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tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30617043166991759062014-10-04T20:55:40.305-07:00A Fish Out of WaterI fill up life now with work, chores, and routine. This is a space for downtime; a liminal space that may be more real than what I consider real life.Jenniferhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-48068471018973879302010-05-26T11:12:00.000-07:002010-05-26T12:12:13.457-07:00On Not BloggingAfter 7 months of not posting, it's hard to even circle around the idea of posting on this blog again. In some ways, it can be seen as a spectacular failure, or another example of how I can't commit, can't follow-through, don't have the drive to succeed. A great idea that remains mostly that -- an effervescent thought, a lone feather buffeted by the breeze, a wisp of smoke disappearing into the atmosphere. The truth I've been able to ferret out, away from doubt and self-flaggelation is slightly less dire and less full of condemnation: it is too terrifying for me to try and write about my life from right in the middle of it. A dear friend and wonderful writer once confessed to me that writing about her life is how she sorts it out and makes sense of it. And I suppose, when I started this, I imagined myself dutifully typing out my trenchant insights and witty observations about the state of joblessness every few mornings, and that writing about this would lead to more writing about other things. In my mind, the spoonful of sugar crystals spun themselves into a giant, fluffy cloud of cotton candy with endless possibilities. Reality was the moisture that wicked all that lively, boastful volume back down into a sad, soggy thread of sweetness. Bitter sweetness, perhaps.

It was too hard for me to be engaged and in the moment to also have the critical distance necessary for me to write about being jobless. And though I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted this blog to be, I most certainly did not want it to become mere note-taking jotted for an audience, inelegant who/what/where/when's and why's more suited to a journal. Nor did I want it to be an attempt to coerce a crowd into cheerleading for me as they tracked the ups and downs, the peaks and valleys of my job search. If I do write more about being jobless later, memory will have to serve as my source material, and perspective will be my filter, my lens. Blogging about the now (and more specifically, the now that scares the pants off of me sometimes) is like constantly peering through a magnifying glass at my own hands, and trying to read meaning in the craters and valleys, mold a new terrain from the ridges and valleys.

So what have I been doing? It feels like not that much sometimes. I've done some substituting, but it started to pick up more after I got a temporary job at the US Census Bureau. I stopped getting up every morning at 5:45 am and being depressed about not working. I celebrated unemployment benefits being extended another time. I worked in fits and starts for the Census, and enjoyed working there, and being in a work environment again, despite the capricious nature of their hiring staff. I was depressed about not being picked up for another phase of the Census operation, and saw another upturn in substitute assignments, though I haven't worked the 7 weeks needed to be eligible for another year in the system.

I've done some volunteer work, I've joined another networking group, and I have watched an unanticipated amount of tv. I have on occassion printed out a large sheaf of job opportunities, only to get too emotionally bogged down to send off a single submission. I have felt shame and guilt for not doing enough that has then further weighed me down into another rung of inactivity. The last few months, though, have been incrementally picking up, giving me more and more energy until I'm really doing more of everything.

This past Monday I was ready to write. The 24th was my eleven month anniversary of being laid off. 11. 11. E-lev-en. ELEVEN. MONTH. A fact that would have seemed impossible, inconceivable to me a year ago. Hell, eight months ago. Once the new year came and went, I somehow had it fixed in my mind that April was my cut-off date for being ok, that I would definately have a job by April, that there was no way possible for it to not happen. April came. April went. No job, and suddenly it's the end of May, and the school year ends on June 3. And someone, still, I'm ok.

I was a little more ok on Monday when I got an email in response to an application I turned in the previous Friday morning. I had an interview. My first interview in months, the first weak beam of light. And that light made it possible for me to pull the magnifying glass back from my palms, let my eyes focus on the possibility of whatever this last 11 months has been, and sit down with a little perspective. And write from a critical distance, with the ability to not sink under the weight of my own words, but to drift along with the current.Jenniferhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-71910853496047379712009-10-29T04:00:00.000-07:002009-10-29T04:31:35.365-07:007 am and still not workingLast week I was tempted to make an anniversary posting, since my regular blogging here as fallen by the wayside. It was a junior-high school romance anniversary, the type counted in days and weeks, and should it get to actual months, plural, indicates that the relationship is now officially serious. So last week marked the three-month anniversary of my now serious case of unemployment.

I was feeling a little positive though, and didn't want to bring myself down, so skipped writing. I've been trying to skip doing things that make me feel bad. Trouble is, my feelings have been rapid-cycling along the up-and-down spectrum, and so the prospect of feeling, period, is bad news. So avoiding feeling things has been my new method. And writing is one of those things one simply can't do and be emotionally distanced from. Actually, DOING much at all is too risky; feelings might pop out anytime, demand attention, and overcome me. Being overcome with negative emotions is a sure route to big-time depression. So the route I've taken has unwittingly led me into a low-level depression where shit isn't TOO bad, which causes me to mis-identify the state I'm stuck in. Sneaky stuff, this.

I did work last week, for the first time in three months. I mean, work for someone else, for money. Work that will be direct deposited on a bi-weekly schedule, that involved filling out forms, presenting id, going to a three-hour training class, and gave me something to talk about when asked what is going on with the job search. Actually, this work involved fingerprinting ($46) and a one-year state license ($25), so my one day of work has actually just paid for the money I laid out to get it. I'm officially a substitute teacher for a big, urban school system.

Since that first day, I've been getting up every morning at 5:45, taking a quick shower and starting to get ready in case I get a call-in. I've had no call-ins the past five days, and I've been calling the automated system and searching the web-based site for assignments. Nothing. So work, right now, is on an hourly countdown. The whole cycle of expectation, hope, awakening dread, and ultimate disappoinment that makes up the job search is distilled down to its essence, played out over the course of ninety minutes. By 7:15 the probability of even getting an elementary school gig is almost nil.

Strangely enough, this art of losing out seems to be somewhat ennervating. I've been more active, more able, more present to myself this past week than the past month combined. I've gone swimming, taken a water aerobics class, gone out with a friend for tea, visited an alpaca farm with my parents, read three novels, and well, written again. So I hold out hope, the big hope, the hope that rises above all the little wishes and wants, that by mastering losing out I'll win big. I have faith that I'm on a path, learning, and won't know the lesson plans until after it's over. I have faith that learning to lose and still perservere will pay off, and that the depressions along the road are necessary slow-downs rather than personal failings. I have faith.Jenniferhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-19813386476128104192009-08-21T20:32:00.000-07:002009-08-21T21:04:10.721-07:00UnravelingWhenever I'm working at my desk at home and the cats start bothering me, a good way to distract them is by crumpling up a piece of paper and tossing it out into the hallway. Hours of fun: first batting it across the floor, skipping it over the wood like a stone hitting the surface of the water; chew on it when tired, working apart the wrinkles and digging in to the center of the ball. Left alone, the ball will slowly lose the tight shape my gripping fist forced it into, slightly springing back, at rest.

Monday the call didn't come, but I didn't expect it then. Tuesday would be the day I'd hear -- if I was going to hear, of course. Tuesday came and went, and I thought maybe Wednesday would be the day. The hiring manager I'd interviewed with had told me the decision would come mid-week, and there was Wednesday, smack dab in the middle of the week, full of possibility. Wednesday wouldn't get done quickly enough. I melted down at 8:15 in the morning, after realizing that I hadn't renewed the $60 license on the computer security software. After the sobbing on my pillow subsided and my boyfriend left for school, I dressed, ate, watched tv, and tried to motivate myself out of the house. Left the house twenty minutes late because I decided the refrigerator door had to be scrubbed clean today. Couldn't find parking downtown and was rushing up to the 28th floor where the state administers civil service tests. Held everyone up in the parking garage writing an eight dollar check; I only had two singles and eight quarters in my purse. Dropped off a resume in person, thinking that would make a better impression. The HR guy pulled a face at me. My reflection in the elevator showed a big new snag in my three dollar thrift store slacks. The cats have evidently been climbing the clothes in my closet. I cried over a part in my book in which a dog gets put to sleep, reaching over the side of my bed to pet my own dog. Imagining her old age and death, my tears turned into choking sobs.

By Thursday, I know I've been passed over. It wasn't the right job, I tell myself. It would have been miraculous, getting a job from my first interview after less than two months after the layoff. I'm going to have to keep doing this, over and over, dragging myself back and forth. Smiling and shaking hands, never letting terror or desperation show. That night, I make spinach and cheese rolls almost from scratch, marinate the steaks my mom gave me, cook corn with plenty of butter and pepper, sear the meat, wash the dishes, watch t.v. Stay up too late finishing the book with the dead dog. I'm tired, have been up since 7 am. I walked two miles, training for a fundraising walk I'm in. I've been up all day, kept busy, but haven't done a damn thing.

I was wound so tight when I was working. I would run and skitter from place to place in the store, bouncing back and forth endlessly, set in motion by the commands, list of duties, expectations, desires of others. Left alone, I was at first set free from the omnipresent tension, dropped the sense of dread I carried around. I mistook this feeling for freedom, only to come to the realization that I was still a crumpled-up ball, deformed from my original shape, retaining the marks of being in a tight vise grip for so long.Jenniferhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-69663814317205511322009-08-16T21:13:00.000-07:002009-08-16T21:26:54.681-07:00Short But SweetI had a job interview last week. I prepared well, was even over-prepared, and spoke with the hiring manager for an hour. I'll find out this week if I got the job. While driving home from the interview, I realized that if I get the job, it won't be the end of my problems. I'll just be handed another set.

See, I know this, intellectually. Know it in my head. But there's this sibilant whisper that fades in and out that tells me that all I really need is a job. That'll fix everything.

I also had a moment of panic that I don't want this job. That I'll get stuck, make a bad decision. That I'll be, as a dear friend told me, settling, when instead I could shine. My placement specialist at the career center told me that if I need to take a "survival job" that I should do it -- it's hard out there, right now, duh! But that we will still continue to work together to get me my dream job, whatever that may be. Which is great, and exactly the mindset that I need to keep, because I noticed how easy it is to settle.

