I think I have a new candidate for most off-the-wall Google search string referral.

My hair is doing this mushroom thing today that reminds me of the Dr. Who (the Tom Baker years) afro that my big brother is sporting in all of his high school yearbook photos. It wasn't a good look then, and it's not a good look now.

Spider-Man has finally been cast.

Here's an X-Men link that's just for the gals. And Terrence. Thank me later.

So. I've decided to make a decision. That is, I've decided to quit being a total wuss, making list after list of pros and cons, asking friends, family and complete strangers what they think, mulling it over, and ultimately putting the decision off until it's too late to do anything about it and thus allowing the decision to be made for me by time, fate, and/or my pathetic wishy-washiness, as such is my usual tactic.

The decision I've decided to make is to go back to school.

I really wanted to be one of those anti-establishment success stories, the college drop-out who made it bigger and better than any of her degree-wielding peers, churning out best-sellers and all the while sneering and chanting, "I don' need no stinkin' BA!"

Sadly, though, I find myself a mere nine months away from my high school reunion, still unpublished, still holding a job that is just a job, with no real semblance of a career, and I'm beginning to have fits of anxiety about my future. What if I never get published? The few marketable skills I do have are pretty much worthless without a degree, at least according to every help wanted ad I've pursued or HR rep I've talked to. What if I'm doomed to be an administrative assistant for the rest of my life? That thought makes me contemplate doing very drastic things, things that will change my situation.

The least psychotic of those things is to finish my degree. Except that there's not really a whole lot to be done with an English degree other than write or teach; I've tried teaching (albeit on a substitute basis), didn't like it. Writing I can do without a degree.

So I'm changing my major to Psychology. This seems like a wise move for three reasons: one, it will give me an insight into human nature and behavior that can only enhance my ability to create strong characters; two, it's a subject that fascinates me, so it shouldn't be pure torture to get through; and three, if my writing career never amounts to anything, at least a Psych degree should prove useful in the job market.

This means starting over. Not completely, but it will require some general ed courses that weren't necessary for the English program, so it's going to set me back a bit. Also, since my company will foot the bill under the condition that my classes don't interfere with my job, I'll only be able to take one or two classes a semester. So, it's going to take a very long time to finish. Time during which I'll be an indentured servant to my company; but at least I'll be doing something about it, ensuring that I won't still be at this same desk, or one just like it, in another ten years.

There. I've made the decision. I'm going back to school.

Today's Suck is about the impending death of Mozilla. Though it may just be wishful thinking on the part of this particular Suckster, it's really very good and sums up pretty much everything I abhor about Netscape.

I finally saw "Chicken Run" this weekend. I thought the funniest thing about this movie was that none of the human characters thought it odd that the chickens all wore little hats and such.

I didn't get any writing done. Nephew #1 stayed over all weekend, and he had himself a Star Wars marathon. In my house it's sacreligious to do anything else when Star Wars is on, so I ended up joining him. I also made him watch Clue, now that he's old enough to get all of the jokes. In a discussion afterward about what else Tim Curry has been in, I discovered that the boy still hasn't seen Rocky Horror. Such a sheltered life he's led. I may have to remedy that next time he's over (note: Nephew #1 is a high school senior. It's not like I'm subverting a twelve-year-old).

Crisis on Infinite Earths summed up in a phony movie trailer. This is actually pretty doggone awesome.

Fanzing - Is Batman Gay?: This article's just teaming with controversy.

Speaking of selling out, I changed my Amazon links.

Final Eleni link for the day: I think we're finally getting around to collaborating on something. I won't tell you what it is yet, but it will be something cool.

It's a comic book webzine! It's a print zine! It's up to you! It's intellectual freeware! It's Savant! It's nifty!

!!!

I go through that every time I plan a vacation. I have so many financial obligations, it just doesn't seem right for me to spend money on something as ephemeral and intangible as a vacation; but a few years ago it occurred to me that I'll probably always have some sort of debt that I'm paying off, but I can't say the same for my youth. Hence, I try to take some kind of trip at least every couple of years, and go somewhere I've never been or do something I've never done, while I'm young enough to get the most out of it.

The thing about vacations for me is that an occasional change in scenery and routine breaks up the monotony of my dull life and provides enough of a distraction that I forget all about my difficulties for a while. Also, they usually leave me so worn out that by the end I'm eager to get back to my home and my old routine, and for a while at least I'm able to appreciate what I've got.

You should take a vacation, Eleni. You certainly deserve one.

I wish that I could finish my manuscript once and for all and sell it for an indecent amount of money. I also wish that Vin Diesel loved me. Can I get a two-fer?

Woo-hoo! I've earned a whopping $1.60 as an Amazon Associate! See, kids? Selling out really pays off sometimes (unfortunately this is not one of those times).

If there is one lesson that writing a novel has taught me (and continues to teach me), it's that if you think you're finished with your manuscript, you're probably not. In my case, I've decided to entirely rewrite the first couple of chapters before I submit it again. I think a book is never truly finished. Even after it's printed, bound, and sitting on bookstore shelves, the author probably sees something he wishes he could go back and change. It's hard to know when to quit, because there is always something that can be done to make it better. In my book's case, it can be a lot better. And I so wanted to be done with it.

But on the bright side, I did write last night. Go me.

I just finished doing my bills. After paying all of my bills (including a quadruple payment to one of my larger credit cards) and my rent, I still had enough left over to pay my mom back everything I borrowed from her for my Disney World reservations, PLUS I still have plenty left over for gas, groceries and what-not. It's such an amazing feeling when I'm actually ahead in my monthly finances. That happens so rarely.

Now if I can just manage to put away $100 per paycheck until my trip, I'll have plenty of spending money when it comes around. Neat.

That almost makes up for the sudden realization I had just now that today is not Friday.

