Lazy day. Read some release notes, laid around like a slug. Sliding into deeper depression, with all of the appropriate trappings. Something's got to give, and quickly. I am becoming nonfunctional. Dreadlock.

I didn't mention that during Smokin' Granny's set last night, all of the stage lights went out, but the sound system remained live. The band played in near absolute darkness, continued their song. On the last note, the lights came on. I was totally impressed with the bassist, who continued on the fretless 6-string bass, even in the dark. Amazing.

I feel a strong pull and desire to be at the new Seattle Circle location to help them out or do something. It's so very exciting, and I wish them luck and happiness. It seems that yesterday they infused the place with just that by their hard work. Tomorrow I am going to try to start back on the guitar, no excuses.

Organized my CD collection today, locating many missing cases (and strangly finding two copies of "Show of Hands" with only one case, indicating that I have stolen one from Kirk). Read some more of the release notes from our next major software release. Talked a bit last night to JS online, a former co-worker who has moved on to bigger and better things.

Didn't pick up the guitar today, but I did order a new strap. This is the one that crosses in back. I am hoping that it will distribute the weight of the guitar evenly on both shoulders. Also posted all of Mom's paintings, at least all that she's sent me.

Thinking about my ex-father in law, who is having surgery tomorrow. And Dad's birthday is tomorrow and his cards are gonna be late. Again.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DADDY!!!

A better day, didn't get to talk to Daddy to wish him a happy birthday, though. Worked all day on a Crystal Report which was supposed to replace a SQL report written for a client. Turns out both the SQL and the data in the database are not quite right. I programmed around it, I think.

Intention to practice guitar today thwarted by way too much activity. I don't know why I even told these people I had surgery, it doesn't seem to matter.

Amazing and scary guitar from Curt. Once again I am floored by the talent and work ethic of these people who work so very hard to make music. I am so eager to learn from them, not only about music but about how to orient my life so that I can get maximum enjoyment out of the things I do. It has been a very difficult year for me but starting from my decision to actively work within Guitar Craft, things have been much better for me. The kindness of strangers.

Still haven't picked up the guitar. What the hell am I afraid of?

Went to Home Depot with Mark and Pam. Home depot is fun. I can't decide what I want to do with my bathroom, some sort of underwater thing. Finally got some wallpaper stripper, so that's the first order of the day. I'll probably do some sort of paint thingie on the walls. I want to get it done before Bill (or Hanuman) comes to visit.

I am being brought in heavily on a big project at a large local hospital. TF is on vacation, so I am taking over this huge, lumbering mammoth while she is out. I'm kind of looking forward to it.

We're not going to have a space program soon if things keep going the way they are.

A busy day, and a good one, physically. Washed the car, stripped half of the wallpaper out of my bathroom. Mentally, another matter. Is it the shortening of the days? Estrogen deficiency? Overwork? Boredom? Don't know. I spent a decent amount of time in bed, reading.

No guitar tonight with the wallpaper stripping. An invitation to dinner rescinded when Mark and Pam decided to go to a dance instead. Probably for the better. I'm poor company lately. Tomorrow, I've got to go out and get some strings. And I've got to finish the bathroom.

Looks like I'll be in Toledo 10/15 week, then to Houston, to Erie, back to Toledo, and then home for a couple of weeks. All up in the air. Damn. Looks like I'm going to miss CGT in Cincinnati. But I may get to see them in Buffalo, and if I do, I'm bringing clients. I love showing up at CGT concerts in unexpected cities. Who would ever expect me to show up in Buffalo?

Thinking seriously of hiring a conventional guitar teacher. I need some sort of structured training. I can't just sit here and teach myself. I have everything I need to work on my voice, but for guitar, I need something more. A better option is Steve Jolemore, if I can find him. I believe he doesn't live more than a couple of hours away. Paul recommended him a while back, and this option is sounding better and better.

