Bless Da Webz and All Who Sail on her.

Thank you Irish Examiner for this photo of a cillini

I was commenting on a friend's FB page, you know how that is. The chat was about all those nameless unbaptized babies buried in remote, separate burial plots all over Ireland. Tossed out like so much rubbish. There are thousands and thousands of such little babies. Read all about it here.

Can you imagine the grief of the parents? The RC church again and its superstitions and exclusions. When anyone says "Oh, it was the times" I always respond with "where was human compassion and charity - or are they just recent evolutionary traits in the human race?"

So well. I mentioned a cillini - a burial plot (if you could call it that) on an island off West Cork, where the unbaptized babies were. A large walled area without a stone or a cross or a sign. Rumour had it there were hundreds of such babies, stillborn, preemies etc. interred there. And some said those born severely handicapped were quietly done away with too. A haunted place for us children who explored it time and time again. These wee innocents were consigned to Limbo for all eternity, punished forever for something they had nothing to do with. Never to be seen by their parents even in the next world, whether heaven or hell. The cruelty of it all still has the power to take my breath away.

One of her other friends, not a friend of mine, came on board in the comments and asked me how he, a life long aficionado and visitor to Baltimore and Sherkin, had never known about this paricular cillini so I drew him a little map showing (roughly) where it was.

Then we got into this lively private conversation about Sherkin and our memories and the old people there and a small boat I would surreptitiously "borrow" and he in his turn did the same thing and the cranky lightkeeper who would chase us away from the lighthouse as he liked to go skinny dipping in Horseshoe Bay, and did I know about the island in WW2. It turns out he's over 80 and still climbing mountains. His age explains how our memories alight around the same people and places (and oh, what characters!) but he was that much older than me that our paths didn't intersect back then.

This webz business, great, yah?

And educational, if you have the fortitude and interest to click on all the links above.

The winter of my discontent.

Intermittent telephone and internet problems which Bob, the Bell repairman, has tried to fix a few times now. He's back again today. He's like an old friend.

How does he remain cheerful in the face of a biting blizzard of ice pellets hitting his face. Outside, wearing mitts as he splices narrow gauge wires and bits of plastic as I hobble around indoors, still in pyjamas and robe.

I feel proud I managed to offload and then reload the dishwasher. Everything is a remarkable effort in the jabs of pain crawling up and down my spine. Stoic I am not. My pain threshold is very low. I learned that in childbirth.

I do a tally in my fingers. My BFF dying so horribly, leaving me bottled up with grief and heartbreak.

My chimney fire, still unresolved, still waiting for parts for the chimney and for the weather to stabilize to let the repair guys on the roof.

Even though I don't heat most of my rooms, my electricity bills are high enough to leave me a little breathless each time they pop into my email for normally the wood stove heats the house.

I try and balance all this off with the positives, a series of workshops I'll be conducting on memoir writing with a publish at the end of it, my new musical drama back on track (we think – casting out here on the Edge is always a challenge) and private software training sessions. And knitting. And reading. And writing.

And somehow, it's not enough.

You can call me a whinebag.

I won't mind.

In fact, you can join me.

Perennially cheerful doesn't cut it today.

Nostalgique

My front garden, at sunset

Well, it isn't really a word used by us English speakers, is it? But I do like the sound of it.

I think back to the days in Ontario when I knew a few female alcoholics and when they introduced themselves thusly: "Je suis un alcoolique", I would think to myself: that sounds so much more fun, so much more glamorous, so much more carefree than "alcoholic".

A couple of web friends have kicked the bucket. One out of Limerick who died in January (of a brief but unremitting cancer) but my FB feed has a mind/agenda of its own. Posts normally at the top of my lists get subsumed by the bots at whim to the nether regions. This is what happened to my friend John's obit news. He was one of Ireland's foremost atheists, a never ending battler for women's rights, a wit, an artist of some renown and a scholar and a gentleman. We'd had some pleasant exchanges over the years. Some Irishmen just make me proud. He was one of them.