I finally figured out how to operate the camera. As promised, here are pictures of my newly straightened and organized desk (I'm sure you're all a-quiver with excitement) (note: for your convenience [or just to annoy you ... depends on your take on things, I s'pose], each picture will open in a new window) (parentheticals are fun):

View 1: Even the chihuahuas are orderly.

View 2: Got some real important work-type stuff happening on that there computer.

View 3: My nifty-as-all-get-out paper line.

View 4: Tear-into-staples Rex makes a meal out of Bendy Goku.

Wasn't that fun?

When I left work last night, I left feeling inspired, and determined to go home and write.

"So, Jean," you ask once your laughter subsides, "what did you end up doing last night? We all know it had nothing to do with writing."

And I say, "Bite me. You don't know me that well. I very well could have gone home and written something."

And you say, "So, did you?"

And I say, "No. Leave me alone."

So what did I do? I spent the majority of the evening watching The Meat Loaf Story on VH1. That's right. Meat Loaf. And you know what? I realized that I really kind of like Meat Loaf. So today I downloaded a bunch of mp3's from both "Bat Out of Hell" albums (I'm feeling compelled to download and horde as much as I can before Napster gets shut down). And then I realized something else: It is impossible to sit through an entire Meat Loaf song at work without getting interrupted.

I can't figure out the digital camera.

Wolverine Claw Letter Opener -- I want!

That magazine article I'm writing is about tips on how someone with ADD can stay organized in the workplace, and lately my own workspace has been in such disarray that I've felt like a total hypocrite. So, I spent the better part of the afternoon cleaning and getting organized. I even implemented my own paper line, and it's working out quite nicely so far. My department got its very own digital camera today (after much pleading from myself and the rest of the admin staff), so tomorrow I'll test it out by taking pictures of my nice, clean, organized workspace. I see you shiver with antici ........ pation.

Dogs are better than drugs. Last night I arrived home in an extremely pissy mood. I went in my bedroom and sat down to write some whiny, woe-is-me nonsense in my journal, when Fizgig jumped up on the bed and decided it was time to play. About ten minutes of watching him chase the thing that was moving around beneath the covers (a.k.a. my hand) was about all it took to get me back in a decent mood. Afterwards I walked him and brushed him, then he spent the rest of the evening snuggled in my lap. By the time I went to bed I felt a lot better about things. I love my dog.

Sing it, sister!

Once again, I get a lesson in the importance of cross-browser testing. My new design for Joker's Realm looks horrendous in Netscape. Damn you, Netscape, you with your shoddy CSS support! Damn you straight to Heck!

Today I finally received the kick in the butt I need to actually do something about my underwhelming failure of a life.

The problem is, I don't know what to do. I just know that something must be done. Something must change, or I will die. I'll become one of the walking dead, the soulless ones who live only from weekend to weekend, paycheck to paycheck, who have given up on getting what they want out of life and have decided to be happy with the lot they've been handed. Sometimes I think I may already be one of those people, and that it's too late for me. Today I see that I still have a chance to escape from that path.

I see that I can, and I see that I must. I just don't yet see how.

Somebody please show me how.

Don't bother me, kids, I'm busy. Here, go play with the spirograph.

I feel icky today.

Ladies and gents, it's the ubiquitous Tek.com! Oh, but how I understand the boredom, Brad. I'm just happy to learn you're not the foot stalker.

One of these days I'll tell the foot stalker story. But not today.

I watched the first half of Anne of Green Gables - The Continuing Story last night on PBS. This is the third installment of what is apparantly meant to be a trilogy.

The first two parts, "Anne of Green Gables" and " Anne of Avonlea," both aired during my early teens. I eagerly watched every episode of both installments (and have watched the video tapes at least a dozen times since). I adored them so much that I read the entire series of books on which they were based, a pretty hefty achievement when my reading efforts were mainly divided between Sweet Valley High and Stephen King novels.

The books, naturally, were even better than the movies, which is saying a lot. These books still rank among my most cherished, and if I ever have a daughter I'll force her to read them. As I read the books, I found that quite a bit of creative license had been taken in the films, but they still remained a faithful adaptation of Lucy Maud Montgomery's original stories.

So, I am somewhat disappointed to see that the third installment of the film series is a complete deviation from the novels. This newest film is set during World War I. When it opens, Anne and Gilbert Blythe are still engaged. They marry about halfway through part one, and then he goes off to war. The rest of the film is about Anne's journey to war-torn Europe as she tries to find him, fearing the worst after all of her letters to him were returned unopened.

Don't get me wrong, it's a good film, and it contains all of the elements that made the first two installments so endearing (and it doesn't hurt that the actor playing Gilbert, Jonathan Crombie, somehow managed to get even cuter over the years, renewing a crush that I thought long past); but it has nothing whatsoever to do with the novels.

In the books, the last novel is set during WWI, but in it Anne and Gilbert have been married for about 20 years and have had about a half-dozen children, the eldest of which are the ones who go to fight the war. So, why the departure?

The producer, Kevin Sullivan, says the reasoning behind this change is that he'd (for some reason) changed the setting of the previous films from the late 1800's to the first decade of the 1900's -- not that I nor anybody else who watched the films noticed -- and that in that case it made more sense for Anne and Gilbert to still be in their 20's during WWI, which gave him the opportunity to tell a fresh story.

Mmhmm. Whatever, Kevin. I have a little trouble buying that explanation. Anyway, it's a good movie, a nice piece of fan fiction; but if you really want to know how Anne's and Gilbert's lives turned out, you'd be better off reading the books.

I realize that I haven't told anyone to bite me for quite some time, and I'm wondering if I've managed to completely excise that phrase from my vocabulary; and I'm wondering if I should put it back in.

I did some writing over the weekend, which was nice, because I've been feeling like a no-talent, hypocritical, wanna-be, do nothing hack. At long last, though, I'm starting to get back into the swing of things. I feel a new daily routine coming on. Good thing, because I've just over a month to produce that magazine article that I haven't even started yet. Well, I've done the research, and I've gotten some false starts at writing it, but nothing I'm happy with.