The next two days after the interview were a struggle -- I couldn't stay motivated to get more applications out, to re-write that goddamn resume another time for another job that would get no reply whatsoever. . . . I was already investing in The New Job. The New Job that I don't yet have. The New Job that I don't really want. The New Job that could dull the polish of my shine, if I let it. I was putting the eggs all in the basket. I've done this before, and been crushed when a rejection came, crushed enough that I didn't want to try.

All you need is That New Job. Trust me, sweetie, it'll all work out; The Job will fix everything. That voice is numbing, dumbing, seductive, hypnotic. I can't drum it out of my head. It holds me in its cloying embrace, soothing, sticky-sweet, with a fakey-bitter aftertaste.Jenniferhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-44795307488265937682009-08-10T19:55:00.001-07:002009-08-10T20:17:21.397-07:00WritingWriting is always the first thing to go when I'm stressed. It's been two weeks since I've written, and I've given up on either berating or encouraging myself. Even my bargaining has been half-assed, insincere. I know it's a matter of I'll do it or not. Writing helps me think, helps me slow down, gives a direction to my errant thoughts during the day. When I'm writing regularly, there is a certain part of my brain that is activated, and it keeps buzzing, nourished by the small jolts it gets when my fingers tap out over and over on the keyboard. A window in my soul opens up, and something within wakens, stretches out and waits. Left alone, and the erratic buzz flickers, the bulb in my brain dims, the window in my soul darkens, airless, unmoving curtains at the window limply idle. If writing is so great, then why do I ever stop?

Ususally, what stops me is fear, my eternal answer to the "why not?" Being that open invites vulnerability, leaves my heart unlocked which feels unsafe. Stress sends blood shooting through my veins, pumping harder, heart racing. Clamping down and shutting out is soothing.

Sometimes though, what stops me from writing is simply this: life gets too big to handle, and there's too much to put on the page. I get overwhelmed.

In my currently jobless state, I've been happy with how balanced I've felt. Each day has been a struggle, but the net result has been positive. There's been time to look for a job, take classes at the career center, go swimming in the afternoon, walk the dog, spend time with my friends, play with the new kittens, update my resume and even engage in some dreaded networking. I didn't realize how unstable this jenga pile of responsibilities was, how all I needed was one big, blocky, ugly shaped piece to bring it all down around me. That piece was my grandmother's death, and all events associated with it. I wrote a rememberance for her that I read at her funeral, words that weren't appropriate for this forum. People praised me for reading what I'd written, and while I appreciated their kind words, it made me profoundly uncomfortable. I'd written it as a penance of sorts to her, conjuring up the very best of our relationship, the parts that were easy and lovely and wonderful. What I left out was why I squirmed under others' praise. I didn't visit or call her enough, wasn't kind enough or forgiving enough, didn't give her the care she'd given so many others. I had chosen not to engage on some levels, and was now bereft of that opportunity. So my words, fucking words that she would never hear, felt meaningless and small. How could I come back here and whine about not having a job?

So I fell into a small hole of inactivity, worrying about how my living situation might change, as the property that I'm renting belonged to my grandmother, and might be sold. I spent two days not talking to anyone, watching tv, eating too much ice cream, and worrying my boyfriend. And then I got back up and started looking for a job again. I'd lost a week of productive job-related activities, and needed to catch back up on life, looming huge in front of me, a stark white billboard in front of me, brightly lit, reading: UNCERTAINTY in black capital letters.

Life will always be bigger than writing. Writing sometimes feels like a weak attempt to corral the unmanageable and give it shape. Other times, when it works, when it's real, when it matters, it transforms the raw data of life, shining a light into the darkest places and illuminating the day to day of living.Jenniferhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-88444557290844434762009-07-27T08:05:00.001-07:002009-07-27T08:52:36.068-07:00WantLast week I stopped by a department store to exchange a pair of shorts my boyfriend had gotten for his birthday. He was studying, and I had nothing to do in the few short hours before bedtime, so I took my time and wandered about the store. Last time I was at that particular store I'd found a $60 pair of pants for him marked down to $6, a bargain even if he never wears them. I was hoping to find a duplicate of a short-sleeved sweater that I'd purchased at the beginning of the summer, back when I was still working and had treated myself to a new summer wardrobe. I've worn that sweater several times a week, and was hoping for a spectacular markdown that could help me justify spending a little money on myself.

The week before I'd found a pair of grey dress trousers for $3.50 and a $4.00 pair of black flats at the Goodwill, both good for any interviews I might get in the future. I hesitated slightly before trying on the shoes. I'd never bought shoes at a thrift store before. I rarely shopped at thrift stores since getting out of high school, back when it was an exciting excursion rather than a budget-conscious shopping choice. They were perfect on me though, and the bottoms of the soles, upon further examination, hardly looked new. Serviceable, comfortable, nearly new, and only $4.00. I got the shoes. I left the Goodwill store energized, pleased that I could find nice things and delight in a simple pleasure. These days, I've been trying to cultivate simple, low-cost pleasures. My new shoes were a triumph in fact, the best possible way I could have possibly spent that $4.00. Infinitely more satisfying and practical than blowing it on a frozen white mocha. I could get a quart of Edy's cookie dough ice cream on sale for less than $4.00 if I really wanted a treat, doling out that pleasure in a the evenings over a week or two.

I was not finding any spectacular bargins at the department store on this Sunday evening. I did find two pairs of adorable flats that were on sale, but still too expensive. My $4.00 flats seemed suddenly less satisfying; they were black and boring and obviously out-of-style compared to the cute, round-toed black and silver plaid flats I was trying on. Sighing, I left the shoe department, heading over to the women's clothing. The clearance racks were nearly empty, and no cute short-sleeved sweater was in sight. I tried on a few dresses that were 50% off -- still $24 each, but both so cute and work appropriate. Well, appropriate for whatever my new job would be. The job I was laid off from was a wardrobe disaster -- I frequently had to wear an electric blue tee shirt that matched nothing with our logo on the front. Most often, I wore it with a sweater or hoodie to downplay the bold color that only seemed to go with jeans. My new job would help me break out of the old uniform. I'd get fun flats and stylish dresses. I tried on pants, jackets, blouses, and skirts. I found the perfect black shrug that could be layered with anything -- over a dress or blouse or even dressing up a knit top. Glancing at the price tag, I put it back on the rack. $38 for a piece of stretchy cotton? I could feel my jaw tighten and my lips purse. God, I wanted it. I wanted it all. Everything I tried on today had miraculously fit. It looked good. Most of it was even on sale. I felt a keen ache deep inside my belly. I wanted to take it all and charge it on my store credit card, sliding the plastic and signing my name. I'd worry about it next month when the bill came. Hell, maybe I'd have a job before the statement even showed up in the mail. I should think positive. I should dress for success and put the crappy cotton tee shirts of my under-employed years behind me. I should at least get the perfect black shrug. I could use the credit slip from the shorts I'd returned and it would only cost me $17. I could call my mom and tell her about it; hope she'd stop by her branch and buy it for me. It was the last one in my size; I could hide it in a different department and come back next week. I could buy it now and return it later, keep it in the closet as an incentive to stay positive. A reward for a future good deed. A tonic against the anger that was swelling in my chest. I'd buy it now and return it when the anger fermented into guilt and worry. All of the sudden, the air in the dressing room seemed thick and stale. I felt sweat prickly at the back of my neck. My fingers clenched and my jaw trembled as I pulled off the the perfect black shrug and slipped my black flat on. I left it all there in the dressing room, unevenly drooping from the hangers.

As I drove home, I felt the flush of shame staining my cheeks. I turned up the air conditioning in the car, the car that my parents lent me. I have so much already, I have everything that I need. I will not go hungry, I will not become homeless. I have clothes, and shoes, and credit cards, and a family who supports me. I have so much. And still, I'm aware of the deep twisting ache inside me, the urge to take, to consume, to covet, to collect, to have, to exceed my needs, to swallow it all up.Jenniferhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-69214791415654589882009-07-16T09:17:00.000-07:002009-07-16T10:13:50.572-07:00FearAfter the shock of being laid off wore off, fear was the next identifiable emotion. I encountered it upon waking up in the morning and going to bed at night. I tried to shake it off, moving faster on my morning walks. I tried to cleanse it from my consciousness by filling my time being busy; industriously leaning into the tub with a can of comet, scrubbing food off pots over a soapy sink, drowning out my thoughts with the gentle glub-glug of the washer filling, or the high persistant whine of the vacuum as it whirred and spun, sucking up dirt and hair from the hardwood floors. But I couldn't cram it away neat and tidy like my winter linens, neatly moved from piles in the laundry room to tidy stacks in the closet and rattan chest at the foot of my bed. It wouldn't be ordered into neat rows like the sneakers, sandals, and flip-flops organized in the back of the closet. The acrid stench of it wouldn't be covered up by the sweet, hot vanilla smells of the raspberry vegan cookies, blueberry muffins, brownies, cupcakes, or layer cakes that I baked. Fear was there, waiting for a loose strand of thought to clasp onto, climbing up until it was firmly nestled in my brain. Fear planted itself in the fertile soil of my recently churned-up routines, sprouting and vining its way into each path I started down, snaking ahead of me to wait just around the corner.

The truth is, fear had been with me all along. It had been more or less corralled into managability, each work day providing a fencepost beyond which it couldn't run wild. I steered it into the ring along with insecurity that what I was doing at work was meaningless, locked it up in the ice chest where I kept each small misery or unhappiness about my job. If it was ugly sometimes, it was tidy, neat, and contained. Fear had been a good friend to me over the years. It kept me from doing much on impulse, like moving to New York City after college. No way would I make enough money; more sensible to move back to Ohio where I could afford to live AND pay the student loans that were even higher than my monthly rent. It kept me applying for jobs that were similar (but maybe a little better) to the last one, comfortable in the ever-narrowing box of experiences. It lent me legitimacy,each time I aligned my worth and identity with where I worked, rather than with who I dreamed I could be. I'm a manager, I run this store, I balance budgets, I hire and fire, I have value, I commute back and forth, I am this thing that I do and no more.

