will stretch that far, though I might just claim it in faith and see what happens.
I injured my hand, prayed over it, called the Abundant Life Prayer Group at Oral Roberts Evangelistic Association and had them pray for it. Three days later, my hand’s nearly back to normal, or better, as the ganglion cyst that was on there is now gone. Glory and thanks be to God!
What else is going on...I’ve gotten done with another first draft of a story, and I’m coming along with the storyboards for the short film I’m going to make, on which I need to do more work because I’ve a meeting with my co-star and co-producer tomorrow morning. I’m pretty happy with what I’ve gotten done so far, but it’s taking a lot more panels than I thought it would. Seems like the only real problem with drawing them that I have is the same one as I’ve had for a long time: perspective. It can be hard drawing perspective, but if you don’t think about how things really look and just follow untrained instincts, you’ll wind up with things, like doors, streets and so on, looking wrong. Don’t look now, but it’s actually fun. Drawing. Really, so’s the whole creative portion of the filmmaking process. With good people with you, it’s fun collaborating as well, but I really relish the writing, editing, storyboarding and setting up shot lists. It’s probably a control thing with me.
Brother and sister-in-law, I LOVE the tables--thank you so much. I love you. Not just based on this, but...you know what I mean.
Y’know, I started this blog tonight in a not-very-good mood, but I’m preaching myself happy, as my pastor might say. Try it. It works.
Here’s a poem:
_Rise_
by Sean Johnston
Alone in the dark
I toiled and fought
Met
Nothing
Resistance
cloaked in tenacity
a blanket of black
A spark of light
burned in my eyes
Hole in the impenetrable
Ripping
Birthing
Hard path winding
Up the slickshale mountain
Eighty-nine degrees with a rope
Scratch and claw and plead
Hand up
Rise and walk
Wind at my back
Help at my hand
Sunday, 13 February 2005
I'm feeling generous
Hey, those were the words which came to me.
This isn't a regular blog; it's a story. Please do not copy it in any way or redistribute it in any way without my permission.
This probably won't be up for long, so read fast.
Thanks.
-Sean Johnston
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
copyright 2005 by Sean Johnston
Approx. 770 words
Xanthus leaves town
by Sean Johnston
Xanthus Washington, a tall, rangy “Nee-gro”, as some of the oldsters called him, walked out of the town’s jail a free man after spending the week inside the piss-smelling cell where they kept the drunks and other not-so-dangerouses. A week because he smelled like beer because somebody had spilled some on him while he tried to play pool an hour before he ran into Elrod, the sheriff. Xanthus almost turned back toward the jail and spat on the place. He wanted to.
But they would give him another week for looking at them wrong, never mind spitting on public property. In Oklahoma, some police enforced that law. Some with more enthusiasm than others, some with more...selectivity...than others.
Instead, Xanthus made his way out onto the sidewalk in the bright sunshine and breathed the hot afternoon air. He turned toward downtown.
As he moved, he could feel the hard glares of people who watched him. He looked up and around, tried to find the local Ben Franklin store. From behind storefront glass that reflected him, he saw storekeepers as they looked out at him.
A block ahead, on the left, stood the same Ben Franklin he’d shopped since he first came to town a year ago. In front of it, in the middle of the street, the town’s fountain, some war hero on a horse, dribbled water out of its green bronze nose. Xanthus walked between it and a pair of old men who sat on a nearby, park bench of rotting wood. They just sat and stared. They did not talk either to him or to one another. Xanthus thought he had never seen them talk to anybody, but the force of their glare toward him felt like an insistent shove in the chest. Xanthus hesitated to look into the fountain. It seemed reasonable that the townspeople would think he was casing the fountain for spare change by the time the old-timers, assuming they spoke, got done.
Xanthus passed the horse and rider. A mother pushed her baby along in a stroller across his path. He stopped and tried not to look at her. She looked at him, and their gazes connected for a brief instant. In that time, Xanthus did not know whether he felt pity or fear from her. He imagined both as they passed and he went on.