Mike I'd followed for many years due to his online magazine, his documentaries and a radio show. He ruminated on many topics - ranging from oil as a finite resource and the underlying conspiracies of corporate interests in political affairs. I had been an admirer of his for about 13 years and befriended him in his transition to FB. Since he has died - by his own hand - some troubling facts have come to light in regard to his declared sobriety (he wasn't), a sexual harassment charge, and his extreme paranoia resulting in a self-inflicted gunshot wound when he'd wrapped up his last radio show. So my opinion of Mike, and now his political slants, have taken a jolt.

Sometimes I do wax nostalgic for simpler times. But were they ever simple? I look at the pictures of Old Cork, a new group on FB that has brought such richness of historical experience to my home city via these thousands of old photos and movies. Many now vanished train stations and trams, unsullied strands, majestic ballrooms, shoppers in hooped skirts, all looking innocent and almost childlike. But I also remember the slums of Cork, now thankfully no more, where lonely old women ate meagre food on tin plates with the damp running down the walls. As "Children of Mary" in secondary school, we would have to visit these old people in their tenement rooms and bring food and clothing to them.

At times like these, I need to step out of Nostalgique, a fine place to visit for sure, and pour myself a stiff cup of reality laced with a hit of cynicism.

Back to normal, in other words.

Hallelujah!

Thank you for all your kind comments and personal emails. Wow, I am so lucky to live in Blogland!

I was at a meeting a week or so ago, where the topic of anger came up. Anger, a fairly useless emotion, is just the mirror side of depression. Often when someone is depressed, anger will be exhibited, masking the more authentic emotion. I witnessed that in my family of origin.

Well, to make a long story shorter, I had finished posting here yesterday, feeling at sixes and sevens, when that meeting came to my mind and the solution to anger had been presented:

Action Plan. Determine. Follow Through.

What was my Action Plan apart from ranting and raving and allowing the black dog into my living room?

What could I do? OK. I looked up the head office address of Bell Aliant. And went a-calling. It was Saturday. I was the only customer with 3 service reps.

Bottom line, they produced a hub. Brand new improvement to cellular highspeed, they assure me. I was entitled to a free upgrade and two months free service. The hub would provide wireless high speed for up to 5 computers.

Disconnects? No service for days? A thing of the past, the triplets assure me. If I'm not over the moon happy, the triplets again assure me, I bring it back. No questions.

Cynical and jaded I leave. I am so unexcited about this whole experiment that I take a nap in front of the fire that Leo has so kindly laid down in my absence, once I get home.

Then, yawning, I set up the hub. You wouldn't believe how easy. Something this easy has to go sideways. Hardy-har. Wireless internet all over my old house as the triplets had envisioned for me? Dream on, baby!

Action plans can result in dreams becoming reality. This hub - kiss, kiss - has given me unbroken and powerful high speed. For the first time ever out here at the Edge of the Atlantic.

As I type this on my netbook in front of the fire I feel I can shrug off the slithering remnants of depression and shoo the old BD out into the May sunshine.

The world, my friends, is full of fresh possibilities.

Blog Jam

(1) I've had a horrendous tax season mainly due to the unpredictability and/or unavailability and/or disconnectivity of my cellular internet connection and how much I desperately need it even for Taxware updates which are no longer provided on CDs and necessitate a high-speed connection. Not to mention e-filing.

(2) Moving into another business venture here I realized how absolutely slow-brained I can be. Well, duh, I need highspeed for that too.

(3) All of which gives me enormous doubts as to whether I persist in staying on here. Seriously.

(4) I have exhausted all political avenues and even the newspaper - which has always published me heretofore - now no longer publishes my rants of frustration on the lack of even the most basic business infrastructure.

(5) On a slightly lighter side: Other opportunities present themselves. This week I was asked to hold the auditions for a dinner theatre in another area which was a wonderful experience.

(6) I feel I'm becoming a one-note samba with my incessant and constant rant on the lack of high-speed out here on the Edge of the Atlantic which has me driven to distraction and

(7) A horrible depression preceded by the Black Dog which refuses to leave.

(8) It's not just the internet it's other bitty things which added up has me sourfaced and pissed off. Example?