Being laid off set fire to the warehouse of my fear, tore up the fenceposts, stampeded the gates, and dismantled the scarecrow, the strawman of my work identity. I was naked in a dusty field, fears scattered around me, sliding off into the tall grass to wait like sun-warmed snakes, leaving me unable to pick a path that was safe. So I sat there and waited. Quiet, cautious, listening. When I stopped running, and stopped trying to stuff each minute full of activity, I stopped feeding fear. When I sat and watched rather than watering it with my blood, it withered a little on the vine. When I breathed deep and slow instead of panting my shallow energy into activity, fear deflated. When I kept fear close, it was a boulder on my back as I ran. Standing still it was a pebble in my shoe. When I ignored it, it hollered louder at me, a deafening roar trying to get my attention. When I talked to it, acknowledged it, and asked it questions, fear stopped screaming and let me lay it down. When I opened my eyes, the dark shadows of fear were chased away by the dawning light of acceptance, the bright still peace of morning sun. I was ready to get back to work. Not just be a worker, but work at living my life. I had a shed of rusted tools, I had friends to lend me advice. I threw my fears on the compost pile, watched them break down into the fecund darkness of experience that would enrich the new soil I churned up, as I ploughed ahead into each new day.Jenniferhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-42773366812688837122009-07-15T12:11:00.000-07:002009-07-15T13:11:47.534-07:00DislocatedLast week I attended a workshop that can help me "ace that interview," assuming, that is, that all of the online apps and resumes that I'm sending out into various HR departments will ever get me in a room with another person to talk about hiring me. While reviewing her own job experience, the workshop leader -- blond, tall, expressive, pleasant -- let us know that she had been laid off last year too, and that she is sure that each on of us in the room will get a job. She now works exlusively with "dislocated workers" like us. Startled, I look up at her. I'm unemployed, I've been laid off, I'm out-of-work, looking for a job. I've never heard this term before, didn't know that I was being grouped as "dislocated," an assignation that, she assures us, lets everyone know that we are without work through no fault of our own.

I look at the five men sitting around the conference table. We've been segregated out during our state-run orientation as "professionals," a designation that I think has been determined mainly by income. As we go through introductions, this "dislocated professional" status seems all that binds us together; our experiences, backgrounds, and aspirations seem wildly divergent. There's a tall, reedy engineer with a ruddy face and greying mustache; a short, stocky accountant, black yalmulka covering what is probably a bald spot; a white, loudmouthed 30-year electrician and former paratrooper; a younger black man who wants to become a personal trainer, and me. I feel like I'm in a grown-up version of The Breakfast Club, the weird, nervous girl in the back that Ally Sheedy played. We're individuals who are dislocated, but our dislocation is a symptom of the country in recession, the economic system thrown out of order. We're all painful reminders that the smooth operations of capitalism have been wrenched apart, the easy mechanics of day-to-day business stumbling along, limping ahead.

During the break, I stand up, almost gingerly, stretching my arms above my head while I yawn. I've never had a dislocation of a limb before, never felt the pop and burn as a joint loosens, connective tissue stretching, leaving the appendage dangling, sore and painful. It's a word that makes me wince to hear it, this hiss of the first syllable always an indicator of bad news to follow. A dislocated shoulder seems simple - pop it back into place, or in a particularly bad case, open reduction through surgery. But what if I'm a shoulder who wants to be a knee? Where on the body of the working will there be room for me? Where do I connect? We're all cogs in the machine, but the chassis of the machine is slowly transforming, morphing into something new, and each one of us filling seats in overcrowded job centers is struggling to find the place where we will fit.Jenniferhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-57244063962330224692009-07-08T20:29:00.000-07:002009-07-08T20:54:01.365-07:00TodayToday was hard. I woke up early to go to orientation at the job placement center. It felt familiar to have something to get up for. Something time-sensitive, something not to be missed, something important and real. My subconscious registered all this the moment the alarm went off, rolling my body out from under the fresh sheets to stumble toward the alarm. First one up, people to see, places to go, purpose in my life. . . .

Today the first wave of shame rolled over me. Self-blame and recrimination bitter on my tongue making coffee in my silver travel mug seem sweeter. You're better than this. You're smart. Educated. You should be able to do this on your own. No one can help you. You can't even help yourself. Sitting in the waiting room, unsure of where to go, who to ask, if I should wait or be patient, if I should bother someone or just curl up in a corner.

Today I cried. Splattering the inside of my glasses, wet eyelashes furiously blinking. Sitting in my car in the parking lot, breathing in stale air, swallowing tepid water. Flipping my phone open and closed, fingering the number two that would speed-dial my boyfriend. I'll just leave a message, no I'll text him, no he's in class, no he can't help anyway, no one can. Drive off, drive home, I have no where else to go today.

Today anger vented its way out from subterranean depths. Rising hot and steamy from the low boil of the past two weeks. It was pure and clean, it filled my chest when I breathed in. And for just a minute, I was powerful and righteous. Exhaled stale inadequecy.

Today I ate a bowl of ice cream and watched Oprah. It was Rocky Road. Wincing at the irony I snapped the television off.

Today was hard. It was too full, yet hollow too. Each minute sweaty labor: gritted teeth, forced cheerful hellos and handshakes, choking back rage, twisting guts and shallow breath. I pray for a dreamless, empty night.Jenniferhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-3691771205873148822009-07-07T17:41:00.000-07:002009-07-07T18:30:38.299-07:00Time OffRegular followers of my unemployment blog (hey, you two!) will have noticed that I've been absent for a few days. Did I get a job? Have to prep for a big interview? Spend a lot of time networking, job-searching, writing seductive cover letters, or punching up the resume? No, no, sorry, and no again.

I took a three-day weekend. Three day weekends, were, when I was a member of the workforce, a little like the holy grail - pursued by the faithful but never fully believed in until grasped in ones own hand. Especially in retail, and that goes double for a holiday weekend. Holidays are meant for spending money these days. Extra time off for some so they can blow it all saving five bucks on shit they don't need from retail drones like me. Three-day weekends were decadent -- I used to daydream about them, fantasizing how I could fit nearly everything that I wanted to do into one luxurious block of uninterrupted time. Time that I could cordon off as my life, fitting in all the things I couldn't do when I was (ugh) working all the time.

Now all of my time is my life; I have to decide how to spend every minute of it, no longer constrained by the hours scratched out as belonging to "work." How does one take a vacation when all they have is free time?

One, get rid of the misnomer that all my time is "free." Before, ANY time not at work was potential free time; since we don't have any kids, there were few tasks that were do or die. Load of laundry? Not essential, I have some panties in the back of the drawer that I can wear, despite the frayed elastic. Cook dinner or grocery shop? We can always eat out, order in. Vacuum the house? No one's coming over, and the dog is shedding anyway. Pay bills? Ok, ten minutes online and that's done. Now, the filter for ordinary tasks is different, the lens has shifted. I can't pursue a new job 24 hours a day, I can't get on the hamster wheel of anxiety and stop sleeping, stay up worrying, and freak out nonstop about the state of affairs. I have had to seperate out what is work and what is not work. Tasks fall under new categories: 1) HAVE to do, like right now, today, mostly related to dealing with the unemployment office, paying bills, or finding ways to save money; 2) SHOULD-do's, mostly related to actively seeking and attempts to attain employment; 3) OUGHT-to-do's, which includes personal goals I set for myself in terms of doing housework, finding time to write, getting exercise, the things that keep my mind from drifting into darkness; 4) WANT-to-do's, those things that were luxuries I didn't get enough of when I worked like getting to the pool, baking muffins or cupcakes, cooking dinner, reading, or spending time with my parents and 5) FUCK-a-doo's, which are what happens whenever I don't plan, like eating a whole bag of chips, watching a What Not to Wear marathon, sulking and whining and feeling like a failure, and staying up too late and sleeping in too late.

So I wanted to actively, purposefully take time off from all the HAVES and SHOULDS and OUGHTS and WANTS without falling into the FUCKS. I wanted that three-day weekend that many of my working friends were having. The trick? I had to really plan it. I had to talk to my partner and find out what he needed to get done. I had to call people, see who would be in town, who wanted to attend fireworks, who might be up for company, what was going on around town. I had to coordinate, prioritize, communicate, and schedule in. This vacation was taking some work. And the work that I did paid off. We went to the zoo, I saw fireworks two nights in a row, I made holiday-themed cupcakes, there was grilling out and potato salad, and I even finished a mystery book in which the murder is solved at a 4th of July picnic. My three-day weekend was successful for about two days.

Unfortunately, on the third day I fell into the FUCKS a bit, and could not rise again. Instead of getting up for church, I woke up late on Sunday. Scratched some bug bites I got at the fireworks display. Ate a big bowl of potato salad for breakfast. Watched tv while eating. Ate more potato salad for lunch. Didn't shower, didn't dress, didn't want to go swimming. I argued with my boyfriend and ate a bologna sandwich. The closest I came to being active was shaking up some more lemonade mix.

I fell apart, a little bit. I glimpsed down and saw an unending stretch of time before me, and I wanted to lay down and wait for it to pass. Wait until it was time to get up and go to work. But that won't magically happen, I have to make it happen. I have to work for it.