At the NST weekend, Curt asked me if I intended to become a performer, and I told him no. I have often thought, then why am I doing this? Surely there are other ways to stabilize one's life. Back when I saw CGT the first time, I was awestruck. I have always been drawn to the guitar, and people who can play the guitar. When I asked Paul about this, he recommended that I read what Robert has said about Guitar Craft, and I did so. Having spoken to Robert, and having worked within Guitar Craft, I know that this way of life is right for me. Why, then, am I so reluctant to work on it? Why is it so hard for me to do the simple things? Again I am faced with asking myself, what am I afraid of? This continually baffles me. What I really want to do, what I love to do, is to sing. I'm not home enough to join a regular choir, and I refuse to attend church (I tried this tactic once, actually attending mass at a Catholic church, one of the few religions I have not been a member of...). There is little guidance here, and I sometimes feel as if I'm drifting. I'd be completely lost if I didn't have the NJ Circle to attend on occasion, and Curt and Steve's ever-positive emails. I still feel like I'm missing out, though. I desperately want to make music. This is what is so hard, because I know the music I want to make, but my fingers will not do it. My voice can sing it. But I am too consumed with work to be as dedicated as I need to be. My gut feeling is, some day soon, something will have to give. This time, it's not going to be Music.

Extraordinarily sweet email from someone very, very special today. It made my day. Another nice email arrived this weekend, that I did not mention, but deserves mentioning. It is from a guy I dated briefly, shortly after TATDML destroyed my life. In this email, he apologizes for things that I never thought of him. I do not know how to respond. He is a very sweet guy and was always very kind to me. I can't say that I was the same to him, as that part of my life is pretty much a blur of indifference. This is what happens when your mood is being moderated by a potent cocktail of antidepressants and anticonvulsants.

Bought a new cell phone today, those who have my previous cell phone number may email me and trade it in for the new one. As always, when I am away, my home phone will be forwarded to the cell phone. The cell phone is a very tiny, very expensive toy. Fun.

Sent: Tuesday, September 11, 2001 9:42 AM

Subject: I'm OK (NYC)

> ...but many, many are not.

> > I was in the subway, en route to work as usual, when the attacks on the > World Trade Ctr occurred. (For those of you who don't know, I have been > working as a temp at a reinsurance company...in the #2 World Trade tower.) > It was announced in the subway that all southbound service had been stopped.

> At that point, we all came overground and saw what had happened. NYC has > been completely closed off. >

> Right now I am at my friend/bandmate Lynne's place in the West Village (to > where I walked). My cellphone is offline; most cellular lines in this area > used the antenna atop the first WTC tower...which, along with the second > tower, is of course, now gone. Gone, man; they just aren't there anymore.

> The skyline will never be the same. >

> I hope that any you know who are also in NYC or DC are similarly OK. But > many, many who were just like me, going to work for the day, to worry about > this or that, are not. >

> Pray for this world if you would. >

> --Kevin (Pfeiffer)

Bill is ok. There are still a few I am worried about. Hell, I'm worried about us all.

Just heard from Curt, Tony G. and Tom R. and their family members in NYC are ok too.

11:55pm

So many lives. An indicator of the mindset that allows these things to happen is reflected in a conversation I had with a co-worker this morning, right after I had emailed that I was watching the TV in horror. CW wanted to know if I could do some work today:

CW: do you think you could do some work for me today?
me: don't you know what happened?
CW: no, i've been on a conference call
me: someone flew a hijacked plane into the world trade center. it's a terrorist attack! turn on the tv.
CW: oh well, i've got another call, i'll have a look at it later.

And the emails continued to pour in from this person requesting that I do this or that. I could no more concentrate than put into words the horror of the day.

Back in June, Bill and I walked through the WTS plaza on our way to a CGT performance at the Knitting Factory. It was my first ever visit to the buildings, even though I had been to the city several times.

