In these times of economic insecurity and frequent downsizings, it has occured to me that I might have to go out on my own, seek my own wage as a freelance.... whatever. Writer, editor, proofreader, even (if you're really desperate) computer-related something-or-the-other. (As I've mentioned before, I'm a word person, not a tech person. I can show my parents how to use their computer, but my tech skills are such that I really can't justify selling myself as a full-fledge computer person. I can use HTML editors and such to do monkey work, and I'm more than happy to take money for that, however......)

I now have a sterling example -- from this very city! -- of how not to go about establishing myself in my own business.

Yeah, I'm late to the party -- I found the link through Wil Wheaton's site, instead /. -- but I feel a certain je ne sais quois at realizing I share an area code with this bozo. And it does remind me of a former co-worker (who would probably also sue if I used his/her name) in the complete ability to grasp reality. Apparently it's a recognized psychological, yaknow, thing, as evidenced by this article.

It also brings me back to the writing trouble I've been having. I know that I have some talent -- I know that I can craft a coherent sentence and get information across (although I don't always show evidence of this in this blog.) But I also know that I'm not the best writer in the world. I'm competant -- good, even really good sometimes -- but I have trouble just storming out there and saying "Listen to me!" Now this schmuck, and others I have worked with who obviously have next to no clue of what they're doing, is willing to take on a bunch of people who know better than him, and whatever problem there is is obviously (to said idiot) all the other's fault. As far as he's concerned, he is blameless, and indeed the injured party. How do you go through life like that? I'm just the opposite -- I'm far too willing to take responsibility for anything that goes wrong, and I don't like handing out blame. It's all about me, and what I could have done better, instead of them,and what they did wrong.

Anyway, reading the whole exchange and realizing what doofi there are out there actually selling themselves when they don't have any talent -- or indeed, any clue -- is inspiring me to get off my butt and finish the kayaking article. We'll see how it goes.

Look out! It's Stream Of Consciousness Girl! Aieeeeeeeee!

Does salsa count as a vegetable? I figure if Ronald Reagan can declare ketchup a vegetable for the purpose of food stamps or school lunches or something, I can count salsa as a vegetable.

Oh, hey, dude, excellent -- salsa is a vegetable! And it has been since 1998. Where the hell have I been. Now, can we make onion dip a vegetable? How about chocolate? There are beans involved....

I remember getting a trivia question in a Christmas cracker when I was in Hong Kong that asked what's the one ingredient necesary for something to be called ketchup. Surprisingly, it's not tomatoes -- it's vinegar. Go figure.

I'm reading The Economist's year-end double issue now -- they let their reporters go off and cover whatever they think may be interesting. This year taht includes the history of the tango, history through beer, what makes espresso espresso, the Bridget Jones economy, the psychology of happiness among Filippina amahs in Hong Kong, and a really funny piece on unlikely tourist destinations -- Zimbabwe, North Korea and Port Harcourt, Nigeria. The scary part is, the Zimbabwe river safari actually sounds really really cool -- even the part about irate hippos that can bite a crocoodile in half. I could do that. But I'll wait til I have my Australia pictures up before I go anywhere else.

Why hasn't The Crocodile Hunter ever done anything with hippos? Huh? He claims to be a real man, and he's afraid of a little (ok, several ton) herbivore (that can, admittedly, bit a croc in half). Let's see you do that, mate. Crikey! (Or has there been a hippo show, and I just haven't seen it? Hell, my TV was stolen and stillhaven't gotten another one. En route from the insurance folks, they say......)

Olympics start in less than a month, and Lotti si asking me when she can come over and watch with me. Hah. Yeah. Right. Lotti and her ilk enjoy torturing me with mock-jingoistic comments (I hope their mock) about foreign athletes and such. Drives me nuts. Also, i'm a big sucker for te olympics and cry and stuff, so it's probably something I'll watch alone. Is it a bad sign that I'll probably be huddled in front of the TV with cats on my lap and a pint of Ben and Jerry's watching figure skating and crying at the emotional bits? Nah. Didn't think so.

Random bits today.

From Rob: Your bikers at the Dia de los Reyes fiesta weren't giving out familiar-looking consumer electronics and gas fireplaces, were they? Heh. No, I didn't notice anything familiar. Wouldn't that have been fun though.