The store stood just ahead, its doors open, the only such store in town that Xanthus could see. As he went up to them, though he slowed for a moment and kept walking to the bottom of the hill, past who knew how many more storefronts, down to the Greyhound Bus Station.
He went inside and took in a deep breath of the cool, albeit musty, air. He thought he would go to the vending machine and get a soda, but he kept on to the ticket counter. He looked at the schedule of destinations.
A fat man who needed a shave but had kind brown eyes lumbered up to the counter.
“Where to, Xanthus?”
Xanthus started a little, looked at the man, at the man’s name sewn in an oval on his shirt. Calvin. He didn’t recognize the man. He remembered somebody saying that when more people knew you than you knew, you were famous. He suppressed a smile. When he came into town from Minneapolis, he never thought being black would make him famous. But he knew it could be his having been in jail, too.
“Seattle,” Xanthus said.
Calvin muttered something and started to cobble Xanthus’ ticket together.
“How...how much is that, sir?” Xanthus asked.
Calvin glanced up at him, shook his head. He handed Xanthus his ticket.
Xanthus looked at it. The amount on it said one hundred thirty-nine dollars and six cents. Xanthus started to get his bank card out, but Calvin held up a hand.
“Your money ain’t no good. Jus’ take the ticket. An’ don’t come back here no more.”
Xanthus gave a shuddering sigh and took the ticket, sat down, felt Calvin watch him from that moment until the bus came three-and-a-half hours later. When it did, Xanthus checked his ticket and the bus’ number, got up and went to the door.
“Good luck, boy,” Calvin said.
Xanthus slowed but didn’t turn around. “Thanks,” he said, and he would have sworn, if necessary, that he felt Calvin give a little wink.
He went out to the bus, got on, sat down as the bus started to move out.
When they left the town, Xanthus, for the first time in he didn’t remember how long, smiled.
This isn't a regular blog; it's a story. Please do not copy it in any way or redistribute it in any way without my permission.
This probably won't be up for long, so read fast.
Thanks.
-Sean Johnston
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
copyright 2005 by Sean Johnston
Approx. 770 words
Xanthus leaves town
by Sean Johnston
Xanthus Washington, a tall, rangy “Nee-gro”, as some of the oldsters called him, walked out of the town’s jail a free man after spending the week inside the piss-smelling cell where they kept the drunks and other not-so-dangerouses. A week because he smelled like beer because somebody had spilled some on him while he tried to play pool an hour before he ran into Elrod, the sheriff. Xanthus almost turned back toward the jail and spat on the place. He wanted to.
But they would give him another week for looking at them wrong, never mind spitting on public property. In Oklahoma, some police enforced that law. Some with more enthusiasm than others, some with more...selectivity...than others.
Instead, Xanthus made his way out onto the sidewalk in the bright sunshine and breathed the hot afternoon air. He turned toward downtown.
As he moved, he could feel the hard glares of people who watched him. He looked up and around, tried to find the local Ben Franklin store. From behind storefront glass that reflected him, he saw storekeepers as they looked out at him.
A block ahead, on the left, stood the same Ben Franklin he’d shopped since he first came to town a year ago. In front of it, in the middle of the street, the town’s fountain, some war hero on a horse, dribbled water out of its green bronze nose. Xanthus walked between it and a pair of old men who sat on a nearby, park bench of rotting wood. They just sat and stared. They did not talk either to him or to one another. Xanthus thought he had never seen them talk to anybody, but the force of their glare toward him felt like an insistent shove in the chest. Xanthus hesitated to look into the fountain. It seemed reasonable that the townspeople would think he was casing the fountain for spare change by the time the old-timers, assuming they spoke, got done.
Xanthus passed the horse and rider. A mother pushed her baby along in a stroller across his path. He stopped and tried not to look at her. She looked at him, and their gazes connected for a brief instant. In that time, Xanthus did not know whether he felt pity or fear from her. He imagined both as they passed and he went on.
The store stood just ahead, its doors open, the only such store in town that Xanthus could see. As he went up to them, though he slowed for a moment and kept walking to the bottom of the hill, past who knew how many more storefronts, down to the Greyhound Bus Station.