And Monday came, and I went back to work. I worked overtime, even, applying for three jobs and one civil service test. Contacting more people, writing and replying to emails, writing those seductive cover letters and punching up my resume. Glimpsing the fear of boundless unfilled time was enough to make everything seem like a HAVE-to. I'm back to more of a balance now, doing some OUGHTS and WANTS, doing work and doing things for myself. And for you, faithful readers, for you too.Jenniferhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-50943805137686334072009-07-02T13:10:00.000-07:002009-07-02T13:44:45.927-07:00Violence in the WorkplaceOk, you've been laid off. Canned. Sacked. Discarded by the company you sold all those hours of your life to for a pittance. You're done. Finished. Told you have 15 minutes to gather your belongings and get escorted out. Barely time to delete the outlook folder marked "personal" from your email. Not enough time to keep from snotting up, streaming hot tears as you choke out a "goodbye" to the two hourly employees you walk by on the way out the door. Vamoose. Move along, lady.

Blinking in the sunlight, slightly stunned at the crafty sleight-of-hand that moved you from the neatly stacked deck of busy-and-productive-steadily-employed-head-of-household-breadwinner to the unshuffled pile of out-of-work-laid-off-umemployed-overeducated-loser. Call you parents, drive home, up the stairs, wait patiently until your boyfriend gets off the phone. He's angry. You're stunned and breathless like you've stumbled off the high dive and hit the water with a flat smack. Feeling peaceful as you gently drift, sinking down until the panic of not being able to breathe hits.

All night long the scene in the office plays over and over in your head. Each gesture, each word picked apart and examined, trying to crack open the image to reveal some meaning. It was a really hard decision, she said. I'm really sorry. HR is on the phone if you have any questions. What was your response? No. Thank you. Not at this time. HR doesn't have any answers for me, they can't tell answer: what did I do wrong? how I could have stopped it? why me? who knew? and when did they know? shouldn't I have sensed something was wrong? did anyone fight for me? why do I have to leave now? what is it that they think I'll do?

With one act, I've been moved from the position of loyal employee, three years service to the company, to that of a targeted adversary. A money-gobbling cancer to be cut out; an tainted dissident to be quarantined so as to not infect employee morale; a black mold to be scrubbed out, painted over, and forgotten. While over at the corporate office, they continue to bloodlessly make cuts, drop bombs, and decimate lives.Jenniferhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-67801337636022298932009-07-01T12:40:00.000-07:002009-07-01T13:34:59.806-07:00Things a Walk Can BeA Promise Kept

It rained earlier this morning, while I turned over in bed for half an hour after my alarm went off. I love sleeping in or reading in bed while it rains, looking out the window while feeling snug and secure and warm. It's one of my fondest memories from junior year in college, when I had a tiny room but a huge window near the head of my futon. My electric teakettle, espresso machine, mini-fridge, and coffee press ensured that I'd always have a warm cup of coffee, tea, cup, cappucino, or chicken soup to hold in my chilly fingers while I lounged in bed.

Is it still raining? I asked, when finally urged out of bed by my bladder. Warm drops of shower-water run down his legs, he cocks his head sideways to tell me no, it stopped earlier, it's nice out now. The dog joins us in the bathroom, licks first one wet calf then another, then comes to lie at my feet in front of the toilet. I pull on the still damp shorts and shirt I wore home from the pool last night, pat my leg, urging the dog downstairs with me.

A Menagerie

The trail is quiet, the early morning storms discouraging the usual runners and bikers. My feet pad silently, sucking only slightly as the wet bottoms rise and fall. My dog's nails click as she trots beside me. A green-headed duck stands ahead of us on the blacktop path, then waddles to the side as we approach. We turn a corner to cross the foot-bridge, a rabbit hops to the edge, hidden now in the tall grass of the wetlands. Two chipmunks scurry and play, another rabbit dashes off in the distance. Innumerable, unknown birds soar, peck, flap, and coast. A long-billed bird with a red head climbs tree branches, a yellow and black spot zips above me, black-beaded eyes and cocked heads all observe me and flit, fly, or hop out of sight. Hidden birds caw and cry across the marsh. I hear insects buzzing, singing, chirping, calling. How could I be lonely when there is so much life?

A Prayer
I speak their names aloud into the grey-tinged air. Faces appear as I beckon them, thanking each person who has helped me. Friends who have written emails; friends who have answered my phone calls; friends who have offered a hand, a hug, a pat on the back; friends who are following me; friends behind me in the unemployment line and writing resumes; friends who offer diversion and amusement; friends who want to help, to play, to take me to lunch, to take me out of town; friends who met me once, friends I haven't seen in fifteen years, friends of friends who hear my call; friends who are far away, in town, across the country, on another coast; friends who I forget unless I call to them, thank them, honor them, and open myself to them.

A Shrink
The view into my head is a neglected window. Rub it with your hand, cup it, take a look. It's a dark shed full of unused tools with web-coated shelves. A warm breeding ground for vermin, the small, dark, darting things, those errant thoughts that fall like dried-up moths, once beautiful wings dried and cracked. Those slimier, snakier, earthier things that pulse in the wet mud that ooze uncertainty and doubt. The damp of tears giving way to mold, to rot, to fungus and pungent smells. Left alone, I will wander here, forgetting how tempting it is to stare inside, to peer into the dark, forgetting how hard it is to turn my eyes away, to look outward, upward, to the sky.

A Social Event
I love your dog, the boy says as he passes by. I stop, urge the group of five to come say hello to her. She doesn't bite? One boy, less sure, questions me. They carry fishing rods, they cluster around, their wide mouths open, laughing, talking.

On your left, on your left. Bells ring, bikes skim past us. Beautiful dog, a grey-haired biker calls back. Men in recumbent bikes smile, joggers nod as they breath hard. The sun has come out a little and pulled people to the path through the woods. They come in groups, they come alone. They bike, they walk, they run, they pass each other by. They have on headphones, helmets, damp tee shirts, sandals, tight black shorts, glasses, short white socks. Nice sheltie, a brown-bearded man yells out. Thank you! I shout.

I love your dog. She helps me say hello, she helps me notice you. She's the life of the party, the catalyst of greetings, a touchstone of shared experience. Thank you, thank you.

Jenniferhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-87743182082974970292009-06-30T11:12:00.000-07:002009-06-30T11:51:52.561-07:00Night owlBack when I was a responsible adult working a full-time job, I tried hard to keep a relatively set bedtime so that the waking up portion of my day would be posed for minimal discomfort. I've always been this way, and yeah, I did the whole flashlight-under-the-covers thing as a child, mildly scolded for the virtue of reading; in reality the scolding came more for the trouble I'd pose in the morning covers pulled tight over my sleepy eyes. In high school my father used to phone me from work to wake me up at 6:45 am. The neighbor who drove me to school would usually phone again at 7:10, wondering if I was ready yet. Just a minute was generally my mumbled reply to my earnest callers.

Just another minute was also my bargain to myself whenever I tried to push back my bedtime. I'm almost through watching this show; I've just got another chapter to read; I'm already IN BED, I'll turn the light off in a minute; I'll stay up just another minute, we're out of bread so I don't have to make lunch tomorrow; I'll let him shower first so I can stay up a few minutes longer. I'd steal minutes from the morning trying to extend my self-imposed curfew, the extravagent pleasure of indulgence of the night owl so much more satisfactory than the thin satisfaction of virtue of the early bird. Each quarter hour had the attendent burden of guilt as a penance, each hour the self-scolding voice a little louder a little harder to ignore.

The day I got laid off last week I couldn't sleep that night, though all I wanted was to fall into the dark warmth of dreams. Every time my head fell back onto the pillow, the rear projector in my mind went into overdrive, clicking images from the day, the accompanying soundtrack of my thoughts and judgements blending faster into a high pitched whine youshould'veseeitoldyoujustnotgoodenoughwhydidn'tyoucan'tyoudowhat'sthepoint. The shot of disbelief I'd received that day was wearing off, and my brain tingled and ached, thoughts sparking and not quite connecting into meaning. I know that a haphazard late night is fertilizer for bad habits; an unoccupied brain gasoline for self-doubt, self-loathing, clearing the brush of inertia to reveal the bleak, dark landscape of depression that morning light can't push away. Luxury can molder into sloth, the velvet of night becoming a musty damp garment I can't unbutton from around my throat.

Simply put, I can't trust myself yet to find the natural rhythms of my body. I've bartered and bargained my sleep for so many years that I can't seperate the gentle tug of the night from the sucking eddy of excess that keeps me from the restful current of falling into sleep.

Last night I went to an open mike to watch a friend play guitar. He was supposed to go on around 10, but his set didn't start until nearly 11:30. I kept glancing at the time, stifling my yawns, vacillating between a glass of water and another beer. I wanted to stay until the end, proved I could still stay up without becoming peevish. Instead, I came home within another hour to go to bed. I walked past the tv, got only a glass of water from the kitchen instead of a sandwich. It was time to go to bed, I was tired, I'd done enough. When I finally scooted the cat out of the way to lay down, I sat up for a few minutes. It felt like I'd forgotten to do something. I looked over, noticed the YOU SHOULD slightly dusty on the bedside table. It seemed smaller than I remembered. I picked up the soft I CHOOSE, curled up, and went to sleep.Jenniferhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-3061704316699175906.post-88052890242579793562009-06-29T10:59:00.000-07:002009-06-29T11:26:30.398-07:00Walking the dogToday I woke up before the alarm went off; a rarity in my life as I generally try and squeeze in every drop of sleep that I can, head happily wedded to my pillow, lidded eyes calm and peaceful. When I do open my eyes, I am still, listening for signs of movement in the house, trying to gauge the time by the quality and strength of light through the lacy curtains. It seems late, probably 9:30 but it could be close to 11. I feel rested and ready to get up, another rarity. I reach for my phone on the bedside table, stretching the other hand to pat the empty pillow beside me. No cat comes to cup her head into my open palm. I glance beside the bed, no black furred dog lying in wait. I squint as I bring the cell closer to my face. 8:15.

I could lie in bed and wait for the alarm. I could lie in bed and wait for my lover, hope for a consoling cuddle. I could try to divert him back into bed for more. Or I could stick to my plan of getting up and taking the dog for a walk. Obligation to others is so much easier, sticking to the promises that I make to myself seems impossible at times. I get up, pull on shorts, a bra, sit down to put on socks and tennis shoes. My lover comes in, approves of my outfit, grins as I pull a face at him and slip on my tee-shirt.

