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"A scientist builds in order to learn; an engineer learns in order to build." Fred Brooks A.K.A. "Some Important Guy I've Never Heard Of" (Later determined to be a Comp Sci Prof. at UNC Chapel Hill. He does graphics stuff.) |
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February 11, 2008: (Sent by the most excellent Joe Doveton) Yo motherfuckers! Brian is over here at the moment, he's been sick as a dog on our crappy limey germs. It's no wonder you won the War Of Independence, we were probably all in hospital with Bird Flu watching daytime TV waiting for Lemsip to be invented. We took Brian and Mary for a traditional Sunday Roast yesterday, which was atrocious (I think the Veggie was OK, the beef was like eating an old sack). Then we tried to go bowling, but couldn't get a lane, and then I went around singing "Take The Skinheads Bowling" by Camper Van Beethoven for the rest of the afternoon.
September 27, 2007: (3:37 AM) Greg and jacqui just want to let everyone know that they are chillin' at the baby-factory. Production lines are now running 24-7 and we expect to have a prototype rolling off the asembly line..... um..... soon. The general consensus is that hospital coffe is surprisingly good. (12:51 PM) Jo and Alyssa are still at the hospital, but around 7, I headed home, grabbed a couple of hours of sleep, and am now at work. As I was leaving, Jacqui was in the process of having an epidural. (1:24 PM) Recent developments: Jacqui and the baby are both doing fine, but production at the factory seems to have slowed somewhat. Jacqui's dilated to 5cm and is having a second epidural. They're upping her dose of pepsin or tosin or peptosin or topeka or whatever the "Giddyap, junior!" shot is called. (6:59 PM) Update: Junior started out sunny-side up, and is now facing sideways. After 38 or so hours of labor, they've decided to do a c-section sometime in the next hour. If folks want to come by tonight, they can do so, but it'll mostly be hot waiting room action while everyone does their stuff, so bring a book and/or ipod. (8:21 PM) In the words of jo, "There is no stem on this apple. " Start buying pink, people. This is literally all the info I have at the moment. More as we get it.... (9:08PM) 61 minutes ago, kenhadie wilkins - middle name to be determined - was born. All 9 pounds 11 ounces and 21 inches of her. Go jacqui! That's a whole lotta baby! August 18, 2007: I got married. It was awesome. Monday, April 3, 2006: Two days later, my lower abdomen is still sore from doing eight takes of 'the worm'. Friday was Scott's last day; he's off to Apple. Makes me sad to not have him burping in my office any more, but you know, you can't fault the guy one bit. Saturday, Brent popped the question; Katy (predictably and happily) said a quite enthusiastic yes. Yesterday was Mike and Tashana's engagement party, as well as a pleasant dinner with one of Mary's best friends, his minister mother, and new girlfriend. Good weekend, even if it does hurt when I laugh. More news as it happens, I suppose. Sunday, 4 December 2005: Never let it be said that I don't possess the capacity to be a total and utter fuckwit. Really, that's all that can be said. Monday, 14 November 2005: Someone pointed out recently that I tend to post more when bad things happen. This may be true. So today, I thought I'd post a good thing. Tuesday, 8 November 2005: I am stunned and baffled. It's 2005. I live in Seattle. DSL is, apparently, not available in my neighborhood. Are you freaking *kidding me*? Sigh. Fifty bucks a month for cable modem service, here I come. Friday, 4 November 2005: There are occasions when a physical journal, which I carried around with me, would be more useful than this thing. 'Cause if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you shouldn't post about everything that happens to you. Saturday, 29 October 2005: So. I'm in England. Not really typing on a proper keyboard at the moment - these powerbooks have damn tiny keys, so I'll be brief. Suffice it to say, things with me and the ex-pat girlfriend seem to be working out really well. Did I mention that I'm in england? Things worth mentioning... proper english fish and chips are not to be missed. English folks make fine drinking partners, and there's nothing like seeing a portland band on your second night in the UK to make you feel a bit homesick for a town you don't live in any more. Other than that, the visit has been suprisingly low-key; worst thing that's happened has been spending two days getting over the cold that she gave me. Also, from now on, two week visits will be the norm; I'm still getting over jetlag and it's time to go home. Love to you all, but assuming that I don't die in some horrible plane wreck on the way home, I'll be able to ruminate more from there. Friday, 23 September 2005: Oh, man... so much to update on. I'll start off with one detail that I don't want to forget and have been meaning to post for at least two weeks. I had a dream recently - Kevin and I were in the old 440 house in Portland, and it was on