First Love

Stuart Stein aka my first boyfriend and still one of my silent heros


Review Summary http://nytimes.com retrieved March 20, 2008.

Baltimore artist Dan Keplinger is the focus of this documentary short which first appeared on HBO. In 1985, when Keplinger was 12 years old, filmmakers Susan Hadary and Bill Whiteford began recording his life and periodically checked in on him over the next 13 years. Afflicted from birth with cerebral palsy, Keplinger was six years old when his parents divorced; his father wanted his son institutionalized, but his mother, Linda Ritter, insisted on raising him to lead as normal a life as possible. At 12, Keplinger was sent to a school for youngsters with disabilities but two years later, after a close friend died, he and his mother decided that a mainstream education was best for him. He had already begun painting by using a brush attached to a head brace. Laura Moore, a young student, befriended him and helped to tutor him, and his work began to appear in shows. During his senior year in high school, he moved into his own apartment, determined to be as independent as possible. Keplinger was accepted into the art program at Towson State University, outside of Baltimore. There, he met some resistance from several faculty members in the art department,

but Stuart Stein, an artist who was also a teacher at the university, took Keplinger under his wing, and Keplinger graduated, even managing to complete his sculpture requirement with the help of a computer. King Gimp won the Academy Award for Best Documentary Short Subject at the ceremony honoring 1999 releases. ~ Tom Wiener, All Movie Guide


Hi, I do not know exactly, what possessed me to check in on you on Google today, but I did. I learned of the "Gimp" movie and story just now. I don't know why there are so many things about you I fail to keep up with but I do know this- You are simply amazing. Way back then when we were so young, the arguments we had when I said I wanted to grow up and touch everyone I met. You would tell me how impossible and naive I was. Now, so many years later I learn, you are the one, who touches everyone with your divine and deep, deep heart. I am beyond words but not tears, love- S

What is The Point?

I miss this place, but yes the Statistics and the rest of life is keeping me busy doing things I'd rather not, but the material flows nonetheless

OlD decrepit man, well past 85 hobbles in through my shop door. The quiet afternoon sun pours through the store front window. A familiar, uncomfortable sound, high pitched and whining reaches me at the other end of the room. A sound that makes me want to cover my own ears, to escape its hideousness, the sound of hearing aids being run under water. The microphone feedback when the speaker is too close or filled with some sort of static electricity maybe.
Saying nothing, I watch as he limps through the motions, readjusting his cane in order to hang his hat and coat on the peg on the wall.
I nod to indicate hello, and point to the chair where he may sit.
I cape him and grab a clean comb.
I ask,"doesn't that ringing hurt your ears" incredulously.
Old man looks and me and replies, "ARE THEY RINGING?"
A smile spreads across my face.
Thankful for the muse in my daily routine.

Dog Tales

Worse than the cat lady is the sad little woman who tells you stories about her pesky little dog; good thing I don't do that, right.
A few months back, Kramer the infamous R.A.T. terrier, began feelin mighty oatey. We were in the office supply store.
Kramer eyes every customer who passes us in the aisles to make sure I am safe; his job 'To protect and to eat'. He spies uniformed, raging hormone man; 'To serve and protect'. Kramer puffs up as he stares the manly man down, then lifts his leg, to let him know who's boss.
I caught him in the nick of time and snatched him into reality, then put him in my car to wait obediently while I finished shopping.
Unbelievable the adolescent hormone thing of the 18 month old un-neutered male dog.
I was shocked by this new indoor behavior, he began lifting his leg in the most inappropriate of places, like my shop.
Yes, he goes to work with me nearly every day. I've taught him a few manners, to stop licking people incessantly and jumping into their laps when they sit in the styling chair.
But now, he seemed to have forgotten a few ground rules- HE LIFTED HIS LITTLE LEG ON ONE OF MY WAITING CUSTOMERS!
Sealed his un-neutered fate that day, I kid you not.
I scheduled him to be fixed. funny term, fixed, altered, neutered, and I told him too.
Tomorrow, you are getting your nuts cut off buddy, this testes thing is over for you.
The surgery went well, two days later he thanked me, really. He said he felt much better now and he didn't feel driven by his raging hormones anymore.
He hasn't lifted his leg inappropriately since.
But this was kind of funny.
Yesterday I took him for his two week follow up at the Vet. . .
We walked through the door.
He looked up at me and asked, "Are they going to sew them back on now"?

Curs -ed Pukany's

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And the beat goes on This from solely trying to communicate my pain tonight.

