I was out running errands this morning, and I popped a tape I'd dug out of the depths of my apartment into the deck in my car. This was a tape I'd made for a friend, later boyfriend, while I was living in Hong Kong and he was in Richmond, Va. We'd lived together for a while when I moved back to Chicago, and I guess the tapes I made him ended up in my pile of the merged tape collection, since they had my handwriting on them.

When I had glanced at the song list, it looked good but short. Of course I thought it looked good -- I made the damn tape. I put songs I liked on it. Duh. As for the short... After the first song (Peter Gabriel's Come Talk To Me), a voice said "And with a build up like that, you had to expect that I would, yes, talk to you." It was me, talking to Tripp. I told him about my new apartment, my first vacation to Thailand, my job, my plans to visit Northern Ireland -- and the other ex-boyfriend -- over Christmas, this new guy who would be living in our tiny apartment for a few weeks... just talked about life.

My god, I was young.

I must have been 22 or 23. It was amazing to hear myself chatter self-consciously about things I hardly remembered. I sounded so sure, like I knew what I was doing and what I was talking about. I didn't have a fucking clue. Just listening to myself, I remembered how it felt to be sitting in this foreign city halfway around the world from home, exhilarated by the experiences of Hong Kong and Thailand, places that words can't describe. How terrifying and exciting everything was, and how I was sure everything would work out all right, even though I didn't know what "all right" would mean.

My memories and impressions of Hong Kong, of those three years of my life, had gone sort of flat, two-dimensional. Hearing myself talk just flashed me back there. It was a totally different life -- I was a totally different person. I kind of miss her. I kind of cringe to remember her. How did I get from there to here?

Update: Andy just walked by and said "Did you get your hair cut?" I snarked that Mary had yelled at him, but he swears he just noticed all on his own.

Eric says he just noticed too.

[Ring]
Me: Hello, this is Sarah
Angie: Your hair looks great.
Me: [Laughing]
Angie: It does!
Me: You can't see it.
Angie: My spies are everywhere.

IM conversation, two minutes later:
SDCrawford: you all alone in the office with a hip new do and nobody to comment! so sad.
sjerslix: Heh. Actually, my friend Angie just called to tell me my hair looks great.
sjerslix: She's in Evanston
sjerslix: She can't see it.
SDCrawford: hee
sjerslix: it made me happy
SDCrawford: you got all fancy just to come see us
sjerslix: Can you think of a better reason? (besides the two inches of root showing)
SDCrawford: I have 8 inches of root showing!

Simultaneous IM:
marydellisanti: Your hair looks great today. Did you get it done?
sjerslix: Hah! You're the third person who hasn't seen me who has commented on it!
sjerslix: I have to do this more often
marydellisanti: Just trying to shore up your self-esteem in the face of those co-workers who are too ignorant to comment.
sjerslix: Thank you. I appreciate it. I wish you were here, even though you're glad you're not
marydellisanti: Yes, I'm glad I'm not although I'm very sorry I can't see your hair.

Hee. My friends are so cool.

Fun with paranoia: I got my hair cut and highlighted last night. So far, no one has commented -- nothing. I can only assume that means it all went horribly wrong, and no one wants to bring it up. Sigh.

(Of course, it could also be that I'm the only woman in the office today. But dammit, some of the men are gay -- surely that makes a difference!)

Bastard blogger just crashed before I had a chance to save my post! Grrrr.

OK, a pithier version of what I wrote before, because I've got stuff I have to do tonight:

Response to time travel guy from friend of friend, an astrophysicist (the friend of friend, not the friend. The friend works with crazy people while getting her degree in Social Work of Psychology, can't remember which, so I thought the original letter might be from a client of hers. It's not: Apparently the time-travel-wannabe's lament has been floating around the internet since 1997.)

I received your email via a friend and think that I might be able to help. I do have a Universe editor (Microsoft Universe Editor 2.0). Evidently, the first release had a bug in it so that you had to reboot the Universe after loading a new file - annoying. I managed to get this newer version as a freebie for getting AOL Universe Premium.

I have had problems, though. I created a new Universe with me as ruler, and all planets inhabited by monkeys (be careful to choose the monkeys that don't bite under the species menu). I also created one planet inhabited by Asian women. Well, it turns out that my version is only a "demo", so I was unable to save my Universe. After clicking on "save", a dialog box comes up saying that I had to register with Microsoft and pay full price - well, suffice it to say that the price is simply astronomical.