(9) A guy I don't particularly like or respect reverses his truck onto my property when I wasn't there and just about lops off the roof of my pump-house, completely disconnecting it from the walls. He shrugs his shoulders when I ask him what he's going to do about it. He is clueless and penniless. When I asked him what he was doing trespassing on my property in the first place he also shrugs and mutters about picking up some plastic from Leo.

(10) With no internet in my house in the last couple of days I am in town at Starbucks on my little netbook. I would like to patronize Coffee Matters which is privately owned but the hefty parking ticket from the church parking lot across from it (on-street parking nearby is by permit only) is a complete deterrant.

Signed:
The Grumpy Geezer.

And PS apologies to some of my regular commenters - New Blogger decided all by itself to throw you into the Spam Bucket. Thanks to Ramana for bringing it to my attention!!!

A First!

As some of my readers know, I do not lay me down and stay quiet. I write. I protest. I rant and roar sometimes. And I did that recently to my local MHA about the abysmal treatment of us outporters when it comes to Da Interwebz. I did not hear back from him.

Well guess what? This morning who arrives at my door with hugs and kisses but said MHA outlining the latest news in this game of "soon" and "soon" for reliable internet access. $8million has been allocated for full high speed service for us outporters and bids are being tendered by providers as we spoke. Well pol-promises I view with more than a jaundiced eye, let me tell you.

But the fact that he drove out here and talked to me, hell, I don't know a single soul on planet earth that this has happened to. Involved government? Well, I never.

And I don't gobsmack too easily.

Weeping and Gnashing of Teeth

Do you ever find you're running behind yourself and can't catch up? That's me. I know I am stressed to the max: far, far too much work in and far, far too little of me to go around.

I am taking a break to write before I go completely around the twist. I took a few hours off on Sunday (friends are kind enough to feed me) and I felt guilty. Then I knew I was in trouble. Guilty for taking off a few hours? I am in madness. I wish I could time the work that comes in the door, but it is always in one big flood of boxes and requests and emails. Speaking of.

The interwebz is gone hopeless again here which seriously impacts my days, so I took the time yesterday to write to my local MHA (Member of the House of Assembly in Newfoundland) yet again, with a copy to the local paper. Our local election is October 11th - which might fire up his arse a little, yeah? - and to date I haven't heard back.

Dear (Name redacted)~

I am sure you are getting just as tired of this as I am of writing to you and I even had columns in The Telegram published on this issue. I've been seven years now, count 'em, seven years, advocating for high speed service in my peninsula of (blocked for privacy).

Seven long years of empty promises of "next year", "soon", etc. The turbo stick was a temporary stop gap measure, which when it works it is OK. Adequate. About half the speed of broadband at more than twice the monthly cost. Oh monopolies like Bell Mobility can charge what they like and tell you to suck it up when you call frequently to complain as I do. They even have the nerve to tell me to walk up a hill and use it there, or go out on the road for better reception or get more users complaining (which I did) and they might check the cellular towers. They tell me to run my business from the top of my hill or the middle of the road in front of the house where there is better reception!

All very amusing I am sure to those who are complacently using their broadband and fibre optic in the comfort of their homes and offices only a few kms from here. I am told it is hardware failure, yet I take my turbo stick across Canada with me and it works perfectly everywhere else and has the capacity to work perfectly here. On those few occasions that are getting rarer and rarer. Why the inconsistency of service? No one has the answer except to blame me, the user for not working where they tell me to work, in the midst of traffic or at the top of a nearby hill with the birds.

I find it appalling that we continue to be treated like second class citizens out here, not 90 km from the metropolis of St. John's. Where I have to take up my knitting as I wait for page downloads and uploads and updates to software which can take hours while I do nothing else on my system. The inefficiency and unfairness of it all in trying to run my business makes me crazy to be perfectly honest.

Reliable high speed access is a RIGHT in this day and age. Like health care. Like education and fire and police. Why on earth is it not being fought for? Am I the only one living in this ongoing frustration, losing business (and my mind) because of the failure of the government to provide the most basic of business infrastructures?

I was in Ireland during the spring and even the out islands have broadband service. They were shocked to hear that our island of Newfoundland doesn't have this basic technology in the places that need it the most (remote health care, education, web-based business start-ups, information sharing, remote and satellite branch offices, etc.)