Downstairs, the dog looks up at me uncomprehending when I grab her leash and ask her if she'd like to go for a walk. It's a rhetorical question, but her lack of tail-wagging enthusiasm is disconcerting. I guess I've skipped too many walks; she used to start circling and prancing in circles in the bedroom whenever I slipped on a pair of sneakers. I ask her again about taking a walk, my voice higher and more enthusiastic as I slip on her collar. I used to walk her nearly every morning, but fell out of the habit as the demands on my time from my job became stronger, the hours longer, the unwillingness to get up rising with the shrill voice of my alarm clock. Well, I think, a grim smile on my face, I can do this every day now if I like. I can make it up to the dog, get back in the habit, I can walk more or try and start jogging again. I can swim in the afternoons, get my bike fixed for doing errands instead of driving. I can walk her twice a day if I want. Last week my job ended unexpectedly, unceremoniously; no more 14 hour days no more being too tired, no more turning down invitations, no more demands on my time. My time is now wholly my own. I can do whatever I want.

I walk out the door, automatically start to turn right at the end of the driveway then pause. She looks up at me, confused. This is the way down to the park, this is the way that we always go. We could go any direction today, though, I don't have a set time for the walk, I don't need to know how long it will take to get back home so I can shower and eat breakfast before getting in the car and driving to work. I don't need to prioritize checking my email or packing a lunch. Maybe a new route would be better, I hardly ever just stroll around the neighborhood. The leash tugs at my hands, but I pull back and my dog sits down, still looking up at me. Maybe I should just head back inside. I can't decide which way to go.Jenniferhttp://email@example.com


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Bombardier Recreational Products touts renovated Sturtevant plant, 136 relocated jobs
Bombardier Recreational Products Inc. held a ribbon cutting ceremony Tuesday morning on a $15 million renovation of its Evinrude outboard engine facility in Sturtevant and the relocation of jobs to the plant.
BRP last year announced the $15 million investment to consolidate Evinrude outboard engine development and operations in Sturtevant. The renovation and relocation resulted in 137 new employees at the facility, Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker said in a statement released after attending the ceremony.
Alain Villemure, recently named vice president and general manager of the BRP outboard engine division, said the inauguration of the Evinrude campus "represents a commitment to engineering and manufacturing excellence, and the beginning of a new chapter in an ongoing legacy that is simply unmatched in the marine outboard industry."
Valcourt, Quebec-based BRP is a privately held company that produces motorized recreational vehicles and employs more than 6,000 people worldwide. Its portfolio of brands and products includes Ski-Doo and Lynx snowmobiles, Sea-Doo watercraft and boats, Evinrude and Johnson outboard engines, Can-Am all terrain and side-by-side vehicles and roadsters, and Rotax engines.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Home / Collections / Best Sellers / Plus Size Frayed Hem Jogger Skinny
Plus Size Frayed Hem Jogger Skinny
$ 26.95
Comfy high waisted jogger skinny jeans
Adjustable drawstring on waist
Distressed detail and frayed hem
Model is 5'5" and is wearing a size 1X
Not in love with your recent purchase? We got you. Check out our return policy here.
Final sale items are not refundable and include:
- Accessories
- Bodysuits and swimsuits
- Lingerie
- Mark down and sale items


text:
Girls rock okay, of course if we would like our trendy derrieres to be parked by a pink office chair on should not we've one?
The mania for ladies simply carrying red went much beyond trends that were regular. If she cannot use anything red our daughter is absolutely bent out-of form. As it pertains to developed girls we are difficult as males, for cash, and we often move home and keep on operating there also when we complete work! Why should not we've a red that is comfortable office seat our times to brighten?
Practices in many cases are only and so dull plain dull let us experience it. With dull brown furniture and dismal colored surfaces we would like to examine underneath the table. Brighten our environments can you please when it's with only a seat!
Individuals are usually taking your material in practices, perhaps you have observed? The pencil you attempt so difficult since it creates thus nicely to safeguard disappears following a day or two. The trash containers transfer but you usually end up getting the main one emblazoned with regurgitated bubblegum exactly why is it? I have worked in several locations where individuals transfer the seats around also and are available in; they attempt each go and one out to obtain the most relaxed. You'dnot have the ability to today today easily had an attractive pink office chair would you?
Don't believe that pink office chair is poor for your grubby grey factor using the squeaky wheels – quarry is likely to be vibrant and clear and that I will have the ability to move over the workplace ground unheard, and hit you away from mind each time you create a disparaging comment about our fantastic clients.
Our chair may remain out and become envied by all, individuals may discover my chair after which me, and maybe remember it is moment I'd a pay increase since I'm diverse, I stick out, and that I seem much better than other things within the boring space, me and my red office chair.
Maybe you might provide a pink seat Mr. Boss Person to me, I Have worked for ten years for you personally and also you do not actually understand my title! Well you know what, in a couple weeks I'll leave this dump and starting my very own business, filled by additional hardworking drones that'll be pleased resting by themselves office chair that is red.
Oh do not tell me there is no such issue like a seat that is red – wherever are you currently these last couple of months? While I perform my shaped behind off with this butt seat oops, I ought tonot have requested, toiling over a warm club in certain remote hideaway.
There is many pink seat available on-line, certainly which to put my behind an excellent option. They were seen by me first within the salon – all of them ask them to and that I was inexperienced with jealousy. Should younot get me one quickly I purchase my very own pink office chair and will go right ahead and that I will soon be King to get a time.


text:
Transactions of Nonferrous Metals Society of China
|Vol. 10 No. 1 February 2000
(1. Research Institute of Surface Engineering, Taiyuan University of Technology,
Taiyuan 030024, P.R.China;
2. State Key Laboratoryfor Mechanical Behaviour of Materials, Xi′an Jiaotong University,
Xi′an 710049, P.R.China)
Abstract:The coating-substrate bonding strengths under different intermixing processes were evaluated by scratch and spherical rolling contact fatigue methods. The results show that for low bombarding energy of N ions dynamic recoiling at 10 keV and 20 keV, the coating layers are of excellent bonding strengths. The bonding strength of CrN coating with 40 keV static recoiling is higher than that of low energy(20 keV). On the other hand, the bonding strength of coating with 40 keV dynamic recoiling is much lower than that of static recoiling at the same energy and even less than that of dynamic recoiling intermixings at 10 keV and 20 keV energy. The results of scratch and spherical rolling contact fatigue methods
exhibit the same trend for each group of recoiling methods, yet the results of the scratch and fatigue tests for two groups do not agree with each other.
Key words: IBED; CrN coating; inter-mixing processes; bonding strength


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Rylee Spire is already the first-ever trans Mr. Dallas Eagle. As he aims to become Mr. Texas Leather this weekend, he reflects on his affection for the leather community
A few weeks ago, when Rylee Janus Spire was announced as the 2017 holder of the Mr. Dallas Eagle title, he was met with a chorus of "attaboys" and "huzzahs," both in person and on social media. The vast majority of responses was congratulatory and positive.
But there are always some dissenters.
A few haters groused that a "Mr." title in leather was exclusively for cisgender males, and Spire was female-to-male trans.
It was not something Jeffrey Payne would stand for.
Payne is the co-owner of Dallas Eagle and a superstar in the leather community. He was the 2009 International Mr. Leather (the granddaddy of leather titles) and was on the judging panel in 2010 when IML declared Tyler McCormick the first-ever trans winner. So he wasn't about to let similar criticism go unchallenged.
Payne quickly took to Facebook to chastise the nattering nabobs of negativity. Spire, he said, won because he was the best — and, as far as he was concerned, as deserving as any of the other contestants.
"The [negative reaction] was verbal, nothing physical. People are just uneducated about [trans issues]," Payne says. "But Rylee was, in every judges' mind, a man who ran for Mr. Dallas Eagle. He represented himself in the best possible way — the best interview, speech, formalwear. He mastered them all."
"I haven't personally heard any backlash directed at me, but I wasn't surprised it happened," Spire says. "But I was extremely excited and very shocked that I won."
Still, it does warrant acknowledgment: Spire is now the first-ever trans Mr. Dallas Eagle. And when he competes this weekend in the Mr. Texas Leather contest, against seven other hopefuls, he will have the chance of becoming the first-ever trans Mr. Texas Leather as well.
"For someone who is trans, it was a big deal to step into that role," Spire says.
Payne acknowledges that there is a learning curve that has improved understanding of trans issues. "I don't think this would have happened 15 years ago," he admits. "There's been a lot of progress … but it's often baby-steps."
"The biggest issue I had is if people knew me before I transitioned. They're always thinking of me as trans — they can't get past it," he says. "And I know trans people [who hesitate to come to a leather bar] because they worry they will be chased out with pitchforks. And that's not the case."
Indeed, while Spire relishes the symbolic significance of his title, and the evidence of progress for trans people in recent years, he's just happy being part of the leather community.
Spire began his entry into leather and kink about 10 years ago, when he was still living in Chicago and still presenting as female, "but as masculine as I could. I was a baby-trans. But I knew that leather was the path I was interested in following."
There was a gap following his first interest until he moved to Dallas and started working at the Eagle as a bootblack. But it was just last February, while attending the Alamo City Leatherfest in San Antonio, that Spire felt the itch to compete for Mr. Dallas Eagle.
"That pushed me," he says. "The main reason was, I wanted the experience of IML. I've heard about it for years and years, and I really want to be in that class, part of that brotherhood." It was Payne, in fact, who initially encouraged Spire to throw his harness into the ring. (He also encouraged several other contestants to compete, including one who, like Payne, is hearing-impaired.)
Now that he's won his first title, there's more work ahead. Spire hasn't had too much time to worry about Mr. Texas Leather — only two weeks separate the events — which he calls both good and bad.
"I like being in 'contest' mode," he says. What really wins you the title, he says, is the self-confidence and the personality, and bringing those qualities through to the judges.
"I'm not worried about the leather part," Spire smiles.
— Arnold Wayne Jones
Mr. Texas Leather takes place over Friday and Saturday at the Dallas Eagle, 5740 Maple Ave., starting with a meet-and-greet and introduction of judges and contestants Friday (7–10 p.m.), a chili cook-off Saturday (3 p.m.), followed by cocktails (6 p.m.) to contest (7 p.m.) and the victory party (10 p.m.). TexasLeatherProductions.com.
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition January 27, 2017.