I think that everyone I know is safe. My country isn't. I feel so helpless, I can't even donate blood (because of the donor graft in my neck). Do they need registered lab techs? What can I do? Updating text information in patient tracking (one of the requests from CW) just seems like, man, it can wait, you know? (this is for a hospital that is in the process of putting together their system)

Some asshole called this afternoon asking for my Brother, and then "his wife", wanting money for the Deputy Sheriff's Association of America "to help the families of the police officers killed in the terrorist attack". Unbelievable that some would take advantage of people at this time. I told him as much and hung up on him. And cried.

Go read this excellent article from Leonard Pitts.

Diaries from Tom Redmond and Tony Geballe

Both were in NYC yesterday and as always are very close to my heart.

Unspeakable dispair. Near continual walking nightmares of being buried alive haunt me. Considering contacting Dr. Sermas to resume antidepressant treatment as my level of functioning continues to decrease.

23:00

A bad day, obviously. At the end, Kirk, my rock, found both an audio and a tabulatory copy of "Hope". So there will be Hope in the Prowhouse tomorrow, at probably 40bpm, but at least I will be able to join my extended family in our own tribute.

I am being deployed next week to a local client site who is having trouble. I am welcoming the chance to once again get onsite and work.

How can we avoid responding to the tragedy by not killing people? How can we not avoid it? If we do not stop this, then it will continue. And it will get worse. Maybe we can't stop it. And maybe we will finally destroy ourselves.

Count me in on the global rendition of Hope, slowly, many mistakes, by ear, but heartfelt. I also played One of a Thousand Regrets for good measure. I practiced for a full 45 minutes beforehand, the longest session since my surgery almost a month ago. I have abandoned the new strap and instead have taken the stance that I will work hard to build up strength in my shoulders.

Then I went out driving with Native of the Rain full blast, sunroof open, on this glorious day. I felt the need to have with me the soul of the most peaceful human being I know.

It is sunny and 70 degrees here.

So many opinions today. Such intolerance. I am sorry for my Arab friends, wherever they go, they will be under suspicion. If a family boards an aircraft, enters a building. Terribly sad, and reminiscent of the treatment of the Japanese and other Asians during WWII.

It's just... indescribable. Others have said it so much better than I.

I remember that I was in Houston, and that I was going to see Tom at a temporary apartment near Hobby airport. I think I was going to welcome him to Houston (I am from Houston and have only recently located to North Carolina). The area around Hobby was not like it really is, but I know I was at Hobby. Near the I-45 and Airport Blvd. intersection, I was walking toward the airport. I heard a jet overhead and looked up to see a United Airlines jet flying sideways very low, smoke billowing out of its wing near the landing gear. I called someone, Kirk I think, and screamed "it's another attack!" He assured me that no, the plane had a landing gear problem, and was trying to land at Hobby. I lost track of the plane, and then I found myself on the runway, out in the open, trying to find a bunker or a place to protect myself from the crash. I saw a United Airlines jet approach, and then immediately take off, a touch and go. I didn't know why it had done this.

I ran to Tom's apartment complex, which was a brand new white Victorian style complex. I went to the office and asked the landlady, a pleasant older woman with white hair, how to find Tom. I told her that I understood that she could not give me his number and asked her to please call him. She looked in an odd phone book through a bunch of letters and documents, and then finally looked him up alphabetically.

Tom appeared and gave me a hug. I asked about his family. Then he talked to the landlady about entering through the back gate, getting past the defense perimeter.

That is all I remember.

The only sense I can make out of this is the sadness I feel reading Tom's diary postings, and I feel this way about Tony too. These are two of the gentlest hearts I have ever met. It is unfair that they should have to witness this horror. I don't know Tom very well, I have only seen him at NJ Circle functions and the NST weekend I attended. But I know instinctively that he is a good person. That is perhaps the second loss, that people like Tom who have such unadulterated joy in their families and their lives are now forced to have burned in their memories the horror of seeing the deaths of thousands occur before their loving eyes.