He went inside and took in a deep breath of the cool, albeit musty, air. He thought he would go to the vending machine and get a soda, but he kept on to the ticket counter. He looked at the schedule of destinations.
A fat man who needed a shave but had kind brown eyes lumbered up to the counter.
“Where to, Xanthus?”
Xanthus started a little, looked at the man, at the man’s name sewn in an oval on his shirt. Calvin. He didn’t recognize the man. He remembered somebody saying that when more people knew you than you knew, you were famous. He suppressed a smile. When he came into town from Minneapolis, he never thought being black would make him famous. But he knew it could be his having been in jail, too.
“Seattle,” Xanthus said.
Calvin muttered something and started to cobble Xanthus’ ticket together.
“How...how much is that, sir?” Xanthus asked.
Calvin glanced up at him, shook his head. He handed Xanthus his ticket.
Xanthus looked at it. The amount on it said one hundred thirty-nine dollars and six cents. Xanthus started to get his bank card out, but Calvin held up a hand.
“Your money ain’t no good. Jus’ take the ticket. An’ don’t come back here no more.”
Xanthus gave a shuddering sigh and took the ticket, sat down, felt Calvin watch him from that moment until the bus came three-and-a-half hours later. When it did, Xanthus checked his ticket and the bus’ number, got up and went to the door.
“Good luck, boy,” Calvin said.
Xanthus slowed but didn’t turn around. “Thanks,” he said, and he would have sworn, if necessary, that he felt Calvin give a little wink.
He went out to the bus, got on, sat down as the bus started to move out.
When they left the town, Xanthus, for the first time in he didn’t remember how long, smiled.
Friday, 11 February 2005
cell phones are evil
I just paid my cell phone bill after it'd gotten into nosebleed territory. It's just it was the biggest of my immediate bills, so I thought I'd cut it down now, get it taken care-of and not worry about it anymore. So next up is fixing the car, then an older, lesser cell phone bill (don't ask), then rent. This is in a mixed-up order of importance. Obviously, rent is first among those three, but it's not due until the beginning of the month, so I'll take a bit from next week's check, a bit from the one after that and we'll handle it.
Lessee, then there are utilities, which shouldn't be that much since I've already paid the deposits on everything.
I gotta say, I'm breathing a little easier without the big cell bill breathing down my neck. Agh.
Really, though, are the cell phones evil? No. Just rather tempting. Though, my boss at work has a plan with very few minutes, which he rarely uses up because he uses the phone for what he intended it for: emergencies. Not blabbing to somebody on the road, "Hi, I just wanted to see what you're doing, blah, blah, blah." Myself, I've enjoyed not having the frigging thing.
So am I concerned about rent? A little, but not too much. As one sister said, if I haven't a job, rent'll be the least of my worries. I'll still have to eat. And the cell bill was just getting bigger and bigger, with regular fees and late charges and crap. I am, though, quite eager to get the bloody rent paid off, even though, as aforesaid, it's not due until the first, which is two paychecks away.
Interesting, how I'm measuring time in paychecks right now.
What other bills are there? Hm. Credit cards that need paying down, then other regular bills. I'm clawing my way back up to financial solidity after sinking to my neck in the mire of debt. It might take a little while, but I figure going through some pain now will help alleviate more pain later.
Lessee, then there are utilities, which shouldn't be that much since I've already paid the deposits on everything.
I gotta say, I'm breathing a little easier without the big cell bill breathing down my neck. Agh.
Really, though, are the cell phones evil? No. Just rather tempting. Though, my boss at work has a plan with very few minutes, which he rarely uses up because he uses the phone for what he intended it for: emergencies. Not blabbing to somebody on the road, "Hi, I just wanted to see what you're doing, blah, blah, blah." Myself, I've enjoyed not having the frigging thing.
So am I concerned about rent? A little, but not too much. As one sister said, if I haven't a job, rent'll be the least of my worries. I'll still have to eat. And the cell bill was just getting bigger and bigger, with regular fees and late charges and crap. I am, though, quite eager to get the bloody rent paid off, even though, as aforesaid, it's not due until the first, which is two paychecks away.