As for your time machine, I do have one, but I haven't used it since I went back to high school with the full knowledge of who would eventually grow up to be losers. I had fun with this, but my machine is broke and it is sitting next to my Betamax in the garage. I hope to get both fixed soon. Just to be clear, it still partially works, I.e. it maps X, Y, and Z into X, Y, and -Z. The problem is the negative sign in the Z term. When you use it, you end up walking upside down. You'd think you might get used to this, but I never did.

Anyway, please let me know if this helps.

Thanks,
Don

I also have a couple of cool links to share:

Depress (or comfort) yourself by finding out what others had accomplished by the time they were your age.

If you love a book, set it free.

I haven't updated. I blame the fumes.

I had a hard time sleeping, because of the fumes. Therefore I overslept (fumes), didn't have time to dry my hair so it looks all funny (fumes), had to drive (fumes), was late for work anyway (fumes), sliced my hand with one of the dinky plastic knives in the office's kitchen (fumes), almost fell asleep a couple of times at my desk (fumes), and have generally been useless. Damn those fumes! Also, my house is a complete pit, everything is covered with a fine layer of ex-tub dust, and I still haven't cleaned up all the protective brown paper that was taped over most of the surfaces of the bathroom. That's due to sloth -- no, wait, my mistake. That's because of the fumes.

I wonder if the fumes will force me to leave work early and lounge on the couch, reading trashy novels and eating bon-bons? (Hmmm. That plan would sound more convincing if my house wasn't Fume Central. Oh well. I'll keep thinking.)

I've discovered that real bathtubs, ones that are finished properly and kept clean, are really really slippery. I remember this from my youth, before mom had us clean our own bathrooms, but I haven't experienced it for a while. I might have to deface the sparkling surface of my tub with those goofy non-slip flowers or something. Or just wait for it to get dirty and less slippery again. Wow. It really sounds gross when I put it like that, doesn't it? Almost makes me want to go home and scrub things. Almost....

Now that the tub looks fabulous, I'm just dying to get the rest of the bathroom done. I might stop by Home Depot or Tile Outlet to check some things out. Back into the belly of the home-renovation beast....

Speaking of noxious fumes -- oh my god.

The bathtub is done, finally. They got here before 9, and have been scraping, stripping, sanding and coating since then. It looks gorgeous. It is emitting the sort of fumes that make my tongue go numb. It's about 45 degrees out, but I've got every window in the apartment open. And dammit, I took all my sweaters in for dry cleaning yesterday. Must get my polarfleece.

There. That's better.

I worked from home today (Shut up! I did work!). My boss is out of town, the tech bigwig is also working from home, and a couple people are on vacation. Andy and Eric are having fun:

andydehnart: eric's here. he got detained on the el
andydehnart: because he was already practicing
andydehnart: pants-optional day
sjerslix: Ha!
sjerslix: Too many groupies to let him off the train?
andydehnart: yeah
sjerslix: Or gropies, as the case may be...

sjerslix: Oh my god, the fumes!
sjerslix: I've got the fucking windows open
andydehnart: wooooooooooooooo
andydehnart: why?
sjerslix: Alas, not those kind of fumes
sjerslix: Although you may like them
sjerslix: I've never been a huff-on-a-permanent marker kind of person
andydehnart: it's not like you're seeing things [Inserts violently colored huge letters and flashy thingies]
sjerslix: Mommy?

sjerslix: So, how productive are you and eric being?
sjerslix: Does the lack of pants help?
sjerslix: Or do I not want to know?
andydehnart: yeah, definitely
andydehnart: it's all out in the open!
sjerslix: Oh dear. What, precisely?
andydehnart: I don't think you're allowed to ask that.
andydehnart: I'm calling HR.
sjerslix: Probably not. It's the fumes
sjerslix: That's my excuse for the rest of the week.

andydehnart: okay now eric's asking how to spell "trou" as in "drop trou"
sjerslix: I just laughed out loud.
andydehnart: it's amazing how all of the inappropriate stuff hasn't been coming from me today
sjerslix: thank god the tub guys are gone
sjerslix: I've been trying to convince them I'm working
andydehnart: hahaha
andydehnart: that is funny

And from Eric:

Singley: productivity update: I'm wearing my pants on my head like a turbin and choreographing a modern dance piece set to the tune of "Oklahoma"
sjerslix: Dude! Excellent!
sjerslix: that you have to film
Singley: done. it'll be up at dancinginturbins.com
sjerslix: Have you checked to see if that's available?
Singley: dancinginturbins.com Available
Singley: YES
sjerslix: Buy it!
Singley: I could also get dancinginturbins.org
Singley: the non-profit version

Sadly enough, I count as "Adult Supervision" at my workplace. This cannot be a good thing.

