The missing word from the title is - Yes, I Am Blind. Legally blind anyway. It's the sort of thing people don't notice because of the nature of my vision... I'm 20/200 - ish, but I fake it to look as though I'm just like anyone else. I fake it because I can. In fact, I've been faking it for my whole life, so sometimes it's hard not to.

The "Yes, I am" post was as much about my vision as it was about other people's reaction to it - though I never got to writing that part of the story - probably because that's the hardest part to write... but her it is in short form.

A woman asked me out on a date. We had a marvelous time. She then asked me to join her and a few of her friends that saturday for an afternoon around town. We ended up at a restaurant I'd never been to before. I left to use the restroom. On my way back to our table, I got lost for just a moment, though it felt like an eternity. I actually walked right up to the booth they were sitting in yet still didn't see them, so I turned away - only to return to it a moment later.

I can still hear her voice in my head. She said: "You walked right up to us - standing, like, two feet away, and then you turned around... how'd you miss us?"

I'm sure I made something up... who knows what it was.

Later, after my date and I left her two friends, I explained it to her and got the "oh wow, I'd never have known... but I'm glad you told me." blah blah blah.

That was the last time I saw her - a reaction not unexpected.

That's fine though. It's better than fine, in fact, because a few weeks later, I met D. and have lived more than happily ever after.

Love conquers all I suppose.

And that - is the rest of the story.

Yes, I do know, and I don't like it. So I will write, unsure of whether or not I'll actually discuss the secret itself. The secret itself is really nothing... and yet, I hide it... I cower away from it... but it is my secret to hide behind until I choose not to.

So be it.

When I turned 30, I decided that by age 40 I'd be past this. At age 33, I can honestly say I've made progress, though my indecision regarding the topic at hand shows I've still got a long way to go. I started writing this post in July of 2004 - a fact that is quite telling in and of itself.

I make do.

As I learn, I fix, and things improve - code wise - even if nothing really changes on the surface. That's precisely what happened around here this week. Lots of changes 'under the hood'. The only change you'll probably notice is that if you go to Jalpuna.com you get bounced to jalpuna.com/blog rather than jalpuna.com/jalpuna. You might have noticed the silly question on the redirect page, with questions like: - "JALPUNA!" That's just me being goofy. (reload this page and you get a different random question). I'm really just saving that page's spot for future use.

...anyway...

This site is as much about learning and creating as it is about writing, so this week's structural redesign has been a good thing. I learned a lot in the process.

Before yesterday, Jalpuna.com was actually a fake address that redirected to a folder in my robsdemo.com webspace - webspace I was paying a fortune for. Now that my annual contract with that webhost was expiring, I figured it was time to move on.

Long story short: I moved robsdemo.com and jalpuna.com to a new webhost: Dreamhost. If you could care less about geek details, scroll past this next paragraph or two :)

I had been paying $25 a month for 3 gigs of webspace and 20 gigs of uploads/downloads for everything on one domain name (robsdemo) plus that extra fake domain redirect for the second domain (Jalpuna). I got relatively decent service, but nothing to write home about - and the webhost's control panel was garbage.

With dreamhost, I get 7.5 gigs of webspace plus 192 gigs of transfer. Their control panel makes everything a snap to set up - be it a new MySQL database or adding full hosting for a new domain. Dreamhost's "knowledge-base" is far superior to my previous host's info, and their message boards are really helpful too. My previous host allowed me one hosted domain. With Dreamhost, I get FIFTEEN - fully hosted. In fact, Dreamhost offers a ton of extras free that my previous host charged for. Total cost to me? $15.95 a month, with no setup fee.

If you want any Dreamhost info, just ask. Thus far, I'm thrilled with it. And if you sign up for a plan, Hook a brother up whydoncha? :)

While sitting here earlier this evening, tinkering with the site, I heard a song that made me stop what I was doing and stare at the radio... I love it when that happens, and today, thanks to a new song by the Decemberists, it did.

On March 22nd, we get a new CD from one of Portland's finest, and it will include the song "16 Military Wives":

I'm getting lots of hits this week thanks to Google / Yahoo / MSN searches leading to this little flashback from the archives:

Why Rush Limbaugh's 3rd Marriage Failed

It appears that the divorce became final as of Yesterday.

Now, I know it's not right to be so pleased with someone else's failure - but let's be honest here... This is a man who leads the charge to "protect the sanctity of marriage."

...so long as it's not his own I guess.

Whatever :)

Here's what I know: The shy girl told me about the clever boy's gimmick, and I thought it was brilliant.

Basically, the clever boy said to the shy girl: "Give me two nouns and a verb, and I'll tell you a story."

BRILLIANT!

Why didn't I ever think of something like that?

Fast forward to a few nights ago. D. was at the worst of her bout with the flu. She was lying on the bed feeling miserable, but too awake to sleep. She looked at me and said "Tell me a story."

I had nothing.

So, rather than making shit up, I started rambling about the clever boy's brilliant Two Nouns And A Verb storytelling technique.

...well...

I thought it was brilliant until she looked at me and said “Tarantula, Artichoke, Swing.”

The beauty is obvious.

Take a walk through downtown Portland tonight, and you'll see bar after bar and restaurant after restaurant filled with couples. Some of these couples will be madly in love. Others will be taking a chance that maybe, somehow, the occasion will lead to magic. Maybe it will, and maybe it won't.

The 'pretty damn stupid' side of Valentines Day is obvious as well.

So many people lose their common sense on Valentines Day. You know who I'm talking about: the "I hate Valentines Day" people. The "it's a Hallmark conspiracy" people. The "it's all so fake and contrived" people. They get so caught up in the 'idea' of Valentines Day that they deny themselves a little romance.

Who really gives a rats ass if Hallmark makes a buck?