fire. Violent, hollywood-style fire, with the addition of these fireball-y meteor things that would punch through the house laterally. Nobody got hit or harmed, though - I mean, it was some runny-around-y action type stuff as we tried to get out and find things that we wanted to save, but when I woke up, I wasn't really scared or anything. I'm choosing to interpret it as a dream that's about letting go of the past; if it were my current home or something that related more directly to where I am now in life, I'd be more concerned, but I haven't set foot in that building for probably a decade. So, um, the news; what's been happening since my rather ambigious posts of near-on a month ago? Short version is that I met someone; if home is where the heart is, she's from Ballard, but she lives and works overseas, in the UK. We met somewhat randomly, spent a fairly intense month getting to know each other, and she went back on the 19th. Inexplicably, she seems to be as into me as I am into her. I'm getting my passport stuff together to go over and visit next month. She'll be back for winter break. There are text messages, and emails galore, and I can already tell that I'll be racking up some impressive phone bills before I get the whole computer-at-home-and-broadband situation sorted out. She teaches at a university. She's cool-indy-rock-chick with alternachick hair. She does geeky coding stuff that I respect and dig, combined with that other-half-of-the-brain art stuff I don't get at all, which I like. Her friends seem to like me, and my friends seem to like her. Someone described her as "normal, and nice, and the right balance between mellow and easily wound up for you". She digs the Nintendo DS for the pen-based interface, for god's sake! The only drawback I've discovered thus far is that she didn't like this movie; she can make some articulate intellectual points, but I'm still sticking to my position that anyone that dislikes that film has had their soul surgically removed. ;-) Where this will all end up, I have no idea. I'm pretty optimistic about it, though, and we're both wearing one of these. (On our right hands, crown facing away, for those that are keeping score.) It's a bit wierd to be dating someone who's starting their day just as I haul my butt into bed at the end of mine, and to know that once I get off work, they're going to bed. Comparitively, though, we have it easy. We can send Schmoopy-grams pretty much instantly; previous generations had to use snail-mail, and often when they were separated, it was because someone went off to get shot at. So that's where things stand. I'll keep you posted. Saturday, 27. August 2005: Things right now are good. So bafflingly complicated as to defy description, but undeniably good. All right: off to Portland.
Thursday, 25. August 2005: There are some questions that should not be asked; naming your fears sometimes gives them power over you, rather than the other way around. Of course, the thing about fear is that you don't need any factual data or evidence for it to take root. Also a good thing to keep in mind. And while I'm at it: why is it that I can get a goddamn partial album off of iTunes immediately, or I can buy a damn CD off of some site that will mail it to me in a week, but I can't buy the goddamn CD and then get the stupid tracks for download RIGHT GODDAMN NOW. I want to listen to my super blackmarket clash NOW. Not in a WEEK. NOW. Not part of the damn album. The WHOLE THING. I swear, it's like these people want to make a fucking music pirate out of me. As I've taken to saying recently, there's not enough napalm in the world to make me happy. Not by half. Note to interested parties: Yep, I stole this from an email that I was sending you. It was just too good of a rant to share with you alone. Do know that you had an exclusive on it for a while, though. That is, assuming you ever find this. If you do not, I'll fell vaguely let down, because you're a smart chicken and I expect great things from you. =P Insertion, addendum, whatever: Under no circumstances, under pain of death, of firey, firey, white hot magama-burning death, should one ever START to discuss one's hopes and fears without the sufficient opportunity to FINISH discussing them. For now, the situation as left is pregnant with possibilities both wonderous and terrifying. If I were a betting man, my chips would be on the former being more likely than the latter, but for someone as risk averse as I... BLEAH. In any case, tomorrow should be an interesting day, likely in the chinese proverb sense. Assuming I survive that long. Addendum the second: Okay, things should be fine. Text messaging is the most wonderfulest invention that ever did exist ever. And that brings us to the end of the real-time-broadcasting portion of today's posts. Wednesday, 24. August 2005: The short version... On a trip to the beach last Sunday, I seem to have stumbled into something cool and interesting. Still sorting out exactly what to expect, but not knowing what to expect is half the fun thus far. By something, of course, I mean someone. More News as it Happens.
