That's pretty much what this evening boils down to: offer up something of value or suffer the resultant property damage for failing to meet the original demand. Of course, there are the costumes and the parties and community events, but it comes down to the fact that, for this night, we all can be real bastards and raise hell and thoroughly enjoy it. Of course, come Nov. 1, we're all into the saints and holiday cheer and two months of family togetherness and unending joy, warmth and love, whether we want it or not. Viewed in this paradigm, Halloween makes real sense: Kind of like Mardi Gras at the other end of the calendar.
I added this bit of 1929 Disney Silly Symphony nostalgia for those old enough to remember it. This was 83 years ago, before cartoons had gone color and right after they had added sound (much easier to do with animation than with live action, since no really accurate lip syncing was involved).
The biggest Halloween party on the planet is held in West Hollywood, of course. We don't attend because; 1) neither of us is very good with huge crowds; 2) no matter what I might come up with for a costume, there will be someone there who did it bigger and better and; 3) parking, parking, parking: getting in and out is almost as intense as the gathering itself. So we'll be sitting at home this evening, handing out candy. I've got a couple scary movies recorded on the DVR.
I'm Still waiting on the Pasadena City College job search to progress. They're still reviewing applications, so I haven't been eliminated yet. In a few days I will e-mail Karen in the HR department once again and see what's happening. Meanwhile, I peruse the job posting sites, but it seems like everyone's looking for web designers (with two to three years experience, of course, so I never get called on these jobs).
One bright spot: an old friend of mine, whom I've been looking for on and off since I got back to L.A., finally showed up on Facebook. I sent her a friend request and we are now in contact. Talk about patience and perseverance. After nearly 30 years, I wonder what meeting again will be like.
On the home front: More toilet woes. Longtime readers of this blog will recall the saga of the sock in the upstairs toilet. Now the facilities downstairs have decided they need attention, as well.
The downstairs toilet has been slowly leaking — just dribbles — for a couple months. This would not be a bad thing, except the previous owners of this place put berber carpeting in the bathroom. So the carpet and the padding underneath have slowly been soaking up the product of this small leak and, a week or so ago, bloomed into a funky, moldy smell.
We decided to turn the water off in the toilet, and suddenly the carpet was turning all manner of colors (it started ivory-white). We put a fan in the room to try and dry things out, but to no avail. Finally, I pulled up the carpet and padding to discover the original 1980s linoleum flooring.
By no means a showstopper, the flooring will at least keep us from having to lay new flooring immediately. It will be serviceable until we know what my long-term employment plans will be. Since we're planning on removing the existing sink and cabinets and going with a pedestal sink, we'd have to do that demolition before replacing the floor, which would mean doing the whole remodel, since doing one without the other makes no sense.
Good God, this is fascinating stuff.
So I'm still in a holding pattern. I really have to concentrate on not going stir-crazy or champing at the bit. As Fritz Perls said, "Don't push the river; it flows by itself." He also referred to the future as a "fertile void" where all possibilities reside. Gotta be flowing with the river in order to snatch up the good stuff as it flows from the future into the present, because there's only the moment of now to retrieve it.
And we like the good stuff. Yes, we do.
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