What is the latest on this? Am I still stuck out here losing business due to the inadequacy of my government in providing what so many others have taken for granted in the last 25 years?

Best personal regards as always,
Signed
Me.

PS And I as I write this, my internet connection has been dropped four times. FOUR TIMES.

So I'm not laughing...

Day 4 without my car and stuck in an outport. Good times. Walking with the mail to the post office. And back. Friend took me shopping yesterday so stocked up on fresh fruit and veg. Another friend picked bakeapples for me.

I am out and about exchanging greetings with others who have never had a car and take this in stride. Not that it's far. But this sorry arse says business mail is heavy, etc., and then the dog. Well the dog is so well trained now she has a nap as she waits for me outside. A car is such a privilege. Let me remember that.

My new best friend Ed, the mechanic, was quite snarly when I phoned him yesterday to ask for an update. He said he'd be the one to call me when the car was ready. I downgraded him to one step above enemy.

Took on Bell Mobility and the slow decline of highspeed on my turbo stick. Told them it was prevalent all through the area as they love to blame:

(1) your computer - I have 2 and internet service is terrible on both
(2) Upgrade the stick - which I did and service got worse
(3) You need a new SIM - which I did and ditto.

They told me if I can get enough people to call and complain then they would actually check the tower.

Fawlty Towers. Yeah. My sense of humour smacks of of desperation.

So I went activist and posted on FB for local users to call the number and maybe, just maybe, we will get served what we are paying so dearly for. Monopolies, I hate them. And Bell is terrible to deal with here. Arrogant, over-charging and complacent gougers.

And oh yeah, the play is sold out again for Saturday night.

It's a huge hall so it's a case of "oh me nerves".

Truth is Stranger than Fiction Department

I first wrote about an extraordinary internet scam way back in April of 2008 in which a woman was hoaxed into having an internet romance with a fictitious guy (actually a woman) who subsequently 'died'. The scam was perpetrated for the sheer excitement of it all and not driven by sex or money. Some of my commenters refused to believe it. I did -as Harlan Ellison, the well known author, validated what had happened.

Well now it appears that the scammer, a woman by the name of Janna St. James (who adopted up to 20 personalities to sustain her scams) is being sued by her victim, Paula Bonhomme.

Read all about it here

An Internet Romance

As told by Woody.

It was just one of those things.

I was browsing the web over her shoulder as I’m forced to do, not even accorded the courtesy to surf alone as she thinks I lack the most basic web savvy. Ha! I’ll have news for her one of these days.

But I forget myself.

For there he was. Mr. Pinkie. To say my heart pounded as soon as I saw him is to understate the matter. I was entranced, fixated, bewitched (not to mention bothered and bewildered). My soul mate in the pink flesh, so to speak. A little fluffier than me, due to the respect he receives vs the rough handling I get from time to time.

So I exerted my usual mind control over her and then sat in front of the webcam and took the snap you see above to send to my, ahem, Darcy from his Lizzie, and write this post.

And now I await, breathlessly, his response. I just know I can help him with his self-esteem issues.

Just look at how assertive I am!

Big Brother Nudges Ever Closer

The Cybersecurity Act of 2009 will grant unprecedented powers to the president to shut down the internet on a whim.

The bill's draft states that "the president may order a cybersecurity emergency and order the limitation or shutdown of Internet traffic" and would give the government ongoing access to "all relevant data concerning (critical infrastructure) networks without regard to any provision of law, regulation, rule, or policy restricting such access."

Essentially, the Act would federalize critical infrastructure security. Since many of our critical infrastructure systems (banks, telecommunications, energy) are in the hands of the private sector, the bill would create a major shift of power away from users and companies to the federal government. This is a potentially dangerous approach that favors the dramatic over the sober. response

Read more about it here

It seems that as long as the bogey man, Mr. Terrorist, is tossed around on a daily basis, more and more citizen rights can be eroded.

Something to Pass the Time on a Weekend

If you've got a bit of time and are a firm believer in truth being stranger than fiction, I recommend you read the following. It is an extraordinary story and features one of my favourite writers, Harlan Ellison.

It really floodlights that which we want to believe often overcomes the reality of a situation.


The Extraordinary Tale of Jesse James

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