My brother upgraded the MT software, and now the spam is filtered. It’s a beautiful thing.
I have not spent much time on the blog this week, though, either for deleting comments or writing. I got sick again.
SIGH
I am hoping tha this particular strain of cold is nasty, and that it is the power of the bug rather than the weakness of my immune system. I don’t usually get sick this often.
Thank you all, for your nice comments. I will not do away with comments, despite the nasty spammenters…
I have several posts I want to write:
* a bit about Proust, who is substantially difficult to read, but has devoted fans (I read one of his books for my book Group)
* this cool piece about classism and the habit of murder (and a book that actually validates my theory!)
* a review of “A burning house” which is stories about people living and dying with AIDS
* this COOL COOL new organization method by Kepner Tregoe that rocks
But I have too much to say and not enough time. I discovered that one of my major problems right now is that I have not been getting enough sleep
No sleep makes it hard to think. And thinking makes it hard to sleep. The last few nights have been full of half waking thoughts. Which is a problem.
maybe if I stop and write out some of the things that I want to post about I will sleep better.
last night I went home and fell asleep right after dinner. At about 6:45 I feel asleep in front of the TV playing “An American in Paris” and then Chris woke me up to send me to bed.
I feel a little rested. But more sleep is needed.
I’ll keep you informed. Thank you all very much for your attention.
It is wonderful when I get a comment from a reader. They are not frequent, but they are incredibly welcome. Thank you for your contributions, my readers.
However, in spite of my huge delight when I get a relevant comment, i am really thinking about turning off the comment function on this site.
I get thousands of spam comments every week. This means that I am on my site doing maintenance every day, but I am not always able to add new content because my time is used up in sorting through horrible spam.
Lately, the spam has been mostly medical and gambling sites. Previously it has been porn. So I guess the tone is improving, but the quantity is increasing as well.
I just don’t know what to do about this. There are probably solutions out there…I just love the few comments I do recive so much, it has been worth sorting the spam for it…
there is a lot of spam out there, people.
the blog is languishing.
I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind. So much, really, that I have about a half dozen really long and very interesting and intelligent blog posts that I would like to do.
But I am a little depressed about the lack of interest on my blog. I should not say that, because those of you who DO read it might take it personally. I thank you all, dear readers, for your faithful interest.
But…well…I guess being smart and erudite wears thin. Or maybe I’m not as erudite as I wish I were. SIGH.
I met someone, and she is funny and interesting. She also has a blog:
Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong Ever
her blog is amusing, mostly about her personal life, little funny stories. Exactly the sort of thing that I usually DON”T write about, because I want to be a little more universally appealing.
Well, she has a larger audience for her blog than i do. Hmph.
Maybe she just has a larger circle of aquaintances than i do.
…this does not make it better…
So, this is a whiny post about how nobody pays attention to me.
I am very tempted to delete it, because i should not have something so self-serving and unflattering posted.
However, I am not sure I will have time to write something better in the near future.
SIGH
Fight the powers that be! I’m talking about non-conformity!
But I’ll tell you the truth I’d like to be an undercover non-conformist. A little conformity is a comforting thing. Enough to get through the door.
‘Cause I always think I’m a little off. Not quite like all the other non-conformists. As if I am unaware of the three sheets of toilet paper dragging off my shoe.
Somehow, if I start talking about what’s on my mind, people give me a blank stare and say, “Whatever.”
But I’ve got the floor, and you don’t, so I’m going to speak my mind.
I got this new job. And I’ve moved to a new place. Okay, I’ll be honest I bought a house–one that June Cleaver would be proud of, with a lemon tree in the front and roses on the side.
This freaks me out a little. Because I do not want to wear a twin set and eat off the kitchen floor. I want to be that creative artist type that stays up all night drinking and toking with their other creative friends and being REAL.
Isn’t that what the L.A. life is all about? Except I don’t’ drink much and I don’t like drugs. And I get really sleepy around nine thirty, so no one would hang out with me.
I guess that’s the life in West L.A. I live on the East East of L.A., and I am just like everyone else here. We get up early and speed to beat the sunrise, speed to the screeching halt of the bumper in front driving 5, 20, 10, stop and then start again with the miles per hour for the hour or the hour and a half that it takes to finally stop at the parking lot and the padded cell walls of the cubicle.
It’s not so bad. I like mornings. And maybe this is the real L.A. after all. Maybe you crazies from the West are going to crash and burn back to where you came from while we east enders drop the grains of sand into our 401Ks ’til our time runs out, the mortgage is paid or we retire–whichever happens last.
