Untitled

2010-02-01T08:56:00.001-05:00

In the Dark 1

2009-05-06T23:54:00.003-04:00

It's hard to type in the dark. I'm finding that this late night routine doesn't work so well, I feel as though I've lost a great deal of creativity in getting this far. The early morning won't work, as wee man wakes easily in the AM, and late night isn't working so well because I keep finding other crap to do until it's as late as it is now (like almost midnight). It's really my own damn fault, I know.

Clean ubuntu install on the old machine downstairs. Looks interesting, maybe this winter I'll have a minute to check it out.

Bedtime. G'night.

Day 14 - Music Makes my Heart Go Bump

2009-05-06T14:52:00.000-04:00

I used music in the past as an alert to others. If you came into my office hearing death metal, it's probably not a good time to ask me for something. Or breathe my air. Get the fuck out now. Go away. Go die. No, no, no.

Jazz sends a different message. I'm okay, maybe even laid back enough for you to bug me. Other musics, other messages. You get the idea.

I also used it to temper my temper. If I was angry, I'd play something angry, then gradually switch to something lighter, and my mood would lighten. There might have still be an undercurrent, a don't step on my broken eggshells or I'll snap, but in all, everything is going to be all right.

Things are different now. I guess I'm getting older. I listened to classical music all day today - and I completely brushed off that coworker (the one from yesterday and from infamy) as if nothing was the matter. I still didn't do the things they wanted, but I didn't get indignant about it. Hmm...

Also, I squished a strange bug. A curiousity. More on this later.

Day 13 - Burned up, Used up, Over, and Out

2009-05-05T13:50:00.000-04:00

notes again

I've got a coworker that pisses me off. Not the usual you did something so I'm mad about it, this is actually a bit of a problem. Every time I so much as see that person's name in my inbox, my blood pressure goes up and I get defensive. They have caused me so many problems at work, sending work back again and again with the "well, I want it done this way this time" load of crap. I was seriously angry. Angry enough that if my boss (who is also that person's boss) asked what was going on, I would have said "It's that person or me. Your choice."

Of course, I realized that I'm a jackass long before I actually did anything about it, but that person is able to elicit the same reaction in me time after time. What is so special about the way they get under my skin that I can't stand?

Eventually, the fire went out - consumed all and had nothing left to burn. I grew apathetic (which is a problem in itself).

But not everything blows over - an ember remains. I have to decide what to do with it. Creative fire, the passionate flame - or SHIVA THE DESTROYER!

What good is anger? What purpose does it serve in this modern world? Is this yet another example of something left over that we haven't evolved out of yet?

Day 12 – The Pale

2009-05-04T21:44:00.001-04:00

The war-weary return to work, their weekend spent beginning. It seems the battle is over, but there is no news from the front. Stragglers in their half-life stumble by.

The new week begins, but the purpose has been lost. The energy is gone. What are we fighting for?

My fickle mind is so easily distracted. Why is it so difficult to keep a particular switch flipped; “on” writing, “on” this topic, “on” this sentence?

The hardest thing in this age is staying focused. We're all chasing the attention, finally holding it down long enough to measure it before it runs again. Is it like a wild animal fleeing the tag? You can never tame it, only hold on as best you can and see where it takes you. Blink, and it's gone. There's too much going on.

Day 11 – Odd One Out

2009-05-03T11:00:00.000-04:00

translated from the original

Sunday, at work. I am Sunday. I am the Sunday, the day of rest, the day of the end of the weekend; and I am at work. Back in the cave.

It's quiet, but not the same quiet as usual. More is happening than meets the eye, currents under the surface, the rolling waves whitecapping when they break the calm. The strange continues.

Day 10 – Wobbling on the Tip of the Edge of the Precipice

2009-05-01T21:40:00.000-04:00

from notes

I'm burning. Not with the energy of life, but the frantic antics of pre-panic. You can see it. Frothy mouth, dank locks, wild eyes, anyone can see it. Stopping to breathe only means you have to break inertia to start moving again. It's better to keep moving.

Sideways 1

2009-04-28T12:01:00.001-04:00

Short of completely falling off the wagon, I think I’ll just hang on the edge a little. I held my tongue, I kept my mouth shut, I said nothing while the world churned. A few more years of experience under my belt, perhaps. Perhaps not.

What the hell was that? That’s not even understandable.

Nothing exciting going on in here today, thankfully.

So I was thinking on my drive home last night about first and third person narrative, or at least what I call first and third person narrative – that is, I did this versus he did this. I find it difficult to tell a story in the third person. I tend to tell stories in the first person; I saw this, I did this, I, I, I. It’s all about me.

So is it some terrible self-centric view I have, or am I temporarily forgetting all the times I’ve told stories about other people? I have an idea that I find it easier to tell stories in the first person because I can experience it, even if it’s only in my head. It’s something I feel – I have trouble just making a story without feeling it.

Making a story? That’s an odd way to state it. Writing? Telling? No, I’m afraid making is probably right. I don’t write stories, I make them. I create them deep inside my person. Writing them down is the hardest part.

This stinks. On that note, Mythbusters and the New York Times Bestsellers list both prove that you can polish a turd. On the tv show, they use an old method from the Orient (and I know that’s not even politically correct, but am I supposed to say Asia? Which part? I don’t know). Seems to me that in the old Orient there are many things that take time and patience. Is it something from their culture, some slow thing, finding meaning in the simple? Sublime is simple? I fear it’s not so simple.

Argh, work.

Day 6 – That Itching, Burning Sensation

2009-04-27T13:13:00.001-04:00

Leaning back in my chair, I scratched my eardrum with a pen cap. It really itched in there, like an idea just forming but not coming out.

“Hey!” boomed out of the quiet.

I jumped and the chair tipped precariously, the cap nearly puncturing my eardrum. I swore to myself. I turned to see a familiar face at the hole in the window. Uh oh. Bob*? (* footnotes are for sissies. †)

“Good morning!” Let’s Call Him Bob said as he opened the door. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, not much,” I replied. I searched for his name and still drew a blank. To be honest, I couldn’t remember much at all about him. I fished a little. “How are things with you?”

“Oh, just fine. So did you watch the game last night?”

“The game?” I fumbled, traveled through the seasons until I sorted out what sport should be playing. But what did it matter? “No, I didn’t get a chance.”

“That’s too bad,” Something Like Bob said. “It was great, down the wire and everything. I had to stay up so late; it ran over into overtime.”

My brain itched about the hole, and I must have twitched, because Bob-ish made a funny face. “Oh, but it’s okay. Did you get a chance to finish that report?” Full of questions, this one. What the hell was he talking about?

“That report got shoved back a little, I’m afraid,” I lied to Rhymes with Bob. Yeah, it could have been done, but which report was he talking about? “I’ll get it to you shortly.” Assuming I can remember who you are.

Starts with a B, Ends with an -ob nodded. “It’s no problem. It can wait.” He paused. I waited. The pregnant pause went into labor. Another awful metaphor fell dead from laughing so hard at the last one.

“Right, so I’ll get on that report right away,” I dismissed Everybody’s Favourite Bob and turned back to my monitor. Or so I thought. He stood placidly in the doorway, and I started to worry. Who is this guy? Is he important? What am I forgetting?

He blinked twice, and that seemed to bring him back. “Oh yeah, I’ve got that thing to go do. Good talking to you.”

“It was. See you around.” Yeah, right. I grabbed my coffee and took a long sip, waiting for the door to close behind him. The tumbler clicked, and I sighed. Back to work, I suppose. I set the mug down and put my fingers on the keyboard. The hole!

I chewed my lip and concentrated on the blank white of the paper just under the computer screen. The hole in the drywall called to me, drifting into edge of my line of sight as I breathed slowly, cautiously, waiting for the itching to start again. I knew it would eventually. I could never just leave something alone. I peeked around slowly to look at it directly.

