On many occasions I have said that when I am angry I could spit nails, but I’m a dragon lady. I am so tired, frustrated,paranoid and twisted that I think that if I were indeed a dragon I could relieve all the stuff that has plagued my dreams and interrupted my sleep these last few months…I would just take a deep breath and everthing and everyone who comes across my path would be nothing but ash. Yep, nothing but ash.I’m tired of people telling me that I look good. How can I look good I HAVEN”T had a good night sleep in months!!I am convinced that what people are actually saying is: “You look like shit.” because you look good is an automatic response when you haven’t seen someone you haven’t seen in awhile and you don’t want to go through the whole how are u conversation. I suppose its the better alternative to being screamed at using various profane choice phrases like: Why the fuck do you care and what do you know you piece of shit. I am not a professional as my examples have stated, but guess what? I don’t give a flying fuck. Its just to bad I can’t cut to the chase and just turn them all to ash…especially those who ignore me(don’t really take time to SEE me) or try to get me to open up and I end up talking about shit w/o really knowing what the hell I’m talking about…like now…I NEED SLEEP DAMN IT!!!Is that to much to ask?

I recently discovered that the f word can be therapeutic.Yes, you heard me right the f word the word that I once thought was a word that was an unitelligient, vulgar and otherwise offensive word. I was an angry, irritatable and frustrated dragon lady breathing fire whereever I went  and then it happened… I said: I don’t give a flying FAQ,I wrote I don’t give a flying FAQ,what the FAQ do you care and the fire disapated and I was as calm as a summer’s day. Who would of thunk?A calm dragon lady is a happy dragon lady…

Well, I went and pissed off likefood… oh well…

For those not in the know, likefood was that one person I referenced as an exception in the “So Screwed…” post. It appears, however; I was wrong. he is less than understanding about my need to express certain indignities I had to suffer while staying with his family…

Oh well. To be honest, I’m not broken up about it.

I once told him (among others in my family) the day would come when I would separate myself from them. I am just not willing to “forgive and forget” when words like assault, abuse, and endangerment are involved.

I couldn’t sleep last night… I found myself tossing and turning, unable to switch my brain off. I get like that from time to time, but I never really think about why. It’s just something that happens occasionally. It begins with each new year, easing with the onset of summer. It usually screws up my internal clock. I never really tried to figure out why… until last night.

You see, it hit me, January this year marked the twelfth anniversary of the year I believe I died.

I have never really or fully shared this story with anyone, dear reader, mainly because I know no one will believe me. In many cases I think people I would actually LIKE to share this story with would actually react badly to hearing it. but I think the reason I have so much difficulty this time of year is not only have I not ever really shared this story, but I have never really FACED it either.

That time of my life was a blur, a haze of confusion and change. The heat of hatred and anger toward my peers had culminated in fantasies of genocide and, at times, suicide. These emotions and desired caused fear and uncertainty. And it was that same uncertainty that led down a dark and terrible path to the home of the madman. The madman and his insufferable family–a depressing lot of religious fanatics who blindly obeyed the rantings of the madman, believing all the time that their actions were called for by God himself. I thought I was alone then. Although I thought I had no allies. No friends. No one I could trust.

I must pause and note, I was wrong. I did have one friend. it’s unfortunate I didn’t realize how so until he had gone. however; because of my blind malice towards ALL mankind, I made it my purpose to quietly play the part of the fool, complaisantly obeying the orders of the madman, like everyone else in that hell they called home. only occasionally forgetting myself by whimpering a challenge here and there… only to be “reminded of my place” by the madman.

While most of the story is lost–and frankly, unimportant–I was sick, I had diarrhea and so understandably I was dehydrated. adding to my state, I was fatigued and frustrated, having dealt with the rantings and forced labors imposed by the Madman. To be honest, the work wasn’t all that bad, if not for the insolent Madman. After suffering yet another brow beating for using my intelligence–an attempt on my part to alleviate stress endured by both the illness and the fruitless efforts of trying to thread a cable through a pipe I knew to be blocked–The madman flew into the last rage I could tolerate.

Fed up, tired, sick, and sore, I finally threw up my hands and cursed the madman. I had had enough and would tolerate no more. So, I tried to leave. Not willing to suffer my curse, the madman attacked me, his wish to inflict a parting blow not only to my body, but to my will.

Blow after blow, the madman struck me about my face and head. I don’t remember much of the beating, I fell in and out of consciousness seemingly with each blow. But I do remember the dreams I had while in those fleeting moments of unconscious delirium. Terrible dreams. haunting dreams. They were the dreams that haunt me to this day.

After beating me for what must have been only moments (though it felt like hours), the Madman dragged me from the pit and expelled me from his home.

Battered, bruised, sick, and dehydrated, I supposed he had expected me to simply sit and wait there on the edge of his property. I understand his assumptions, we were after all, in the middle of a desert–further proof of his insanity and desire to control his brood through forced imprisonment outside the watchful gaze of neighbors who would have reported his abuses. I suppose some part of me WANTED to collapse there by the side of the highway. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t surrender my last bit of self respect to the madman. So I walked away, into the desert.

