I can now pack away all my CD's. My music has all been converted to little mini discs for my player. I can't believe that what used to be shelves and shelves of CD's (and has been large black books of CD's for the last 3 years) now all fits in four little boxes of discs.

This whole enterprise has made me realize that of all my music, Ani Difranco is my absolute favorite. I used to think she was a phase, similar to my +Live+ phase, or my Doors phase. But, I was listening to Ani back then as well, and here I am, ten years later, and I can listen to her for hours. Just background listening while reading, doing something else... Or that intense listening, where I have read the lyrics, but hear them for the first time. Understand them.

I'm quite unhappy that I don't have every Ani album. I listen to bits from Evolve and Educated Guess, loving them almost more than anything else. I had So Much Shouting at one point, but left it in my glove box and it was all scratched to hell.

The three artists that I have more than three albums transferred to mini-disc are Ani, Dave Matthews (and the band), and Paul Simon. I think it can be stated officially. I'm a folk music lover.

Well, Ani is going to sing me to dreamland as I head towards eight work days left.

Nine working days left in my office. How crazy is that? It's been a very interesting place to work, even if it drives me batty. I feel like I've just spent almost three years behind enemy lines. Hard to believe that soon all the petty inter-office gossip and fighting will be behind me. Wait. Who am I kidding? That stuff is in every office. But, working for a theater, hopefully full of people who love their job, and their job is creating not destroying, should make for a much more Tracy-friendly environment.

Not that the last three years have been a waste. I've met some amazing people. Some, I'm just glad to know and count as friends. Others who will make absolutely wonderful characters for film and theater. Mwuhahahah.

I'm still waiting to find out about my surgery and so that's been the driving force on my brain that isn't letting me enjoy the anticipation of a new job. I need to know whether I'll be fat or skinny next May. That way, I'll know what to pack, what to prep to have mailed to me at a later date, and of course... I'll be able to set up my defenses and shields. Gotta know what sort of attacks will be coming at you before you can adequately protect yourself, right?

That sounds negative. But its how I've lived my whole life. Gotta come in and prove I'm not lazy, prove that I'm smart, prove that I'm funny. All so I won't just be, The fat girl.

After work today I stopped by Organic Oasis to have an ambrotose smoothie thing. Mmmm. And a bowl of mushroom soup. Then I went to Barne's and Nobles. Read for about 2 minutes and 25 seconds before I was enthralled with the uber-geekiness of the four men playing chess about ten feet in front of me. Then I wandered off, looked at the Pilates balls for sale and wondered if I got one if I'd pop it. Then I headed over to Title Wave, my favorite book store ever. Read two chapters in David Sedaris' "Me Talk Pretty One Day." I used to hate his voice, mostly because I thought he was just some weird woman. But then I got hooked listening to This American Life. And so, while reading the book, David's voice came through so clear, and his timing and dramatic pauses were all there. It was fabulous. I hope I get to see him when he reads at McCarter this year.

Lunchtime reading at work, I went to my normal fare... truthout.org Waded through a fabulous satire on torture by one of the Monty Python guys. Then read a piece called "Freedom, Incorperated" by William Rivers Pitt.

I knew, logically, that the corporations were the driving force of this country. I had just never gone back to my dull high school history lessons to figure out that the Tea Party was a rebellion against the corporations of that time.

The Declaration of Independence in 1776 freed the colonists not only from British rule, but from the rule of these corporations. For nearly 100 years afterwards, the citizens of the United States were profoundly suspicious of corporate power. Corporate charters were created by individual states as a legal convenience, and were automatically dissolved if they violated those charters. Corporations were not allowed to participate in the political process, could not buy stock in other corporations, and were destroyed out of hand if they were deemed to be behaving contrary to the public trust. While these corporations played an important role in the development of the nation, they were subservient to the rule of the people.

What happened? Because I know that corporations owe nothing to the people and are subservient to no one. The article goes on to talk about a Supreme Court decision that applied the 14th ammendment to corporations. Making them people. Super wealthy powerful people that are now working on taking over the entire world.

Reminded me of a bit I read in Danah's blog. She had seen a movie called The Corporation and spent a while talking about how that if Corporations are defined as individuals according to the law, they would be classified as psychopaths.

I want these super-people locked into insane asylums. Maybe we should start figuring out how to reject that old Supreme Court decision. Or refer back even further and stage our own Boston Tea Party. Are these monsters unstoppable? Feels like it, but my heart says no.

Ahh, a week at a different office and I've finally been able to sink my ears into Air America. Of course I love the O'Franken Factor. But my new baby. My love. My darling... is the fabulous Randi Rhodes. I can't type much because the commercial break is almost over and I don't want to miss anything my new love has to say.