Porn companies make a mint off the internet, and yet, here you are - on the internet. If you don't like someone capitalizing on Valentines Day, don't put your money in their coffers. It's that simple. But why should that stop you from taking this opportunity to tell someone you love them? ...or that you like them? ...or that you think they're special? ...or whatever you think might make them smile?

It's. Just. A. Day.

The earth wasn't created on January first. Somebody picked that date as the beginning of a calendar year and it stuck.

Jesus wasn't born on December twenty fifth. He was most likely born in spring. Does this make Christmas any less worthy of celebration? Not in the least.

It's just a day.

Our little planet spins, causing the sun to appear to rise and fall. Whatever meaning we place on a particular period of time is of our choosing.

So, choose.

You can ignore Valentines Day out of spite if you wish. So be it. But I will be with my girlfriend D., making absolutely certain that she knows she is loved. Granted, I'll do that tomorrow too - but I'll just be calling that "tuesday'.

The answer, of course, was 'NO'. It wasn't our anniversary at all. That's what made the note funny.

Sadly, D. is really under the weather today, which doesn't make for much of an anniversary on the day that actually *IS* our anniversary (six months). And yet - it's perfect.

How wonderful to even be in a position to wish she wasn't suffering, when six months ago, I hadn't even met her.

So, D, if you read this... I hope you feel better soon. I love you.

And a big Fuck You to whatever cough-inducing throat-scratching mucus-making thingamambob of a respiratory viral infection that's got D. feeling like crap this week. You SUCK!!!

He died of a heart attack at age 53.

I never knew him personally, though I have no doubt my life might have been a bit richer if I had.

I believe that. Not because the man has died. We always say such flattering things about people after they die - so politically correct though often disingenuous.

I believe my life is made richer through each connection I make, through each person I meet, through each thing I learn along the way. I could have learned a thing or two from Bobby Rivers.

He was a radio guy who, unlike myself, stuck it out through good times and bad. I love radio and I miss it as a career, but my priorities proved to be elsewhere.

I wanted a life too, so I got out when radio's nomadic lifestyle became too much. I'd moved city to city one too many times. Pittsburgh, Augusta, Daytona, Pittsburgh (again), Houston, Portland, Dallas... the moves became too much.

But not Bobby Rivers. He lived the life of a radio guy until his end. He'd actually started working at a new station less than four weeks ago.

Death steals so much knowledge... so much potential for what could have been. And yet, death somehow changes the memories of the living.

My father died when I was an eleven year old boy. Though he lived a screwed up life (with problems of his own making), in death, he became a saint. I never understood it, because a saint is not who he was.

Bobby Rivers was not perfect. He was a living, breathing human being just like you or I. That is what made him special. That is is what makes each of us special. We are the combination of our goods and our bads.

He was going to die some day, as will we all, but it is truly sad that he died so young, and at the beginning of what could have been a wonderful stretch in an often thankless career.

When I die, I want someone to remember something good I did... something done without reward. I hope I will be remembered for such things as I've done more than a few. I hope someone will share one of these with a smile.

When I die, I want someone to remember something completely fucked up that I did... something done smack in the face of reason. I hope I will be remembered for these things as well because I've done more than a few. I hope someone will share one of these with a hoot and a howl.

Today, I tip my hat to Bobby Rivers. He spent his career entertaining people because it was what he loved to do. I honor that.

He also suffered the many pitfalls of choosing radio as a career. I honor that as well.

May he rest in peace.

My monitor went black.

"Whaaa?"

I stared at the screen in disbelief for a moment, when it dawned on me that the apartment is really quiet. REALLY QUIET.

No heater sound though it's only 37 degrees outside. No hard drive sound coming from the computer. No computer fan noise. NOTHING.

The power went out.

I sat there, thinking of how long it had been since I'd been indoors without power. Electricity is one of those things we take for granted. I really had to think to recall a time without it being there, aside from the occasional jolt or flicker off and then back on.

And then I remembered Pittsburgh.

I was living in an apartment that sat on the very edge of a power grid. The power went out at least four times during the year I lived there - always at night. I'd sit in my dark living room and stare out the window. Somehow, all of the other buildings in my apartment complex still had power. I'd look at them and imagine how happy the power-having people must have been. Those bastards.

I looked out the window to see if my Portland neighbors had power (those bastards), but since it's a bright sunny day, it's too hard to tell.

...Whirrrrrrrrrrr...

Ahh! The power came back on, so I restarted my computer in hopes that I'd saved some of the post I'd been writing.

POP.

The power went off for a second time.

Well crap...

I got up and poured myself a cup of coffee, and took a walk around the apartment. Pacing really...

What does one do without power?

I can't work without a computer...
nor can I write anything (pencil? WHAT? Are you MAD?!?)
can't email anyone...
can't IM anyone (not that I ever IM anyone these days)
can't post about my lack of power...
can't post about my bastard neighbors who probably have power (those BASTARDS!)

A look at the couch revealed the boys curled up taking a cat nap. They appeared to know something wasn't right though, as they looked concerned. At least, I thought they did before they put their heads back down and fell asleep again. (bastards)

Oh. It's back on. The crisis ends. By this evening, I'll be back to taking electricity completely for granted again.

That'll be sweet!

Geez - did we really need an EIGHT HOUR pregame show?

...right...

So, while waiting for the big game to begin, I played around with the inner workings of this site to make a photo category that would work properly.

The next few posts are an attempt to see if it does...

This is really just a collection of shots I liked from my trips to Bolivia and China, built on a site design I was tinkering with at the time.

That's another one of my early sites, so it's not exactly hi-tech... but it gets the job done.

That was one of the very first sites I ever created for the web, but I still sort of like it. I couldn't even guess how many pictures are posted there, but it's well over a hundred.