READ ME ... yeah, right. Right?

I'm sick of everyone else having on-line diaries. I want one too.

What is this all about? Maybe you should read the READ ME READ ME.

december 14, 1996: a l o h a

Here are some things to do in my absence.

I. Why do men go on line?

To meet chicks, of course. (Except for those crazy guys at the The Netly News, er, um ...) Still, even they know that you will only succeed if you know The R00lz for Geek Boyz.

II. What happens when Wired tries to conquer TV?

It forgets about the Web and instead goes Retroactive. (Isn't Rewired da bomb?)

III. Where the hell am I?

Here , or whereabouts.

IV. How?

Friday, the 13th of October, 1995, I was attending my five year college reunion. I was in the registration tent, checking out the brand-new Powermac 9500's, seeing if I could log in, ftp into the servers, and, generally, snoop. "Hey!" an annoying voice called from my left.

"Enter the doorprize raffle!"

I knew he would not shut up until I did. So I got up, walked over to his table on my left, scribbled out my name, address and phone number, and sat back down in front of the computer again.

One month later I received a phone call in my office at the Chambers of the Honorable Judge King, United States Circuit Judge for the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, in Houston.

I had won.

The caller was confused by my lack of excitement. See, my job forbade me from taking any vacation time -- not even, e.g., the day after Thanksgiving -- for an entire year, until August, 1996.

"That's OK," the caller reassured me. "This does not expire until December 19, 1996."

I won six nights in two of the most posh hotels in the world -- three nights in the Aston Wailea (formerly the Intercontinental) in Maui, and three nights in either of the two hotels on the small and almost-private Island of Lanai -- the Keole Lodge and the Manele Bay Resort, where Bill Gates married.

I never take vacations. And by that, I mean never. Even when I quit law, I did not take a vacation. I attended a funeral, flew up to Spokane to stand in a friend's wedding, then immediately started my new job at Sound Exchange. My last vacation was in 1988, when I flew to Chile to visit my sister, who was living there at the time. Since then, vacation time has meant time to study, work, catch up on bill-paying, write, visit my family in Milwaukee, or, even, move cross-country. I feel guilty about vacation. I feel horrible about what I neurotically call unnecessary indulgence. I ... must ... be ... productive.

I used to be a very happy person. People knew me as the peppiest and smiliest person they could think of. I had an unending zest for life. My passion was almost entirely positive.

The last time I remember being that way was, well, 1988.

It is time.

I booked the flight a few weeks ago, from December 12 to December 18th -- too soon, generally, for anyone to join me. Which is okay.

I will see you when I return, tanned, skin-diven, whale-watched, scootered, seal-spied, and, hopefully, happy.



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Copyright 1996 Rebecca Eisenberg All rights Reserved.