There was an odd smell, like wet leaves in autumn. Cool and damp and earthy, the smell of the beginning of the end.

But comes winter, and then comes spring. Every year, every time. Some years are harder than others, but over time the seasons roll onward, rolling around in their orbits, each taking their turn.

And then there’s this damn hole. What’s going on here? It’s obvious that it should be cold in the wall, there’s concrete back there. Concrete is cold. Right?

Right, what? Right that concrete is cold, or right that there’s concrete back there? Or both?

Of course, since this is real life, and not some fantasy, I know that it’s just concrete. There’s probably a storeroom back there or the like, something boring. No secret passages, no booby traps, ninja assassins, pirate treasure, or zombies. Yawn. Some days it’s so boring that I have the unsettling feeling that I’m just an extra in someone else’s movie. When is my action sequence? Bad guys will drop out of the ceiling and I’ll use my previously unknown and unpracticed kung-fu skills to dispatch all of them, followed by my also previously unknown and unpracticed skill shot with my eyes closed to hit the light switch with my stapler and throw the room in darkness, long enough to jump previously unknown and unpracticed parkour-style up the wall and into the ceiling to chase down their boss. It’ll all just fall into place when I need it to. That’s the way it works. Like magic, but without the acne.

Of course, it couldn’t hurt to check, could it? I could get a flashlight and look around, and try to find some way in there, assuming there is an “in there”. Maybe there’s something cool back there, something a little less ordinary. I need to know what’s in that hole.

† What’s with the cross? That one’s always confused me. ‡

‡ Double cross, or Super Jesus? And what’s ±? Upside-down double cross, is that like a good thing then?

Day 5 - Office at the End of the World

2009-04-24T15:29:00.002-04:00

It has begun.

Monday started the first day of my company's plan to isolate me from the world. The internet blocks cast a wide net around all surfing, keeping the most curious of us from getting the answers we need. Information that I crave, information that I need, information that keeps me complacent, that keeps me sane. They cut the line between me and the world, and that was the beginning of the end.

My office sits in a desolate corner of the plant, at a dead end between piles of boxes and stacks of crates. The light outside is wan, an energy-saving feature designed to put money in executive pockets and suck energy from workers. The bright white fluorescence on the tall white walls of my office tries to ward off the gloom; the colored labels a joyful reminder that there is a world beyond the desk, beyond the screen. Not that it matters, with hours to go to the end of the day, the daylight pale before I walk to the car; I feel that I never leave.

It's quiet outside my office. In the dim, sounds fade and reflect, the factory ceiling and exposed rafters gathering words like spider webs. The hum of distant machinery buzzes to one side, a conversation punctuated by footsteps gets swallowed by the nothing. Boxes sit staring, the smell of cardboard wafts toward me. The light shines from my doorway, a last failing light against the darkness, the glare hard and painful. I walk inside, comforted, and close the door. Outside, the boxes scream silently.

The ceiling crunches, a familiar sound, as someone far above shuffles their feet. There's always someone up there, plying their trade with the dust bunnies. The radio drones monotony, mumbled somethings to break the rhythm of the machine hum. My heels clip as I walk toward my desk, and I see something out of the corner of my eye. A shadow passes the window. A coworker? I turn expectantly, the greeting dying on my lips as I recognize my own reflection.

This is no way to live a life.

As I sit back down at my desk, I notice a small tear in the drywall. That's odd, there's a small hole here. I peel back a scrap of the paperboard, and lie down on the floor for a better look. It's dark in the hole, the only light bleeding into the hole from my office. I stick my finger in, and pull it back quickly, shivering. My brain scans over the blueprints of the building in my head, what is behind this wall? My chest gets cold from the concrete floor, so I stand up and take a moment to think. There's a bathroom behind the wall behind the printer, and this other wall faces the inside of the plant. Wall number three helps make a hallway. What's behind wall number four?

I grab my coffee and sit down.

testing title

2009-04-17T10:50:00.001-04:00

Testing the email publishing capabilities.

This is bold.

This is italic.

This is underline.

Linky.

2009-01-19T16:12:00.000-05:00

Another day, another dollar. Dime. Whatever.

It's quitting time. What am I doing here?

2009-01-17T21:47:00.001-05:00

I missed a day, didn't I? That happens.

In fact, I don't intend on writing much at all on the weekend

and now I have to go.

2009-01-15T16:07:00.002-05:00

Gah. You've got to love flu season; we're busy as hell.

Ran into an interesting idea while reading about Fun Theory today: it's better to not know everything. Once you know everything, there's no reason left to continue trying. Small surprises along the way; discoveries made by yourself and not just read in a book; the little things that all add up are what are important. The journey, not the destination.

Painfully obvious, I know. You won't understand until you understand, and then it's always been there.

2009-01-14T15:15:00.002-05:00

Just a touch of the plague yesterday, nothing to worry about. I'm feeling loads better, but still a bit under the weather.

Not that you give a damn, right? Who wants to hear about snot? S'not me!

So anyway, how are you? You're fine? That's good to hear. I am also doing well. I agree, it is getting quite cold out there. I believe it was something like twelve degrees out this morning.

Oh hell. This isn't working. What kind of crap can I write here and... I mean, how can I best meet your needs as a reader? The most fantastic words ever written, gilded and polished, all served up hot and tasty just for your particular palate. How does that sound?

But who does that?

My little man is growing up. I guess that's what I get for looking up from my work here. I've got pictures posted all around, some old, some new. He's changed my world.

Ack! Work. What a mixed blessing: less time to write this unconnected drivel.

2009-01-13T10:03:00.001-05:00

How much longer can I put it off? If there's anything I'm good at, it's stalling. For example, I planned to write a post a day in 2009. As you can plainly see, I've put off starting - it's nearly two weeks into the year!

Oh well, right? It's just a blog, a blog that disappeared off the map (if ever it were on it), like millions of others lost in the fog of the Great Internets. Not many read it, and that's a good thing for me, as there's not so much pressure to write. And that is one of the problems: no pressure, no motivation, no inspiration.

I've always said that I write for myself - I say that I'm not writing for you, that I've got no obligation to you. This is a cop-out. I don't do much of anything for myself, and the things that I do I'm little motivated to do often. I don't think that makes me special; I think that I am special and I need to get over it by helping other people. Even if I don't like other people all that much.

Holy crap, are you still there? I'm having trouble with my focus (yeah, no shit there buddy). Being sick in the head will do that.

Right. Well, there're some labels. Keep your fingers crossed.

2008-10-21T08:47:00.000-04:00

2008-09-30T16:27:00.000-04:00

Two rules of success in life:

1. Don't tell people everything you know.

Sometimes

2008-09-29T11:37:00.001-04:00

Don’t cry wolf, don’t say he’s back, don’t expect another post or think I’m getting back into the groove: how many times have I let you down? I get all excited and write a comeback post (or is it reunion tour?), and then leave that poor post along the roadside like so many cigarette ends.

Truth is, I want to write, I really do. I have an urge to put pen to paper, an urge to create. I also have a very powerful self-censor working overtime to keep me from talking too much – sometimes. I often get worked up and think that I need to share my intensity with others. They don’t want that. They don’t need that. I should instead work on putting that intensity into the writing.

All of that burning, all of that smoke. You say you smell it in the distance. You can’t see the fire inside, but you know it’s there – you can feel the heat if you get close enough. Sometimes raging, sometimes smoldering, sometimes. I have to get the fire out and on the page without burning it up and out in the process.

Friday not-so-Funny #1

2008-09-26T22:08:00.000-04:00

2008-09-25T10:57:00.003-04:00

2008-07-29T21:14:00.000-04:00

Fouled plugs

2008-03-25T09:22:00.001-04:00

Soaked in oil.

Covered in crud.