I'm almost finished with the outline for my screenplay. It's taking so long because I'm also studying up on how to write screenplays as I go. I'm not convinced that this will be "my medium," as in giving up novels and short stories to focus only on screenwriting, but it does appear so far to be a medium I'll be comfortable in. Should be interesting.

Oy. I couldn't sleep last night, so around 1 a.m. I doubled up on valerian, and I'm a bit groggy this morning as a result. I'm also PMS-ing (yes, it's a verb now), I'm out of St. John's Wort, and I'm having a considerable bad hair day. All things considered, I'm in a much better mood than you'd think ... so far.

I saw X-Men again over the weekend (took my nephew), and it still doesn't suck.

I redesigned the front page to Joker's Realm. Go look!

As much as I want to get away from the heaviness of the last couple of days here at Ritalin Junkie, there's something that has been knawing at me all night, a message I feel compelled to share.

This won't be preaching, so quit rolling your eyes. They might stick that way. If they do, send me a picture. That'd be freaky.

Anyway.

I posted yesterday that I'm a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I want to point out that it was not at the hands of my dad. My dad never laid a finger on me. Well, he spanked me twice that I can think of, but I would have spanked me those times, too.

My dad's abuse was all verbal. "That doesn't sound so bad," you might be thinking. "Your dad doesn't seem like such a bad guy."

Let me tell you something.

I got over the sexual abuse. I also got over the physical abuse I received from my peers. I don't believe I'll ever fully get over what my dad did to me.

Words have the power to destroy. The words you speak to a child can make or break her. My dad's words left me feeling worthless, useless, stupid and ugly. I grew up believing those things about myself. It is a daily struggle for me to convince myself that the things my dad said to and about me are not true. He nearly destroyed me, using nothing but words. He did the same to my siblings, and to our mother.

Our mother: talk about an example of faith in the midst of despair. Thank God for her, and her prayers, and her taking us to church in spite of dad's objections, filling our heads and hearts with what he referred to as "that holy roller b.s." It's what kept us sane. It's what kept him from completely destroying us.

But I digress.

Be careful of the words you speak to and about your children. Your words can build them up, give them a sense of self-worth, and give them the confidence to succeed at anything. Your words can also tear them down and crush their spirits. Children believe what you tell them. They also believe what they hear you say about them. If you tell them they're stupid, they'll go through life believing they are stupid. If you tell them they're no good, they'll believe that, too. Even if it's not true, even if you don't mean it, they'll believe it, and soon it will become true because they'll turn into what you tell them they are.

Words can be a powerful weapon. Please don't turn that weapon against your kids.

Migrations - so very cool, but so very depressing.

The Final Fantasy movie trailer is finally finished and online. I am Jack's joyous anticipation.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you
Agent Scully's new partner. I am Jack's sense of trepidation.

I have a sudden urge to go do something silly and fun and completely undignified. Any suggestions?

This is incredible, and oddly relevant to today's postings.

You see, I too am a survivor. That's going to shock a lot of people, because I've never told anyone before. Anyone. I still don't want people to know. Oddly, I feel safe posting this here because it's mostly read by strangers. None of my family is on the web, or if they are they never come here. If you've found your way here and you happen to know my family, please don't mention this to them. They don't need to know. If you know me personally, please don't ask me about it next time you see me. If I wanted to talk about it, I would have by now.

I'm not going into details, they aren't important. What is important is that I have not spent my life feeling like a victim. I've always been a survivor. My stint with self-loathing and shame was very brief. I have a few problems, sure. I have some trust issues. I have difficulty getting close to men. But I am nowhere near as screwed up as I probably ought to be. I can deal with it. I've even forgiven my abuser.

My faith is the only reason for this. It kept me strong. It gave me hope. No matter how bad things have gotten, I've always known that it will be okay. There's a song, by Scott Kripaine (sp?), a contemporary Christian singer/songwriter, that makes me cry every time I hear it:

Sometimes He calms the storm
with a whisper, "Peace, be still."
He can settle any sea,
but it doesn't mean He will.
Sometimes He holds us close
and lets the wind and waves go by ...
Sometimes He calms the storm
but other times He calms His child.

Every time I hear that song I think of how God gave me the ability to cope with the things that have been done to me over the years. He gave me the strength not to be a victim.

If not for God, if not for my faith, I probably wouldn't be here today.

Just so you know where I'm coming from.

I started to write "even though she's going straight to Hell in a handbasket," but I thought that might be a bit over the top. ;p~

I'm glad she's my friend. Even if her perma-links don't work.

Since what was intended to be nothing more than a smart-assed observation has sparked somewhat of an interblog discussion, I feel compelled to set a few things straight.

First of all, just for the record, I've never told Eleni point blank that I think she's going to Hell (nor anyone else, for that matter). At least, I don't think I did. I think she's referring to a general discussion on a forum's religion thread in which I stated my personal generalized beliefs. However, sometimes she asks me questions about my beliefs, and when she does I answer her frankly and honestly. Perhaps it came up in one of those conversations. That's the only time I talk openly and in detailed fashion about my faith -- when someone asks me questions or brings it up first. I'm not in the habit of going 'round beating people over the head with my beliefs.

I nor anybody else has any business telling anyone that they are going to Hell, for any reason. God alone can make that judgement. For one thing, I don't know what's in your heart. For another thing, we each have until our dying breath to call out for forgiveness and make things right with God.

However, if I know that someone I love has never accepted Christ, I feel compelled to at least point out the consequences to them. Put yourself in my place for a moment. I believe in salvation/damnation like I believe the sky is blue. Whether or not you believe, to me it's fact. If you are someone I care about, and there is a chance that sharing my beliefs with you might move you to choose to spend eternity with me in Heaven rather than apart from me in Hell, then wouldn't it be wrong of me not to take that chance? I don't want to intimidate you or scare you or bully you into seeing things my way. I don't want to offend you or make you feel condemnation. I only want to make sure you've had a chance to weigh all of your options before you make your final choice.