Interesting, how I'm measuring time in paychecks right now.
What other bills are there? Hm. Credit cards that need paying down, then other regular bills. I'm clawing my way back up to financial solidity after sinking to my neck in the mire of debt. It might take a little while, but I figure going through some pain now will help alleviate more pain later.
Thursday, 10 February 2005
attraction, environment, conflict, frustration
Yet another blog entry--2/09/05
I’m sitting here at work working on this blog, as there’s really not a lot else to do. It’s a slow night around here, at least for me and my assignment.
I rented “Metallica: Some Kind of Monster” last night and stayed up until about six a.m. watching it. The documentary itself is about two-and-a-half hours, and I didn’t start it until about two a.m. or so, perhaps an hour after I got home.
I’m really feeling draggy today, probably because I didn’t get enough sleep last night. Also, my diet could do with some variety. I’ve been eating pretty much the same thing each day for the last few weeks--pork chops and eggs. Which is fine, but something else has to go with it. I usually do yogurt and orange juice, for something good-tasting and healthy--and, yes, I do have some consciousness of healthy eating--but, really, I think it’s the sleep. Going to bed at six and getting up at noon isn’t that great for you. It’s six hours of sleep, sure, but I think it also matters whenthose six hours are.
So I have to start going to bed earlier, like around three or four. That way, I’ll probably wake up around nine or ten and have time to go to Starbuck’s and get some writing done before I need go in to work again.
I opened my computer up today, and the screen was very...distorted is the easiest word for it. It did what a computer does when its logic board is going out or is already gone, basically. So, it looks like, though teh screen’s fine now, I’ll soon be getting an new iBook. Apple’s policy is, as long as the customer has an AppleCare Protection Plan, if a thing goes wrong on a computer more than three times, the customer gets a new computer--I think it matters what it is that’s going wrong. Anyway, they’ve fixed these logic boards in this computer three times and told me if it goes out again, I’ll get a new computer. I, of course, am not going to do anything to exacerbate the problem, but it’s nice to know Apple’s got me covered in case something does go wrong.
What I’m a little surprised at, though, is how fast the logic board seems to be expiring this time around. I don’t think it’s been more than two months or so since they replaced it last time. I hope it’s a problem exclusive, within Apple, to the style of iBook I have.
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but I had a date with a lady a couple of weeks ago, which I was mildly excited about, but only mildly. It’s partially because of, and you’re gonna love this, those who know me, her race and partially because she started it.
I should explain: I am identified as African-American, but growing up surrounded by Caucasians, that’s what I’ve learned to be attracted to. So there we are. As I told one person, there are some African-American women with whom I’d love to go out (and, no, Halle Berry isn’t first on the list, though she’s practially drop-dead gorgeous), but I prefer Caucasians.
The other bit is I’m old-fashioned. I like to be the pursuer, as I usually am, rather than the pursuee. Though, it does make a difference who it is that’s pursuing me.
What’s kind of disturbing, though, is my ethnic preference doesn’t really extend to all non-Caucasians. It’s isolated to African-American women, and I think that’s a big problem. I thought I’d gotten over this, but in the back of my mind, I, and I’m having difficulty saying this, keep hoping I don’t have to “settle” for an African-American woman, that I don’t have to do that because that’s what’s expected, because that’s what would seem natural, my being African-American myself. I really don’t like that that remains my attitude, but that’s what it is.
I should be color-blind. I should be ethnicity-blind. I should be. I’m not. That’s kind of limiting for me; I’m cutting--well, I was going to say I’m cutting down the candidate pool, which may be true. On the other hand, what I should also do is recognize what my attitude is, accept it, and stop apologizing for it. There are simply some people I don’t find as attractive as their Caucasian counterparts. Some people think I would prefer somebody of my same ethnicity simply because we’re the same ethnicity--in essence, simply because of biology. Biology’s gotnothing to do with it. It’s your environment, particularly during your formative years, that shapes who you’re attracted to.