2007-03-02T16:12:00.000-05:00

I just lost a fight with my water bottle.

Got a towel?

We don't need no stinking title.

2007-03-01T19:19:00.000-05:00

March. Does anything happen in March? Isn't it just a wet, muddy, cold and dreary month? No wonder we have St. Paddy's day - to get so lit we forget our miseries. I hope I'm wrong.

After such a blustery post yesterday, you'd think I'd have more to say than that. Give me a break, will you? I'm rusty. Fine lot of good all that time off did me. Now I've got a head devoid of ideas, most things worked through past the point of discussion. What things have I solved? Well, for one, there's that whole speed of light thing. Yeah, that. See, I had trouble believing it was constant, a serious problem for me while in a physics curriculum. I thought perhaps that because its constancy depended so much on the constraints of the definition, then its constancy in the real world might not be constant at all. Where does one get a vacuum like that, anyway? The light traveling through the mud of space would be slowed, delayed, something. So I pondered it out, and came to a conclusion; solving it once and for all.

Not enough, say you? Well, I also managed to learn the arts of the brew master (more testing than brewing), sous chef (what's that burning smell?), and master gardener (just as soon as the weather clears); to add to my already ponderous list of rocket scientist, rock star, freestyle walker, hacker, activist, literature connoisseur, alcoholic, beggar, cheese eater, and well, you know, all of that long list that you already have memorized from the pages of my biography in the newspapers. I wouldn’t want to brag.

And despite all of that, I still remembered to keep my shoes untied, my teeth brushed, my stinky parts un-stinkied, and belly [too] full. Ta da!

Well, I’m exhausted. Off to a new adventure!

Excuses, excuses...

2007-02-28T13:29:00.000-05:00

Who do I think I am, neglecting my writing for so long? I'm not some literary giant, able to whip vast tomes out on a whim. I'm merely human, and I should remember that. Humans must practice their arts, practice diligently, constantly crafting and constantly learning. There are greats, to be sure, but at what cost? Sacrifice must be made.

To be honest, I should tell you the reasons I've not been here. Firstly, I lack what I think is the proper inspiration. Secondly, I feel that when that inspiration comes, the frenzy of the work will overtake me and take care of the production itself. Thirdly, I arrogantly think that I'm good enough that I don't need practice. Fourthly, I am happy.

I know I'm fooling myself. The inspiration I need is all around me. Every drop of time is filled with wonder, my mind reeling with ideas. I lack the discipline to write them down. I know that the frenzy of working comes only after the work itself has begun, never before. That frenzy is driven by the energy of creation, the very act that makes man feel like a god. Energy does not come from nothing, it must be converted from raw matter; the matter of my fingers flying, keys pressing, letters forming words forming sentences forming thoughts all combined in the rush of energy that creates that feeling; the feeling of frenzy.

Practice, though? What am I, a tool? Of course I am. Writing is a skill to be learned, and once learned, honed to perfection. The learning part I'm pretty good at - I'll brag about it, I catch on pretty quickly. The honing part, the deliberate repetition, over and over the same spot... Bah. Boring, but required. I seem to forget that. I hate to practice. It seems so dull. I forget why I'm doing it.

But I am happy.

There's not much you can do about that.

Does suffering create the pressure to make great things? Sometimes, most times, I think so. The lack of something, the desire for someone, the urge; all are things that artists speak of. They are created by the void in the artist's life, unhappiness in one form or another. Can an artist create while happy? Sure. Will that creation be as good as one created in anguish? I think not. I hope so, but I think not.

I have all I need, and all I want, and therefore do not suffer. I have love. I have shelter. I have food. I have time.

I don't need or want more money. I don't need or want more fame. I don't need or want more things.

My only unfulfilled desire is to create. At that, I don't often feel compelled to work at it - my nihilist attitude convinces me that what I do doesn't matter. Imagine me, another writer whose words are lost in a sea of voices. Good ideas are few and far between enough as it is, let alone to be drowned by the masses of idiocy. I fear the greatest ideas of mankind are the first to die a quick death.

Even if I am good at this writing thing, and even if I manage to get my message out to the world, and even if that message is something great and important, and even if in that world the right people with the right tools and the right intentions are listening; what good could possibly come from all of it? What greatness should feeble mankind attempt - what greatness is even possible?

Is it really all that great after all?

2007-01-12T21:23:00.000-05:00

Sorry, I've been making labels.

2007-01-01T16:03:00.000-05:00

ugh old

2006-12-29T08:10:00.000-05:00

That late already? Okay then.

Have a happy new year.

Stummy!

2006-12-13T12:00:00.000-05:00

I started walking on my lunch breaks about a year ago. If my motivation was to lose weight, then I'm failing. I really just like to walk, the weight should be a bonus. The route hasn't changed since (still ~2 miles), but I don't do it every day now. If the weather is awful, then I just sit in my car and read. Usually rain or extreme cold is enough for me to call it off nowadays. I still really like the walk, but I noticed the past few times that my legs hurt about halfway through. Maybe I need to slow down a little, or probably need to get back to going every day. I'm sure that I've just out of shape.

Seriously, look at this gut. Sheesh. What happened? I'm not going to win the prize hog ribbon, but I've really let it go. And to think, over a year ago I started eating a salad every day for lunch.

I wonder why I feel the need to be healthier. My body certainly doesn't care. It likes awful food, and tons of it. Somedays it seems all I do is eat. I enjoy eating. I enjoy eating good food. So why do I feel guilty for that? Is it because so much of it is wasteful; or because people go hungry elsewhere; or just that I think I should be skinnier?

I know there are people who are beyond obese. I don't think they woke up one day like that. Day after day, year after year, packing it in. I think if I don't understand this, then I will do the same.

Whew. I've talked myself into quite a corner here. I was proofreading that last bit when I realized it sounds bad. I know some of you reading this will think I'm talking about you, but really I'm not; not at all (remember that conversation over the weekend about the 400 pounder? yeah, that one). You think I'm talking about you, just like I think I'm talking about me, but I'm not.

Meh. Let me start over.

Hi, I'm Joe and I think I'm getting fat. I know that it is part of the aging process. I also know that my excessive eating (no matter how healthy) and lack of physical exercise are to blame. Sometimes I think I should be less fat, but mostly I don't have a problem with it. I don't want an early grave, but I don't want to live forever, either. I have no desire in being a model or a movie star, or any career where I need to worry about what I look like. I'm just trying to decide exactly what size I should be (and should I care?) and how hard I want to work to maintain that (=not at all).

Hold that thought; it's almost dinnertime.

PS. Yes, I noticed that two posts back to back contain the word 'sheesh'. I blame it on Charlie Brown.

flyby

2006-12-12T11:47:00.000-05:00

Angie and I went to the PTO meeting last night and worked with them until almost eight last night. After that, she showed me her room and all the things they had been doing since the last time I had been there. Some of it is really neat: how the room started with the four bare walls, then filled with things; now, it feels filled with life. What a wonderful room! Angie showed me the xmas things they have been working on, like the cinnamon-applesauce-glue ornaments and their daily class picture schedule on the board and how the day works. It was nice to see how Angie spends her days; and from her excitement in showing me everything, nice to see how much she truly enjoys it. I'm very proud of her.

We put up the rest of the xmas stuff up over the weekend. The tree was shorter than we realized, so I had to rig a platform safe enough for the dogs to not knock over. This is Reese's first christmas, so we'll have to keep an eye on her and the tree. She's doing well so far. We put up some more decorations too, more lights and such. It was fun putting ornaments on our tree. We usually put some xmas music on for it, but those cds were at school. Finally, I lugged the empty boxes and wrappers back up the the attic to sit until the new year (when all of it comes down). Whew, one thing done.