Secondly, I would like to point out that it is supposed to be that basic. The Bible says it is, for anyone to try and make it more complicated is ridiculous. I don't believe you go to Hell for being a bad person. I don't believe you go to Heaven for being a good person. I don't believe you go to Hell for sinning or living an alternative lifestyle or doing bad or even questionable things. The equation is this simpe: Do you accept that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that he died for you? Yes, you go to spend eternity with Him. No, and you don't. That's it. Everything else is just filler*.

Modern Christianity is so divided over semantics and traditions that have nothing to do with anything that the Bible says or that Christ taught us. I don't blame people for being put off with it. I'm pretty disgusted with the whole mess myself. I am saddened that people get so focused on the minor details that it blinds them to the message of Christ. I am saddened that outsiders are so disgusted with our infighting and political BS and some of our misguided judgemental attitudes that they never even hear the message, and by the time they do they're so put off that they refuse to listen to it.

We are human, which means we screw up. True Christians, people who truly believe in and appreciate what Jesus did for us, will do their best to follow His example and be like Him, but as we are human, we will most certainly fail. I fail on a daily basis. Some days I fail on an almost hourly basis. I'm not always a good person, and I am certainly no better than you; but I am forgiven. I have a Father who, when I fall, picks me back up and dusts me off and sets me back on the right track and gently urges me to try again, and to not look behind me.

It is not my job to "save" you. The disciples were commissioned to "go forth and spread the gospel;" they were told to tell Jesus' story. They weren't told to force their beliefs on people or to browbeat them and intimidate them into believing. I don't have the power to save souls, and I don't go around acting like I do. I leave that to God.

God gave each of us a brain to think with and the free will to make our own choices. If you choose not to believe these things, that is your decision, and I respect that.

*I'd like to amend that statement: The basic question of Jesus' divinity and sacrifice is all that determines the afterlife. The rest of the Bible, besides relating the history of Judaism and Christianity, contains instructions on how to develop a close relationship with God and how to live a happy, healthy, blessed life here on earth, which is hardly "just filler." The filler I was mainly referring to is the dogma and ceremonious crap that gets in the way of the message.

I'm done now. If anyone wants to discuss any of this further, please do it through e-mail.

I hate domain name squatters. I hate people who buy domain names that are completely different from their site's name, only to have said domain name redirect to a domain name that IS their site's name.

Wouldn't it be nice if people left domain names that have nothing to do with their site available for those with sites for which said domain names would actually be appropriate?

What a concept.

I don't like my menu. For starters, you can't simply modify it if you want to add or delete a link. You have to create a whole new menu. I'm also not thrilled with the way it bobs up and down when you scroll up or down the page. What I really want is something like this, but one that incorporates categories and sub-menus (the one thing I do like about my current choice of navigation). If you know where I can find the script for that sort of thing, please let me know. If you do, I'll be your best friend.

It's raining today. Storming, actually. I like storms when I can stay home and snuggle in bed or on the sofa and read or watch tasteless television all day. I don't like them when I have to get out in them and drive to work under conditions so bad I can't go over 45 mph without losing control of my car. Nor do I like them when they pull a fakeout by letting up when I get to the parking lot, then starting back up again when I'm halfway to my building sans umbrella.

I'm wet, I have a headache, and I was 20 minutes late to work. Welcome to my day.

Why do people who don't believe in Hell get offended by people who believe they might be headed there?

It cracks me up how earnest my writing is sometimes. It's such a contrast to my outward personality. I can tell you a sad story about my childhood to your face, and by the end we'll both be in tears ... tears of laughter. I tell a sad story from my childhood on paper, and it's just a sad story.

I guess I deal with unpleasant things through humor. Have you ever seen the show Titus? Stacey Keach could be playing my dad. When I talk to people about my dad, it's always laced with humor. Sure, the memories hurt, and there is still a lot of anger, but I have no trouble looking back and laughing about most of it. I do a good imitation of my drunken dad that never fails to crack people up.

When I write about him, though, it always comes across as angry and hurt. Most of my writing is like that. In person I'm nowhere near as straightforward and serious as in my writing. Sometimes I wonder if it's because I'm incapable of writing humor. This could very well be the case, which bites, because I like to be funny.

I think, though, that it's most likely because it's easier to be honest on paper. Honest with myself, and with my audience. I can express myself without irony or sarcasm, something that doesn't come naturally to me in oral conversation.

Or maybe it's just that I'm not nearly as funny in person as I like to think I am.

Today's Filler reminds me a lot of this friend I had in college. I had almost the same experience when I went back to visit him about a year after I moved back home. The only real difference was that he really did turn out to be gay.

I have a new favorite Google referral: "how +to +make +a +paper +pacman"

So, did you find out? Because I'd really like to know. I still can't remember how to make those things.

I just checked in with my pimp (a.k.a. the Amazon associates program), and it seems I've earned a commission on a book I've never even heard of before, let alone linked to. Hopefully they won't find out and come bitch-slap me with their terms and conditions and take away my $0.50.

This page, however, looks pretty dismal in Netscape. I still can't figure out why.

Wow, that's never happened before. I just remembered (I know, that's bad) to check the new design in Netscape, and it looked perfect. I didn't have to fix a thing. If that ain't noteworthy, I don't know what is.

My mom's getting back from Israel tomorrow, which means I get to spend tonight cleaning up the mess I made of the house while she was gone.

It was nice having the house to myself for a while, much like when my former roommates used to go away for the weekend and I didn't have to worry about pissing anybody off for a few days. Much unlike most of my former roommates, however, I will be glad to have my mommy back home, safe and sound.