text:
Re: UFT magazine
In reply to:
Re: UFT magazine
Margaret DeForeest 4/19/00
Paul B. must have got tired with the flack about web page up loads. He is still answering FTM questions on the news groups. He may also trying to see if he can get out of doing anything with UFT at NGS in May.
Bob Strock


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The Benefits of Having a Double Vanity in Your Bathroom
Home Products & Services
A bathroom sink is an essential element in this frequently traveled room. For those living in a hectic household, a single bathroom sink might not be enough. Time is short when people get ready for work or school in the morning. Discover the benefits of having a double vanity in your bathroom.
Separate Space
Anyone who has tried to wash up while someone else is brushing his or her teeth in the same sink knows the risks involved. Someone is sure to get splashed in the process. Having two sinks gives people their own separate space to get clean and brush their teeth. This can save a lot of time in the morning when people need to rush out the door to start the day. The flexibility of having two sinks can help people save time, a precious commodity in today's busy world.
Additional Storage
If the top of the sink looks overcrowded, it is often because of inadequate storage. While it can be a challenge to fit a double sink in a small bathroom, there are a variety of sizes and models to choose from. This gives people more storage space and clears up the clutter often found lurking around the sink. Adding storage space improves the overall function and appearance of your bathroom.
Make Your Bathroom Look Better
Everyone knows the bathroom is an area most people will see. Visitors ask to use the bathroom when they are at your house. With so much traffic, people want the bathroom to look attractive. A double sink is an impressive addition to your bathroom. It instantly inspires a sense of luxury and makes the bathroom look better. Items you use are conveniently tucked away in the cabinetry rather than laying around on the sink or counter. Plus, buyers often prefer to view homes that have a two sinks in at least one of the bathrooms.
The bathroom is one of the most frequently used spaces in any house. Adding a double sink and vanity makes the bathroom more appealing and operational. For a minimal investment, you will appreciate a maximum return for years to come.


text:
This property has been removed by the agent. It may be sold or temporarily removed from the market
3 bedroom semi-detached house for saleRossiter Drive, Knottingley, Pontefract, WF11
Offers Over £120,000
Property Description
Key features
- Semi Detached
- Three Bedrooms
- Dining Kitchen
- Garage
- Off Road Parking
- Energy Rating D
- Enclosed Rear Garden
- Viewing Recommended
Full description
**SEMI DETACHED HOUSE**THREE BEDROOMS**DINING KITCHEN**ENCLOSED REAR GARDEN**GARAGE**OFF ROAD PARKING** Situated in Knottingley this semi detached house briefly comprises; entrance porch, lounge and dining kitchen. To the first floor are three bedrooms and bathroom. VIEWING IS ESSENTIAL TO FULLY APPRECIATE THE STYLE AND POSITION OF THIS LOVELY FAMILY HOME. RING 7 DAYS A WEEK TO ARRANGE A VIEWING.
Ground Floor Accommodation -
Entrance - UPVC double glazed entrance door gives access into:
Entrance Porch - 1.93 x 1.92 max (6'4" x 6'4" max) - Low level brick walling, uPVC double glazed windows and laminate laid floor. Ceiling light point, uPVC double glazed door and leaded frosted side panel window gives access into:
Lounge - 5.56 x 4.03 max (18'3" x 13'3" max) - Leaded uPVC double glazed bow window to front and double banked radiator. Focal point of the room is the feature adam fire surround with conglomerate marble inset and hearth and coal effect living flame fire. Ceiling light point/fan with ceiling rose. Coving, TV aerial point to wall. Further radiator behind fretwork cabinet. Staircase gives access to first floor. Two wall light points.
Dining Kitchen - 5.55 x 3.04 max (18'3" x 10'0" max) - UPVC double glazed window to rear elevation, double width uPVC sliding double glazed patio doors to rear garden. Range of base and wall units incorporating roll edge laminate work surfacing with tiled splashbacks. Inset one and a half bowl single drainer stainless steel sink unit with period style monoblock mixer tap. Additional filtered water supply. Plumbing and space for a dishwasher. Built in brushed stainless steel four ring gas hob with stainless steel splash guard, brushed stainless steel and glass cooker hood. Bosch double oven to one side. Space for a stacked fridge freezer, coving, two ceiling light points and understairs storage cupboard. Space for a small/medium size dining table. Door gives access to garage.
First Floor Accommodation -
Landing - UPVC double glazed window to side, radiator behind fretwork cabinet and coving. Ceiling light point and loft hatch.
Bedroom One - 4.05 x 3.26 max (13'3" x 10'8" max) - Leaded uPVC double glazed window to front elevation, double banked radiator and coving. Ceiling light point. Range of wardrobes to one wall with sliding doors and twin opening doors to corner unit. Chest of drawers.
Bedroom Two - 3.05 x 3.00 max (10'0" x 9'10" max) - UPVC double glazed window to rear elevation, radiator, coving and ceiling light point.
Bedroom Three - 2.94 x 2.19 max (9'8" x 7'2" max) - Leaded uPVC double glazed window to front elevation and radiator. Bulk head projection/cupboard.
Bathroom - 2.46 x 1.67 max (8'1" x 5'6" max) - Three piece modern suite comprising: dual low flush W.C, pedestal wash hand basin with mono block mixer tap. Shower style bath with Mira over bath electric shower. Majority tiled walls, frosted uPVC double glazed window to rear elevation and contemporary chrome radiator.
Exterior -
Front - Fence and conifer hedge enclosed lawn, bordered with mature shrub planting. Block paved driveway leads to the garage.
Rear - Lawn and bordered garden being principally fence enclosed with block paved patio area. Further flagged circular patio area with additional patio area. Mature shrub planting with flowers.
Garage - 5.17 x 2.71 max (17'0" x 8'11" max) - Aluminium framed door to rear. Timber window to side. Up and over door which has been boarded over as the garage is now used as a utility. Plumbing and space for an automatic washing machine. Space for tumble dryer. Strip light to ceiling.
Electrics - The vendors of the property have provided us with a certificate to confirm that the property had a full re-wire in September 2015. Copies of this information is available to view in the office.
Heating And Appliances - The heating system and any appliances (including Burglar Alarms where fitted) mentioned in this brochure have not been tested by Park Row Properties. If you are interested in purchasing the property we advise that you have all services and appliances tested before entering a legal commitment to purchase.
Making An Offer - In order to comply with the Estate Agents (Undesirable Practises) Order 1991, Park Row Properties are required to verify "the status of any prospective purchaser... This includes the financial standing of that purchaser and his ability to exchange contracts". To allow us to comply with this order and before recommending acceptance of any offers, and subsequently making the property 'SOLD' each prospective purchaser will be required to demonstrate to 'Park Row Properties' that they are financially able to proceed with the purchase of the property.
We provide truly Independent Mortgage Advice. Unlike many companies we are not tied, and more importantly not targeted to any Lender. We have instant on-line access to over 1000 mortgage deals provided by over 100 Lenders ensuring we are unbeatable when identifying and recommending your new mortgage or re-mortgage requirements.
Your home is at risk if you do not keep up repayments on a mortgage or other loan secured on it. Written quotations available on request. Life assurance is usually required.
To arrange a no obligation appointment please contact your local office.
Measurements - These approximate room sizes are only intended as general guidance. You must verify the dimensions carefully before ordering carpets or any built-in furniture.
Opening Hours - CALLS ANSWERED :
Mon, Tues, Wed & Thurs - 9.00am to 8.00pm
Friday - 9.00am to 5.30pm
Saturday - 9.00am to 5.00pm
Sunday - 11.00am to 3.00pm
Viewing - Strictly by appointment with the sole agents.
If there is any point of particular importance to you we will be pleased to provide additional information or to make any further enquiries. We will also confirm that the property remains available. This is particularly important if you are travelling some distance to view the property.
Directions - Leaving our office on Cornmarket in Pontefract, take a left onto the dual carriageway then take the first exit at the roundabout. Proceed along the A645 through Pontefract and into Knottingley. At the petrol garage, turn right and then take the second left onto Rossiter Drive where the property can be identified by our For Sale board.
You may download, store and use the material for your own personal use and research. You may not republish, retransmit, redistribute or otherwise make the material available to any party or make the same available on any website, online service or bulletin board of your own or of any other party or make the same available in hard copy or in any other media without the website owner's express prior written consent. The website owner's copyright must remain on all reproductions of material taken from this website.
More information from this agent
To view this media, please visit the on-line version of this page at www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-58930013.html
Energy Performance Certificates (EPCs)
To view this media, please visit the on-line version of this page at www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-58930013.html
Listing History
Map & Street View
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Market Info
Disclaimer - Property reference 26211090. The information displayed about this property comprises a property advertisement. Rightmove.co.uk makes no warranty as to the accuracy or completeness of the advertisement or any linked or associated information, and Rightmove has no control over the content. This property advertisement does not constitute property particulars. The information is provided and maintained by Park Row Properties, Pontefract and Castleford. Please contact the selling agent or developer directly to obtain any information which may be available under the terms of The Energy Performance of Buildings (Certificates and Inspections) (England and Wales) Regulations 2007 or the Home Report if in relation to a residential property in Scotland.
Map data ©OpenStreetMap contributors.