It _shouldn’t_ make a difference what color a person is, but it does because of what I associate with that color. It’s like I’m saying if I can marry a Caucasian woman, then, yeah, I’m African-American, but I’m a better person than the African-American guys who marry African-American women, like Caucasian women are better.
But they’re not. Really.
Boy. I’ve wrestled with this for so long, and I thought the fight was over, but it’s still there. I think the only thing to do is to pray for God to help change my view so I see people as He sees them: people. God sees our souls and our spirits, which are not, I don’t think, different colors. I really need to get to that point, to get beyond color and what other people will think and get to see people as they really are.
I think there are some African-American people who read this. I am not trying to offend; what I’ve said is not meant that way. If you, or anybody else, takes it that way, I suppose there’s nothing I can do except to say, hey, this is me, and I’m working on it.
Know what I wish? I wish I’d been brought up around a lot more African-American people. Maybe then my view wouldn’t be so skewed. I wish I was brought up in an ethnically diverse place. I don’t believe any place is going to have an ideal distribution of ethnicities, but I would have liked it to be proportionate, to be less homogenous.
Well, wishing the past was different won’t change anything in the past, but...BUT, I can take a lesson from it. When I do get married, to whomever God introduces me to, and we have children, I’m going to want to make very sure they’re exposed to more than I was as a child. I’ll leave where we live up to God and follow wherever he leads, of course. I hope it’s not to a two-thousand-person, backwater town stuck in the 1960s, but if that’s where it is, then that’s where it is. Seriously, though, I doubt that that’s what God’s got in mind for me.
And, one comforting point is that I know that God won’t bring along for me to marry anybody I’m not attracted to. He’s got the right person for me, and I suppose I’ll just accept her and love her as a fellow person, fellow child of God--well, I’ll just love her, period.
I’m sitting here at work working on this blog, as there’s really not a lot else to do. It’s a slow night around here, at least for me and my assignment.
I rented “Metallica: Some Kind of Monster” last night and stayed up until about six a.m. watching it. The documentary itself is about two-and-a-half hours, and I didn’t start it until about two a.m. or so, perhaps an hour after I got home.
I’m really feeling draggy today, probably because I didn’t get enough sleep last night. Also, my diet could do with some variety. I’ve been eating pretty much the same thing each day for the last few weeks--pork chops and eggs. Which is fine, but something else has to go with it. I usually do yogurt and orange juice, for something good-tasting and healthy--and, yes, I do have some consciousness of healthy eating--but, really, I think it’s the sleep. Going to bed at six and getting up at noon isn’t that great for you. It’s six hours of sleep, sure, but I think it also matters whenthose six hours are.
So I have to start going to bed earlier, like around three or four. That way, I’ll probably wake up around nine or ten and have time to go to Starbuck’s and get some writing done before I need go in to work again.
I opened my computer up today, and the screen was very...distorted is the easiest word for it. It did what a computer does when its logic board is going out or is already gone, basically. So, it looks like, though teh screen’s fine now, I’ll soon be getting an new iBook. Apple’s policy is, as long as the customer has an AppleCare Protection Plan, if a thing goes wrong on a computer more than three times, the customer gets a new computer--I think it matters what it is that’s going wrong. Anyway, they’ve fixed these logic boards in this computer three times and told me if it goes out again, I’ll get a new computer. I, of course, am not going to do anything to exacerbate the problem, but it’s nice to know Apple’s got me covered in case something does go wrong.
What I’m a little surprised at, though, is how fast the logic board seems to be expiring this time around. I don’t think it’s been more than two months or so since they replaced it last time. I hope it’s a problem exclusive, within Apple, to the style of iBook I have.
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it, but I had a date with a lady a couple of weeks ago, which I was mildly excited about, but only mildly. It’s partially because of, and you’re gonna love this, those who know me, her race and partially because she started it.
I should explain: I am identified as African-American, but growing up surrounded by Caucasians, that’s what I’ve learned to be attracted to. So there we are. As I told one person, there are some African-American women with whom I’d love to go out (and, no, Halle Berry isn’t first on the list, though she’s practially drop-dead gorgeous), but I prefer Caucasians.
