ok, so i haven't done this before, but this is keeps me making current entries at the very least:
(from the Friday Five)
1. Where do you currently work?
at a reprographics company.

2. How many other jobs have you had and where?
yikes. a dozen or more, probably. off the top of my head, jobs that provided paychecks started with Taco Time when i was in high school, then a photography company, the college library while i was in college, the Wiz records in dc, common concerns bookstore in dc, a buyer at Tower Records in scenic Rockville MD, uhm, shipping & reciveing at Olssons Books in dc, then the color graphic design extraveganza began on the graveyard shift at a Kinko's in Eugene. From there it was a Kinko's in Seattle, another indie repro house as a color specialist, then XBS, Microsoft, Eddie Bauer, and then bringing me current to yet another indie repro company where i make graphic designer's junk look good.

3. What do you like best about your job?
location, location, location. also the limited autonomy. and an office with a door to the outside and a door between me and the rest of the building. oh, and not wearing an apron. that rules.

4. What do you like least about your job?
Ironically, the repitition. I get tired of asking people for fonts and explaining proportion and percentages, links and cmyk.

5. What is your dream job?
ultimately, photographer for National Geographic magazine, though i'd settle for any magazine.
smaller scale: personal chef is looking really good right now.

What a weird week it's been. Infinitely tired every day. At the same time, it looks like i will be at least trying to start a band again. Or, better said, I will be part of starting a band again, as i'm really just the...what? The person who brought others together to do this. Which means I want to, right? The really, really weird thing that is keeping me a bit off balance is that literally, the day i bring people together to start a band they identify a killer in Mia's case. It's true that I'm not in the inner circle of that entire crowd - but I was sort of in the circle next to that circle (same roomates, played gigs with them, hung out and drank at all the same places, and even turned down romantic advances from a certain member (ahem), etc, etc) and it hit me harder than I ever expected it to, and I didn't partake in any of the coattail-grabbing because, well, I thought it was in poor taste. But now, after ignoring the one thing that has always brought meaning to my life (that being punk rock, and you may think that's weak and sad, but you don't know what you're talking about) largely because of all the bullshit that started happening when everyone either decided that they immediately had to own punk rock; or, more tragically, they abandoned it because suddenly our trustworthy, hardworking, insular little dreamworld ((imagine a dreamworld where you survive travelling in a van on $5 a day and loving it)) had been breached - I'm ready to go back to being in a band. It just seems so strange that the two things happen at the same time. If I believed in fate, I'd figure something is up. But I don't, really, especially in the case of a band, and this is clearly not gonna be a punk rock band, so it won't be all I want - but maybe it'll be close.

Some things you just don't expect to happen after a certain point: you don't expect the Berlin Wall to fall after 50 years, you don't expect Nelson Mandela to be released (much less become President of South Africa) after 25 years, and you (or I) don't expect Mia Zapata's murderer to be tracked down by DNA evidence 10 years after the fact.
Seriously. I can't approach the sort of emotion I'm sure some of my old housemates and *friends* in the punk rock scene are feeling at the moment, but I can tell you that it hit me like a ton of bricks, because, like most people, I had accepted that we just weren't ever going to know who did this spectacularily evil thing. Then you see the mug shot up on screen and in print and you go: holy shit, there is a guy who, yeah, could have taken one of the smartest, strongest women voices of our generation out. It's chilling. Last night I was hanging out with some women, formulating a plan for a band, and while two of us were of that generation and that era of knowing (or knowing of) the Gits, one wasn't. And it was hard...so hard to communicate the urgency that this was a big, big BIG deal. That Mia's murder was one of those things that makes me shake my head in disgust when people lament the loss of Kurt Cobain. Fuck that Cobain shit. We lost a shining, active, compassionate, powerful woman because some violent predator had an itch. Until the day I found out Mia died, I walked through my life on streets around the world without fear, confident I could take care of myself, that I was big, strong and tough. That I wasn't some cutesy little girl target. It couldn't happen to women like Mia or me. I was wrong. And seeing a picture of the guy who apparently did it...makes me realize how many guys are out there.
It's better knowing, but it doesn't change the reality of the world I live in. I don't get back that confidence I had. Neither does anyone else.
But they caught him, in what I would consider to be the only constructive use of that sort of information networking.