Maybe this is the real L.A. Los Angeles is full of Valleys, did you know? Any dip between these many hills is a valley.
Quite honestly, I love my commute. I drive a short jaunt on the 10, exit left and downshift my manual transmission down to 3rd so I can power up the crest of the 57. Below me, just at sunrise, the North Horizon is a range of green tree and gray rock mountains, which, when hit by the slant light of dawn, get pink or orange or purple mountain majesties.
This is the San Gabriel Valley. Yes, the Holy Angel Gabriel, the mouthpiece of God. And I hear it every morning, the messenger of God proclaiming that I am redeemed.
But that is the second valley of my daily journey. I had to climb to enter the Angel’s valley. I asked around and discovered that I live in Pomona Valley. Pomona is the name chosen for this place when it had few houses and more fruit trees. Pomona is the Goddess of the harvest. I dwell in the Valley of the Goddess. Which is most excellent, because I am the Queen of Pretty Things. It’s a long story, but I’ve been the Queen of Pretty Things for almost seven years now, a position which carries a lot of responsibility. As the Queen, I am pleased to find my dominions in the Valley of the Goddess.
As to be greeted by the Valley of Voice of God, traveling through it every day to the very end. I know it is the very end of the San Gabriel Valley, because my cube window faces a big Rock. The rock is part of a mountain, and where there is a mountain, on the other side is a Valley. This valley is well known: the San Fernando Valley.
Fernando…OOooo Fernando…ABBA? This is the Valley of the Dancing Queen.
I travel there less frequently. I suppose that’s just as well.
Taken from a play “An Immaculate Misconception” By Carl Djerassi
“oh, everything? for a scientist that’s a meaningless word. You can never know everything. but you can learn when to stop looking for more.”
It is not such an easy thing to learn when to stop. The uneasy balance of progressing without knowing everything is something we all must learn.
It’s maybe like learning to ride a bike–except the inverse. If a person never forgets how to ride a bike, then one always forgets how to keep their balance on incomplete knowledge.
or perhaps it would be better to say, incomplete ignorance. Since the greater percentage is on the side of ignoance
You know, I’ve been doing a lot of interesting things that take up time.
I’ve been trying to solidify some thoughts to right down a good blog entry, but I’ve been on the move.
Let me see what I can think of to say here.
I have been trying to pick up Spanish. I live in a place where it is truly possible to totally immerse myself in a language that is foriegn to me.
Since I moved to LA, I have felt bad that I don’t know spanish. In Europe, citizen pick up the language of their neighboring states. It seems to be a sign of willful ignorance to not learn how to communicate with the people who live next to you.
But, Americans do not really make the effort to learn Spanish. The line often taken is:
“This is our country. They should learn our language if they want to live here.”
Interesting. This is not the same attitude of the Europeans. I suppose we Americans either do not assume that we will be visiting Mexico (or Quebec, for that matter) to encounter native speakers of a non-english language, or we assume that any of such non-English speakers are here in America permanently and are therefore obligated to make the effort to learn the American language.
We just don’t really make the effort to learn Spanish.
But that is the Gringo attitude, basically. There are a number of American citizen who could have been raised in a spanish speaking household, but they have differing degrees of fluency.
Now, I have met a lot of Spanish speaking people as I’ve lived here. What I have not found are people who are willing to speak Spanish to ME.
It’s a thing very close to the heart. Knowing spanish, and speaking it with a person at work, someone outside the home culture, are two very different things.
I have found a guy here at work who will talk with me. He was born in Mexico, and has become an American citizen. He has family here and in Mexico. It seems to me that he is very generous with his language. Other people are more hesitant, as if they have something to prove or something to hide regarding the language proficiency.
This is fascinating. It makes me all the more anxious to gain literacy en espanol.
I’m sick again. I’m trying hard not to be, but since I have to go to hospitals and hospitals have a lot of germs, they stick to me.
This one isn’t so bad, it’s mostly the sniffles. I hope it goes away.
I may have to learn a lot more about germ-repellent activities.
I’m trying to organize myself. It is sort of daunting, as anyone who has tried to get organized knows.
The thing is, it is easy to START getting organized. It’s harder to finish getting organized.
as a matter of fact, it is darn near impossible to finish. You can only continue.
It seems like almost everyone I know has had a mellow new year’s celebration. It was raining a flood over in my neighborhood, so maybe that had something to do with it.
Chris and I had a nice, very relaxed time together.
It occurs to me that staying up until midnight to catch the absolute first minute of the new year is kind of silly.
Why not just go to bed, and wake up to a new year, with a full night’s sleep?
Something to think about.