I hope she brings me cool stuff.

Romance writers must all have ADD, if this list is true.

At long last, I have both updated and redesigned Internal Monologue.

Timmah!

Forgot a couple: I will not expect him to read my mind. Nor will I play passive-agressive headgames with him. I will respect him enough to tell him up front what I need, what I expect, and if he is not living up to those expectations.

Got any to add?

If I ever have my own assistant, I pledge never to condescend to him. I will never make him bring me coffee. I will realize that he is most likely grossly overqualified and underpaid to be doing what he is doing, that I would be utterly lost without him, and I will worship him for the administrative god that he is.

I will realize that checking up on him and/or asking him to update me on a task every few minutes will only slow him down and get in his way. I will trust him to know how to do his job without my constant input, and to ask me questions if he does need my input. I will realize that if he weren't competent enough to do his job without my constantly looking over his shoulder, I would never have hired him in the first place.

I will not assume that his job is his career. I will neither expect nor force him to treat it as such. I will remember that he has a life outside of work, and I will not "strongly urge" him to attend after-hours employee functions. I will realize that he is not required to be a "team player" on his own time, and I will not think any less of him or his capabilities if he wants to keep his personal time personal.

If I ever have my own assistant, I will print this off and hang it in a prominent spot to remind me how not to be a prick.

Best search engine referral search string so far: jennifer +love +hewitt +i +still +know +what +you +did +last +summer +shower +pictures

So sorry to disappoint you.

As you probably already know by now (either you've seen for yourself or you've read one of countless reviews), "X-Men" DOESN'T suck. In fact, it was everything that I wish the Batman movies could be (but so far haven't been -- yes, even Tim Burton's); and this is coming from a die-hard Bat fan.

This is quite possibly the best comics-to-film adaptation ever. It's at least right up there with Superman II and The Crow (the original w/ Brandon Lee). And it was pulled off by Marvel! Remember "Captain America?" Or more recently, that made for Fox "Generation X" movie, or the Nick Fury movie starring David Hasselhoff? Is it any wonder everybody expected this new movie to suck?

All of the fears I had about miscasting were unfounded. Everybody carried their parts admirably. This movie even made me like Wolverine, a character I don't usually care for.

Of course I have a few complaints, but those are all nit-picky comic book geek stuff, and not even worth mentioning here. It was as faithful an adaptation as the cartoon (the old one on Fox Kids, not the new one coming out this fall on KidsWB), which is pretty darn faithful.

The best thing about this movie (are you listening, Warner Bros.?) was that it didn't try to make the audience feel like they were transported inside a comic book, but instead took the characters and their problems very seriously and translated them into a world that felt very real. They didn't make a "comic book movie," they made a film about characters that happened to originate in a comic book.

The other best thing was that it seemed to put the fans first. It was loaded with cameos and inside references, winks and nods that were just for us; yet at the same time it stayed broad enough that those who had never picked up a comic or seen the cartoon would have no trouble understanding it.

It's not just a good X-Men movie, it's a good movie, period.

A couple more things before I take off for the weekend:

I was looking for a good Tetris game today, and I found this, which isn't quite Tetris, but it's pretty cool nonetheless.

Also today, I remembered to run a search for something I've been seeking for a while now (you may not care to read this part if you don't have any pets). Several years ago I picked up a magical product at Wal-Mart called Petkin Relief Stick. I used it on Mitzi whenever fleas bit her and made her hair fall out, and it was the only thing that kept her from itching. Since I only had to use it until I got the flea situation under control, I put it up in my mother's pantry and forgot about it.

Fast forward to Fizgig, who is pretty much allergic to the air, and who, by the time I found him and took him home with me, had chewed all of the fur and a good portion of skin off of his front legs because they itched constantly. After several attempts at medicating his wounds, I remembered that stick I once used on Mitzi, pulled it out of the pantry, and gave it a try. It stopped his itching, he didn't lick it off, and apparantly it felt so good to him that he would come running whenever he saw me pick up the container.

A few weeks ago I ran out of the stuff. Wal-Mart (at least none of the Wal-Marts near me) doesn't carry it any more. Neither do the local Pet Smart stores, nor do any of the other places I checked which carry pet products. I've tried everything on him -- hydrocortizone spray, neosporin, bag balm, Blue Star ointment, even the silver sulfide that the doctor prescribed for my little sister's freaky lime acid induced burns that she got on a mission trip to Costa Rica (note: I wrapped his legs in gauze when I used this stuff so he couldn't lick it off. I don't know if it would have been poisonous if he ingested it, but I didn't take any chances); but none of it worked. It was either completely ineffective, or he'd just lick it off, and then procede to chew on himself. His legs had been getting so much better, but now they're almost as bad as when I found him.

So today I finally remembered to run a search on the product, and lo and behold, the manufacturer has its own web site. I ordered plenty of the stuff, it should get here within a week, then hopefully Fizgig can get back on track to looking like a healthy doggie.

I'm not a member of e-pinions, but maybe I should go sign up so I can write a review of this stuff. It's really good stuff.

There for a minute, I thought Douglas Coupland visited my humble little site, but then I realized it was spelled wrong. Oh well.

He was also in Kiss the Girls and Dracula. Admittedly his role in the latter wasn't all that memorable; but as for the former, he was pretty good -- I always have a little trouble with him when he plays Americans, though.

It's all good! I called the theater, and the manager said that if I come get the tickets after work tonight, they'll go ahead and exchange them for tomorrow. A minor pain in the arse compared to being out $30 and/or having my friends peeved with me.

Well, crap. I actually bought four tickets for tonight. Crappity crap!

Whee! I just bought 4 tickets for X-Men tomorrow night. Now I just hope everybody shows up who's supposed to ...

Johnny the Homicidal Maniac: THE VIRTUAL PET!!!