Finally, I've found someone who pulls the same crap O'Reilly does, but this time... with the truth. Wahoo! Time to do a happy dance.

It's raining like gangbusters here. Though, I'm sure that by September I'll actually see real rain. For Alaska, this is a heavy duty rain. I love the sound of it. I love the smell in the air. I love the way cars sound driving on wet roads and breezing through puddles.

Yesterday, I mentioned Anatoly. Well, here he is, my mentor.

A russian writer/director currently teaching at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. This picture is actually just a captured image off a home video I took years ago. He was sitting on a porch overlooking the Chena river. A bunch of us were gathered around a table, and Anatoly told us the long version of his defection from the Soviet Union. Maybe someday I'll do a transcription and put it on here.

Peter Pan is full of some crazy psychosexual themes. Not that I'm fully aware of what that word means, but it seems appropriate. I just watched the newest version of Peter Pan. Explained to someone, maybe my brother, that Captain Hook and Mr. Darling are traditionally played by the same actor.

I always just assumed it was to save money on a casting budget for a theater. But, why on earth would a big budget movie have to save money on casting? A little Anatoly popped up in my brain and started asking questions.

Is Captain Hook how Wendy sees her father? How she wants to see him? Could Hook and Mr. Darling and Peter Pan all be the same person? Then wouldn't that mean Wendy has the hots for her dad? Why do all the boys in neverland fear and want to kill Hook. Is it part of some Oedipal complex they all have? Do all boys want to kill their father and kiss their mother? Who is Tinkerbell in this big mess? Why is she not doublecast with the mother?

The story was written by a man. Why have I always assumed it took place in Wendy's head simply because she tells the story? Could it be possible that Peter fears being both Mr. Darling and Captain Hook? Are they the only options a boy is given in life? Grow up to be boring and loved, or adventurous and lonely.

Why is Hook so afraid of that crocodile and the ticking of the clock? (Besides the obvious that the croc wants to eat him.) Is Hook running away from time? If time is what terrifies Hook, and Peter's youth reminds him of how old he has become, of course Hook would want to kill Peter. At the end of the movie, Hook accepts that he's old and alone and is swallowed whole by the crocodile, only to reappear as a very happy and loved Mr. Darling who no longer cares so much about penny pinching. Is it possible that if men stop fearing old age then they can have both love and adventure?

Why do I find Wendy and Tinkerbell so bloody boring?

What purpose does Smee serve in all of this?

And who on earth thought of using a big fluffy dog as a child's nanny?

I dreamed last night that I was teaching drama to Harvard undergrads. I was wearing a light blue doctoral robe. (From Columbia according to one picture I found.) None of the students were really paying any attention to me. And I didn't care because I was pissed I was teaching and not directing. Who cares if I'm at Harvard? I want to be directing. Bah. The dream never explained why I had taken this teaching gig, I only know that I felt deep dissatisfaction. Plus, the students were all snobby and poopy heads.

I gave them an assignment though. I wanted them to write an essay on exploring how film and television have altered the actor's role on stage. And then of course, the little assignment also included having them figure out their own school of acting technique based on this essay. Due tomorrow. I'm a tough teacher. Half the class went wandering, and the others all looked kinda confused. I asked how long class was supposed to last. Evidently there was a whole hour and a half left.

So, I helped people with their audition pieces. Kinda like directing. Cept I have to leave them open for someone else to direct, but eh.. an audience should always direct a performance a little bit, right? I dunno. It was just a dream.

In reality: My sister met some woman with my name. Evidently this other woman is constantly having to say she's not me. This amused me.

I'm becoming obsessed over the toilet paper rolls in the handicapped stall at my office.

Weird. I know, but so am I.

Most of the offices in my building have their own bathroom. But the few, the proud, the clerical unit does not. We have to use either the bathroom upstairs that the felons in the lobby use, or the bathroom downstairs that the Probation Officers administer UA's in. (UA=Urinalysis Drug Testing)

I elect to use the downstairs one.

There are three stalls in this bathroom. Two on the left as you enter, and a very large handicapped stall on the right. I like the expansive freedom of the handicapped stall. This stall has a toilet-paper mount that looks like it is for two rolls. Three bars jut out, and originally, there were probably other parts that allowed two rolls to be mounted between the three bars. We don't have those any longer. Thus the cleaning crew just sticks a roll of toilet paper onto each bar jutting out.

This can lead to problems of rolls sliding off, but that's rare. In general, I think the extra roll is a good thing. (Our office was once completely out of butt paper and my supervisor sent out an email telling people to either not go to the bathroom, or to buy their own toilet paper as the budget was all spent. Cracked us all up, but we were hoarding paper, stealing it, and generally pissy. Rumor has it, our predicament made Paul Harvey, but I haven't confirmed that.)