text:
The Carlsbad Pop Warner Junior Pee Wee Battling Lancer Cheer team, including, above, Francesca Reyes, CJ McFadden, Liza Naylor, Nikki Valenzuela, Gabby Rubbo, Chloe Ryan, Hope Stewart, Tayah Cluett, Madelyn Waumans, Katie Carr, Bella Smith, Jordan Davies, Tiana Schulze, Isabella Melsh, Gretchen Ferguson, Taylor Linden, Chloe LaJoie and head coach Joan Carr, finished in second place in the Novice Small Division at the WESCON Regional Cheer & Dance competition Nov. 22. The Battling Lancer girls qualified for regional competition by taking first place at the Palomar Conference Championships held Nov. 8 and went on to compete in the 2009 Pop Warner National Championships Dec. 7 through Dec. 11 in Orlando, Fla. If you would like to make a tax deductible donation, send a check made payable to CPW to Carlsbad Pop Warner, 2430 Byron Place, Carlsbad, CA 92008. Courtesy photo
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Indie Pop from UK
with Declan McKenna at Rotondes
promoter A-Promotions
Blossoms, this year's biggest guitar-pop shooting stars, are currently top of the album charts in the UK after their eponymous record debuted at No.1, and they've received wide-spread critical acclaim from the likes of MOJO, NME, The Evening Standard, The Independent, plus many more... Blossoms leap from their chart-bound Trojan horse as modernist rock heroes and are scheduled to play a first Luxembourg show.
The A goes GALAXIE for the first time ever with QUEEN + ADAM LAMBERT on Nov 12th!! Tickets are available NOW!
21.04.2017 @ 11:09
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Ellerslie ticket sales disappoint
Despite a major overhaul, Christchurch's Ellerslie Flower Show attracted just 1000 more people this year than last.
Final ticket sale numbers released by the Christchurch City Council showed about 45,500 attended the show this year - 1000 up on last year, when it made a $325,000 loss.
City councillor Glenn Livingstone said he had expected ticket sales to be higher and doubted the show would survive.
"Personally, I don't think it's looking too good," he said. "I think we might be flogging a dead horse."
He said that based on ticket sales, he expected this year's show would have run at a loss.
Show managing director Dave Mee said he had hoped for a more dramatic spike in ticket sales.
"On the one hand, I'm pleased it has gone up but, on the other hand, I'd hoped it'd be more," he said.
Mee had predicted there would be only a small increase in sales before the show began, due in part, he said, to the negativity surrounding last year's event. If the show survived, he hoped next year's ticket sales would reflect the positive feedback from this year.
Mee said that compared to the size of the Christchurch population, the number of tickets sold was high.
In 2009, the show's first year in Christchurch, 75,000 tickets were sold and the show made more than $220,000 profit.
By 2010, ticket sales had dropped to 55,000 and the show lost $88,000.
Mee said every new event experienced a false high in its first year and 75,000 visitors a year later was not sustainable. He said a target of 55,000 visitors would make balancing the show's budget easier.
Mee could not yet comment on whether a loss was likely after this year's show.
Livingstone said he had long felt the event needed "turning on its head".
He proposed that Ellerslie be replaced with a show owned by the city and run in spring rather than late summer.
"I'd like a Hagley Flower Show, or Christchurch Flower Show," he said. "I can't understand why we have a show named after an Auckland suburb."
The details of the show's performance would be discussed during the course of a full review by the council within the next nine weeks.
Mee said part of the process would include the results of visitor feedback. Last year, feedback indicated the show met the expectations of fewer than half those who visited.
Mee said he expected better results this year.
"The anecdotal feedback during the show was so positive, it's hard to imagine too much negative coming out."
The Press


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Jackson State University industrial design major degree requirements
Think about what career is best suited for you, and where you want to study. Request more information now.
Think about what career is best suited for you, and where you want to study. Request more information now.
Think about what career is best suited for you, and where you want to study. Request more information now.
Find info concerning Jackson State University industrial design major degree requirements, and registering for elective lectures. Which college degrees give you the best chances of finding employment after graduation? Accredited engineering programs, combined with a brief internship or prior work-experience, offer a great return on your engineering education. Concentrating on Jackson State University industrial design major degree requirements, for example, you may gain an advantage in job recruiting on-campus. Check with the architectural engineering department for course registration deadlines, and architectural design degree program requirements. Please use the form above to request admissions info for Jackson State University.
Architects spend much of their time in offices, where they develop plans, meet with prospective clients, and consult with engineers and other architects. They also visit construction sites to prepare initial drawings and review the progress of projects to ensure that clients are satisfied. About 1 in 5 architects were self-employed as of 2017, and the average salary for architects was $76,100 annually.
There are typically three main steps to becoming a licensed architect: completing a professional degree in architecture, gaining relevant experience through a paid internship, and passing the Architect Registration Examination. A typical bachelor's degree program includes courses in architectural history, building design using computer-aided design and drafting software (CADD), structural engineering, construction methods, and professional practices. The design studio is a central component of most architectural programs, where students apply the skills and concepts learned in the classroom to create drawings and three-dimensional models of their work. Beyond major requirements within the architectural engineering department, you may consider Ohio Christian University surveying as an adjunct to your primary course of study.
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text:
Senior Actuarial Consultant
- Recruiter
- Oliver James Associates (Actuary)
- Location
- City of London
- Salary
- £80000 - £110000 per annum + package
- Posted
- 16 May 2017
- Closes
- 15 Jun 2017
- Ref
- Contact
- Helen Kinloch
- Job Function
- Actuary, Experienced, Pensions Actuary, Qualified
- Contract Type
- Permanent
A long standing client of mine, a boutique consultancy in the heart of the City, is home to a highly successful pensions practice, comprised of some of the most talented actuaries in the market.
Due to a phase of sustained growth and new business wins, the practice is seeking to appoint a Senior Consultant to play a truly integral role.
As part of this, you will lead on core work and manage a team. This is a truly attractive opportunity with unrivaled career progression on offer. This role offers excellent prospects for a rewarding career with some great client and project opportunities.
You will have 3 to 6 years' post qualification experience and be fully conversant with all technical aspects of UK pensions work.
Generous package on offer.
For a discreet conversation in relation this opportunity, and indeed for an oversight of the current actuarial market, please do contact me directly.
Helen Kinloch
Senior Consultant | Pensions Actuarial & Investment Consultancy
firstname.lastname@example.com | 02038619173


text:
1175 Craig Dr, Westland 48186
See more homes for sale in Westland, MI
This property has been Sold!
05/22/2017 at $225,000
Beautiful home, seller hate to leave. This home has so much to offer, you won't be disappointed. The home offers 4 bedrooms, 2.5 baths including a master bath. Master bedroom offers a walk in closet and vaulted ceilings. Sellers had a few of the extras installed when they built: granite counter top in the kitchen, island in the kitchen, doorwall in the great room that leads to a 2 story deck. Finished lower level with doorwall out to a large patio and the home backs up the preserves. You can watch the deer run by while you are enjoying your coffee on your new deck. Huge shed in the back for your gardening tools, so your 2 car attached garage can be clear for your vehicles. Seller is also offering a home warranty. There is so much more, don't miss out. all m&d estimated. Agent must be present at all showings seller will remove pool at buyers request
Property Information
- Subdivision
- Wildwood Manor Sub
- Total Finished SqFt
- 3,127
- Lower Finished SqFt
- 1,000
- Above Grade SqFt
- 2,127
- Garage
- 2.0
- Garage Desc.
- Attached, Electricity
- Water
- Municipal Water
- Sewer
- Sewer at Street
- Year Built
- 2000
- Architecture
- 2 Story
- Home Style
- Raised Ranch
- Taxes
- $3,037
- Summer Taxes
- $2,448
- Winter Taxes
- $589
Rooms and Land
- MasterBedroom
- 15.00X12.00 2nd Floor
- Bedroom2
- 12.00X10.00 2nd Floor
- Bedroom3
- 11.00X10.00 2nd Floor
- Bedroom4
- 10.00X10.00 Lower Floor
- Bath
- 0X0 2nd Floor
- Bath2
- 0X0 2nd Floor
- Lavatory2
- 0X0 Lower Floor
- Dining
- 9.00X9.00 2nd Floor
- Family
- 22.00X14.00 Lower Floor
- GreatRoom
- 17.00X15.00 2nd Floor
- Kitchen
- 13.00X10.00 2nd Floor
- Basement
- Finished, Walkout Access
- Cooling
- Ceiling Fans 2+, Central Air
- Heating
- Forced Air, Natural Gas
- Acreage
- 0.17
- Lot Dimensions
- Appliances
- Dishwasher, Disposal, Refrigerator, Stove
- Fireplace Desc.
- Gas, Great Room
- Interior Features
- Cable Available, High Spd Internet Avail
- Exterior Materials
- Brick, Vinyl
- Exterior Features
- Fenced, Pool - Above Ground
Mortgage Calculator
Listing Broker
Listing Courtesy of Remerica Integrity Ii
Office Address 41000 Seven Mile Ste 105
Listings last updated: . Some properties that appear for sale on this web site may subsequently have been sold and may no longer be available.
Our Michigan real estate agents can answer all of your questions about 1175 Craig Dr, Westland MI 48186. Real Estate One, Max Broock Realtors, and J&J Realtors are part of the Real Estate One Family of Companies and dominate the Westland, Michigan real estate market. To sell or buy a home in Westland, Michigan, contact our real estate agents as we know the Westland, Michigan real estate market better than anyone with over 100 years of experience in Westland, Michigan real estate for sale.
The data relating to real estate for sale on this web site appears in part from the IDX programs of our Multiple Listing Services. Real Estate listings held by brokerage firms other than Real Estate One includes the name and address of the listing broker where available.
IDX information is provided exclusively for consumers personal, non-commercial use and may not be used for any purpose other than to identify prospective properties consumers may be interested in purchasing.
IDX provided courtesy of Realcomp II Ltd. via Real Estate One and Realcomp II Ltd, © 2017 Realcomp II Ltd. Shareholders