Feed Johnny! Punish Johnny! Toke Johnny! Get cursed out by Johnny! Be privy to his homicidal whims!

Happy Noodle Boy not included.

Yesterday was a day for ranting, apparantly. I think it was all the caffeine I consumed while trying to get my brain to focus. Normally I don't get so worked up over stuff.

Today is better. I'm medicated, I got enough sleep last night, it's Friday, and I get to see X-Men tomorrow. So far, I'm in a pretty decent mood. Let's hope it lasts.

Oh, give me a freaking break.

There are so many holes, misquotes and half-truths in this article that I won't even bother debating it here (I will, however, debate it over e-mail, if you're gullible and uninformed enough to believe what this article says and feel like telling me how wrong I am).

Don't get me wrong. The Church of Scientology's Citizen's Commission on Human Rights does some good work sometimes; but they are dead-set against the practice of psychiatry in general, and they've latched onto ADD & Ritalin as a convenient scapegoat for their battle, spreading half-baked propaganda that has the potential to do a lot more harm than good. It's sickening; and, since the CCHR are often called to testify as so-called expert witnesses at hearings which could very well determine my rights to seek appropriate help for myself and any future children I might have with ADD, it's also scary.

I found a nifty X-Men screen saver and some cursors to go with my official wallpaper, so now my PC is sufficiently geeked out for the movie.

Do you know what? Making sweeping generalizations about Christians is just as wrong as making sweeping generalizations about any other religion. If I (or anybody else) were to rip into [insert non Judeo/Christian religion name here] as a whole the way that people routinely rip apart Christians, I'd never hear the end of it ... and most likely if I made such comments I'd be condemned as one of those hypocritical Christin nuts.

Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell, et al, do not speak for all of us. In fact, they speak for relatively few of us. Most of what they and people like them preach is politically motivated. Just because some over-zealous right-wing nut forgot the commands to "love one another" and "judge not, lest you be judged also" does not mean that all of us are running around pointing fingers and condemning everybody and anybody who looks or thinks or acts differently from us to Hell. I'm a Christian, and I don't like those people any more than you heathens do (that heathens part was a joke, folks).

I do not protest at abortion clinics. I believe abortion is fundamentally wrong, but I also believe that it's a decision to be made between you, your conscience, and God. I do not believe homosexuals are an abomination to God. Yes, I believe the act of homosexuality is a sin, but again, that's between you and God. ALL sin is an abomination to God. Whether you've murdered someone or told a little white lie to your boss, it's all the same to Him. I have no more business or right to shun someone who is gay than I have to shun the guy in the office who routinely steals office supplies. I'm no better than they are. The only difference between me and a non-Christian is that I have acknowledged the sacrifice that God made for humanity, and that is the ONLY reason I get to go to Heaven.

This has become a lot preachier than I intended. Suffice it to say, we are not all judgemental, intolerant hypocrites. Some of us actually do our best to follow Jesus' example (and remember, Jesus hung out with hookers and theives and tax collectors) and love everybody. So the next time someone who claims to be a Christian pees in your Cheerios, don't go condemning the entire belief-system for the acts of a single moron (or group of morons ... those folks tend to run in packs).

I have little tiny Dragonball Z figures lined up along my CPU, underneath my monitor. Kame keeps falling over and starting a domino effect, taking all the rest down with him. I'm starting to think he's doing it on purpose.

But do you know what's really weird? I have a little Slinky Dog keychain sitting on top of my monitor. He sits up there with no problems, but on the day Jim Varney died, he kept taking nose-dives off of it. Eerie.

I warned you people I would be unmedicated today.

You should go visit Erich, because he's keen.

On Survivor (yes, I watch it; I have no life), didn't Rudy realize going in that pretty much everything would be a pain in the ass?

Somebody just brought me back a big ol' piece of frosted brownie from a catered meeting they attended. Just what my fat ass doesn't need. I'm desperate for a sugar rush, though, plus I have a policy to never turn down free food (hence the fat ass), and hell, it's chocolate. Mmm'mmm good!

Say what you will about webloggers, they seem to be the most fearless when it comes to pushing the creative boundaries of design. The "Intranet Site Redesign Committee" (<sarcasm>because you know the best way to design a web site is by committee</sarcasm>) met (finally!) for the first time yesterday, and we've all been given an assignment: to surf the web and locate good examples of organization. One example that was offered in the meeting was CNN's site. We might as well stop right there, because that pretty well sums up the majority of the web. I've been trying to find a "respectable" (meaning "well known corporate or e-commerce site that they'd have heard of and therefore won't be afraid of") site to point them to that might provide an alternative formatting example, but everything out there looks just like CNN or Amazon. I'm having to delve into the realm of personal sites (including weblogs) to find good examples of what else the web can do.

I'm almost out of Ritalin. I have two doses for today (normally I take 3), then it's gone. Not good timing, what with me having actual work to do and all, trying to get organized, and to prove to the newish bosses that I'm not an incompetent, absent-minded ditz. Oftentimes, though, without the Rit, that's exactly what I turn into. I called the dr. yesterday to renew my prescription, but they can't call it in (because, technically, it's a narcotic), and since my mom's walking where Jesus tread there's no one to pick it up for me. It took me forever to convince the admin at the doctor's office to mail it to me (it might fall into the wrong hands and get sold on the street, you know), but finally they agreed. Knowing our mail, it will be at least tomorrow before I get the prescription.

Holy crap, do you know what just occurred to me? I bet I could have had them fax it. Okay, so I am an absent-minded ditz. Soon, I'll be an unmedicated absent-minded ditz, so just look out.

I'm going to have to start hating Harry Potter if people don't shut up about him soon.

And, of course, I've downloaded the wallpaper.