As I think back, I know I had suffered a minor concussion in the attack. I remember feeling so tired I could barely stand. I wanted so badly to sleep, but somehow I knew that sleeping would kill me. I don’t know how far I made it before the nausea set in and it took all my efforts to keep upright. The world constantly turned and fell away from me, I know I stumbled because I constantly picked myself back up. I knew I had to get water and soon. though I didn’t–at the time–really understand why.

I don’t know the exact day, but I know the time… roughly 4:27pm. I remember that time, because that was the time on my watch when I fell for the last time. I knew I had to stay awake, but my body simply wouldn’t let me rise again. so I lay there, defeated and broken. all I could to was focus on the one thing in my field of vision, and hope the flashing dots on the LCD could somehow bring me back. I was wrong.

It was a dark place, neither warm nor cold. just empty. I vaguely remember a being somewhere… else, but that vision left my memory long ago. And then I was awake. I must have rolled in my unconscious state because I awoke with my neck twisted. No longer facing my watch, I found I had somehow pressed my head and face into the ground. Choking on the dirt I coughed and the discomfort forced me to once again right myself.

Still beaten. still sore. and still ill, I managed to drag myself through the desert to a nearby township. I found a kind soul who provided me with water and aspirin.

Hours later, I found myself out of the path of the Madman. I returned to the home of my parents where I recovered without incident. never to speak of, nor dwell upon the events that day, alone in the desert.

I don’t know why I never pressed charges on the madman, God knows It would have done a world of good for my sister and her daughter had he not been around. But I could never bring myself to blame him for my fate. He had given me a gift. after that day, a part of me that had never before existed. A piece of my being–more human that the rest, I think–that can step past my disdain for my fellow man and allow me to live and work among them. That part of me was born that day.

and now, dear reader, I want you to know, I do not intend to impart some “moral” to this story. I did not tell you this story for your benefit, I told you for my own. you see; I don’t care about you. I never did.

Well I got my Archos 5 IT (500GB model) on monday… and I guess I should post a word or two about it…

First and formost; While Archos does make a mean PMP (protable Media Player for those not in the know), I find their customer support to be seriously lacking. First off, I placed my order last week–Monday the 8th to be precise. I waited for that day because when I TRIED to place the order the first time (Thursday the 4th) their site refused to sell me the device! Now lets take a moment and try to wrab our brains arround that one… Archos… didn’t want to take my money… yeah… Well suffice it to say, I called their support and went the rounds. Ultimately it was decided the problem lay in my address. You see I live in the middle of nowhere… literally. my town has a post office and a stop light… and that’s about it. You think I’m exaggerating, and I’m not. There literally is ONE friggin’ stop light in my town. Due to the rather “remote” nature of my domicile, my address does not validate against my credit card! I kid you not!

Well, frustrated as I was, I really can’t fault Archos for my living arrangements, so I let it go and planned to have a friend (living in a validated address) place the order for me. but this had to wait. When I placed the order, fail or not, Archos requested the money from my bank, who kindly placed the funds into “hold”. This means the money is still TECHNICALLY in my account… but not. I have had this happen before, and as anyone who has placed an order online knows, after a few days the money will “clear”–meaning it will either leave my account, or go back in. I, of course, expected it to return to my balance… yeah…

And that’s where the fun started. A week after my attempt to purchase goods failed the money did not return to my account… my eyebrow raised a bit. I called Archos for answers and LO! as I am on hold for their support line, I get an e-mail, “Your order has been processed and shipped”. Doubaya-tee-FSCK?!? Turns out, due to a glitch in their software, regardless of the refusal, my order processed… this of course made me nervous… I live in the middle of nowhere… where exactly did the UPS guy plan to deliver my very expensive new toy?!?

Well, customer relations not withstanding, I got my Archos. and I have had it for several days now. So what do I think of this little toy? Well… It’s a brick… and by that, I mean that it is heavy, thick, with cube-like qualities, and if I had a thousand of them, I’m pretty sure I could build a wall that could keep out the Persians.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE this thing… I just don’t like the fact I have to really secure my belt or it will pull my pants off just laying in my pocket.

Still there is something to be said for the ability to literally carry my entire music and video collection with me where ever I go. That 500 gigs really comes in handy.

I’ll have to post more after I’ve had it a while… we’ll see if I continue to enjoy it.

Title says it all…

I’m getting SO tired of people complaining about a certain PC manufacturer because their PC was “broken out of the box”… Normally, i’d just let it go, but recently I have begun to realize almost every time these people are complaining because their OEM install of Vista or Windows 7 came pre-bundled with a ton of bloatware that renders their PC virtually unusable.

I came to the philosophy a long time ago; if you aren’t capable or willing to wipe and reinstall your OS out of the box (regardless if it’s windows or Linux), then you should never be allowed to own a PC. it’s that simple.

Far too many end users assume that it is a PC manufacturers obligation to provide and support an OS, it’s not! Most OEM manufactures provide an Operating system as a courtesy. In truth, the OS is a separate beast from the hardware, complete with it’s own separate legal rules and obligations… allow me this example: I buy a DVD player from Fries and the sales rep tosses in the demo DVD from their floor/demo unit… should I complain that it’s just a demo DVD? no, I should stop being cheep and get an f-ing netflicks account already!