About two months ago, I noticed that the three rolls in front of me were of three different sizes, so I... being the creative (or crazy, your choice) person that I am, decided to arrange them in a more pleasing arrangement. Big to little.

The next day the cleaners had come in and replaced the smallest roll with a fresh one. My previously biggest roll was now that medium, the medium.. small. I rearranged them so they were once again, big to little.

I drink a lot of water. (70-100oz a day) Thus, I visit my little art project quite frequently. Now I've started analyzing the rolls and trying to find a perfect ratio.

My thoughts: "The middle roll should be half the size of the big, the smallest half the size of the little. No.. doesn't look right, take some off the biggest and try a new ratio."

I've now moved beyond just getting the sizes just right, and am trying to find the perfect visual of the dangling paper trail in addition. Too long looks messy, too short, I can't tell which way the roll rolls. All rolling the same direction? or some other combo?

Altogether, I've spent way too much time thinking about toilet paper configurations at my office. But that time has been consistantly more stimulating than the actual work. So, I share.

More than occasionally, I like to waste away a few hours playing a silly on-line roleplaying game. I've gone through different phases with this game. None of them include me being very good. I like to play online. But I never talk to anyone, I rarely team up with anyone, and I just like to go around and be a hermit.

I think its just odd. I hole up in my room, and then hole up inside the game. Why don't I just play the regular game where there's no chance whatsoever of having people kill my character? Because that bores me. And mindlessly doing the same thing over and over again on a public server doesn't. Is this some kind of exhibitionism?

Anyway, I almost bought a digital camera today.

Picked it out, only the display was left, and I could get that for $14 less than the camera goes for normally. Buy it, feel a mild twinge because I'm not sure I can afford a camera. In the car, driving home, I open the box. Everything looks alright, but I can't find the memory card. Search the box, the camera, the accompanying paperwork. Nope. No memory card. Re-check the box. Yup, supposed to have one. I go back to the store, they can't find a card to replace it. So... I return the camera and get my money back.

I should probably do more research and find the best camera to fit me and all that jazz. But I want a sexy looking tiny camera that is easy to carry around and I want it right when I see it. I don't have patience for product research. It bugs me. I just want to hold it in my hand, feel how it works, try a few functions, see if I could life with it, and then I want it RIGHT THEN.

I've been using the digital cameras of others for the last few years. Now that I'm moving where I know noone, it would probably be best to just get my own.

Aren't I the chatty Cathy lately? Heh.

Speaking of Cathy. I was rather bummed the otherday to find that this particular comic strip was no more in my local paper. Now how am I supposed to find out how my no-waist buddy does with her wedding and marriage? Gah. I never realized how much I just enjoyed reading that strip on the odd occasion as I did now that its gone.

I went for a walk on Sunday, just like I said I would. I was outside, mowing my neighbors lawn, (All 30 square feet of it, heh.)mom was gardening, and I thought. Hrmm. It's sunny, not too hot. Let's go for a walk.

Mom seemed a bit luke-warm at the prospect at first, then I said we should go to the Botanical Gardens and just meander through there.

Once we got to the garden, we wandered, oohed and ahhed, then saw a little 2km trail. So, being thoroughly deet'd down, we braved the mosquito trail. And it was absolutely beautiful. Ferns, berries, creek, and lots of young, semi-harmless devil's club. Mom didn't deet her back, so the mosquitos jumped right on. I would swat them off. They'd settle back down. Finally, she found a big awkward pine bough that was missing most of its needles, and just kinda swung that back and forth over the back and butt for the rest of the walk.

Yesterday, I had another encounter with the wild. Family friends have a Memorial Day picnic every year. Well, this year we were the first to arrive, so we helped a bit, cleaned off chairs. I sauteed a million garlic cloves. And then Linda, the hostess, showed us how the two local Jays will eat out of her hand. She'd grab a couple almonds, hold out her hand and sure enough, bird in hand. I wanted to try, so in between stirring the cloves, I got myself 4 almonds, held my hand out and spread my fingers wide.

This Blue Jay would look at me, tilt his head then fly at my hand. If I flinched at all he would swerve off last second, but if I stayed calm... he would land. Just a quick land at first, but the last few times he just sat on my hand for almost a minute. It was amazing, his little tiny clawed feet on my index and middle fingers. I could feel the feathers of his belly with the tip of my middle finger.

Eventually, more people started arriving, so the Jays stayed away. But it was still one of the most magical things that has happened to me in a while.