Here’s some great, great lyrics that I love, love, love…..

i’ve got the understanding of a four year old
i’ve got the peace of mind of a killers of a soul
i’ve got the rational of a new york cop
i’ve got the patience of a chopping block

makes me dance every time.

I have the desire to write something beautiful and deep and profound. Unfortunately, I don’t think that this will happen. I’m freezing and hungry….two things that usually don’t inspire me.

I have a meeting, an important meeting. I am someone….someone has scheduled a meeting with me. They might pay me money too. Wow, someone might pay me and have a meeting with me….I feel super duper important. Yes, it’s about that time. Time for Cindigo to get off her ever widening ass and get a job. Upping the limit on the credit cards only works for so long.

Hey I gotta go eat a chicken sandwich and put on a sweater.

But first here. This site makes me never want to push a pixel again. I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!

That link was for Kyle….proving that even though soapbox is now in “livejournal format” he will still be able to click on links.

So, here’s more for you.

PIXELGIRL IS A GENIUS…..

I have no web connectivity except for sporatic luck with the dial up. I feel like a ship…more like a rowboat….in a vast sea of emptiness. This is disconnection. I can’t even go to my favorite websites for comfort and solace.

But if you can hear me….I wanted to tell you about an extreme and deep personal fear of mine.

Driving into the well at the oil change place.

I had to get it done today. I was way overdue. The guy was standing at the end of bay two, guiding me in like a 747. My hands were clenched on the wheel, and my stomach was tied in knots. I had visions of my big clunky shoe slipping and pressing the gas all the way down. Like a one ton cartoon character I would speed tward the exit garage door and then fall out of the slow motion arch as my front wheels began their descent into the basement of Jiffy Lube.

Oh the inhumanity.

I also feel the same way at automatic carwashes. When you have to line up your front left wheel with the track that pulls you along. It gives me a stress headache every time. So, every once in a while, I make myself do it so I can prove to myself and the spirits of all my dead realitives, Jesus and anyone else that cares, I’m not a sissy baby like I really am. But if I have a choice, and I do, I prefer the self wash stations for a buck twenty five. Much less stress.

I think, if you don’t know how to fasten a seat belt, you should not be flying in an airplane. Because if you can’t fasten a seat belt, it would lead me to believe that you probably have never ridden in a car. Which probably means that you think that evil spirits will take your soul if someone takes a picture of you. Which means, flying on a plane would be nothing but trouble for you and the passengers around you.

Just a thought.

But, if you can’t fasten a seatbelt, you most likely can’t get on the internet either, so….once again, my keen acumen and vast knowledge……wasted.

…I have some more suspicions.

*There is no such thing as a “water landing”
*The airport security wands are actually cancer emitting devices to weed out the weak of the species.
*Jesus did not actually die for our sins….or, maybe he did, I never really understood what that meant anyway.
*if there were an emergency on an airplane, the cabin crew would be of little to no help. Although I might take that back. The guy with the explosives in his shoe got his ass kicked by a stewardess. So, let me rephrase…
*if there were an emergency on this airplane, this cabin crew would be of little to no help

While the plane was taking off from Atlanta’s Hartsfield airport, my thoughts turned to death. This is not unusual for me, especially when I am flying in an airplane. I always make an internal check to see if I am alright with my life….like is there anything I need to say or do before I go to my eternal resting place. Usually I’m good to go and ready to meet my maker, or take an eternal dirt nap…whichever. Today, while I was going through my mental check list, I found out, that I don’t want to be a designer anymore. Well, not exactly that. I think that I need more fulfilling things to do with my day, other than making self serving web pages, or web pages that sell things, or designs that are connected with selling or buying or commerce in any way. Or print ads, or expensive trendy clothing….and a bunch of other stuff that is just grating mercilessly on my sensibilities lately.

I was also thinking about Jesus. And I was annoyed with Christianity. I mean, Jesus, was a great guy, did miracles, had great philosophies, and all that other great stuff about Jesus. But he was JESUS, the son of GOD. I mean really, can the bar get any higher than that? I just can’t live up to those standards.

One (okay, maybe two or three) last thing(s) I was thinking about:

The stewardess keeps coming by with snacks and drinks. Every time she asks me, I say “no thank you”. And every time she looks at me in what I perceive as disbelief and says “are you sure?” Like no one on any flight that she has been on has ever refused the pretzel mix or a soda. Maybe she’s taking it personally? Maybe I should go up to the front and specifically ask for something to make her feel needed and important.

Now she just came by with the big white trash bag, picking up cans and wrappers. She stood by my seat and looked down at me for a second. I looked up at her. She realized that I wasn’t eating or drinking anything and had a reaction. It’s hard for me to exactly describe what the reaction was. It was like she had to switch gears, switch modes of doing for a second and it startled her into being awake for half a second. I saw her shake her head and open her eyes a little wider while she said “oh”….meaning….I remember, you didn’t eat or drink anything. Then she moved on to the next row of people holding out the white bag while people handed over their trash.

<--------------- insert non-smooth segue for more disjointed ramblings here --------------->

I saw this guy, I think on CNN. He headed an AIDS awareness campaign in Pakistan. He said that the average Pakistani makes $200.00 a year. That’s roughly fifty five cents a day. That makes me feel like a big fat suck. I get pissed when my DNS server goes down for an hour. I have type O negative blood, universal donor. The Red Cross keeps calling me to donate. The donation center is four blocks from my house. I keep telling them I’ll go. I make the appointment, and then forget. But I’m sure if I had dinner plans to go out for sushi, I wouldn’t forget.