text:
In this guide we'll move an existing Discourse instance on Linode to a new Discourse instance on Digital Ocean, but of course these steps will work on any other cloud providers that support Docker.
If you are using the same domain name and moving servers, you should set the TTL (time to live) on your DNS entry to a very low value in advance of the change. If you are using different domain names, this won't matter.
Only admins can perform backups, so sign in as an account with admin access on your existing Discourse instance on Linode.
Ideally, both the new and old Discourses SHOULD BE ON THE EXACT SAME VERSION to ensure proper backup/export. So the first thing we'll do is update our existing Discourse instance on Linode to the absolute latest version.
What you definitely want to avoid is restoring a newer backup on an older version. That won't work.
Visit /admin/upgrade to upgrade both instances. After successfully upgrading, you should see You're up to date!
Visit /admin/backups and click Backup button.
You will be prompted for confirmation, press Yes. You will see the log of backup processing. Once processing is finished, switch back to Backups tab.
Now you will see the newly created backup file. Click Download button and save the file, we will need it later for restoration on the new server.
Before you switch over to the new server, review your app.yml for any optional settings such as CDN, installed plugins, and HTTPS support between the two Discourse instances (if any of that is configured). It is OK to configure this later after the migration as well.
Sign up and login on your new Discourse instance at Digital Ocean.
Under site settings search for restore:
Enable the allow_restore setting.
Browse to /admin/backups and click Upload button, select the backup file you downloaded previously from your existing Discourse instance (file name ends with .tar.gz):
Once the file gets uploaded it will be listed as shown below, click Restore button:
Press Yes when prompted for confirmation. You will see restore process log, it may take some time but it's automagically importing all your existing Discourse instance (Linode server) data.
Once the Restore process finishes, you will be logged out.
If you are logging in to a backup that was taken with HTTPS, the site setting "force https" will be enabled. You either need to turn that off via the Rails console, or ensure that your restore is also properly running under HTTPS.
Once the restore process finishes, all the data from your previous Discourse instance on Linode server will be imported in your new Discourse instance on Digital Ocean, sign in with your Admin account and you are good to go!
Don't forget to enable any optional configuration settings that require editing the app.yml and rebuilding, such as CDN, plugins, and HTTPS support.
Thanks for the tutorials.
Let's say if the backup file is huge (GB++), how would i upload it? Is there any folder so i can just wget it from the old server and it will appear there in the backup section of the new server?
Don't use wget. The file shouldn't be accessible via the webserver. Use rsync over ssh:
rsync --partial --progress --rsh=ssh user@host:remote_source local_destination
Just move the backup file to /shared inside the container, then you can grab it from /var/docker/shared via rsync. Also, source and destination are flexible, e.g. source can be local and destination can be remote.
Note that the backup upload is resumable
After about 10 minutes I received an email from system that my restore was successful but my screen is still showing this:
If I try to visit the home page in another tab I am logged out but the restore page still shows me as logged in. Is this normal? Just want to make sure I can exit the restore page safely.
Yes, that is normal. It's safe to exit restore page.
Is it possible to restore the backup via command line?
Having to wait for the DNS to propagate means that some people will see an empty(/default) discourse install when going to the site.
If we could restore via command line the change-over would go smoother.
How does that work? I am trying to upload my backup, and the progress bar always hangs between 11% and 14%, its just a 20MB file. I am using a multi container with a nginx proxy, is there a chance that my OS nginx to mess with my upload?
edit: Solved increasing the "client_max_body_size" configuration in my external OS nginx. The upload continued by itself, as I didn't close the window. My browser console was showing a lot of "413 (Request Entity Too Large)" before I changed this configuration.
Hello guys,
There is something I am missing.I am currently hosting a discourse forum on Digital Ocean for my company, but IT people want to take ownership of the forum and install/migrate it on internal servers. What is the best way to do this?
What will happen with my profile, for example? Will I remain an administrator?The configuration file app.yml must be the same for old and new forum?
I've followed those 5 steps above to move my discourse between 2 Ubuntu VM's without any problems.
Yes, you will still be an administrator.
No, they don't have to be the same (I initially moved mine without SSL until I could re-point the DNS).
Using the official backup/restore method exposed here, are uploads backed up as well? E.g. files, images and documents that are attached to the posts.
Depends which option you select when you start a manual backup:
Files are included in automated / scheduled backups as default.
This is a very valid feature request.
Loosely related: It'd be great if instead of having to first locally download and then upload a backup file, you could just give Discourse a URL of the backup file. Files on Amazon S3 can be set to have a complete URL. This would make migrations of large backups significantly easier.
This is already possible.
cd /var/www/discourse
RAILS_DB=default RAILS_ENV=production bundle exec rails c
opts = {
filename: "whateveryourforumiscalled-2016-04-12-153600.tar.gz",
publish_to_message_bus: true
SiteSetting.allow_restore = true
BackupRestore.restore!(Discourse.system_user.id, opts)
This was also answered yesterday by @zogstrip in this thread:
I've been told you don't need the same versions - on the new server install the latest version then simply import your older backup
Is this confirmed?
I have a very old version of Discourse running on an old Heroku stack. Upgrading to the latest version is not an option (not able to push code changes to this Heroku app to its stack being EOL'd), so I need to generate the backup from this old version.
You can restore a backup from an older version of Discourse into a newer version, and it should, in general, work fine -- part of the restore process is to run the database migrations to bring the schema in line with the current structure, after the database dump itself is loaded. This may, of course, significantly increase the time required to perform the restore, especially on a large, very out-of-date DB.
There is, however, a certain amount of "caveat restorer" involved here, because restoring from arbitrary old versions of Discourse to current master isn't something that is exhaustively tested. So, you would be well served by doing a test restore onto a scratch site first, and make sure it's doing the right things, before betting your live site.
Sounds good, thanks!
The DB in question is relatively small, but the Discourse version is ~18 months old. Only one way to find out!
In our experience this works pretty well, we haven't seen any major issues with any version > 1.1 or so.
What is not clear to in this how-to is how I configure the new discourse instance (to which I am moving). Maybe I am being over cautious, but my intention was to run the new instance under a different subdomain first (test.mydomain.com) and once I see that it's working, I would point the DNS to the new instance using forum.mydomain.com. What does this imply for the setup of the new instance? In particular, what DISCOURSE_HOSTNAME do I set in the app.yml? Or differently put: what happens if I set DISCOURSE_HOSTNAME: 'forum.mydomain.com' even though the container is (also) receiving requests for forum.mydomain.com?
DISCOURSE_HOSTNAME: 'forum.mydomain.com'


text:
Tattoo ideas #2Feb. 14th, 2012 04:27 pm
I had a dream the other day that i got a tattoo, it was a strange but rather awesome one. It had a planet in the middle and a black ring encircling it widely with a big black dot on one point of the ring. Like an atom. It was 3/4 on my chest and 1/4 on my neck. So it was rather big, but it looked rather kool. Though i remember in my dream i complained that it was a little too big. And it made me want to get another tattoo :)
Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.


text:
First Place for Startup Weekend Malaysian Global Innovation and Creativity Centre(MaGIC)
"Where to eat?"
That was the question that we wanted to solve. In 54 hours, we came up with a solution and a viable business model. Which led us to winning that weekend.
Presenting the Start-up to US Secretary of State, John Kerry
"Even if his start-up fails, his energy will lead him to something else".
– John Kerry at YSEALI's ASEAN StartUp Weekend.
Only 3 out of 70+ teams were chosen to present to John Kerry when he visited Malaysia for the YSEALI Startup weekend. After the presentation, he left a few comments, one of which has motivated me to every day in everything I do.
Top 10 Malaysian Startups to Look Out for in 2016
Featured on Vulcan Post , one of Malaysia's main source of startup news, as the Top 10 Malaysian startups to look forward to in 2016. Unfortunately, four months later, our team decided to move on to greater things.


text:
Presented by
At a Glance Schedule | Virtual Goods Schedule | Game, Toy and Tech Schedule
Geoff Cook
Geoff is now the CEO of his third multi-million dollar Internet enterprise, all grown from zero traffic and zero revenue to significant market-leading properties.
In 1997, at age 19, Geoff founded EssayEdge.com and ResumeEdge.com from a Harvard dorm room. Each property dominated their respective niches: admissions essay and resume writing help. He then sold his companies to The Thomson Corporation where he led the Consumer Market Group for a Thomson Learning division, departing Thomson in 2005. Geoff has been featured in Wired, Rolling Stone, ABC News, CNBC, and USA Today.
In 2005, Geoff became the CEO of myYearbook, joining forces with his siblings. Geoff was instrumental in raising $20+ million in angel financing, venture capital, and venture debt to build the young company into the largest US social media site.
Geoff has an A.B. in Economics from Harvard University and lives in New Jersey with his wife Kerri and daughter Madeline
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11/14/2002 (3:58 am) by admin
just bought a 19" flatscreen mitsubishi montior and everything works fine except somtimes when i boot up i get strange colors around the sides of the screen.
i thought this might have somthing to do with magnetic interference but my speakers are a fair way away from the screen. could anything else generate a magnetic field?
is my monitor dodgy or is there something else? - i am running winxp but i am 99% sure this is not software related at all
i can usually get rid of the colours by degaussing the screen (what exactly does this do by the way?) or turning off the monitor and then turning it back on
please help!
11/14/2002 (7:50 pm) by John Edward Renfro Jr.
You shouldnt have to degaus every time you start the computer. There is somthing wrong with the monitor. Take it back stat.
11/15/2002 (2:22 pm) by admin
I would return that monitor and buy a better brand, mitsubishi isn't known for high quality monitors. Spend a little more money and you won't have the hassles.
11/16/2002 (12:27 pm) by admin
thx for the responses. i will take my monitor back and see if i can get my money back... if not at least they will fix it as it is still under warranty.
and just for interests sake - does ANYONE know what degaussing the screen does?
thx again