Thursday, 4. August 2005: Yep. Went to Tennessee for a week, to hang out with O, his mom, and the fine folks of the Tennessee Stage Company. (See below, which is shamelessly copied from an email I sent the ScooBGang.) Got back and spent two days getting random crap done before I headed back to work. Finally getting my damn Seattle tattoo was one of the random craps that got done. Other than that, a crapton of work to get caught up on. Luckily, I have the live CD of the Pixies show I went to earlier this summer to keep me company. Wednesday, 31. July 2005: I'm in Tennessee. First up: the weather. I keep telling folks "If beer is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy, this weather is proof that he wants us to live somewhere else." At which point, they usually chuckle and tell me that I should have been here last week. Other than that, I think the careful and well co-ordinated plan to get me to approve of O staying here has been working. The theater company he's hanging with is composed of this odd (and oddly Scoob-like) tribe of theater folks that are really committed to the idea of free public theater. Including a mid forties mom, dad, and three kids ranging from 9-14. Thus far, all I've done is see two showings of 12th night, one of Macbeth (another tonight), go hiking in the smoky mountains (got poured on, which was a blessed event, let me tell you; fat men from the pacific northwest were not meant for this heat!), and discover the joys of cheese grits. MMMMMMMmmmmmm... cheese grits..... I've been promised a moonshine tasting, but am not completely sure that they're not pulling my leg. Oh, and we dug some irises for O's mom with an octogenarian world-class iris breeder. And I attended their cast party, which was basically straight out of the "old-school southern charm how-to book." Big damn house with a portrait of the lady of the house on a tripod in the living room, the biggest lawn in the world, and torches leading down to the river. And got invited to a birthday party for Robert E. Lee. (Who fought in "that recent unpleasantness between the states", I'm told.) Other things of note from Tennessee: they take their football insanely seriously. Like McDonald's resturants have roofs that are not that McDonalds-red color; they're "Vols Orange". This is odd. Also odd: the new best bumper sticker ever, which reads "If it ain't King James, it ain't Bible!". I have no idea what that means, but dear lord, I do love it to death. Oh, yes, and the fact that the Atlanta airport has a terminal for Hooters Air. Remind me to do more flying, praytell. Monday, 25. July 2005: It's a long story, but a (well-intentioned, I have no doubt) person contacted me in an attempt to get in touch with someone I mentioned on the site. Oh, right - folks can actually find this stuff online if they look. In any case, I'm fine with anyone and their brother being able to find me at a whim, but I'm less comfortable with other folks having info about them posted up here. In any case, I stripped out all the occurances of last names I could think of off the top of my head. If you see that I missed any, please let me know. From now on, we're on a strict "first names or codenames" only basis. Edit: on second thought, I'm just pulling the whole thing. Since I'm here anyways, things are... well, fine, really. A lot of the reason why I don't post here as much anymore has to do with several folks at work knowing about it, but I have to imagine that less drama in my life makes for less interesting reading. Sorry, all. =) Monday, 06. June 2005 (5AM): Social distortion. Awesome show, but maybe not too smart to attend a concert in eugene on sunday evening. Back in town now. Having learned a valuable life lesson, i'm going to bed.
