On the touching of the elbows and the ways of love to be employed with regard to noders
Inspired by joy born at Seattle noder meet/divorce party/brunch at chez flamingweasel

I kiss your belly button
I love your little toes
I touch your sexy elbows
I nibble on your nose

A rose I give your earlobes
A kiss I give your thumb
I snuggle with your tastebuds
Your eyebrows make me numb

If I were your appendix
Would you miss me if I left?
If I became vestigial
Would you feel bereft?

Will you keep me in your frontal lobes?
Taste me when you breathe?
If I were no longer part of you
If my heart would ever leave.

We live in two different worlds. At one point, though, not so long ago we did live in the same world. Or at least I thought so. A world of biology class and band concerts. Track meets and movies. Now the only thing our worlds seem to have in common is the other, and this is questionable at times.

He comes from a world where Microsoft is evil. I come from a world where Microsoft is a lifesafer. Only cursed when it crashes, but quickly praised again once running. His world praises (and writes) free software. My world sees free software as something that happens when you get 1,000 free hours of AOL. His world sees HTML email as rude. My world doesn't even know what HTML email is or why it could be considered rude.

Somehow I am living on the brink of both. He has seen to this. He shares his views with me and my eyes have been opened to this other world. I have learned about Linux and the GNU project from him. I understand what free software is and why it helps so much. I, too, see why Microsoft is evil. And yet, here I am on my mother's Windows running computer. In a world that sees CS majors as geeks and anti-socials. A world that laughs at my interests in programming.

And where does this leave me? They seem like totally diffent worlds, and yet they aren't. We read the same books, eat the same food, watch the same movies. It's only the views on technology that differ. Somewhere in the middle I hope to meet him some day.

I saw two dolphins having sex today.

No, really.

My father, in an unprecedented show of paternal affection, decided that he would take me out for a Sunday boat cruise, no hard task for him seeing as he lords it over all of the boats in the Sea Ranch Marina of South Padre Island. He picked me up at my mother's house in his dinghy little Chevy Nova and we drove over the causeway, over a bay that looked like a glass top aquarium with yachts careening over the waters as if friction and the laws of physics decided to take a Sabbath that day..

I literally grew up near the ocean. After the divorce, in a rush to think of things to do with me without squandering my child support money, father would show me nature- and what better way to do it than go out into our own backyard, the sea? My mother would be horrified as I would come in on Sunday afternoons dripping wet, nonchalantly informing her that I had just spent a long day snorkeling near the sea buoy (where nurse sharks, Portuguese man o'wars, and other so-called terrors of the sea resided). As a child, I innately knew that the fish were just as scared of me as I was of them, and if you make no fit over being in the water, you have about as much of a chance of being hurt as you have of being struck by lightning. And what better way to learn about biology than to be there- smelling the salt air, feeding clown fish, subconsciously observing the circle of life? I was a pint sized Rachel Carson, studying every tide pool, every hermit crab, even the jellyfish- just trying to find some affirmation of my existence by observing another living being's .

Note to landlubbers: There is something to be said about the friendliness of the people in the boating world- even my father's rivals in fishing tournaments always make a point of waving, smiling, and saying "Hi" when we spot each other across the bay or jetties. The camarederie in the fishing industry is amazing. I experienced that today when my Dad's friend Little George (every good fisherman has at least two names, it's a law), whom I hadn't seen in five years, immediately recognized me and asked me how I was doing. Just a thought.

And there I was again today, that same 7-year old girl that wanted to be a marine biologist and would only draw dolphins and killer whales (that I would solemnly only refer to as Orcas, their proper scientific name), that idolized Eugenie Clark and Jacques Cousteau in an early fit of feminist ambition. In a slim and sexy Japanese pilot boat, we literally slid over the water, splashing salt and coolness all over my face and breasts.

And then, there they were. At the risk of losing my credibility as an unbiased observer, dolphins really are the most intelligent animals I have ever observed- when they look in your direction, they look through you, not at you. It was quite cute, really- there were three of them, a mother, father, and a child dolphin that I would guess to be about a year old in size, he was no longer nursing off of the mother. Words cannot describe the adrenaline rush you get when you lean over the hull of the boat, watching the dolphins consciously swim with your boat, studying you just as meticulously as you are studying them. I truly wonder what they think of us, how we look to them, if they feel anything when we hurt their kind. And don't think that they don't get harmed- their backs are marred with scratches and scrapes, and I was shocked to observe a small fishing hook dangling from the tip one dorsal fin.

One way to get the dolphin's attention is to tap on the hull of the boat- develop a rhythm, that way the dolphins can remember your beat when you come back and instinctively know you. My father has even named certain families over the years- usually a distinctive mark, like a cut or a unique shape of the fins, will tip him off as to which family he is dealing with.

Anyways. I stood at the bow of the boat, watching the dolphins run and jump and play, when it occurred to me that two of them, were, well... getting a little too frisky. My father, never to be ashamed by the facts of nature, watched with me as they both got it on. The people I've relayed this story so far have said something to the likes of "Eww, gross! You liked to watch that?"

