What I Prayed For Today

the guy on the train had this on and i just assumed he meant now. stupid me for getting all excited. i should have stopped him, introduced myself (since i wasn't wearing a nametag) and asked him for specifics but i just assumed. it seems time is indeed relative. that's what i get for jumping to conclusions.

At Work, They Don't Know

i still have not figured out what it is about my aura that drives computers crazy... but, ahem... it is happening again. at home, of course my dvd-rw drive doesn't work. i am covered by warranty but the thought of spending two hours on the phone with a tech-support rep that i don't trust. i tell you it feels as though they are stabbing into that darkness i am in. i stand pretty much the same chance of getting lucky - if i decide to troubleshoot on my own. but then if i kill the machine i may no longer be covered by warranty. maybe this weekend.

ah but at work? well, i got a new computer maybe about 6 months ago. a rather nice, compact and quick machine. a little over a month ago our computer support company came in for their monthly maintenance visit. the next day i got my first blue screen of death. two more on that day. but i was getting ready to go to zimbabwe so i thought, i'll deal with this when i get back - i sent them an email and went off to have fun.

i get back, all laid back and relaxed and used only the most essential programmes (mostly cos a bunch just crashed when i tried to start them) and a few days later the techie arrived to fix my machine. full of confidence he "tweaked" my outlook and upgraded me to internet explorer 7.

the next day i got the blue screen of death. once i restarted my machine i emailed him and made an appointment for remote assistance for the next morning. for about 3 hours the next day two different techies ran anti-virus and spyware scans (because they think that wouldn't be the first thing i would do at a time like that. that's cos they don't know my history either). despite all the logs windows keeps of the many crashes, the techs have no idea what is causing the crashing but after removing my google and yahoo toolbars they tell me i should be okay.

my computer crashes that evening. twice. remote access calls again the next day. this time after my long spiel on everything that everyone has done he makes an appointment to come in tomorrow. just to make a point, just after that call, my computer crashes, while i am working on a complicated excel worksheet. even though i had been saving like a crazy person the sheet i recover is all wonky. i want to cry because, of course, i have a deadline. i am only two hours later than i had planned and still on time (for the bosses). i sigh in relief and the computer crashes again. i restart and go home (it is 7pm after all).

today i was in philly, and i tried to remote desktop into my machine. i knew what was coming when my outlook started acting up (outlook dying has been a sign that the blue screen is on the way. i tried to tell tech support but apparently i am not trained so my opinion isn't worth diddly squat). by 10am - dead computer.

i am thinking backup typewriter and abacus.

Because My Day Was Going Too Well...

so last night i sat down to watch one of my fave shows - 60 minutes - and i was more psyched than usual cos anderson cooper had a segment. drink? check. popcorn? check. comfortable seat? check. good to go.

first segment is about training for secret service personnel (you know, the ones who dive in front of the bullet to save the president). but it is about how these guys learn about people who have killed or tried to kill masses of people (or a president because, apparently, one president is equal to masses of people). and of course this comes with footage - of distraught family at the scene of a tragedy; of bloodied bodies, both dead and alive. thank goodness i have emergency tissues on my table. i pull myself together.

next segment is about daily life in baghdad. how the daily drive to school for children is about loading guns and dodging bombs. children are interviewed who have watched people being shot in front of them. a girl starts crying. i grab another tissue.

finally coop is on. finally my spirits can be lifted. i am beginning to feel as though i am watching some lifetime true drama tear-jerker. this segment is about "hip-hop culture" (whatever that means) and its no snitching message. apparently in (i'm not sure what the term is) urban communities/inner cities/predominantly black neighbourhoods, the "culture" is to not snitch. i don't mean you can't tell your mom who ate the ice-cream without permission. we're talking, i saw you shoot someone but i can't tell anyone that.

it all starts to make so much more sense when they interview rapper cam'ron about how snitching is shameful (yes, as a public service these rappers make videos outing snitches and warning others against such foolishness). so coop asks him what he would do if he knew there was a serial killer living next door.
cam'ron tells him (duh!) that "i wouldn't tell no one, like there's a serial killer in 4e" (gosh! why would he want to do that!). "i would probably just move."

from the black hole of hopelessness that this hour of television has dumped me in, i'm thinking - ignorance can't be that bad, now can it?

Dirty Secrets

i have long maintained that in life one must have a bad habit. i used to bite my nails... now i mostly don't. wanna know why? well because my mother introduced me to idols west africa. AND THEN i found the website which has clips of the performances. apparently i may be able to vote there too. it is all a bit much for me... deep breath.

my current favourite - timi. to quote paula "i love how he makes it his own". generally i think the guys are way better than the gals. of course i went to watch the worst audtions - you gotta see collins aka schmook da thug (an aspiring snoop dogg, we believe). it is true, it is not just american idol aspirants that apparently do not have friends.

two minutes ago, through contestant jerrilyn, i discovered what bootlylicious looks like in skin-tight gold lame "pantsuit". yeah, for sure, i was not ready for that jelly. ahem. i am off to do some squats in a second. i must, i must, i must increase my butt...

i am having so much fun with this, i even almost forgive them their wannabe randy dogg jackson judge (why would anyone want that?). and i know it is called idols west africa but is anyone on that show anything other than nigerian? but i am not complaining - i am not biting my nails and i think this is safer than smoking. yep, i'm sure this will tide me over until the new season of big brother africa.