X-Men mania is beginning to rear it's ugly fan-girl head. Unlike with Star Wars, I've consciously avoided most of the hype for this one, but with less than a week to go I can't stand it any more, and I've given in. My friends and I, giddy with anticipation, are getting a group together to fight the crowds and see the movie this weekend. Determined to be on top of my game when it comes to trading bits of trivia and know-it-all-ness during our wait in line, I'm doing my research; studying the trailers, reading reviews (but avoiding spoilers, of course), and you can bet I'll be in front of my TV tonight, forsaking Buffy for the behind-the-scenes special on Fox.

What can I say? This is the first movie all year I've been genuinely excited about. I'm amazed that I managed to keep calm about it for this long.

I haven't really been blogging Erich like I promised, but then he hasn't really been updating, either. He updated today, though.

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I'm not sure which is more amazing, that I actually managed to do everything on my task list for today, or the fact that for everything I checked off two things were added to it for tomorrow. It seems to be feast or famine with my workload. Either I've an impossible amount of work to do, or I've nothing to do at all. There's never a happy medium.

My mother left for Israel this morning, where she will spend a week touring the holy land. I'm mostly glad about this, both because she's getting to fulfill a lifelong dream by going and because I get the entire house all to myself for the next 10 days; but on the other hand, she sure picked a potentially scary time to go. Please pray for my mommy's safe return.

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My digital camera was waiting for me when I got home Friday, but as excited as I was to get it, I wasn't excited enough to make a trip to town to buy batteries for it, so I have yet to try it out. As with most new toys, expect me to get carried away with it once I finally remember to pick up batteries. Not having to pay for film means I'll be pretty trigger happy with the camera. My poor little doggie will probably be my favorite target, because, well, he's just so darned cute.

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I saw "Scary Movie" Saturday night. It was stupid, and not as adept as such classic movie parodies as "Airplane!," but even so, I haven't laughed so hard at a movie since "South Park." It was about as raunchy as "South Park," too, so see it yourself before you think about taking the kiddos.

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I went to church yesterday, for the first time in months. Well, not really, I've been to my mother's church on occasion over the last few months, but this was the first time since April that I managed to make it to "my" church, the one I started going to in January and intended (and still intend) to join officially but have yet to drag myself out of bed early enough to make the new member Sunday school classes. And, come to think of it, it was the first time I've attended church at all in a month.

Once you stop going to church, no matter how temporarily, it's hard to start up again. Especially when your alternative is to spend your Sunday morning sleeping in another hour or two, followed by curling up on the sofa with the paper and a super-sized mug of that gourmet coffee that they gave you a big bag of for Secretary's Day, and a slice of the banana bread your mom made because she knew you'd let the bananas go bad while you had the house all to yourself for a week; but, I resisted temptation (this time), and went to church, and even got there on time, and I'm glad I did. Life in general just seems easier to take after I've been to church.

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Travelin' Chad is in Pamplona, where he's run with the bulls three times, and survived to write really excited and long-winded e-mail about it. Yay for you, Chad.

Evil Dead was a fun movie. Not as funny as the others, but still pretty humorous (the biggest difference here is that the humor was unintentional). Now to eagerly anticipate August, when they'll ship my collector's edition of ED2, then I can warp all of my nephews with Evil Dead marathons. Yay fun!

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Today was creepy and sad. I can't really get into details, but it involved a security guard staked out at my desk for most of the morning (not because of me), which was creepy; and I learned that one of the 3 or 4 people left in my department whom I genuinely like won't be working here any more, which is sad. The office environment just dropped a notch on the fun scale (and it just barely made the scale to begin with).

He had always said that he'd stick around as long as I did. Now that he's gone I feel obligated to get off my arse and look for something better. I know there's something better out there. I'm way over-qualified to be doing what I'm doing.

So I've a new plan (don't you love my plans? At least when I list them here there's a chance I'll carry them out at least half-way):

Step 1: Download the evaluation copy of Flash.
Step 2: Learn how to use it.
Step 3: Add Flash to my resume.
Step 4: Go to Disney World. Pretend for a week that my biggest problem in life is a three hour wait to ride Space Mountain.
Step 5: Send my resume out to all of those places with jobs I'd have been fully qualified for if I'd known Flash.
Step 6: Take comfort in the fact that at least I'm trying to do something about my current crappy situation.

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It's past 5 PM on a Friday. What the hell am I still doing here? Nothing, now; I'm going home. Have a good weekend.

Today was a bitch. I've fallen behind at work, but I'm beginning to feel like I'm catching up, and hopefully by the end of tomorrow I'll be ahead again.

I need to rethink my organizational system. My current one isn't working any more. I promised myself I'd stay late tonight to at least sort through all of the papers on my desk, but I'm too tired.

Besides, my Evil Dead - Collector's Edition video showed up yesterday, and I'm eager to go home and watch it. I've never seen the original. I would have watched it last night, but VH1 was showing The Rocky Horror Picture Show, followed by special Rocky Horror episodes of "Where Are They Now" and "Behind the Music." They even showed a Rocky Horror version of "Pop-Up Video," but it was too far past my bedtime.

I watched it all alone, but I did the Time Warp anyway. It seemed to worry my dog. I was upset that I've forgotten most of the audience participation lines. Somewhere I've got a Rocky Horror comic that has an audience participation guide. If anybody ever puts it on in Tulsa again, I'll have to dig that out, lest I get "de-virginized" again.

At any rate, I'm going to call it a day and go home and revel in cheesy Bruce Campbell-filled horror.

I'm listening to "I Want a Dog" by the Pet Shop Boys: I want a dog ... a Chihuahua. When I get back to my flat I want to be somebody's boss.

Obviously they hadn't had any experience with Chihuahuas when they wrote that song.

My God. That made me so happy. I am so very much in love with the Methos character (as played brilliantly by the incredibly talented Peter Wingfield). If they had based their spin-off series on him instead of that only occasionally interesting Amanda character, we'd most likely still have a weekly Highlander series. He was the only reason I watched the original series in the first place. Putting him in the movie almost makes up for that.

