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Wooooo? Puh-leez...
Oct. 31st, 2003 09:12 pmI tore away from the shop around 11:30 am, with every intention of going home to finish the item I started yesterday. But by the time I got home, fatigue enveloped me and I decided to take a 45-minute "power nap" (whatever that might be, though I interpret the concept as a short nap).
I was awakened at nearly noon by a Left Coast client who had a desperate need for two PowerPoint files to be translated, with a concomitantly desperate price.
Hey, I'm only human. I took the job.
Three hours and 2200 words later, the work was done and invoiced, and it was time to return to the shop.
In the end, I decided not to work after the shop closed. Galina called, and we talked for a bit, and she told me she missed me, and we hung up, and I'm still sitting here, missing her. I haven't the foggiest idea of what I'm trying to accomplish with all of the head-against-the-wall idiocy that I've been pursuing, except that there is this visceral part of me that understands it is something I am good at. Moreover, it may be the only thing I am good at.
The house is dark, except for the room I am in. This is a deliberate attempt to discourage trick-or-treaters, who are rare enough in this neck of the woods. With the lights out, you'd have to be a glutton for punishment to go up our driveway. Nonetheless, while I can appreciate a culturally agreed-upon day for people - adults - to dress up in costume and have a little fun, I find myself increasingly pitted against the idea of Halloween, and not for any religious reason. Perhaps it is a manifestation of a state of advancing curmudgeonliness, I don't know, but I never really felt comfortable with the "basic principles," if you will, of Halloween, though like most people, I've played along for many years.
Perhaps this has something to do with one fateful October 31 back in, was it 1990? We got really into the "holiday" spirit, to the point where several children who rang our doorbell were scared out of their wits, and perhaps scarred for life, by our "innocent" reception. We were living in Scotts Valley, California, at the time, and had gimmicked our front door to peal a clap of thunder, display a flash of lightning (provided by a strobe light), and pronounce an Igor-like "Welcome!" greeting when anyone hit our doorbell.
On every Halloween since, I've remembered the handful of kids who ran screaming back to their mommies and daddies, scared out of their skulls, and whose mommies and daddies were themselves laughing at their children's plight. At the time, it seemed like innocent fun. No blood. No sharp edges. No cavaders. Just a bang, a flash, and "Welcome!" pronounced with an atrocious Romanian accent.
Maybe I'm making too much of it, but I've since regretted that night.
Having said that, Huntur seemed eager to assume her "Simba" costume while her parents drove me home from the store earlier this evening. I wish her well, and pleasant dreams - both sleeping and awake - forever.
Cheers...
I was awakened at nearly noon by a Left Coast client who had a desperate need for two PowerPoint files to be translated, with a concomitantly desperate price.
Hey, I'm only human. I took the job.
Three hours and 2200 words later, the work was done and invoiced, and it was time to return to the shop.
In the end, I decided not to work after the shop closed. Galina called, and we talked for a bit, and she told me she missed me, and we hung up, and I'm still sitting here, missing her. I haven't the foggiest idea of what I'm trying to accomplish with all of the head-against-the-wall idiocy that I've been pursuing, except that there is this visceral part of me that understands it is something I am good at. Moreover, it may be the only thing I am good at.
The house is dark, except for the room I am in. This is a deliberate attempt to discourage trick-or-treaters, who are rare enough in this neck of the woods. With the lights out, you'd have to be a glutton for punishment to go up our driveway. Nonetheless, while I can appreciate a culturally agreed-upon day for people - adults - to dress up in costume and have a little fun, I find myself increasingly pitted against the idea of Halloween, and not for any religious reason. Perhaps it is a manifestation of a state of advancing curmudgeonliness, I don't know, but I never really felt comfortable with the "basic principles," if you will, of Halloween, though like most people, I've played along for many years.
Perhaps this has something to do with one fateful October 31 back in, was it 1990? We got really into the "holiday" spirit, to the point where several children who rang our doorbell were scared out of their wits, and perhaps scarred for life, by our "innocent" reception. We were living in Scotts Valley, California, at the time, and had gimmicked our front door to peal a clap of thunder, display a flash of lightning (provided by a strobe light), and pronounce an Igor-like "Welcome!" greeting when anyone hit our doorbell.
On every Halloween since, I've remembered the handful of kids who ran screaming back to their mommies and daddies, scared out of their skulls, and whose mommies and daddies were themselves laughing at their children's plight. At the time, it seemed like innocent fun. No blood. No sharp edges. No cavaders. Just a bang, a flash, and "Welcome!" pronounced with an atrocious Romanian accent.
Maybe I'm making too much of it, but I've since regretted that night.
Having said that, Huntur seemed eager to assume her "Simba" costume while her parents drove me home from the store earlier this evening. I wish her well, and pleasant dreams - both sleeping and awake - forever.
Cheers...