Now every cheap hood strikes a bargain with the world
death or glory becomes just another story
'N' every gimmick hungry snob digging gold from rock 'n' roll
death or glory - it's just another story
gotta march a long way
death or glory becomes another story
From every dingy basement on every dingy street
death or glory becomes just another story
death or glory becomes just another story Friday, 03. December 2004: I had the beginnings of this farily long, articulate, and interesting bit of navel-gazing started up the other night, but I left it unsaved intenting to come back to it later, and when a circut breaker tripped and the UPS gave up the ghost, those bits were lost for all time. In place of that, though, I shall give you the following: I really want a television show named "Pants McGuffin: Clothing Detective". Wednesday, 03. November 2004: Well. It turns out there is a god, and His voters turned out yesterday and kicked the shit out of just about everything. I'm too depressed to preach on at the moment, but it looks like the democratic party needs to get its head together and learn how to talk to rural communities and religious conservatives in a big way, or we're even more fucked than we are at the moment. I'm also really worried about what's going to happen with the supreme court. Guess we'll all know by 2008... Monday, 01. November 2004: Yeah. So it seems like today is post-worthy. I'm now so obsessed with the election, it's not even funny. Like "phone calling and knocking on doors for MoveOn.org" not funny. Like "making election mix CD's" not funny. Like "Sitting here at 6:30 work, waiting for my freaking coordinator to tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do to get out the vote tomorrow". Like "taking tomorrow off to help drive people to the polls" (assuming my freaking coordinator CALLS, goddammit.). Like "multiple visits a day to http://www.realclearpolitics.com/, http://www.electoral-vote.com, and http://www.cnn.com/ELECTION/2004/ I believe I'm going slightly mad due to this election. The thought of four more years of the country run by the folks that are in power frightens me. I'm trying to cut down on my use of the word "literally", but I mean it - it literally frightens me to think that when over fifty percent of the country thinks that the country is on the wrong track, Bush could get re-elected. I mean, if the democratic party can't beat this guy - a coke-using, defecit-raising, can't-run-a-war-to-save-his-life, failed-his-way-to-the-top nitwit, who can they beat? What does it take? I will say this: after the debates, I understand Bush better than I did before them. Before the debates, he was cynically manipulating the country with his gee-shucks brand of folky talk while running a brilliantly concieved plan to serve his rich constituency. After the debates, it was apparent to me that, no: the president of the united states at the moment is deeply sincere in his beliefs. Unfortunately, his beliefs are deeply flawed, and for whatever reason, be it blindness, stupidity, or insanity, he refuses to give them up. Basically, letting this guy run the country for the next four years is like giving a six-year-old a loaded handgun. I have no proof, but I think that's not going to happen. I'm taking my optimisim where I can, and I was going to tell you, but my coordinator finally freaking called - at 6:30. I'll be back in a couple hours to finish this up... Back now, with some more phone calls under my belt. Basically, I've resorted to complete superstition and idiocy to reassure myself that the vote won't go to the incumbant. Once I start betting on sports games, you know I've gone nuts. There are a few more even flakier reasons why we should win tomorrow. If we do not, I will know that there is no god, or if there is, he hates me. Monday, 11. October 2004: Let it never be said that I can't take a hint. Indeed, there have been a couple of moments when I thought about posting recently, but just never got around to it. Actually, I blame T-Mobile. Apparently, I can't send email from the treo through my mac.com account because they are bitches. If I were to send from a tmobile address, it would work, but they block third party mail (although it worked just fine through the sidekick...). So, when in mood to post, have no way to preseve info easily. Basically just waiting for mark/space to get off their butts and release the iSync plugin for the sidekick and then I am so switching back. While the treo 600 is cool, it's also almost as much as a laptop, and requires a degree of setup and maintenance that I'm just not willing to invest into a handheld. Nice thing about the Sidekick is that it Just Works. (tm) Tried the palm platform, but I was measuring it against the newton, and they just aren't there. In other news, went out to the east side with The Magnificent Ms. T on saturday to do some volunteering for Habitat for Humanity. It was fun in a retro "you know, being a Boy Scout didn't *totally* suck" sort of way. Also, let me say (perhaps inappropriately, but what the hell) that I find doo-rag wearing hippie chicks who can swing a hammer and know their way around a construction site attractive in an idle and theoretical sort of way. I was having a conversation with a friend last night, and I described the situation as thus: "You know, sure; I want a girlfriend - in a theoretical sort of way. It's basically an insurance policy against turning into that bald, gold-chain-wearing guy with the sports car ten years from now, but not an immediate sort of need." I got an odd look, but it made sense in my head. Friday, 10. September 2004: Apparently, great works of art such as the sistine chapel and the mona lisa pale in comparison to a freaking cell-phone. Between this and the star-spangled "American Idol" Pop Tarts (blue frosting, red and white filling, tiny little star-shaped marshmallows) that appeared in our snack room, I just don't know how I'm going to deal with the craptacular world of the future we're all living in. Tuesday, 07. September 2004: I had the most bizarre dream last night. I rode my bike to visit my shrink; normally I drive. I showed up at the office, and had a bit of momentary confusion and embarrasment; I remembered his first name, but not his last name, so I couldn't tell the receptionist which doctor I had an appointment with. Then, there was another odd moment; I undressed for the session. Needless to say, that's not standard operating procedure. The really strange part, though, is that I don't have a shrink. I woke up, and spent the remainder of the getting ready for work period trying to figure out if I have had reoccuring dreams of visiting a shrink, or if I had one dream that came complete with its own backstory. I'm still not sure. When I was having the dream, I was pretty sure that I'd visited before; thus the embarrasment when I couldn't remember his last name. Generally when I have dreams that I actually remember when I wake up, it means that I'm troubled and/or chewing on something unconsciously. I don't feel particularly troubled at the moment, but maybe that's just the therapy talking. =) Before I had to put Physics down, I was bringing her into the office with me; it's one of the things I really dig about my office. In any case, my coworker snapped this shot of her with his cameraphone and sent it to me over the weekend. From the looks of it, it's shortly after she had the surgery, since she's all shaved and stuff. I picked up the trade paperback of the last portion of Grant Morrison's run on "Animal Man", which is oddly synchronous with the above. I'll refrain from explaining further. Think of it as an easter egg for the comic geeks among us. =) This is not at all helpful in moving us towards a more productive political discourse in this country, but at least it's amusing. Saturday, 14. August 2004 (just barely): Approximately 24 hours ago, I got home from Swedish medical center, where two people that mean the world to each other brought a new person into the world. A little less than an hour ago, I left a party where I happily chatted with at least three stable, decent pairs of folks whose relationships make their respective worlds better places to be. There is a difference between wanting specifically what someone else has and wanting something like what someone else has, isn't there?