20:34
I am apparently in trouble at work again. A database error put a stop to some work I hoped to finish this weekend. On Friday night, I sent out two emails asking a co-worker (a manager) to fix the problem and page me when the work was complete. In short order, I got read receipts back for both messages. No response. Saturday evening, still no response. After conferring with the project manager, I sent another email, a little stronger, pointing out the fact that I knew the email had been read and would appreciate some sort of reply. Sunday afternoon. The project manager calls to tell me that the coworker was going to work on the problem. An email telling me that my boss^3 (yes that's cubed, my boss's boss's boss) asks us not to use such strong language in email. Co-worker is offended, apparently because I said that I knew he had read my email. Somehow, I knew in all of this that I would turn out to be the villian because one of my co-workers chose to ignore requests to work on a very urgent project.

A wonderful response from Tom. Robert is right, "Guitar Craft attracts the best people."

Dear Sandra,

Thank you so much for your message and wonderful wishes. What a great dream! All characters in your dream are really you. Yes, even the aircraft with the landing gear problem, the Victorian House, the pleasant lady, the odd phone book, Tom, Kirk, etc. The source of your dreams is completely benevolent, a message that you are very strong, very resilient and OK.

Blessings,

Tom

It is this kind of petty hateful bullshit which gets increasingly pettier as things get worse.

I am tired and in pain, but the work is interesting, which is good.

Bit myself with a bad outer join (or no outer join) today, causing a report I thought was working to cease working. Embarrassing. Fixed it. Needs prettying up.

What is it with Curt and these shower-dwelling spiders?

I think I am helping this client. Very hectic, but things are improving, slowly. Made major mods that I don't like to do this close to go-live. Why did this stuff not come up before?

No sleep again last night.

Nothing else to say except this wonderfulness by Kevin P. of NYC.

THE SONG OF 7 WORLD TRADE

Cry for me, my city, my street;
Cry for me.
For now in this dusk, this dust, this heat,
I cannot feel my feet, and I grow weak.
They are gone, my giant sibling twins,
Gone with a vengeful ire,
Having given way to Gravity, and Fire.
Who shall now uphold the sky?
Who shall keep eye on that farthest horizon?
Shall these tasks fall to me? So much their lesser,
I admit: it cannot be.

Cry with me, then, my city, my street,
I am now but a shell of sorrows,
Hollow of spirit, full of ghosts and grief.
Thus forty-seven stories now complete, and
Even I could not foresee This ending.
Though the tale was told twice today already:
In steel and stone, glass and concrete, Flesh and bone.
Fifty thousand footfalls where now there are none.
My time is come; I am undone.

My heart is broken.
My back is broken,
And I cannot feel my feet;
I am fifty thousand sorrows
As twilight falls, falls like me.
Cry, cry for my memory, my city, my street.

*****************

--Kevin.

Some anonymous coward in the DGM guestbook said terrible things about someone I love. I am certain that it hurt my friend deeply, even though he has defended himself honorably (although certainly no response to this sort of stupid attack was necessary). But it hurts me too, because this person I love is someone that I have placed trust in to help me reshape my life. This person has on several occasions taken the time to write long missives on how to redirect my energies so that I might be happier. He doesn't have to be there for me, or any of us, but he is, always. He cares deeply for all that he teaches. Yes, it's a real coward who bares his soul and private thoughts for public scrutiny and comment every single day of his life.

I am tired. Maybe I can sleep tonight. I don't like to be all alone, though. I have the dog, that'll help.

Harvey Meyer's body did indeed cease functioning at 2am, although that which was Harvey had flown away many hours earlier. I am greatly relieved, having spent the first 15 years of my career watching stroke victims hang on for weeks and months. I am sad for Pam and her family, but I am relieved that they did not have to endure the agony of watching a loved one deteriorate.

It is a day like this that I wish I lived around a community such as the Seattle bunch. How I would love to have a friend to walk around the lake with. Motivation, other than within myself, to practice doing nothing, and to practice playing guitar. A community of friends to whom Guitar Craft needs no explanation.