The other bit is I’m old-fashioned. I like to be the pursuer, as I usually am, rather than the pursuee. Though, it does make a difference who it is that’s pursuing me.
What’s kind of disturbing, though, is my ethnic preference doesn’t really extend to all non-Caucasians. It’s isolated to African-American women, and I think that’s a big problem. I thought I’d gotten over this, but in the back of my mind, I, and I’m having difficulty saying this, keep hoping I don’t have to “settle” for an African-American woman, that I don’t have to do that because that’s what’s expected, because that’s what would seem natural, my being African-American myself. I really don’t like that that remains my attitude, but that’s what it is.
I should be color-blind. I should be ethnicity-blind. I should be. I’m not. That’s kind of limiting for me; I’m cutting--well, I was going to say I’m cutting down the candidate pool, which may be true. On the other hand, what I should also do is recognize what my attitude is, accept it, and stop apologizing for it. There are simply some people I don’t find as attractive as their Caucasian counterparts. Some people think I would prefer somebody of my same ethnicity simply because we’re the same ethnicity--in essence, simply because of biology. Biology’s gotnothing to do with it. It’s your environment, particularly during your formative years, that shapes who you’re attracted to.
It _shouldn’t_ make a difference what color a person is, but it does because of what I associate with that color. It’s like I’m saying if I can marry a Caucasian woman, then, yeah, I’m African-American, but I’m a better person than the African-American guys who marry African-American women, like Caucasian women are better.
But they’re not. Really.
Boy. I’ve wrestled with this for so long, and I thought the fight was over, but it’s still there. I think the only thing to do is to pray for God to help change my view so I see people as He sees them: people. God sees our souls and our spirits, which are not, I don’t think, different colors. I really need to get to that point, to get beyond color and what other people will think and get to see people as they really are.
I think there are some African-American people who read this. I am not trying to offend; what I’ve said is not meant that way. If you, or anybody else, takes it that way, I suppose there’s nothing I can do except to say, hey, this is me, and I’m working on it.
Know what I wish? I wish I’d been brought up around a lot more African-American people. Maybe then my view wouldn’t be so skewed. I wish I was brought up in an ethnically diverse place. I don’t believe any place is going to have an ideal distribution of ethnicities, but I would have liked it to be proportionate, to be less homogenous.
Well, wishing the past was different won’t change anything in the past, but...BUT, I can take a lesson from it. When I do get married, to whomever God introduces me to, and we have children, I’m going to want to make very sure they’re exposed to more than I was as a child. I’ll leave where we live up to God and follow wherever he leads, of course. I hope it’s not to a two-thousand-person, backwater town stuck in the 1960s, but if that’s where it is, then that’s where it is. Seriously, though, I doubt that that’s what God’s got in mind for me.
And, one comforting point is that I know that God won’t bring along for me to marry anybody I’m not attracted to. He’s got the right person for me, and I suppose I’ll just accept her and love her as a fellow person, fellow child of God--well, I’ll just love her, period.
Saturday, 5 February 2005
Furniture, time and bills
Well, hello, folks. This has been an interesting week. Whereas last week seemed so slow, probably due to my waiting for my paycheck and stressing over it, this week I got my paycheck on time and have been pretty well sailing ever since.
My brother-in-law delivered a sofa and loveseat I’ve agreed to buy from them last Tuesday,a nd I’ve been really enjoying the new furniture. I got it set up just the way I want ,and I think it looks great, and my sister, who I think is the one who picked the set out, has, as usual, great taste.
My car, on the other hand...well, it needs prayer. And a good mechanic. And money put into it. Turns out my radiator fan is probably not supposed to be on for so long past when I turn off the ignition and take the key out. Good way to burn down a battery. And there’s something wrong int the crankcase, which I’m going to the only pmechanic in town whom I trust to fix next week, when I’ll have more money. I did find that when i take the radiator fan’s fuse out, the fan stops, logically. When I put it back in, thoguh, the fan, even thought eh car was not running, went on again. Out of curiosity, I started the car without the fuse in, and it started fine. I put the fuse back in and the radiator fan, contrary to my expectation, didn’t spin back up again.