(Paranoid disclaimer: I really did get a lot of work done today, too. These snarky conversations were in between work-related IM's. Technology is a wonderful thing.)

Wowie -- an e-mail that was just forwarded to me:

Subject : Time Travelers PLEASE HELP!!!
Date : Sat, 06 Apr 2002 19:29:01

If you are a time traveler or alien disguised as human and or have the technology to travel physically through time I need your help!

My life has been severely tampered with and cursed!! I have suffered tremendously and am now dying!

I need to be able to:

Travel back in time.

Rewind my life including my age back to 4.

Be able to remember what I know now so that I can prevent my life from being tampered with again after I go back.

I am in very great danger and need this immediately!

I am aware that there are many types of time travel, and that humans do not do well through certain types.

I need as close to temporal reversion as possible, as safely as possible. To be able to rewind the hands of time in such a way that the universe of now will cease to exist. I know that there are some very powerful people out there with alien or government equipment capable of doing just that.

If you can help me I will pay for your teleport or trip down here, Along with hotel stay, food and all expenses. I will pay top dollar for the equipment. Proof must be provided.

Please be advised that any temporal device that you may employ must account for X, Y, and Z coordinates as well as the temporal location. I have a time machine now, but it has limited abilitys and is useless without a vortex.

If you can provide information on how to create vortex generator or where I can get some of the blue glowing moon crystals this would also be helpful. I am however concerned with the high level of radiation these crystals give off, if you could provide a shielding or other crystals which give off a north polarized vortex field just as strong or strong enough to make a watch stop this would be great.

I am aware of two types of time travel one in physical form and the other in energy form where a snapshot of your brain is taken using either the dimensional warp or an electronic device and then sends your consciousness back through time to part with your younger self. Please explain how safe and what your method involves.

Also if you are one of the very, very, few beings with the ability to edit the universe PLEASE REPLY!!!

Only if you have this technology and can help me exactly as mentioned please send me a (SEPARATE) email to: IneedTimeTravel@aol.com

Please do not reply if your an evil alien!

Thanks

So if there are any non-evil time-travelling aliens out there, um, yeah.

If this turns out to be a belated promotional device for The Time Machine, I will feel very silly.

Too... many...choices.... Aieeeee!

My head hurts.

I went to The Great Indoors and Expo Design Center yesterday to scope out bathroom fittings, as I'm finally doing something about the holes in my bathroom walls. And I figured, hey, as long as the walls, ceiling and floors are getting redone, why not look at new fixtures?

Big mistake.

Do you have any idea how many options there are? Many of them are pretty ridiculous/insanely expensive/just plain wrong, but that still leaves dozens, if not hundreds, of possibilities. Too many. How can you tell which faucet will improve the value of your home? Which cabinet style? And towel racks -- what about towel racks? Arghh.

I wandered around in a fog for most of the day, ODing on cunning bathroom vignettes. In the end, I couldn't take it -- when I got home, I immediately called a tub refinisher to just redo the bathtub I have now. I can't take all the choices available. I may try to look at sinks and cabinets, but not for a little while. I need time to recover.

And I'm going to go with white tile on the floor. Plain, simple, white tile. Why the hell are there 26,000 varieties of white tile? Gah!

It was a bit of a suburban weekend for me -- on Saturday, Wendy and Dean and I went out to the Kane County Flea Market. I'm looking for a new dining room table and chairs, but there was nothing there I couldn't live without. Wendy bought an eight-foot-long work table, which we jammed into the car between the seats -- I was kind of hunchbacked toward the end of the ride, and I was completely isolated from the others in the car. Also, the sellers had apparently stained and/or polished the table recently, and it exuded fumes the whole way home. Traffic was bad. We knew we were in trouble when Wendy said "My tongue has gone numb." By the time we finally got back to the house, we were all pretty woozy.