I woke up alarmed
And I want a boyfriend
You got up out of bed
And I want a boyfriend
And I can feel it in my bones
And I can feel it in my bones
You almost felt bad
And whatever happened to a girlfriend
And you want a girlfriend Wednesday, 30. June 2004: After a spectacular but not terribly injurous (to me; the phone died a slow, lingering death) wipeout on my bike over a month ago, the velocipede of doom has done nothing but languish in the basement of work, collecting dust. I really meant to get it to the shop - there's one at the end of the block. It never happened. I'm just that lazy. Remind me to tell you about my car tab situation sometime. In any case, an offhand comment about the situation to the Bestest Office Manager In the World had her on the phone calling her brother to come over and fix it the next day. Well, turns out that he's a bit flaky and won't be coming over. But ANOTHER brother that's a bike mechanic will be coming over tomorrow, and the mother of all three is baking me a cherry pie for my trouble. I suppose "Turn Trouble Into Pie" isn't the world's most exciting superpower, but it's one I can bear gladly... Friday, 25. June 2004: Just saw this email today. Best Thing EVER. Wednesday, 23. June 2004: Finally got my new phone on the internet. And I only had to remove three quarters of the ram from my machine to get the updater to run. Clearly, palm on the Mac is not all that it could be. No wonder they're handing it off to a third party. It's sorta fun, like when I first got my newton. Being a fairly big geek, you sorta know your way around things a fair amount. Of course, when my friends are talking about database design, or much of anything on the coding front after two years, I don't have a fuckin' clue. Even the web geeks with their fancy javascript and css and so forth have a leg up on me. I mean, there are script kiddie packages out there that produce web pages better looking than this thing. =) In any case - offended by the death of the newton and the ascendancy of Graffiti, I totally opted out of the whole palm thing. Picked up a friend's used sidekick, and before I destroyed it in a bike accident, it was a fun little device. Not a real platform yet, but there was potential, and the physical design of the device was slick. When I destroyed the Sidekick, though, I could have paid three hundred bucks for a color one that would be obsoleted by the new hardware they have coming out by the end of the year, or (and this is the route I went), I could buy a used black and white Treo for less than a hundred and play with it for a while. I kept my financial life as under control as it ever was on the newton, and this was something that was almost impossible to do on the Sidekick. Also, no iSync support. They announced it at the start of the year, but it's six months later, and nowhere to be seen. Wasn't really willing to take the plunge on the new, slick, but five-hundred-freaking-dollars Treos, though. So, we're experimenting. Sorta fun, sorta frustrating. (Really. Needing to physically remove ram from my machine to get their GPRS updater to run? LAME LAME LAME.) I can tell you that I like the larger keyboard on the Sidekick better, thus far. Like the smaller size of the treo, but the flippy part of the flip phone feels like it might break off if I'm not careful. Need to look into pocketmoney (the checkbook app I used on the newton) for palm and see how it is. It is kinda cool to look at this page on my phone, but I wish the browser on the phone was smart enough to realize that dropping out the background color on the page is smart, but leaving the text grey, not so much so. Backlight actually makes that one a bit better. Monday, 31. May 2004: Just Another Fuckin' Adventure. Walked in the door from the montana trip, took a much-needed leak, and lay down to collect a few thoughts. That was fun - so much fun, it's kind of ridiculous, actually, because it serves to remind me how much un-fun the last couple of weeks have been. Kind of a wake-up call, to be honest. To a degree, it's an echo of Project: Get My Shit Together from a couple of months ago. Been running around doing shit, but not really getting shit done, if you know what I mean. Not living up to my potential - wasting time, wasting effort. A lot of fun was had, much of it entirely too dorky to mention here. (O.K. - remote control cars, VH1, scrabble, and so forth.) Some of it was simply objectively cool (a second visit to yellowstone, with snow this time, getting $2k worth of fireworks for $800 by buying wholesale) and some of it completely random. (Meeting someone fairly cool, and watching the opportunity to become smitten die stillborn shortly thereafter. Being oddly pleased nonetheless.)