That's the way it feels right now, doesn't it? Hurry, hurry. I know we're rarely home; or when we are, it's quiet time (I like quiet time, too). Then rush on to the next thing that needs done. I think tonight we'll get some time at the house to pick up a little before the next flurry of activity swamps us again.

Like now. Sheesh.

Ho hum.

2006-12-05T12:02:00.000-05:00

I hate Christmas.

I know I'm awful, but I just don't like it much at all. As most of you know, I don't believe in the religious parts of it (I wrote this last year). I don't like the commercialization of it all either, and that people feel compelled to spend more money than they reasonably can just to give to someone who probably really doesn't need it either. It's crap. I think it's sad that people need an excuse to see each other and buy each other things. It's odd the way it works out to that, but that seems to be the way it is.

How many people do you only see around the holidays? Are you as uncomfortable as I am, sitting there making small talk with people you feel guilty for not knowing better or not really caring about? Is that what most of it is really about; guilt? We feel guilty that we don't make time for each other the rest of the year, so we try to buy away the guilt. We as the usual questions; what's new, how are things, what happened with so-and-so; but really, we're counting down the moments until it's over. Not over, over; but just until that conversation; that awkward moment has passed.

Sure, there are good times mixed in there too, with people you want to see more, people you really do miss and don't get enough time with. Time or space keeps you apart, but when you steal a moment with them, off in the corner away from the crowd, it is special. They are the reason you trudge through the rest; they are the people you cherish. Remember, though, absence makes the heart grow fonder; and if they're always there, you'll take advantage of it and lose that exclusivity.

It feels good to give freely sometimes as well. I know there is a brief moment of joy when your hard thought present is opened to a surprised smile or slight gasp: in that there is happiness. But for the rest, the token gifts with stylish bows and baskets... are they really worth the time?

Along those lines comes charity. Why give during the holidays? (why give at all) Why give only during the holidays? Are you too cheap or too selfish to give the rest of the year? Is it only convenient at the end of the year, when tax time is coming; or it's just easier to find a hand to fill? Why does the salvation army only ring their bells through the shopping season; is it because no one will give the rest of year either?

Oh, the salvation army (or insert your favourite charity here). They have their hearts in the right place, but they know fuck-nothing about running a business. Imagine, a company that gave freely to the poor and needy, and didn't beg for money! Why should I give anything to a group who will not do something useful with it? They're just going to give it away and ask for more. Just think what would happen if they used the donations to make enough money to be self-sustaining. They'd be a great success for ten or fifteen minutes until overrun with swarms of needy greedy seedy feed-mes. Therein lies the true problem, and is the reason I don't give to charity.

There will always be people with less than you. Be nice, give them things if it makes you sleep at night (and really makes their day), but don't go overboard. Are you volunteering to be ascetic? If you're not ready to be the lowest man on the totem pole (and a great martyr for mankind there Gandhi), try to be realistic. Just as there are people with more than you, there are people with less than you (unless you give them all that you have, then that makes you the person with less than everyone else - and the simple fact that you're reading this on the internet on a computer with electricity means you're pretty damn well off already); and always will be. Save your blind charity; if you give, give to a someone you know needs it (and more importantly in my opinion, appreciates it).

Rant rant rant, bitch moan whine. And yet, you're still here.

Bah humbug.

about:

2006-11-29T16:15:00.000-05:00

Click on this or type it into your address bar:

about:mozilla

Depending on your browser, you might see something interesting...

(I know, I'm late finding this out, but you didn't know either, did you?)

And the winner is.... ANDY!

2006-11-26T09:26:00.000-05:00

Tourney finalist: Sam (with dart wounds), Andy (The Champ) and Dennis

2006-11-26T09:24:00.000-05:00

Sam!

2006-11-26T09:21:00.000-05:00

Smiling Perdy

2006-11-26T09:20:00.000-05:00

Watching the Big Dart Tourney

2006-11-26T09:18:00.000-05:00

Sam, Doug, and Joe

2006-11-26T09:17:00.000-05:00

Cyndi, Andy, John, Deb, and Angie

2006-11-26T09:15:00.000-05:00

Doug, John (Smiley) and Dave

2006-11-26T09:13:00.000-05:00

2006-11-25T23:53:00.000-05:00

Jibi-biber-babbler

2006-11-17T16:03:00.000-05:00

Whew. Another week on the books. Somehow this week felt faster. Hmm.

So, in the few minutes I have left at work, I decided to drop you some lines. Well, not you, but really me. Me and you. Maybe.

If I could remember what I was thinking about. I can't believe Blogger runs so slowly. I know, I know; I said I'd leave oh so long ago. I cursed them and then cuddled them. I couldn't help it, I suppose. I like having a static page name and my simple layout. I don't even mind using their stuff to write this, from time to time. Other times it kicks odd characters into my text, or reformats my spacing. Irritating, but easier than change, oui non?

Speaking of change, could you spare a few sense? Not cents. I need some sense.

I probably do. What a terrible bit this is today. I still cannot recall what I intended to write (what a pretentious way of saying 'I don't remember yet').

Yikes. Looks like we both lose this round.

Later

2006-11-16T17:00:00.000-05:00

That last one was up longer than I expected. I hope I didn't offend any of you too much. Grandma (mom's mom) is in a hospital in Columbus, hopefully getting good help from real doctors. Well, doctors who aren't burnt out on trying to fix her. She's in their hands now.

In other news, I'm still down-shaving. Don't know what I'm talking about? I talked about a while ago, here if you're interested. To remind you, I was taught to shave with hot water, against the hair (and therefore up my face). I used to get razor burn from it. I read on the internet that I should use cold water and shave with the hair, down my face. Since then, very little if any razor burn. I have to shave more often, but it's usually pretty quick and painless. I don't think I've cut myself this way either (but I will the next time, because I just jinxed myself). I might recommend it. Might.

I burned through a couple books the past couple days. I rather enjoy an evening sitting and reading, maybe we can make this a regular thing again (you know, when all the busy stops). I need to go back to the library to get more books, but in the meantime I picked up Origin of Species again. I decided I would read it between other books, a few chapters at a time when I could. Anyhoo, I ran into a word that I don't think I've seen before: dioeciously.

I looked it up. Any guesses?

retitled, vulnerable

2006-11-12T22:06:00.000-05:00

Life doesn't play fair.

My mom's mom isn't doing well. She's been sick and in and out of the hospital since August. She has diabetes, but the doctors can't figure out exactly what is wrong. She's had a great many problems that continue. My mom's family is running themselves ragged trying to take care of her... to save her. My grandpa needs to rest; he worries so much. It hurts to see everyone in such pain. I don't know what's going on.

Angie and I went to see my dad's dad this weekend in Cincinnati. He has cancer and doesn't have much time left here. He's really been through the gauntlet over the years; with alzheimer's, a stroke, diabetes, and now cancer. Grandma passed away eight years ago. It's been rough for him, but he's strong and independent. As much as no one wants to see him go, he's been ready. He's made his decision. He's not the type for things to not be in their place. As difficult as it was to see him so sick, I know that he's got everything planned out so that everything has been taken care of. I only hope that my family can see what a strong man he has been (and still is) and that he wants us not to worry. He loves us and loves to see us, but he misses grandma so much.

I miss her too.

As a child and young adult, it's hard to imagine a world where our grandparents aren't around. For that matter, it's hard to imagine a world where our parents aren't around; and yet I know both my mom and my dad have this to face. My heart aches for them. As much as we struggle to free ourselves and our tender young lives, we always come running home. For safety and comfort; and for love. Our parents nurture our lives; tend to us with all the care and attention they can afford. They are part of who we are. They help make us who we are. They send us off into the world (as we think we are the ones breaking free), always worrying and waiting for the next bruised knee or scratch to kiss. We rush off to our new busy lives, making our parents proud and disappointed, making a life where we lean less on them and depend more upon ourselves. One day leads to the next, one week to the month, and time passes. We grow up, adults and loving people on our own.