What put me in mind of this was that there was a recall on Dodge Neons for a problem like mine. A person I know had that problem, so when I heard about it, I started to get concerned. So, upshot is that’s one more trick to a mechanic, probably an eletrical guy this time, to see if, as the Dodge dealership says, it’s probably a relay problem...well, more to see how much it’ll cost to fix.
Then there are the leaks in the car. I was going over what all is leaking: transmission fluid, oil and antifreeze, in varying abounts. So about everything that can be leaking is leaking now. And the paint’s peeling. And the dome light doesnt’ always work when I open the driver’s door. What else...the cruise control hasn’t worked since I got the car. I wonder how much of this is simply maintenance and how much is something screwy with the car.
I’m really wanting a new car right now. I’m grateful for the old one. I think the thing made it back from California on perhaps two cylinders or three cylinders (not a good idea), but the birds are coming home to roost.
I talked with one guy, another mechanic, and he suggested that if it takes more than two-thirds the value of the car to fix it, it’s time for a new car. That’s the guideline insurance companies go by: if the damage to a car is two-thirds what the car’s worth, they total it.
Problem is money, and I don’t want to get into more debt, so maybe it’s best to just keep fixing this one as long as repairs aren’t more than one or two hundred bucks, just until I get more settled and stable.
I dunno. If the car keeps running pretty well, it makes more sense to just keep the thing, even if it’s not pretty. More to the point, I don’t _need_ a new car yet, true, but do I really want to wait until I _need_ a new car to get one? At least mine, as is with the fixes I’ll do, is still worth something, even if it’s only a couple hundred to a thousand bucks on trade-in.
Can you see how conflicted I am about this? I want a new car, but I don’t want the responsibility that goes with it, i.e., the payments. They’re just not in the budget, and that’s that. Until I can find something good that will fit the budget.
What else is going on? I’m getting ready to, hopefully, have company over to my apartment for supper for the first time. It’s of note because this is the first time it’s been done where I’ve had my own place; no roommates, no housemates, nothing like that. I need a table, though, or they’re sitting on the sofa and loveseat eating. Which I don’t mind, so long as they don’t spill much on it or fart too much. Nothing like nestling into your sofa only to smell somebody else’s fart remnant there.
This whole apartment thing has meant a lot of firsts for me, things that were either not possible or that I haven’t had to deal with before. For example, I need to get a vacuum cleaner of my own. I’ve usually been able to just borrow somebody else’s. I need to buy more furniture, something which I’ve eschewed for as long as I’ve been on my own, owing to lack of a place to put it and a way to transport it. Stuff like that. It’s a little daunting if I let it be, just like bills can be if I sit and think about them.
I believe, though, the next thing on the list must be a table and chairs. I need somewhere to work and a place for people to plant themselves that’s more civilized than on the living room furniture.
What I realized I’ve been doing wrong, though, is since I haven’t had enough money to meet all of my obligations, I’ve been reticent to send money to any of them but the most necessary; the utilities. I figured they can’t wait, nor can rent nor insurance. The rest I have a little wiggle room with, but now it’s time to ante up.
Money, money, money. And yet, the solituio to money dififculties is not more money; it’s using what you ave more wisely. Otherwise, you’ll just continue in bad habits, even if you’ve gotten all bills paid for a while, until you’re back in teh hole again; why? No discipline, for example. Stupidity. short-sightedness. Not immediately throwing offers of credit into the trash and not digging them out again.
What I have been doing is tithing and keeping from spending as much as possible, just to make sure I don’t go overdrawn.
My brother-in-law delivered a sofa and loveseat I’ve agreed to buy from them last Tuesday,a nd I’ve been really enjoying the new furniture. I got it set up just the way I want ,and I think it looks great, and my sister, who I think is the one who picked the set out, has, as usual, great taste.