I find myself in the mood to:
There are some lines
Do you need anything from duty-free?
Jackson Haring and I
Do you need anything from duty-free?
Liam Morr
Do you need anything from duty-free?
Do you need anything from duty-free?
Frank Quentin
Now, I love Frank
Do you need anything from duty-free?
Do you need anything from duty-free?
There are some lines Monday, 03. May 2004: Lightbulbs are the bane of my fuckin' existance. Couple of months ago, my right headlight died. It was out for a couple of days, then it turned back on after I gave it an oh-so-scientific wiggle. Right around then, the dome light inside my car, which has not worked for YEARS, started working again. Mere days later, the headlight died, and this time, it stayed dead. Convinced that I had some sort of horrible electrical problem, I took it to my garage. They called back a few hours later. "Yeah... It's a bad bulb." Defensively trying to prove that I'm not an idiot, I recounted the whole headlight out, dome light on, headlight off sequence. Their diagnosis was that the jiggling had caused the burned-out filament to connect, so it worked for a few days before burning out for good. Truly, I am a winner. Fast forward a month or so. The other headlight goes out. Remembering the previous debacle, I headed over to my local automotive superstore, purchased a bulb, and installed it. Still no worky. All full of my own smartness, I headed over to the garage. "This time," said I, "I'm sure it's the electrical system." They called back. Apparently, said automotive superstore had sold me a bad light bulb. Fuckers. Sheepishly, I had my second garage visit due to a burned-out bulb. So, I'm driving around on sunday, and the car just dies. All gagues off, engine refuses to make any sort of noise when the key is turned, no power steering, nothing. Coasted to a stop, called the insurance roadside assistance number, got it towed to the garage. They just called back. Apparenty, the four amps that the trunk light has been drawing (the switch is sticky) killed my battery. Dead. Need New Battery dead. I just told them to take the damn bulb out; fixing the switch, apparently, "can get kinda expensive." I'd run the thing on candles, at this point, if I thought it'd be feasible... Friday, 30. April 2004: For the last week, the top of my head has been getting progressively sunburned, and for the life of me, I could not figure out why. I still haven't replaced my perscription sunglasses, so I've been hiding from the flaming baby in the sky a little more than usual lately. Thus, the sunburning made no sense. Finally figured it out today. I have this incredibly cheesy straw hat I wear around the office when stressed or just for for general amusement. It's been dubbed the "comfort hat". (Don't ask about the "comfort monkey"...) In any case, about a week ago, a coworker hid it under my desk. I was just too damn lazy to toe it out from under, so it sat there for about a week. Then, today, as a cloud went by and dimmed the room, it hit me: I sit directly under a SolarTube. A device designed to collect sunlight and move it indoors. UV-filtering, apparently, not part of the spec. Who knew? It really was a Comfort Hat all along. Balding sucks. Saturday, 03. April 2004: Had a dream last night; only remember one image. I was holding a snake in my hand - it had a non-standard mouth that sorta opened up like a Predator's. The fangs also swiveled down from the bottom jaw, so even though I was holding it very near to the head, it could spring its mouth open and get me with the fangs. There was a very clear and distinct sensation as the venom was pumped in, and it was a suprising quantity. (Way more than any shot I've ever gotten.) I didn't make it back to sleep after that one, and I am fucking tired at the moment. Friday, 12. March 2004: Had a dream last night that I find somewhat mystifying and haven't really been able to parse. (I also had a bitch of a time getting to sleep last night, which isn't helping matters any.) I only remember bits and pieces of the dream, at this point. I was staying at a big, big, big house that sorta resebmbeled the Farnsworth's from the lauerhurst neighborhood in PDX, and sorta resembeled that old, decreptit plantation-style house out in the boonies from any number of bad horror movies. I think it was populated by Larry's family (it was their house, in other words, but not the real house that they actually live in.). On to the snippets that I remember. At some point (I think multiple points, actually), I was walking around bare-assed, and I was not happy about this fact in the slightest. The most vivid part that I remember, though was when a group of us were standing on the porch, talking. A complete random