But they are still there, still loving, still worrying. Still ready to kiss that scratched elbow or mend a broken heart. They have their life, but they still mould ours. As we age into those independent adults, they age as well. They age and grow old, but their love is always there.

Thanksgiving is around the corner. As sad a time this is, I am thankful for each moment I have had; each second snatched from time's grasp. I am thankful for the moments I have shared with the people I know and love; and I am thankful for the thoughts and love I have received in return. I do cherish what I have and have had. I am grateful.

I know that everything will eventually be all right, but I still worry and hope for that. I worry about my parents right now, and I hope that I'm able to help them for even a fraction of what they've given me. I hope I can help; I hope I can offer some small comfort. I hope they know I'm here if they need me. I'm here; they can lean on me.

I'm sorry. It's not fair of me to write this now. It's not fair for me to start your Monday off with this. It's not fair.

I hope each of you know how important you are to the people in your lives.

Quiet Time

2006-11-07T22:36:00.000-05:00

It's ten thirty on a Tuesday night. Gilmore Girls and House are both but dim memories at this point (sad, yeah? Actually, let me go there for a minute; books, movies, television. You know well, as I do, that there are stories that stick with you and stories that merely entertain for a while. I try more and more to digest the sticky stories, knowing that I will only get to read so many. When it comes to books, I'm finding that I will have probably have to find some brain candy in between the meat. As for movies and tv, I fear there is naught but junk food [for the junkie] and might never be substance. I've had this copy of Origin of Species for some time now, and I've not found time to read it (well, a little, I'm about a hundred pages in). I'd love to finish it, but I'm afraid I might need more sugar first. Fickle brain, why can't you enjoy what I tell you to? Bah.) I'm sitting here hunched over the keyboard and cranking out a bit for you to read (and a bit for me to have). Let's see what you'll get, shall we?

Everybody and their brother and their hamster is writing about the election. I've got plenty to say, but none of it matters. Right? Right.

I still haven't re-started writing. I'm not putting it off so much as I'm finding other things to do. Yesterday, I had computer problems followed by finishing a big project at work. Today, I got my work early and left a little early (like fifteen minutes). Tomorrow, I already know that I should be working on a report. Maybe that will be enough to jump start me; ie, playing instead of working. Fickle brain and its games... Some focus would be nice from time to time, jello head.

Ah, focus. You don't know it, but so time passed between that last paragraph and this one. Reese needed some love and attention so I gave her some (believe it or not). I just wish she didn't try to destroy everything we own.

Oops. That's all the time I have for tonight (I'm actually working to get to bed earlier each night - it's not working so far). Vinnie's my carpool tomorrow, we'll see if he forks me over. Calc-u-lator.

Mr. Awesome Pants

2006-11-01T21:46:00.000-05:00

If I could go back and misspend more of my youth, I would. Most sayings tell us to capture the best of our time; or that youth is wasted on the young. This may well be true, but I don't agree.

When I look back over my [short] time here, I can see the value of idle time. I can see what happened when I misspent my time; I can see what good has come of it. I know that without the time to kill, I wouldn't have the creativity or imagination that I have today.

Of course, with more properly managed time and a structured approach to everything along the way, I could be sitting in a pretty sweet spot right now, like a junior CEO or the next great scientist. I'd have a mansion, sports cars, an island, all the coolest gadgets and toys; anything I wanted. But I wouldn't be me. I wouldn't be me.

I like me a little right now. That's a step in the right direction, and a long stride from the angsty teen I once was. I'm glad that I didn't do the right things all the time, despite all that I've had to forfeit. I've built some character that cost some future chances.

If there is anything I regret, it is procrastination.

What the hell am I talking about? I've been rambling on and on about what a cool person I am and how I'm so awesome. What a windbag. I think I'm okay, but I wish I wouldn't put things off so much, like writing more often. There. Wasn't that easy? Sheesh. Who doesn't?

Oh, I remembered what I was going to write about earlier today! I was walking along and I noticed the fallen leaves. Sycamore leaves are huge. There must not have been many sycamore trees around when I was a kid. I would have noticed; they're huge trees, trunks and branches white like the snow, with leaves as big as circus tents. Very obvious. Even that idle youngun would've seen at least one.

Anyway, I noticed that these giant trees have giant leaves. A large number of the leaves on the path were the size of dinner plates. I could see that there were a number of leaves the size of salad plates, and some the size of various saucers (hungry yet?). I'll assume that the size of the leaves on one particular tree vary greatly but range on a bell curve. I'd say that the middle size is the salad plate, still an eight inch wide leaf.

My point? Giant leaves on a giant tree, smaller leaves on smaller trees. Well, deciduous trees. Evergreens have such tiny leaves and some get really big (um, redwood?). I might be wrong, but it's just an observation. Besides, you're not still reading this anyways. You're just skimming along, blah blah blah, right? Okay, yeah, sure. Whatever. And the trees have an inner diameter of I know you're not reading this crap say six feet.

Ha.

worn out

2006-10-26T16:46:00.000-04:00

It can be fun to be this high, but it does get old after a while. I don't know if it's the lack of oxygen from the brochitis, or just the medicine (even long after it's supposed to wear off), or what. I'm exhausted from just keeping my balance.

Right now I just want to sleep.

wooooo

2006-10-24T16:59:00.000-04:00

I only have a few minutes.

Joe sicky.

I have bronchitis, which I've never had before (that I recall). I'm finding it interesting that I'm catching all kinds of yucky things now that I quit smoking. What a trade. This bronchitis critter gave me a fever (102-103) on waking, and a low grade throughout the day. Hot nasty sweating followed by intense cold and shivering, wet heavy chest and a light cough (at first, then you can imagine how it goes from there), and shortness of breath, and I'm sure some other goodies I forgot about (like being a big baby).

The doc gives me an antibiotic (biaxin xl $) and some hydrocodone syrup, I take my own 800mg of ibuprofen. I get a little stoned on the syrup. Don't worry, I don't drive on the stuff. I get wobbly and a bit dizzy when standing, and a bit lightheaded all around.

I told you all this because my story wouldn't be funny without it. So I'm standing at the urinal, taking a dump (haha, peeing, silly), and I feel like I'm wobbling back and forth. Then, as I'm peeing, the stream starts and stops, like someone put a kink in the hose. Odd, eh? Then I look at the wall next to me (right next to me, it's a tight spot), and I see my shadow rocking back and forth. Ah ha! I was right! I am wobbling (and thus contracting various muscles and 'kinking the hose'). I only realized this on the second visit today; at the first I just thought I wasn't seeing things right.

That's all. Imagine me shrugging my shoulders with a weak grin.
Enjoy your next pee.

SDDS, SSDD, whatever

2006-10-17T17:02:00.000-04:00

All that pompous talk and then nothing, right? You know how it is. Inspirations strikes, you run with it, then it peters out and you’re left with some malformed idea that begs for attention. When you think about it, it really is amazing that anything at all gets done. My attention span probably makes the average housefly look like a monk. Who isn’t just like me these days? You get bombarded with information from all sides all day long. How much can you afford to pay attention to; how much can you remember? That last post was riddled with sound bites, wouldn’t you say? What, you don’t recall? Well phooey.

So today on my walk (yeah, I still do at least that), I pondered a bit on the nature of dullness. Well, Steady Dull, and Dead(e) Stall, to be more specific. It’s one thing to be dull, or to have a lull (which rhymes with dull) in the excitement. It’s quite another thing altogether when that dull is constant. It seems to become more of a stillness, a stall: a dead stall. Let me give an example, i.e. an e.g.:

You know the sound the exit lights make in a dark cube farm? Those red lights that glow a little in the dark after everyone else goes home; do they have any noise to you? Not even a little hum? I’m not talking about the air re-circulators, or cpu fans, I’m talking about the lights.