"Highlander Endgame: Methos is back ..."

Can I get a Hallelujah?

Bryan Boyer's paper line is looking more and more like something I ought to try out. The expensive, Steelcase coordinated organizers I currently have just aren't doing it for me.

It's hard to get myself into work mode. Having a holiday in the middle of the week just throws everything off.

I keep bouncing violently between loathing and complacency when it comes to my job. Often several times within the same day. I realize, though, that complacent is the best it ever gets, and that is not nearly a good enough reason to stay.

Tess and I are road tripping to Disney World in September. We've been planning it for almost a year. I can't leave now and sacrifice my vacation time; but once my vacation's over, I'll be out of excuses not to look for something else; something better, something different. Something I can feel better than complacent about, at least for a while.

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It was a good holiday, if oddly placed. Not as good as last year, when I spent the day riding roller coasters at Six Flags over Texas, where the weather was surprisingly mild and the lines were surprisingly short, but good, nonetheless.

My mom and I went to see "The Patriot." Tess and her mom were supposed to meet us there, but they got there too late and couldn't get in to the same show.

The movie was great. "Braveheart" with a decidedly American flavor and a happier ending. I didn't expect to like it, but I did. It was so moving that it made my mom cry. My mom almost never cries at movies. Even the old man sitting next to me had to pull a napkin out of his pocket and daub his eyes a couple of times. It's definitely not the Feel Good Movie of the Year, but if you like to have your emotions manipulated in a non-damaging way, this flick is definitely up to the task.

After the movie we all went out to eat, then we went home. My mom and I did, at least, I have no idea what Tess and her mom did after they left the resaurant. Home was nothing exciting, just Buffy and Angel reruns followed by The Melissa Show, a.k.a. The Real World. As if the sparks flying between Melissa and Jamie weren't fireworks enough, we wrapped the evening by sitting on the back porch and watching the neighbors shoot of fireworks.

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While we were on the porch, in the dark, something crawled across my arm. I don't know what it was, but it felt fairly large and multi-legged. I went to bed after, but I couldn't sleep because it felt like insects were crawling all over me. I gave up around midnight and got up to watch more TV:

Leno. Ick. Dragonball Z. Seen it too many times. Twilight Zone. Got in too late, had no idea what was going on. Flip channels: movie, movie, Lifetime Intimate Portrait, A&E's Biography, BBC America World News, X-Files. "Triangle" episode. I love this one. It's too the part where Mulder and 1940's Scully are running from Nazis while Present Scully and The Lone Gunmen are searching the ship for Mulder. This one has a great warm-and-fuzzy-Mulder-&-Scully-moment at the end, so I watch. "I love you," Mulder says. "Oh, brother," Scully responds. I grin, and feel warm and fuzzy. I yawn. The creepy-crawlies stop. I go to bed.

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I'm running on too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Even complacency is a hard level to reach this morning. They shouldn't schedule holidays in the middle of the week. It just messes everything up.

BBC America has changed its weekend schedule all around. Now I can't find Changing Rooms or Dr. Who, which is very upsetting.

Through the Amazon associates program, I've earned a whopping $1.60. The siren call of free money (as well as the pretty pictures) has prompted me to reinstate my (slightly altered) recommendations.

As such, I'm fiddling around a bit with the layout, so ignore my placement on Torrez's list. It's just not true.

I would like to apologize for last Friday's bout of incessant whining. I can't promise it won't happen again, but at least I have the decency to be ashamed of myself for it.

I would also like to report that, since discovering that it takes a total of two minutes to fix in the morning, I've decided to like my new hair cut. Now I just have to decide what to do with the extra thirteen minutes every morning: get up at the same time I always do, and leave that much earlier, thereby forming a habit of getting to work on time each day, or sleep in an extra fifteen minutes and get here the same time as always. This morning I took the first option, but I've a feeling that as the week wears on that second one is going to look more and more like the thing to do.

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I should have used a personal day today. No, I thought, save them for the end of the year. You don't really need a four day weekend.

I can be such a dumbass sometimes.

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My weekend was nothing special. No stupid adventures or mildly amusing anecdotes to relay. "Boiler Room" was an okay movie, and Vin Diesel looks damn good in a suit. Saturday I mostly spent watching movies with nephew #2, who was staying the weekend with us. My director's cut video of " Army of Darkness" arrived that morning, so that night I showed it to him. He liked it. Mostly because, much to my chagrin, Bruce Campbell as Ash reminded him a lot of his hero, Jim Carrey. I didn't argue. I didn't really want to spend too much thought on it.

The director's cut, for the benefit of any Evil Dead fans who might be visiting today, is actually the original version that was submitted to the studio. It contains the original ending, in which Ash takes too much of the potion that is supposed to return him to his own time, and winds up in a post-apocolyptic future. It's pretty good, but the studio thought it was too depressing, so they made them redo it with a happy ending, hence the "official" ending with Ash back at his S-Mart job relaying his tails of bravery and demon-slaying to his skeptical coworkers ... skeptical, that is, until a Deadite shows up at the store and Ash has to take care of business, thus proving himself once again to be the coolest guy on the planet.

The post-apocolyptic ending is good, and it probably really is the most befitting of dunderheaded Ash, but I prefer the S-Mart ending. This is most probably because of all those years in my late teens and early twenties that I spent working at Wal-Mart and in various other retail capacities; but when Ash says to the possessed customer, "Ma'am, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave the store," and then proceeds to lay into her with a new "boom-stick" he grabbed from the sporting goods department ... well, I have to cheer every time I watch that scene.

I really love that movie.

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Sunday was even less interesting, so I won't even go into it.

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Walter Matthau has died. I really liked him.

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It was a weekend for redesigning for two of my daily visits: Zippylog's new look is quite fetching, as is Lukelog's.

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Have a happy Fourth, everybody.