Andy is still at sleepaway camp -- ok fine, at his low-res master's program at Bennington -- so I'm bitter -- so I'm doing his job for the week. My god, Andy, that's an annoying piece of software you have to work with, isn't it. Dude. Sorry. We're still not going to pay you more, though.

I had to draft Eric Chandler, who used to work with us, into proofreading the newsletter for me -- THANK YOU Eric. Now go create a web page (in your copious spare time) that I can link to and send people to shower you with lucrative work.

Status of a selection of New Year's Resolutions:

Cook at least one healthy vat of something a week, so I can bring in decent food for lunch and not buy crap. So far, so good. I had a disaster with a chicken cassarole thing that I won't go into at the moment, but the butternut squash and beef chili turned out nicely, thank you.

Write daily, either in blog, journal or for articles. Ahhh, treading the ragged edge of disaster on that one. I think I might have tweaked a paragraph on something I'm putting together yesterday, and I'm going to let that count. But I'm perilously close to slipping on that one.

Clean at least once a week. Who am I kidding. That one went right to hell. Looks like the party/houseguest clause of my and Wendy's partnership agreement will have to stand.

Exercise at least three times a week. Again, it depends on how liberal you are with the definition of "exercise."

Don't drive to work unless I really have to --i.e., I need to get to Wisconsin over lunch or something. So far, so good. And I'm counting my evening walk to the far bus stop (instead of taking two buses or taking the near bus) as exercise (what -- it's more than a mile).

Oh.My. God. This is BEAUTIFUL!!! Wendy just sent me a link to the original, classic Warner Brother's take on Lord of the Rings -- check it out here. It's a long download, but so, soooooo worth it. (Warning -- if you haven't read the books and don't want future plot points [sort of] spoiled, you shouldn't watch it. Sorry, Lotti.)

Today reminded me of why I love this neighborhood, despite the break-ins. I was just coming back from grocery shopping and saw this huge crowd near my corner, a bunch of people laughing and talking, gathered around this horse-drawn carriage. Three guys were sitting in there with cardboard crowns, and there were kids everywhere. After I put my groceries away, i wandered back there to see what was going on.

It's Dia de los Reyes, Three King's Day, and that's a big deal to the community here. There were the Kings -- you know, the three wise men, as this, the 12th day of Christmas, is when the Three Kings showed up at the manger -- a fire truck, trolleys, a bunch of bikers from Toys for Tots (because nothing says Christmas like a bunch of bikers), music playing, cars decorated... everyone was having a great time. Then they all started off down to the high school near us, where they're having a party and giving out gifts.

So here's this cultural thing I never would have known about if I hadn't lived here. I just stumble over things like this all the time. I love living in a city full of all sorts of different cultures, and I love living in this neighborhood.

Now I have to take down my Christmas tree, as the cats have officially discovered that some of those cool dangly things they've been playing with will make a big noise and leave lots of shiny bits all around if they are dropped from a great height. Joy. I don't know how Mongo it going to take it -- he loves hiding under the tree and attacking the ornaments. I'd post a picture of it, but my camera got stolen.

Later, I have to find out if I can bribe the mormons in the basement (hereinafter referred to as TMITB) to move my tree out to the garbage. Chicago does have a recycling program, but alas, the drop-off day was yesterday. Sigh.

From Newton, about the patron saints: I can't believe the Andorran Security Forces have their own patron saint. About five years ago, my brother James and my dad drove through Andorra on their way to Morocco and got to see some annual ceremony where the six members of the Security Force (for all I know, THE six members) fire their guns into the air. The six bullets for this ceremony famously constitute Andorra's entire annual military budget.

I guess this is where we get to see the true value of having patron saints. Andorra doesn't need a massive security budget. All they have to do is call on their patron saint. "Saint Mary, Help of Christians, there's a ravening hoard of visigoths at the border; take care of that, would you?" Then they can go back to playing bocce ball, or whatever the Andorran equivilant is.

You could also argue that Andorra is safe in having a pretty small security force as nobody knows where it is nor particularly cares. I kind of see it as the Delaware of Europe, but with better scenery.