Don’t look at me like that. You have to know what I’m talking about.

Anyhoo, if you have any idea, then you probably know what the steady dull is. Institutional, quietly humming, not-quite-silence. The absence of busy noise in the hum of the white noise. Wait, what? No, no, that’s not it. Steady dull is monotony, constant and unyielding. Dead stall is… not that. It’s when there is hesitation that drags out and becomes constant. heh.

Right?

Well, it was a good walk, anyway.

Muse Idle

2006-10-15T23:10:00.000-04:00

We have been deceived.

A man promised change. A man promised a difference. What did we get?

Silence.

You should know that I share in your pain. You see, I also believed that I was bringing change to the site. I believed that I was bringing something different. I intended to redesign the site you now see, to make more of it; to make it better. The longer I worked to develop the new site, the longer I kept from writing on it. Writing makes this site what it is, not some silly graphics. This was my mistake: this was my downfall.

What good is a man who follows not his dreams?

I stopped writing during the summer. I stopped reading [books] during the summer. I stopped doing what makes me who I am to pursue things I felt were more important. My usual writing time was interrupted, and real life seems much too, well, real to bother with setting time aside. I’ve got some wonderful things done and more still in progress. Maybe I’ll even finish a few of them eventually… I’ll admit, it was a nice summer hiatus.

But now the sun sets earlier and earlier, and the weather has turned cool (and some mornings downright cold); and my mind has started to wander. Each night after Angie drifts off on the couch I pace the house, trying to find what is missing. I fill the space with little projects; with silly plans. And yet, a piece is still not there.

One thing I have been doing a lot lately is thinking. My brain loves the dark, and cool weather brings plenty of that. I fear that idle thinking will be my undoing some day. I will think myself into a corner, and will spend my days drooling in the asylum (instead of drooling at my desk). But I love to think! Where else but in my mind can I do all the things and see all the things I cannot with my limbs and my eyes? I can do anything. I just can’t do it forever.

If daydreaming were a sport, I’d be a gold medalist.

But this wonderful gift of mind comes with a terrible price: use it or lose it. I’ve squandered my gift for the past few months. What ideas get wasted when I don’t write them down? This writing, the catharsis of my dreams, solidifies and purifies my mind. I believe that a person can only think too much if they cannot find a way to use it.

Remember, I don’t just write this for you.

I enjoy writing. I enjoy the way I can work through my mind sometimes slower, sometimes picking out points here and there. (I don’t like the way that I only write down every twentieth thought... no wonder this is always so disjointed!) What is better that enjoying something but sharing your enjoyment; here is mine, there you are… ta da.

I've been away long enough. I was waiting for the right time to start writing again, waiting for the muse to kick me in the balls. What a fool I've been.

Rarely does opportunity waste time with bravado. Opportunity does not knock. Opportunity works instead like a whisper on the wind; a quiet brush and away it goes.

Time to fly.

2006-09-06T12:08:00.000-04:00

You're all so dedicated, checking and re-checking to see if I wrote anything. I suppose I should have left notice that I'm working on a secret for you. Give me a little longer.

Happy Birthday to Her!

2006-08-26T10:29:00.000-04:00

Happy birthday to my wonderful wife! She is now.. um.. 21 forever! Right? Okay! Happy birthday!

(her blog here)

Swamped

2006-07-25T11:13:00.000-04:00

I've got ten seconds before I have to get back to work, so this too will be short.

I've been swamped here at work. The logo change is right on schedule (in that I scheduled it to ruin my life to please the master), and I'm supposed to be done by the end of the week. I'd like to have it all finished by Thursday evening in time for the town hall meeting, but... I'm writing in here instead of working.

Time's up.

Shut down, restart, save?

2006-07-18T16:03:00.000-04:00

Today has been an interesting day.

After nine this morning the power went out. It is now four o'clock, and the power is still not back on. I am running this computer, a server, an lcd monitor, a crt, two printers, a desk lamp, and two box fans all over one extension cord stretched to a generator. I have no windows, no air circulation, and I am upstairs. The air is stale because it usually gets recirculated. Oh, and it's over 90 degrees (F) outside.

So I'm working hot, sweaty, in the dark, and as carefully as possible to not drain power any more.

Earlier today, I was working on a spreadsheet when someone unplugged the wrong cord (plunging me into darkness and my report into the void). I was tickled pink.

So now, to conserve power, I wi

Friday already?!

2006-07-14T17:39:00.000-04:00

It's not fair of me to spend all my good writing on the forum and email.

2006-07-14T12:48:00.000-04:00

emover

Buzz, buzz.

2006-07-09T23:17:00.000-04:00

You must read about my Sunday morning. The story is over here.

2006-07-07T10:42:00.000-04:00

Sorry, I've been busy.

Declare your Freedom

2006-07-04T10:53:00.000-04:00

When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. — Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected, whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefit of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & Perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred. to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States, that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. — And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

Corporate Catastrophes

2006-06-30T14:45:00.000-04:00

Sorry I've not posted, I've been working on the logo change (I talked about it HERE). It's been a long and frustrating ride; and the company is finally taking it seriously - in large part due to the deadline originally set: TOMORROW. Ha!

Let's see, the deadline was set in March. We did some preliminary work on the logo and branding change, but nothing on paper. See, for the change to actually occur, all the requisite paperwork must be filled out. Somehow, our newbie VP of marketing (who spearheaded the logo campaign) has little to no experience in actually doing anything. He decided that he wanted a pretty new logo on everything, so he just started printing it on his stuff. Then he took it to the board, and they said they wanted it too. So, there was a meeting and it was declared the new logo.

That was it.

All that trumpet and fanfare for nothing. The VP's lackey sent me some graphics with the instructions to "stick it on everything." I laughed. I took it to the CEO and the COO and told them the situation: no papers, no changes. What I make are legal medical device labels - not some overgrown asshat's idea of pretty stickers. They agreed with me, and told the VP to do the paperwork to get it all done. He pulled his nose out long enough to declare "no problem, boss!" and promptly shoved it back in.

Three months pass, and I get a mass email from the marketing boob. His question to the company, in standard cheerleader baloney, is "Are we ready?!" Followed shortly by my reply (cc'd to all the management) "Hell no! I've not received anything from marketing to even get started!"

Oops.

Well, the cheerleader got a sharp rap on the nose (bad doggy) and was told to go stand in the corner (in the meantime, I think his corporate incentives tripled). Then the real powers that be sat down and tried to flesh something out. Three weeks later, they asked me [again] what had to be done. They decided to skirt ISO and FDA regulations a little and take a shortcut - blanket paperwork. I'm a bit wary (because I don't believe in "but I was only following orders"), but I'm getting the work done (and over-doing it a bit to cover my ass). After a week of hemming and hawing, I finally got our regulatory VP to put some requirements in writing (probably the first time in her 20 years here), so we could actually get some work done.

Since then, it's been smooth sailing. I design a batch of labels, run them out to regulatory affairs, they sign off, and I move on to the next batch. I've got a new deadline (another month), and I'm running without paperwork, which is fine as long as we don't actually use any of the new designs. It's fun to have everything in duplicate while waiting on paperwork.

So in all this frustration, I have to wonder why it is that companies will continue to hire imbeciles for their top positions. I understand the corporate tree quite well: money, no work at the top; no money, some work at the bottom; and little money, most of the work in the middle. As it is, if a top dog makes a mistake (no matter how large), they reprimand the person and have a sit-down with them. Then it's right back to limos and buffoonery. If someone at the bottom makes a mistake, they cut them and replace them with an equal-sized peg - no net change. If someone in the middle falters though, they get burnt at the stake, crucified, and tarred and feathered. The worst part of understanding this is that I understand the rationale behind it. If someone in the top or bottom makes a mistake, it is usually harmless because their workload is so light (with the exception of a few major top-level mis-decisions). When someone in the middle makes a mistake, it has broad reaching and dangerous implications - just as the load-bearing wall falls, the entire structure will fail.

