August 7, 1997

Here's the promised pic:

I think that it turned out well and is fairly representative. The shirt is actually even more green than it shows in the picture, so I'm not sure, exactly, how the balance really should be... it's odd to see a picture, and then pick up a lock of my hair and it's a hundred strands of different colors, mostly glowing blues, greens, and in-betweens, so many shades I can't even name them all.


Had a fairly hard game last night. I seem to be constantly exhausted, mostly because of the lack of sleep that 8:30pm games imply, along with an 8am wake up bang from David working around the house. 8:30 pm games go to 10pm plus a little for the half time time out, and then I don't get home until 10:30, shower 'til 11, and then eat dinner to calm my stomach a little and by the time I get to bed, it's regularly midnight, if not later. So I'm gradually running down, during the week, and then usually catch up my deficit sometime during the weekend.

It was a very hard fought game and we did win, and I ran my butt off during it. I also blocked a really hard shot with my left breast, which is still just aching, and finally got knocked out of the game when I got to a ball and the guy took me down from behind, taking out my right ankle. The thing about defense is that I can only tell about how I messed someone else's plans up. Not too bad a thing, but it's different. I played much of the second half at half-back and did a lot of running and support and did a few nice passes up to folks that were ready for the passes.

We also played out in Robinswood, which is a grass field, so it the field was pretty gorgeous and grass is always so different than the usual dirt fields we play on. The ball stays on top of the grass, so kicking it is always just a bit easier, and the softness of the turf really does make a difference to knees and other joints pounded by hard-pack dirt.


Hyup. I did misunderstand Cera. And it makes sense that if she stores things verbally that it's easier to write about what she thinks than what she experiences, as it's all verbal internal anyway. I seem to store things in full-round sensation, depending on the memory. There are so many things that I experience that words can't contain that it's really hard for me to store things in words. It also kinda goes with my engrained tai chi sense, where all my actions, balances, and controls are all in parallel, each element lending to all the others, and it cannot be capture serially and actually make sense. That's how my dreams and memories, run, too, in full-blown parallel experience. How do you describe a hug? For me, it's the parallel of emotions and multiple touches all happening at once, the stepping in and closing of arms and where do you put your nose? My thoughts, if verbal, usually run multiple tracks, but there's usually color and sound track as well.

A lot of the time, when I do write things down, it's a lot like taking a thread from a ball of yarn, pulling on it and then knitting it into a fabric and saying, "here... this is the ball of yarn I was talking about..." Kinda a 'more accurate than I like' analogy because of the whole 'organize and shape' part of the metaphore is correct as well. Usually with the parallel of having the same material as the original event but a completely new shape, new feeling and new utility to it, as well as an easily descernable beginning and ending and framing which the original event never had.

And, yeah. I function a lot better with a John than without. I am quite functional, thank you, on my own, too. I had to prove it to myself for about a year to be sure, i.e. living on my own before I married him, but that year was proof enough for me. But I understand the need to know.


Chuckle... Anita Rowland is good at luring.

But the Borg headhunter hasn't gotten back to me, yet, after I sent the second version of the resume. Maybe I should just put a copy of it here for those that can read it with MS Word 7... nah...

And, yes, I'm likely to apply for Clarion West for a number of reasons now, most of them good for my heart and soul.


Went out at lunch time and got cash, got contacts, had lunch with James Birdsall and then bought about $100 worth of CD's. It's the first time that I've bought CD's for... hmm... 3 years. It's been a while, mostly because music ties my soul to Markleford and he used to buy a pile of CD's for me every once in a while. I'd give him a pile of money and he'd send back a pile of CD's. He loved Silver Platters, got to find more things there than he had been able to anywhere else. That was a keen trip for his birthday.

Anyway... with the previous closure it seems that I can move on with that part of my life too, and the f__ckers mailing list has been awash in music references and I'd forgotten just how much I'd completely sliced off that part of my life.

James has been moving on. New Job and new place to live all on the same day. He was 'laid off' a few weeks ago, and the whole Seattle area is so desperate for people that he got a new job in just 2 weeks, said that the headhunters kept him so busy the minute he gave them his resume he was doing interviews two and three a day for a while. Seems that there's a lot of stuff out here for folks that want to work.

I've always been good at taking a language and doing things with it, when I want to badly enough. Seeing how it work, the structures that I need to mix and match to make something new. I've never really thought of myself as a programmer, though I can do it. I guess that's the flip side of the 'I can do anything' meme. What's hard is focussing on the right thing to do. But programming pays well and the projects can be very interesting.

There's song lyrics messing with the back of my head. The title's likely "Deny Me, Please." But I'm not sure where it's going. Something gut ripping.

© 1997 by Liralen Li

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