Saddist Gods and blessed Goddess

I am not even going to tell you the story of the past few days and the computer Techno stresses, it wouldn't change a thing. Glimpses of tyrannical, twisted , sadistic computer gods somewhere in the techno verse, laughing as they take over my ethernet communications, making my mouse suffer and lead me into a tailspin.
First the post to my online discussion board of my online university statistics course, the one I had sweat over all day. I hit the submit button and was bounced off the website and landed in my homepage browser. Second attempt, I got wise and hit save, to be safe, just in case. The saved file however seems to not exist.
The Pukaneys laugh, rolling on the floor, the dirt floor, laughing.
Yesterday, the company QuickBooks , which I back up to an external hard drive now, after the computer crashes and viruses, refused to open. Who'd a thought, the Pukaneys could cause the external hard drive to become "DAMAGED"?
Realizing it was having a problem, the Ex that is, on Friday which caused me to be four hours late to work, yes four, I backed up the files I was finally able to retrieve after plugging and un-plugging old Ex a thousand times, I backed up the books to my internal hard drive.
An hour one way trip to the computer store with free device in hand, came with the new computer we had to buy after the last hard drive brain freeze. I didn't know how to work the tiny flash drive. It is the shape and size of a credit card. "Just plug this piece into your USB port" kid techie tells me.
"If your files are open you can back them up to it, plenty of room."
Yeah, right.
The computer this morning went into a nose dive, ctrl, alt, delete, to no avail.
Cant find your Ex drive, your other flash back up was incomplete, Windows is going CODE BLUE.
I frantically plug in and out the Ex drive cord. To no avail.
But there is the sacred internal back up.
I see it, all green and man running, and click.
To no avail.
Can't retrieve this. . . message over and over again.
We have bills to enter, to pay. I have so many other things to do this day, GOD PLEASE! I pray.
To no avail.
I begin to shake,to panic, and I actually cry.
The Pukanys roll with laughter, the thunder thunders, the rain falls.
I call the QB company.
They send an SOS to their online service for me.
The Goddess calls me.
I give her my power, I surrender.
She takes control and finds my back-up.
She creates files in my hard drive, she creates copies. She is in New Delhi, India.
I breathe.
The sun comes out, the Pukanys have had their fun.
While normally terse with people who do not speak the same language as me when dealing with sensitive issues such as my credit cards and company files, with Aarna, I am meek and respectful.
"Can you stay with me on my computer forever?" I beg her
"No, I cannot. After I help you with your problem, we must disconnect."
"Please, I love you. I do not have much money, but I have two very handsome and smart sons. You could have your pick, Please don't leave me."
The Goddess laughs and says thank you.

Clarification

Blogger Michelle O'Neil said...

Never mean to humble you Stacy.

You should have seen my in my lieder-hosen when I was a beer wench at Busch Gardens. Now that's humbling.


Now, I just want to clarify something, it is not bad to be humble. I simply meant humbled in a good way. I deduced, (did I make that up? Is that a statistics term?) If I said I wouldn't have created such ugly things if I was creating my reality and universe, I must be implying that the creator or creators, whatever truths may be, did a worse job than I would do. And Michelle reminds me, that I may not have created mice with very long tails and ugly liederhosen for middle aged women, . . on purpose. But wait, maybe she is saying the creator made mistakes.
Now, I am curious as to the implications of the responses to the comments in my make believe universe to my pretty lame post altogether.
Attempting to organize my head by moving office furniture around, but its Sunday and I am terribly in need of a good long nap. My outside world is a reflection of my inside world. In need of better organization, battling the need of a great nap. And the winner is zzzzzz....

5 Weeks Update

1) I found my deck in the upstairs bedroom.(where i store all of my midwifery stuff)

2) Mercury is no longer doing a retrograde dance in Mars, as of yesterday- hooray

3) FOUND THIS in my statistics text book this morning in an article about math fear, "you might be a" type point.

4)Last night Tate and me were practicing singing gospel songs in harmony.(its a new game we like to play) I went into a long explanation of the essence and structure of harmonizing, as I understood it, and then. . . we turned on the tv to see Paul Simon and the harmonizing group from Africa,(I apologize for not knowing their name) performing.

The Universe works in such synchronistic and mysterious ways, sometimes I wonder, am I dreaming? All the time? Or is this a Universe I created in my mind?
Maybe.
But then there is George Bush and I would never have created an arrogant monster like that in my universe.
I wouldn't have created disease, poverty, hatred, ignorance, STATISTICS, ticks, mice with very long tails (if you get my drift), war, roaches, mosquitoes as well as a few other things, like those high waisted shorts women wear in the summer, with flats, that make them look like Pinocchio or some middle aged lieder-hosen wearer with boobs. gross.