Don't get me wrong, I know that all of the people involved are seriously important. The top people have to use creativity and vision to drive and idea into reality; the bottom must complete the mundane and dirty work to move the little pieces. It's just unfortunate that so much of the world is so unproductive.

Bah, what a terrible post for a Friday. Have a delightful weekend, if you can.

Counting down.

2006-06-27T16:35:00.000-04:00

I looked at the calendar today and had an epiphany.

You see, I have exactly one week left until I reach my one-year mark of not smoking. One year ago now, I was smoking a pack a day. One year ago six days from now, I was smoking a pack a day. One year seven days from now, I was smoking zero packs a day.

That's not the epiphany. The epiphany wasn't the anniversary was coming up. It wasn't that I haven't had a cigarette in 358 days. The epiphany was that addiction won. I'm not addicted to smoking anymore, but I'm still addicted to something.

My life has changed drastically. I stopped doing many of the bad habits I had, and picked up some good ones. I stopped playing video games, for the most part. I stopped eating unhealthy food, for the most part. I'm eating less, drinking more water, drinking less soda. I'm getting a little more exercise. I watch less TV. I think more and read more.

But the one thing I can't shake is the oral fixation. I started crunching mints and gum to help quit smoking. For a while, I was eating a bunch of them. Now, I still go through about a bag (a pound, maybe) a week. That's usually a pocketful a day. It's a real pain in the ass, to be honest. I have to worry about having enough for each day, and I have to make sure I carry them with me. Then there's the wrappers, which I pocket until I near a trashcan. In other words, it's not much different than smoking!

Now, I'm sure all the smokers thinking of quitting want to know the hard facts. Is all the non-smoking propaganda true? In my opinion, no. Did I gain or lose any weight? A little, I'm down ten or twenty pounds; but I also eat healthier and exercise more. Am I healthier now? A little, my blood pressure is down ten or twenty points (again, diet and exercise). But, I've caught a couple nasty infections that I didn't before. It's possible that the smoke in my throat used to kill off or otherwise impede the progress of viruses and bacteria; now my body's a healthy place for them to thrive. So technically, my smoking-related medical bills are higher than they were before (but remember, I'm still a pup, and theoretically, those bills would be extreme late in life). Angie has been healthier now that I don't smoke around her. Am I saving any money? Well, yes and no. We bought a house not long after I quit, so all the money that I used to spend smoking is now part of the mortgage.

The lifestyle change was probably the most important part of staying a non-smoker. We moved to a different place, where the house didn't already smell like smoke. We changed our habits to include healthier options; like getting up right after dinner rather than sitting around. We adjusted our life so that smoking wasn't necessary, or was otherwise difficult. We didn't spend much time around people who do smoke.

Maybe that's the biggest change. Of our friends and family that smoke, we spend less time with them than we did in the past. No offence to you all; but for a while I just needed to stay away from it. Not too long afterwards, though, smoking doesn't bother me much. We still don't let people smoke in the house (as if anyone ever came over); there's an ashcan outside away from the entrance.

Something that has surprised me is the support and well wishes I've received from everyone, smoker and non-smoker alike. Nearly everyone I've run into congratulates me and tells me how great it is - even people I barely know. It's certainly been a great deal of help. Imagine, one simple thing that makes people react so positively. It's really amazing.

Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't thank my darling wife Angie. Without her, none of this would be possible. She was willing to change her life to help me quit, and was willing to put up with me through it all. She's been a constant support to help me stay on the path; and my biggest cheerleader. I couldn't have done it without her.

On another note, I noticed something odd a little while ago. I went to the restroom here at work (too much water, I suppose). It's the usual: one urinal, two toilets, and three sinks. I pushed open the door, and saw that it had a deadbolt. Keyed on the outside, and thumbturn on the inside. I understand that they might need or want to lock the bathroom for cleaning or maintenance. That would explain needing the lock in the first place. But, why a thumbturn? Why would anyone need to lock themselves in the bathroom? If it were for cleaning or other work, the maintenance crew would possess a key - thus the lock should be keyed on both sides. With a thumbturn, anybody off the street could lock the door from the inside (and of course, stay stuck inside). I can see where a location like this would be a hangout for sexual predators and the like - it's a free and safe place to take a person to be alone. Imagine your child heading off to the restroom, and getting locked in with someone. What could you do about it but wait until they opened the door (after who knows what)?

It's a rhetorical question. The reason why there is a thumbturn on the inside is the same reason for all locking public doors: fire code. Any door in a public place with a lock must have an easily disengageable inner side. That's why so many doors can be merely pushed open from the inside, even while locked.

But still, it's pretty weird, if you ask me.

2006-06-26T18:41:00.000-04:00

Meet Tibble.

What weekend?

2006-06-26T16:45:00.000-04:00

That was fast.

I can distinctly remember waking up Friday and going to work. After that, though... Let's see if my memory holds up.

Friday night, Angie and I took Vinnie to Rio Bravo for his belated birthday (20) feast. Then we went to wallyworld. We ran into a few friends while we were there, and talked long enough for my beer to get warm (don't grab the first six-pack on the right). Then we went home with the intent of watching a movie. Instead, we stayed up late and played cards. I don't remember who won the first game, but I know that Jack put Angie out in the second.

Saturday, Angie and I headed over to the Weeks estate to help out. Angie helped Mom work on flowerbeds and the front patio and the 'porch' swing, and who knows what else. After taking a ride to the dump and back, I dug a hole for a couple hours.

That evening, we drove to Marietta to meet with the Johnsons at Ryan's restaurant. George and Goldie (Charlotte's aunt and uncle) were in from Florida (?) and we all sat around and talked over dinner. I know I ate too much, but it was worth it.

That night we went to see Chuck and Jerry wrestle. They both won belts and got the crap knocked out of them. We gave Mallory a ride to our house afterwards and waited for Erin to pick her up.

Sunday, we got up and went to the Hysell family reunion. The Hysells are Angie's step-dad's mom's side - and no, I didn't know any of them, either. It didn't matter, the food was good and the rain was... wet, and I think everyone had a good time anyway. I know I did.

Sunday afternoon, we drove back over to my mom and dad's to carpool to Zanesville. Steve and Mary Ellen were in town for Lonnie (her dad) and Connie's wedding (congrats, by the way!). After a nice detour in Crooksville, we made it to Ellen's house (her mom) and all hung out on the back patio. It's really nice there, and overlooks the country club golf course.

Josh Graham and his parents came over to see us, which was neat. I lived across the hall from Josh in the dorms back in college, and I've always thought he was a great guy; but I haven't talked to him in years (or seen him in even more). Despite the awkwardness of hanging out with someone you don't know what to say to, I think we all did pretty well (all by then being Ellen, Annie, Sampson (their dog - soft and fuzzy like a... fleece blanket? No, more like the soft side of velcro), [I'm sorry, I don't remember the two boys' names], Josh, his parents, Steve and Mary Ellen, Mom and Dad, Angie and I).

Later on, the Grahams brought over Tibble to meet us. Tibble was one of Cassie's pups that we gave away (to Josh). He's so much like and unlike Cassie, it's amazing. Cassie, you might know, is a little shorter than a bird dog; all black with white tips; pulls the leash like a tugboat; and loves being scratched right at the base of her tail. Tibble as a puppy was all white. As he is now, he's tan with white trim; the size of a golden retriever; pulls the leash like a pair of tugboats; and loves being scratched at the base of his tail. That they have the same mannerims after so long is amazing (Cassie's 5, Tibble's 4).

It was really great to see him after so long (Josh or Tibble? You decide... I'm kidding. I mean both of them!).