stranger drove their SUV up onto the lawn, crashed through some bushes, and up onto the porch about 10 feet from where we were all standing. (Things were moving much faster than a text description of the whole thing makes it sound; bear with me.) As this was happening, I looked over and saw that the driver of the SUV (a woman, I think) was alseep at the wheel, or appeared to be. Someone in the group of people I was talking with (I think they were also imaginary-dream-people, as well, but it's fuzzy.) yelled at the driver to wake the fuck up, and what did they think they were doing, anyway. At this point, the driver woke up, pulled out a gun (of the SMG/assault rifle variety) and began emptying their clip at us. I'm not sure when in the dream I discovered this, but it becomes relevant at this point, so I'll mention that I was a cop, or a cop trainee, or something. In any case, me and the other folks that I was talking with all began to pull weapons and fire back. Or, I should say, they did; I pulled my gun and fell over backwards, through the rotting-wood railing on the porch, landing ass-over-teakettle on the lawn below. By the time I got back up, the whole affair was over. I can't remember what happened to the driver, but I'm assuming they were dead. Anyway, I got chewed out, drill-sergent style, for being a generalized fuckwit. From what I know about dream analysis (which ain't much), the most important thing about a dream is how you feel when you wake up after the dream - that's essentially your subconsious coming along and thumping you about the head with whatever's going on in you at the moment. In this case, it's definitely a dream about shame and competence, but usually I have an easier time mapping the details over to things going on. Right now, it's sorta a generalized stressful time for me, but I'm feeling reasonably competent; things are hard going but going well. Perhaps I'm just pre-freaking out, and I'm worried about screwing up in the future? That's definitely a possibility... Thursday, 26. February 2004: Turns out that the last version of iScrobbler had a bug in it that would cause the same set of songs to be submitted over and over and over again to the audioscrobbler servers. Now, what I have to ask is; did it really have to happen when I was listenting to one billy ocean song on a whim? This is a tragedy.
Okay, in this case, it's a right-winger, but I swear, if I have to deal with one more person who tries to get me to do what they want me to do by:
Yeah, I have a feeling that the election is going to get me riled up enough to start posting again. But, you know, from a completely biased and not objective standpoint (unlike this guy) of course. I really should not allow myself to read Warren Ellis when it's an election year. Thursday, 12. February 2004: Nope, haven't posted in a while. Work is very, very busy; we're trying to get new versions of several apps out, all at roughly the same time. It's "fun", to say the least. In the meantime, enjoy my own personal hell. Yes, indeed; Terry Stearns is the chef at the Omni Group. And Terry Stearns is a bastard. Sunday, 04. January 2004: Two signs I'm not completely over the cat thing yet: it's been almost a month, and I still haven't put away her litterbox. (It's not like anyone has used it, so it's not at all as gross as that would seem.) I've cleaned up the rest of her stuff, but for some reason, I just haven't managed to get to that task yet. Thing two: her collar is still sitting in the middle of the living room, right about where one puts their feet when sitting on the couch. I leave it there, because once or twice, whenever I'm watching a movie on the TV, I'll kick it and her tag will rattle like it used to when she was around. It only became an official calculated thing earlier this week. Before then, it was just me being lazy. (How freaking long, by the way, does it take to get the ashes back? I called them a week after, and they said 2-3 weeks. They'd call when they were ready. Shortly after I get back from San Fran, it'll have been a month. Grrr.)I go to Macworld tomorrow. Previous trips were a mixture of work and fun slanted heavily in the direction of the latter. This year, what with where we're at in the product schedules and all, it's very much work, with hopefully a little fun thrown in. Mostly, I just want to be here in the office pounding on my product and making it better. SIGH. Oh, yeah; I've decided that 2003 was the year I started feeling like an adult; I'm hoping that 2004 is the year I start *acting* like one. I haven't really figured out exactly what that means or how to go about working on it, but I'll keep you posted. | |
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