But I did. So many times in life I feel as if I am trapped; I feel like I am not living to the existentialist ideals I once subscribed to; live life to the fullest. But I am trying to change that. How many people can say that they know of two worlds? That they experience nature and symmetry as it was intended, not some plastic, cubicle filled world that we create for ourselves to the exclusion of other beings? Sometimes I'm appalled at the standard of living we have, how we seem to be divorcing from nature with everything we make- TV's, computers, Walkmans, skyscrapers, artifical lights, air conditioners, all away from the world our ancestors experienced. How ironic that you can buy anything for your home with a "nature theme" that was probably processed in some factory in Bangkok. Equally ironic is the fact that the tourists buy "eco-tours" to run around the bay in some air-conditioned little boat, and perhaps get a glimpse of one dorsal fin because the guides are young and inexperienced New York City natives that wanted to work there for the summer because "Spring Break was awesome, man." How sad, really.

Thank you, God-that-I-am-ambiguous-about-your-existence torwards, thank you for this day. To use a trite teenage expression... today rocked. Amen.

This morning I had problems waking up. I mean real problems. Part of it is because I enjoyed watching Sweden beat Czech Republic in the group play in the olympic ice-hockey. My enjoyment had nothing to do with the Chechs losing, but rather that my native country Sweden needs some kind of success in this winter Olympic Games. The successes of our small neighbouring country Norway doesn't make it feel any better. I mean, we should be able to get something right, shouldn't we?

Anyway, this was not what I started out with. As a start to get myself into a higher state of consciousness I switched on the TV and CNBC Europe. Normally I see a bunch of familiar faces talking about the financial markets, but this morning I saw another familiar face. George W. Bush's. He was giving a press conference in conjunction with his Japan visit. I tried to listen, but his slow southern drawl is not exatly something that wakes you up. However, once the press conference was over the intensity increased significantly. The American President had been talking about "a devaluation" of the Japanese currency. What was this? Had the two leaders agreed on reducing the value of the Yen? It turned out they were making a chicken from a feather. Dubya had said devaluation, but meant deflation. The world could start breathing again. Anyway, it made me feel intelligent in my half-awake state.

The day has since continued in a non-productive manner, with my business partner's laptop deciding to die just before the crucial backup. Lots of rewriting of documents, since we're in a critical stage right now. Good thing it's easier to write something the second time around... I look forward to what the evening might bring... I think.

Poor Girl...

Katyana has twisted or broken her ankle, it's swollen and she's in a lot of pain. Yet the stubborn girl won't go to the doctor's. She thinks Vicodin and Ice Packs will cure any ailment.

God, please let her be alright...

I'm warning you God!

Okay God, you listen to me, and you listen good. We both know that you don't like me, and I don't like you, hell, I don't even believe in you. But listen up. We both know that a few weeks ago I went for a job interview, and we made a deal. A deal which mean't I'd start believing in you, and sticking up for you in arguments with my atheist friends if you got me the job. But oh no, I didn't get it did I. You fucked me up good and proper, you sucker punched me, I bet you and your possy of angels had a good old laugh about it didn't you!

But you caught me on a good day God, I'm giving you one last chance. You know the interview I went for on Friday at Holmes Place up by Canary Wharf, you know the place. Well I want that job, and I want it bad. I've been out of work for over a year now God, and I'm getting pretty damn pissed, at just about everything, mainly my stupid mum though. This is your big chance okay, you get me this job and we'll put the past behind us, water under the bridge yeah. I'll never say another bad word against you and will build several churches in your honour if you make that manager guy phone me up, and utter those words which I haven't heard for months on end, "you got the job!". Come on God, you know it makes sense.

If you bend me over and fuck me again though God, our relationship is over......permanently! Just think about it.

21.2.2002 - Man this is some BULLSHIT! Hadn't heard anything back from Holmes Place, so I phone Paul who interviewed me and he doesn't work there anymore! He's left the fucking place in the space of 6 days. Jesus Fucking Christ. Damn you God! They're gonna phone me back. Shambles!............Okay, I have to have another interview on Monday, I can't believe this shit.

1.3.2002 - God made his decision, looks like we, or at least I, am alone in this world. I have exhausted just about every line of enquiry to find employment and am pretty damn desperate about what to do next. I'm fucked.

I often play a game I call "The Theory Game." The main objective is to think of a statement that is somewhat ridiculous and see whether or not it is possible to prove, or for that matter, to disprove. The best statement so far made by someone was that time did not actually exist in the sense that we know it. In reality everything from the big bang until now has lasted about a hundreth of a second and we only perceive time because our brains simply would not be able to comprehend in any other way.

The easiest way to prove this is to go into the idea that humans are chemical reactions. When the reaction is completed the human dies. The theory that there are infinite dimensions also would come into play. This way it is possible to state that with each slight change in the chemical reaction (or the actions of the person) the length of the reaction may change (their fate may change). In some dimensions the person dies, but in others the person is fine and well. Aging can be seen also as just finishing out a chemical reaction. This game is best played in groups of at least two people and it is best if the people at least have the slightest idea what it is they are talking about. Matters of religion are also best to be left out if possible. In general this game is simply meant as a way of passing time in a more interesting fashion than staring at your watch.

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