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Busy, busy, busy!

Why is it always feast or famine? This business is funny that way. Currently, I’m working for Crescent Moon (admin) and Mimosa (cat wrangler) both p/t as well as taking on a new support client, trying to get started with Michaels Coffees, restarting Baseline Solutions’ corporate identity and web stuff, and trying to land the redesign of My Sister’s Room’s website.

Yikes! That really does sound like a lot, doesn’t it?? I tell ya, it’s like this or I’m doing nothing. :: sigh ::

And, of course the support gig will only be for a couple of visits since I’ll have everything ironed out by then and they’ll be sailing along just fine. I’m good at what I do. I’m not bragging, it’s a fact. I rarely have to go to a support client more than three times to get them completely fixed and running smoothly. I have, after all, been doing Mac support for 9 years!

The web gigs are pretty much swoop in and do the redesign for the big bucks then just tweak and update after that. I like it that way. I love doing project work where I can concentrate intensely on something, fix it, then move on to another project.

It’s kinda tricky to manage money when you never know what you’ll have. Which is precisely why I have to keep a part time position all the time, to keep our cash flow in the black. I totally dig working with Rob and I get to use many skills for Crescent Moon: admin, web design, BBS admin, cat wrangler, Rob-keeper-tracker. Plus, I get to hang with my buds while I do the work. Yay!

All in all, I think 2004 is going to be a good year. It’s started off pretty rough, but as the saying goes: there can be no growth without change.

For Imbolc this year, I’ve promised the Goddess that I’m going to try to be as productive, artistic and happy as I can. It’s one of the many traditions of Imbolc (or Imbolg). Imbolc represents the quickening of the Goddess with the seeds of spring (Ostara). It’s a time to celebrate rebirth, the end of winter, the coming of a new season of growth. It’s also associated with the Oriental Goddess Kuan Yin, who is a very important goddess to me. (I’ve got her tattooed on my left shoulder – look for Getting Quan Yin in the Gallery section of this site.)

I wish everyone a lovely Imbolc (albeit in pagan time – which means LATE!). Blessed be!

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Happy Groundhog Day!

I almost forgot to wish everyone a happy Groundhog day! Here in Atlanta, it’s cold and rainy, which means that the Groundhog didn’t see his shadow! Yay! Spring is on its way!!

More Groundhog Day info at Wikipedia. They even have the Groundhog Stats! Ha!

Time to make gardening plans…

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Female Rules

This weekend, I talked about this issue with some friends (male and female) and they agree with my evaluation of female behaviour. So, with the knowledge that there are others who feel the same way I do, I post this Rant for your amusement.

“Damn, Sparky! Don’t you know that you can’t argue with a woman!” – John Crichton, Farscape

I’d have to agree with John. When it comes to women, I just don’t understand them. They are two faced, back stabbing, petty, mean, underhanded people. And you will NEVER win an argument that is based on Female Rules.

But WAIT!! [I hear the cries already] You ARE a woman, idiot!

Well, yes, yes I am a woman, good catch there. However, I’ve never, EVER been able to act like one. Ask anyone who’s known me since I was a kid. I played with dolls some, but mostly I played with cars, trucks, guns and sharp things. I played in the sand pile and had sand fights with the boys. I climbed trees and rode bikes with the boys. I played army with the boys. Later, I rode horses with the boys. In high school, I was an honorary drummer – one of the boys. I also made out with the boys, but that never got in the way of me being more comfortable with boys than girls.

In high school, I had “girlfriends”, but I could never stay in one clique. Girls find that very disturbing, you know, when your alliances are split. Remember that song by Tori Amos “Cornflake Girl”? Well, that was me all over:

“Never was a cornflake girl/
Thought it was a good solution/
Hanging with the Raisin Girls/
‘She’s gone to the other side’/
‘Giving us a yo heave-ho’/
Things are getting kind of gross/”

So, I get through High School with few female friends and those I had were all from different cliques, so I didn’t really hang with them after graduation. I had other plans, like moving to the ATL to go to Music Business school and getting away from the fucking rednecks of Knoxville. Which I did.

This female friend issue has plagued me incessantly over the years. I have ONE good friend that has stayed with me since 1989: Sonya. We’ve had our falling-outs over the years, but we’ve always gotten over it. I’ve had a multitude of female “friends” that turned out to be only acquaintances so I tossed ’em. That goes for many males, too, but that’s another story.

What is it about women that makes it impossible for them to TELL THE TRUTH? Is it genetically encoded? Is it female culture? Is it a Southern thing? I just don’t know. If I knew, then I wouldn’t continue to get burned by psychotic women!! I swear, I know just how men feel! Women are neurotic freaks.

Women hate me. That’s all there is to it. I don’t know if it’s jealousy, fear, intimidation or all of the above, but I know fer sure that women do NOT like me. It’s a rare woman who thinks I’m spiffy and fun to hang out with for more than an hour. There are a few of the rare women who like me [you know who you are], but overall, I have dismal luck with them.

For the few women that I’m friends with now (I think I am, but am not sure) I still hold the hope that things will work out, but I’m not counting on it. I’m always the one who gets flamed, talked about, and otherwise treated like a pariah in the end.

I know I’m not an “easy” person, but I also know that I’m very up front about how I feel and I try to be honest if I have an issue. I’m tired of apologizing for being me. I advise anyone who wonders what I’m about to simply check your own personal information about me. Yes, there are parts of me that no one sees but my closest friends, but for the most part, what you see is what you get. If I’ve never mentioned that I dislike you, then don’t assume that I do. If I’ve never done or said [insert behaviour and/or opinion here] then don’t make up shit to fill in the blanks. ASK ME. I mean, damn, how hard can it be? If I hang out with you and talk to you, then WHY assume that I have a hidden agenda?

WRITE THIS DOWN: ANGELA IS NOT A NORMAL FEMALE. SHE HAS NO HIDDEN AGENDAS. IF SHE DOESN’T LIKE YOU, YOU WILL KNOW IT.

It’s too bad that being upfront, honest and opinionated are bad things according to the Female Rule Book. I propose that if more of those behaviours were the norm for women, there’d be a lot more REAL female friendships in the world and a lot less Female Psychosis. Notice how guys are with each other. A lot like how I am with everyone. Guys have friends without drama. Why can’t women?

It’s a mystery to me.

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Life continues

No matter how our hearts ache, life just keeps on coming. It’s a good thing, I think.

Dickens’ cremains are at the vet today, but I’ve not picked them up yet. I was in a crappy mood this afternoon and didn’t feel like going out again once I’d gotten home. Tomorrow I will pick them up. Wonder how that will feel? (I’ll let you know.)

Let’s see, what else? Oh, does anyone have the Dido CD entitled No Angel? I really want a copy of it. I heard it while having lunch at Mangrove Alley in L5P the other day and I really liked it. Don’t bother with Mangrove Alley, BTW. The Vortex is worth the wait! Also, that CD has a track on it called “My Lover’s Gone” that is sad and wistful and SO fits my mood right now. Email me or post here if you wanna hook me up.

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George Evinrude Dickens

This beautiful creature and I met in the fall of 1987, August I think it was. I was living with my boyfriend David in an apartment complex called Londontown in Knoxville, TN. I was 21 years old.

It was a Sunday and we were on the couch watching Bugs Bunny cartoons. There was a crying sound out in the courtyard, so I went out to investigate. I went onto the patio and realised that the sound was a cat crying, so I hollered “Here, kitty, kitty!”. Suddenly, a little head popped up over the long grass and here comes this little grey stripey kitty bounding across the yard. He streaked across the yard and practically jumped into my arms.

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