take a bite out of humanity.

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dateline: dry land

15 august 1996 9:41 p.m.

Tomorrow's a state holiday here... Admissions Day. Thirty seven years ago, the former Territory of Hawai`i (which was formerly a sovereign kingdom, mind you) became part of the good ol' U.S. of A. Depending on who you talk to, that was either the greatest or saddest day in Hawai`i history. I'll bet this state has more holidays than any other. Admissions Day, (King) Kuhio Day, Martin Luther King Day... I know there are a lot more, but I can't remember them now. Given the billion or so cultures and religions we've got packed onto these wet rocks, I guess that's no surprise. Either way, it's a day off. Derek is going to take me shopping for in-line skates. To hell with hype, I want a pair. Besides, I just got paid today. Those extra hours sure feel good now! I originally planned to go bladehunting with Jen, but I haven't seen Derek in a while (okay, ha ha, four days, but they were four long days). I feel kind of bad, about ditching (well, not quite) my best friend. Thankfully she didn't mind. We've got a bet going, too, but I'll jynx it if I tell. Gods, its way too early into this -- or something, or whatever "this" is -- to be pulling my hair out over the ridiculous balancing act between friends and... and... well, Derek. Ugh. I've been stressing, no doubt about it. I can't finish meals, my tummy's always upset, my fingertips are drying out, my nails are gone and I've got a cold sore on my lip right where my front teeth wanna rest during a smile ("I promise, I'm not grumpy!"). I'm not sure if it's school (and whether I'm going back or not), bills (Citibank is getting nasty), my car (now it always smells like burning antifreeze), work (too much zany stuff going on) or Derek (I don't know what's going on). Actually, despite the pain -- Oragel is some funky stuff -- I was beaming a lot today. Tim (another psych assistant that looks like Kurt Cobain but cuter) was carrying flowers through my ward and he stopped at my station to get a room number. I wasn't even paying attention, at first, and it took a moment for me to sense that he was just standing at the counter looking at me. I looked up, and he was holding out a big carnation. "I didn't pull it, don't freak," he said, reaching over and pushing the stem into my hand. "It fell out by itself..." I was holding on the phone, and couldn't say thank you except with my eyes. (I'm very much an "eye person." Anyone with sunglasses puts me on edge, I need that connection. It freaks out people, sometimes, how I like to lock in eye contact when we're talking.) Then he added, "...really!" And winked. Then he said bye, but he used my whole name. I think I winced. And it says only "Kat" on my badge, too. Weird. Still, that was cool. I wore the flower, just poked into my sweater, all day. Kat's Inbox Update: 67 and falling. Slowly. There's a cool documentary on the Discovery Channel right now. It's Shark Week, and this show is doing an extended segment on sharks around here. A woman is holding a surfboard with a huge, almost cartoony bite chomped out of it. They're chronicalling a series of fatal shark attacks off O`ahu and Maui. I guess all this took place around 1988 or so. I didn't know (as this program says) that there was an "anti-shark campaign," local commercial fishermen going after 'em and killing them in the name of lost surfers, swimmers. A montage of pictures of grinning extended families standing around cranes from which dangle partially beheaded creatures of the sea. Excuse me? Revenge? Against a species that often finds humans as lacking in taste as I do? Against animals who called dibs on the ocean long before we waded (back) in? Honestly. If I was quietly tooling along, minding my own business, when suddenly some uncoordinated, gawky pink thing comes by and pisses in my sky, I'd get cranky pretty damn quick. At least now the program's going into my university's research work. I probably know some of these people -- puttering around in boats snagging tiger sharks, flipping 'em on their back and rubbing their tummies 'till they get all woozy, then slapping beepers on 'em. Y'know, that's got to be pretty humiliating. Shark One: Hey Ralph. Shark Two: Bob... what's that thing on your fin? Shark One: Wha? Shark Two: Eeew, gross! Bob's got human cooties! One of my hundred or so childhood fantasies was to become a marine biologist. Too bad I quickly discovered I get seasick just by riding in the back seat of a car. Finally got another Blowfish catalog in the mail. I almost forgot I was even on their mailing list... though there is barely a mailing list I'm not on. Great stuff, as always. Still no riding crops (I think I lost mine), but still... Jay Wiseman is a god. I also found this cool Dorothy Parker quote on the bottom of page fourteen: "Tell him I've been too fucking busy. Or vice versa." Just watch... in less than an hour that's going to be in Greg's sig file. If only you could see the things that man sends me (seriously, though, he's cool). I confess. I've been aching to build up an "oZeros" page. I had a small one in my web world's first incarnation. But given the occasional twisted mail I already get, I'm not sure if I want to attract any more "wankers" (my word of the week, thanks to "Trainspotting"). Heck, this entry alone is probably going to make me a few extra friends... though I'll bet not as many as USENET can, at least these days. Allah, send me back! Back before America OnLine, before the whine of Dave Rhodes and "MAKE MONEY FAST!" Back to the days when geeks ruled and spammers apologized. The age of Elf, Kibo and Fnord! (Uh oh, elitist rant coming on. Gonna cut out here.)