Of course, this is laziness on my part and I am free to form such a community on my own. It is difficult, though. And of course, there is always the electronic part of this community. Still, it would be nice to have friends to go out with. I don't talk to strangers easily, and not having an out of the house job here, really have no way to meet anyone. Yes, I'm very lonely.

Every 1/4 mile or so, there was a little bench to rest. In my present condition, the benches were certainly welcome. Finally, after going through a little valley and back up another slope, a lovely view of the lake. We sat there for a while, just contemplating the water. It was nice. The dog was getting thirsty, so we went back to the car and then I drove the long way home through the forest.

Spent the late afternoon filling in the Street Team database, looking where I have holes for the upcoming CGT tour. I will certainly need some more help in a lot of places. If I didn't have travel planned already, and if I hadn't had this surgery, I'd be willing to take a couple of weeks and go with them. Looks like I might be able to meet up with them in Buffalo, which will be cool.

Work from home tomorrow. Yayyy!!!

I think that I have proven, although not yet conclusively, that sendmail is causing problems with AIX and RPC. I wish I understood enough about internals to say why. Peripherally, I have an idea, but my understanding of internals is limited to VMS. I can apply, somewhat, this knowledge to AIX, but really all I am doing is pissing people off. I am offering limp, lame ass suggestions on how to fix this. I feel inadequate. But then I remember, I'm not supposed to know this crap anyway! And I'm certainly not expected to know it. Why is it that I feel like I'm a loser if I don't know everything about everything? The systems people still are sneering at me, but they haven't offered any suggestions yet.

This is a recurring theme both with my Brother and me. If we aren't perfect at everything, if we don't know everything, if we aren't the best at everything, then it's the end of the world. This is why I get so frustrated with the guitar. I expect myself to be as proficient as all of the others at the Beginners' circle and feel like a failure when I can't keep up. This is probably why I never finish anything, because I give up when it's not perfect immediately.

What the hell is wrong with "I don't know?"

I feel feverish and drained. I don't know why. The dog got groomed today by the mobile groomer. What a cool service. The lady drives up, takes the dog outside for an hour or so, and $50 later, a clean and shaven pooch. Pam keeps Snuggles (a Yorkshire Terrier) groomed with a Schnauzer cut. This makes her infintely less of a yippy little dog and more puppy-like. She's really very smart, having been trained to bark and growl when one says "Bill Gates".

I still don't have anything meaningful to say. At least I'm feeling better. Tomorrow is a very big day for my company as we take a major client live on our system. I would have rather just stayed away but it was kind of unavoidable. I just wish I had some clean underwear because it looks like I'm going to have to go out there. They are, after all, a hospital.

I just got spammed by someone trying to sell me a gas mask. Opportunists abound. Does Jesse Jackson really think that anyone cares what he says or does? Does Jerry Falwell? Well, they're getting attention, I guess.

10/1 - 10/5 Local work in Durham
10/8 - 10/10 Erie, PA
10/11 - 10/15 Hopefully visiting a friend in Ubly, MI
10/16 - 10/19 Toledo, OH
10/20 - 10/27 Houston, TX
10/28 - 11/3 Home!
11/5 - 11/9 Toledo, OH

Busy, busy.

Back to the woods, this time with Pam. We must have walked at least 2 miles, found an overgrown trail that led down by the lake. We sat there for a long time, just enjoying the view, very nice.

Packing for my upcoming trips, I will be staying in Durham since they want me at work at 7am. This is going to be difficult for me. I usually don't roll out of bed until 9.

I have absolutely no interest in wearing makeup. I have, however, a multitude (in the range of 100 bottles) of nail color. Why is the appearance of my face so unimportant to me while my fingernails usually have some color on them? (at the moment, it's pink, and not just ANY pink, but temperature sensitive light to dark pink) Why do I keep my toes in bizarre colors (right now, mint green)?