And here’s why. An object in motion tends to stay in motion. I’m in a sucky motion. Where’s the good Jesus when you need him. I think he needs to come down from on high and reveal something to me in a burning bush, or a glowing neon sign. I mean, why in the bible, Jesus, angels, and god even, appeared all over the place telling people what to do, giving them directions, warnings.

Give me something. I mean, I’m tired of self motivating here. I want to follow, and not some ancient dusty words on a piece of paper. I want a bonafied person to stand behind. Even if he came back to kick ass…at least I would know for sure what was going on. Either Cindigo has been good, she gets a cookie, or, Cindigo has been very bad, she can go sit in the corner for the rest of eternity.

Crikee…what in the hell am I talking about. You know what….this is the kind of crap that gets me into trouble. I work it all out on paper. Mostly when you read “normal” writing, it is complete and well thought out statements of fact, or fiction. When I write, it’s just a huge vomit of information and feelings and thoughts that are sometimes cohesive, but most of the time random and disjointed. I feel better after I’m done, but, (and I’ve just really started thinking about this lately)…maybe I sound koo koo on paper. I never really stopped to think about that. Because in my head, I have all the pieces to the puzzle, and it makes perfect sense from where I’m sitting.

I’m not this neurotic in real life. I swear it on a cookie and a stack of Good News Bibles.

12/25/01-I want to go Ho Ho Ho-me

I know on one of my former surveys that I posted, I listed Christmas as my favorite holiday. I only did that because it was the first holiday that came to my mind. Really you guys, Christmas kinda blows.

I just has this bizarro conversation with my stepdad. I was sitting on the couch staring out the glass door wall into the backyard contemplating how much baileys I had left to spike my coffee with, and if it was really worth it. He sat down in a chair next to me and asked me if I had a minute. This of course brought up warning bells. I said “sure”, and braced myself. He launched into some bible stuff, had me read some papers that he had written on eternal life for a woman at church. Then he started going off on a tangent about people who look different than “us”. How we should accept everybody. It’s what’s on the inside that matters. While he’s rambling on, quoting bible verses and talking about the temple leaders that “looked perfect and beautiful on the outside, but Jesus said they were ugly and evil on the inside” I’m getting annoyed and impatient. I say “what are you trying to say?” He ignores me and keeps talking. So, I say it again. He keeps on and pretends that I’m not saying anything. Finally I say, “Are you talking about me?” He laughs uncomfortably and stammers. He tells me, he wants to make a speech on this topic at the dinner table. I want to tell him to fuck off. But instead I tell him that I have know the people that are coming to dinner my entire life, some before I was born even. I had a purple mowhawk when I was 14. I don’t think that my appearance will shock or offend anyone.

Basically the conversation ended by him getting up and walking away I think saying something to the effect that if I changed my mind and wanted him to make a abbreviated speech, to come and talk to him.

——

I just checked my email after not being connected for a couple of days. I just want to say…(sniff, sniff) you guys rock. So many emails of people that I like telling me how much they like me. Awwwww. I got those at the perfect time….I’ll admit that I was rummaging through my step dad’s meds to see if there was anything good to dull the Christmas pain.

Hey guys….see you next year. BWAAAA-HA-HA-HAAAAA! what a funny joke.

There’s a pain in my head that starts between my eyes and shoots up through the middle of my skull. I think it may be cancer. Like, if I would have taken care of it six months ago, they could have done something….kemo, an operation….something. Now, well now it’s just too late. I have a tumor the size of a grapefruit in the center of my skull and there is nothing, absolutely the doctors can do.

No, no, please don’t cry. You have to go on without me. I know it will be hard, but you’ll make it, I know you will. It’s probably better this way anyway. We both know I was going to end up in a one room apartment with a bare bulb eating cat food because I couldn’t aford canned tuna. I mean really, what kind of life would that have been. So actually, be happy for me. It’s natures way…..goodbye toto, aunty M….Glenda……goodbye.

Well, either that, or I can just take two tylenol PMs and see if that doesn’t take care of it.

Okay, I think I’ve got it. The play button works if you click it, but it dosen’t have a rollover. The live journal page should be embedded, even though it doesn’t look exactly how I want. So….phew….if anyone is actually reading this and you are having problems with load time, broken links or other crap, crap, crap….could you let me know? Because since I have put all of this crap, crap, crap up I’ve been having sneaking suspisions about ….well about alot of things, government conspiricies, persecution, deforestation, brain chemestiry and the ability to lead a normal and productive life….you know….lots of things. But about the website, my sneaking suspicion is that it looks fine on my computer, but maybe not on yours.

Let’s see….other sneaking suspicions:
*George is not really dead. It’s just a ploy to make the beatles more popular.
*Tom and Drew are not really getting a divorce
*I most likely will end up an elderly woman in a rocking chair with a housefull of cats.
*Starbucks coffee is made from an extract of coca leaves.

but more on that later…..what I really want to say is I have to do a test…..

< http://www.theonion.com/onion3709/starbucks_phase_two.html>

did it work, did it????? Isn’t new software cute? You probably can’t even tell on your end can you?

Okay, last news….I’m changing my name. Everybody start calling me Jolene from now on. The name has at least two cool songs written for it, and, it has close ties to Anglina Jolie…who is a super hottie (well I think so). So, I know it will be an adjustment at first, but I think it will all work out for the best in the end.

here is a haiku
this software is now working
thankyou thorshammer

what have i gotten myself into….embedding, styles, html….crap,crap,crap.

somebody heeeeelllllllpppppp!