Monday, October 27, 2003

I figured out the problem with the style sheet- it was an embarrassingly stupid simple error.

I've been buying up bulbs on sale at the local hardware stores and planting them. Today's project was digging a big hole, lining it with a chicken wire basket (to keep gopher from eating the bulbs), filling that with compost and earth, and planting it with: golden appledoorn tulips, dwarf dutch iris, and crocuses. Considering the amount of work put into the site, I should plant a few perennials or flower seeds there as well, to bloom after the bulbs are done. It should be quite a sight come spring. I love planting. Sometimes I think I'd like to work in landscaping, except that I think lawns are a profligate waste. I mean, think about it: people spend hundreds of dollars and hours of perfectly good summertime planting and maintaining a crop that cannot be eaten, doesn't have attractive blooms, uses tons of water, and then, the ultimate insult- it's exactly like every other front yard on the street (unless someone had more than the usual amount of creativity). Isn't that original? Why would anyone do this? Think about the amount of food that could be grown on the nation's lawns. If they're not going to grow food, why don't they at least use the space to make some sort of personal statement or something *nice*? Cacti would be nice- some places do that. Wildflowers would be nice. An herb garden would be nice. So would a collection of interesting trees with ferns and woodland plants beneath, interspersed with a little grass here and there. But flat square patches of green lawn = boring. There are other plants that use less water and require less mowing, if they want something low growing; clover, thymes, and others. At least that would indicate some actual *thought* into the matter.

What else- I'm kind of depressed. I've got a cold as well as pinkeye, but there's more to it than that. In the past month or so I've tried to acquire interest in at least ten different, calligraphy, beading, and a bunch of other stuff. They're all interesting in their own right, but instead of enjoying them, they just magnify this sense of emptiness, they seem hollow. The less satisfying they are, the more desperately I turn to some other activity, only to encounter the same thing, more glaring than before. So a friend called me up today and told me about a sermon she'd seen on her T.V. this morning, something about dreammakers. This pastor goes around asking people what they're always dreamed of doing/being and then tells them that God put that dream in their hearts/minds and it's His will for them to pursue it. My initial reactions was: wow, smart guy. Tell people what they want to hear and get paid for it (it could be argued, of course, that _all_ preachers tell people what they want to hear, but that's another subject for another time). But then, taking the deity and his supposed spokesman out of the picture, the message still has value: do what you want to do. Don't live a meaningless existence!

What have I always wanted to do? To be an artist. I can't remember a time when I haven't wanted that; and it's one of the few things that I _really_ want that's pretty much under my control. So, I'm going to see if I can pursue this. It's the only thing I can think of that would make life worthwhile without love, and the weird thing about love is that if you put too much stock in it, it has a way of becoming elusive, or of vanishing if you thought you had it. Or...I don't know. Maybe I've just picked the wrong guys to fall in love with....

When I was 12, there was a kid in my class name Ronnie Smith. He was a loser of the first class and everybody knew it. He wasn't even good looking. But when he asked me out, I accepted, because I'd never been asked on a date before. He said we'd go to this place, and set a time at which he'd pick me up. Well, I was dressed and ready a good hour or two before that time. I waited and waited, the time passed. I watched out the window at each car, but still he didn't come. He never showed up. On Monday, I was the laughingstock of the class. Seems Ronnie had told them I'd asked him out on a date and that he'd refused me! What an ass!! To ask a dunce like him out- and have him turn you down? That'd be pretty sad. It wasn't the truth, but everyone believed it anyway. It was really humiliating. I didn't even care about him. There are a lot of guys like that, though. They'll get you out on a limb, and then when things seem uncertain or scary or perhaps they just need to boost their own egos, they back out of it and make me feel like the fool. >:-( There is no faster way to earn my wrath and hatred- they'd might as well be wearing Ronnie's face. Heh...scary thought....

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