My car, on the other hand...well, it needs prayer. And a good mechanic. And money put into it. Turns out my radiator fan is probably not supposed to be on for so long past when I turn off the ignition and take the key out. Good way to burn down a battery. And there’s something wrong int the crankcase, which I’m going to the only pmechanic in town whom I trust to fix next week, when I’ll have more money. I did find that when i take the radiator fan’s fuse out, the fan stops, logically. When I put it back in, thoguh, the fan, even thought eh car was not running, went on again. Out of curiosity, I started the car without the fuse in, and it started fine. I put the fuse back in and the radiator fan, contrary to my expectation, didn’t spin back up again.
What put me in mind of this was that there was a recall on Dodge Neons for a problem like mine. A person I know had that problem, so when I heard about it, I started to get concerned. So, upshot is that’s one more trick to a mechanic, probably an eletrical guy this time, to see if, as the Dodge dealership says, it’s probably a relay problem...well, more to see how much it’ll cost to fix.
Then there are the leaks in the car. I was going over what all is leaking: transmission fluid, oil and antifreeze, in varying abounts. So about everything that can be leaking is leaking now. And the paint’s peeling. And the dome light doesnt’ always work when I open the driver’s door. What else...the cruise control hasn’t worked since I got the car. I wonder how much of this is simply maintenance and how much is something screwy with the car.
I’m really wanting a new car right now. I’m grateful for the old one. I think the thing made it back from California on perhaps two cylinders or three cylinders (not a good idea), but the birds are coming home to roost.
I talked with one guy, another mechanic, and he suggested that if it takes more than two-thirds the value of the car to fix it, it’s time for a new car. That’s the guideline insurance companies go by: if the damage to a car is two-thirds what the car’s worth, they total it.
Problem is money, and I don’t want to get into more debt, so maybe it’s best to just keep fixing this one as long as repairs aren’t more than one or two hundred bucks, just until I get more settled and stable.
I dunno. If the car keeps running pretty well, it makes more sense to just keep the thing, even if it’s not pretty. More to the point, I don’t _need_ a new car yet, true, but do I really want to wait until I _need_ a new car to get one? At least mine, as is with the fixes I’ll do, is still worth something, even if it’s only a couple hundred to a thousand bucks on trade-in.
Can you see how conflicted I am about this? I want a new car, but I don’t want the responsibility that goes with it, i.e., the payments. They’re just not in the budget, and that’s that. Until I can find something good that will fit the budget.
What else is going on? I’m getting ready to, hopefully, have company over to my apartment for supper for the first time. It’s of note because this is the first time it’s been done where I’ve had my own place; no roommates, no housemates, nothing like that. I need a table, though, or they’re sitting on the sofa and loveseat eating. Which I don’t mind, so long as they don’t spill much on it or fart too much. Nothing like nestling into your sofa only to smell somebody else’s fart remnant there.
This whole apartment thing has meant a lot of firsts for me, things that were either not possible or that I haven’t had to deal with before. For example, I need to get a vacuum cleaner of my own. I’ve usually been able to just borrow somebody else’s. I need to buy more furniture, something which I’ve eschewed for as long as I’ve been on my own, owing to lack of a place to put it and a way to transport it. Stuff like that. It’s a little daunting if I let it be, just like bills can be if I sit and think about them.
I believe, though, the next thing on the list must be a table and chairs. I need somewhere to work and a place for people to plant themselves that’s more civilized than on the living room furniture.
What I realized I’ve been doing wrong, though, is since I haven’t had enough money to meet all of my obligations, I’ve been reticent to send money to any of them but the most necessary; the utilities. I figured they can’t wait, nor can rent nor insurance. The rest I have a little wiggle room with, but now it’s time to ante up.
Money, money, money. And yet, the solituio to money dififculties is not more money; it’s using what you ave more wisely. Otherwise, you’ll just continue in bad habits, even if you’ve gotten all bills paid for a while, until you’re back in teh hole again; why? No discipline, for example. Stupidity. short-sightedness. Not immediately throwing offers of credit into the trash and not digging them out again.
What I have been doing is tithing and keeping from spending as much as possible, just to make sure I don’t go overdrawn.
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