Lunch Money

when i got to zimbabwe, i had no money. well, i had cab money for the ride back to my apartment in brooklyn (and secret cash stashed in my bra) but that wasn't going to get me anywhere. i couldn't stop at the bureau de change to change my money cos the official exchange rate is 250:1 and the black market rate is way higher and can change every few days. anyhoo... there i was, basically penniless for a bit but i was not stressed cos my sister had bought my bus ticket from harare to gweru (where my family now lives) so i was all set.

"oh, i have to give you lunch money for when they stop during the trip. just in case you're hungry"

you start off with this big wad of bills and you end up with a few things and no more bills. but if you are working in hard (translate - foreign) currency then it doesn't hurt so much so those who can try to keep as much of their money as they can in foreign currency and exchange only what they need. and it's fine if you can do that but what happens if you earn local currency, get paid once a month and can't hold your money in forex?

oh and then if you are a dairy farmer (mom) and the government controls prices (and doesn't subsidise what it pays farmers for milk) in order to make milk more affordable for the people and you want to remain on the right side of principles, if not the law. you become this amazing entrepreneurial innovator that makes your daughter realise that she really does not have a snowball's chance in hell of measuring up to you. sigh...

so there i was with my excellent timing, arriving in zimbabwe during the easter break, just when the exchange rate really sucks because the demand for local currency is high and the country is full of travellers with foreign dollars (apparently that is the economics of supply and demand. i call it i should've gotten here a week earlier).

luckily for me, my sister hooked me up. and that, up above, was my lunch money - $35,000. (the exchange rate was 20,000:1 that day and i only spent $14,000 on a drink.) thank goodness i have a big handbag.

First Home

so, in 1980 we moved to zimbabwe. after independence (april 18, yay!). that's all it took for my parents to be able to go home. i mean, they could have gone back to zimbabwe before then but apparently "at your own risk" back then meant jail or death, not maybe you'll get food poisoning from the water (but that could be a tale like i used to walk 10 miles to school everyday, with no shoes!). anyhoo... they dropped us kids over here (for about six months, while they got themselves jobs and a place to live) where my maternal grandparents lived. first, we drove down the road past the huge pink house (it's still pink) and then right at the corner, this was the first glimpse we saw of the house.

as you sit at the gate waiting for it to open (they got my grandmother an electric gate after she got into an altercation with some guy who was trying to steal her bag. she said she couldn't let him take her bag cos he had no business with her important papers). i tell you folks, i have no idea how the green thumb gene totally skipped me.

so, in my grandma's backyard is this tap. i think it is used for watering the garden but when i was a lot younger there used to be little puddles around this tap that we used to play in sometimes. barefoot. and one day as i mini-splashed in those puddles i found myself suddenly sitting on the grass, holding my foot and screaming in pain.

i had been stung by a bee and it turns out i was quite allergic. my foot was so swollen i missed a few days of school and in the 2nd grade one actually wants to go to school so it was a tragedy.

but you know from tragedy sometimes comes learning. one thing i have never done again - stomped in those mini-puddles - barefoot or no.

Yeah, I Wouldn't Believe Me Either...

so the night before last i staggered into my apartment at about 9:30 pm (catching up after a vacation is no fun, i tell you). i walk down my long hallway (the one that gives the illusion to new visitors that my apartment is massive) and into my living room. i notice what looks like little strips of yellow paper on the floor near the table. hmm? my semi-comatose brain thinks. what was i doing with yellow paper? well, i have been unpacking maybe that has something to do with it.

i walk into my bedroom to drop my bags and notice my tin of cashew nuts on the window sill (i could have sworn i left them on the table) and the window is open about 10cm (is that 4 inches?). on its side (did the wind blow it over), almost empty (did i eat them all) and open (how did that happen?) the window is not quite open enough for the tin to have rolled out. i pick it up and, yes, i smell the tin. too much damn crime television. what answers do i hope to get from smelling a tin of cashew nuts? but it is then i get the epiphany and the cold shiver down my spine. i step back from the window in fear, tin still in hand. i look down and see the shredded former lid of the cashew nut tin. i had a visitor. oh my goodness - a squirrel*! is it still in here? i run and jump onto the couch - feet off the floor. i stare at the tin that has tiny bite marks around its mouth. i have absolutely no idea what i will do if there is a squirrel trapped in my apartment, unsure how to get out, but i am pretty convinced it involves heart attacks and much screaming (from the both of us).

i wait for my heartbeat to slow a little and then i gingerly get off the couch and go into the spare bedroom. more plastic (now i know it's plastic, not paper) shards on the floor. that squirrel really did the tour of my apartment. i close the windows and barely sleep a wink - visions of a squirrel jumping on me in the dead of night keep waking me up.

*okay... how did i know it was a squirrel? well, in the past i had a squirrel that would come and scratch at the window while i was sitting at the computer. i told my roommate and she looked at me like i was crazy. apparently squirrels are not interested in getting into people's homes. unless it is a new york squirrel, full of attitude and a craving for cashew nuts.

Glug, Glug

after a final look up the driveway to what is now the family home... i headed back to what is now pandave's home. i missed it before i had even turned to look forward.

now i am discovering that jet lag is not a myth. i am also learning that grey, wet weather with beyond historical levels of rainful are not conducive to resetting the internal clock.

does jet lag have anything to do with the fact that my feet were too swollen for my shoes this morning and now my feet are falling out of those same shoes?