Then after seeing everyone for not-long-enough, we had to hit the road again. Angie and I finally got home after midnight, and crashed after loving our own dogs for a while.

See? I told you it was fast. Catch you tomorrow.

Saw that coming...

2006-06-22T14:12:00.000-04:00

Watch what you say...

http://www.cnn.com/2006/TECH/internet/06/22/blogs.gasprices/index.html

The paragraph I'm concerned about is:
"Umbria President Howard Kaushansky said his company collects millions of published blog post in a data warehouse, so that the company's analysts can look for trends."

And then what? Do they keep them? Sell the trends? It's not like the NSA doesn't already know it all; who would buy it? Marketing firms? China? Terrorists (ha!)?

It's not news to me that everything I publish or send is saved for all eternity, but that someone takes the time to read it and mine data from it...

What a terrible world this has turned into.

Wow, two posts?!

2006-06-21T15:46:00.000-04:00

I know, I know. Hold your applause, please. No, thank you. Please, please. No, it's much too much. Oh, my. Thank you, thank you. Please, no more.

Ahem. That's a little embarrassing.

Now, if you'll allow me to continue, I'd like to talk to you about reality. No, not the awful television type. The real reality. Still confused? Okay. See the words here? ..wooooorrddzzss.. Yes? Okay. Reach out with your finger and touch this thing right HERE. Do you feel that? Does it feel smooth? Good, we're on the right path. Now, slide your finger up to where it says "UNTITLED". Still with me? Okay. Slide your finger up some more until it stops against a little wall. It's probably black or beige or grey (unless you're Vinnie, then who knows). Now slide your finger to the right, until you find the corner of the little wall, where it meets another wall. Got it? Slide your finger down that wall until it hits another corner. Mkay? Now, on that wall, there are probably some buttons. Find the biggest one, and push it.

Hi, welcome back. I'm glad you figured out how to turn the monitor on and off. When this all disappeared, were you worried? It's okay if you were. Did you notice anything happening when the screen went black? Odd noises, funny smells? Yes? Wonderful! You found reality! That smell is you, and that noise is probably another person trying to talk to you. Turn your head and give them a "hey". They'll love it. Now, about that smell...

I know you've done this too, so don't shake your head no; have you ever imagined yourself two-dimensionally? By this, I mean, have you ever looked at the screen or at a piece of paper (an ancient instrument) and imagined yourself moving on that page? Say, climbing from letter to letter; bouncing off m's; falling through spaces? No? Huh. Me neither.

Hey, I'm sorry. When I said 'two posts', you thought I meant that long one earlier today and something good this time, right? What I meant was that long one from earlier, and a crappy one now. Oops. Big misunderstanding. Like I said, I'm sorry.

It's not like you've really be writing much, either.

Wi-th Tee-th

2006-06-21T11:30:00.000-04:00

..what a morning.

It's just about as slow, quiet, and boring as it can get around here. I'm dying to write something, but I don't yet know what. I could write about our puppies, or about the house, or about work... or really just about anything. Maybe I should write about the evils of mankind, or of government, or of technology, or of religion... Maybe, just maybe, I should throw in the towel and wait until I actually have something to write about. What do you think?

Really? That's not very nice. Actually, that's quite rude. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Wow. And I thought my readership had some class (I'm totally kidding... I know that you don't have any class;).

Oh! I remembered a story! In all honesty, I don't know how I forgot it at all (and I'll tell you why at the end). On Friday, the radio died in the car. Usually, this isn't a big deal. There is a cd changer in the trunk and an FM transmitter in the dash, and they're fine; but the actual AM/FM tape deck has some nasty shorts. I'm not sure how it ended up being bolted to the dash, or why whenever it moves or bumps, a speaker stops or starts working - but hey, I'm not that picky. When it works, it works. When it doesn't... I get some time to think.

Anyhoo, I was driving home, listening to Switchfoot (don't ask), and the radio cut out. No biggie, I smack the side of it, expecting the wires to catch. Nothing. Turn it off and back on, nothing. Grab it and shake it a little, nothing. I can see the transmitter from the changer is still working, counting away the precious seconds I'm missing from the music. I shuffle it around a bit, then give in. The radio won that trip.

I drove the car a little this past weekend, and the radio still wasn't working. Same for Monday and Tuesday. I was starting to worry - I just got the new NIN album in the mail, and there's no way I'll get to listen to it anywhere but in the privacy of the car (for some strange reason, Angie didn't want to listen to it in her car or at the house). I took a chance this morning, and stuck it in the cd changer before I left for work.

Sure enough, as soon as I picked out the right disc, it took off (loudly, ack); and the radio was reborn! Happily, I got to listen to the first half of the cd all the way to work, at the proper volume for such an occasion, and all the speakers stayed on. What a wonderful ride.

So now for that explanation; I've had a riff stuck in my head from that album all morning, and I've been singing it over and over in my mind... When I was typing above, I paused for a minute to groove through it again - and that's how I remembered what I should not have forgotten.

As a side note to this story, I do not appreciate the options available to modern electronics. Sure, Mr. Radio, you'd heard that album before, but you had no right to stop playing it like that - even if you think it sucks. Yes, I agree, the new Nine Inch Nails cd is certainly worth more playtime; but that's my decision, not yours. Pull that shit again, and you're gone.

In other news, something stinks. When I walk out the back door, I can smell it. Around the house a little, out in the street, in the neighbor's field; stinky. Usually, something that stinks that bad is dead and rotting, but I've shared a tent with Lamar before, so I have to keep an open mind. After making sure that Lamar wasn't sleep-farting nearby, I have decided that there must be something dead. I've checked our house and garage (and even all those sneaky places), and no stinky rotters. I don't see anything in the road next to the house, not even a smear (you know exactly what I'm talking about). So I'll assume the dead and rotting whatever is either cooking in the sun in the neighbors hayfield or up on the nearby road next to the field. I hope the rain knocks out the stench a bit and that the scavengers hurry the hell up and pick that one clean. My nose will thank them.

Speaking of scavengers, don't you have something better to do right now? Work? Chores? Hobbies? Games? Something? Anything?

That's too bad. You really need to get a life.

How much can I insult you before you stop reading? I know it's a popular method of comedy. Sometimes, it's pretty hilarious; sometimes, it's rather painful. I know there's a fine line between funny and not funny. For some people the line is sharp and crisp; for others, blurry. Think to yourself (yes, that means quietly, the others including me don't want to hear you talking), what is my own personal level of humor? Do I find humor in anything, no matter how offensive? Do I find humor in only the driest of wit? Are fart jokes really the universal standard? How about sarcasm, can there really ever be enough? Do you take your laughter by the spoonful or shovelful?

As for me, it really depends. I'm not much a fan of 'stupid-funny'; fart jokes and body humor. I do like mean and biting satire, and I think I have a true appreciation for the humor in your pain. Not mine though. That's never funny. (Seriously, stop it, it hurts for real. Asshole. Quit it!) I also think that vulgarity is fair game - but even I can only take so much before it's just... sick.

Oh, sick! That reminds me of another story. Angie and I were sick last night. I don't know what was up (ha), but we were both nauseous for a while. Yucky.

Well, I think I found yet another problem with modern electronics and their decisions. I ran the spell check in blogger (yes, I've been known to spell a word wrong now and again), and I found several anomalies. For one, fart is not in their dictionary. That answers the humor question. Two, I make up way too many words, like ack and anyhoo. Three, blogger is not in their dictionary (that's more than a little funny). And four, the word vulgarity's spelling suggestion is.. Belgrade. I don't know what the Serbs did to Google, but they must not think much of them.

..whoosh... Back to work.

quote

2006-06-20T16:47:00.000-04:00

Unless you can question your own beliefs, you have no place questioning the beliefs of others.

2006-06-19T17:10:00.000-04:00

You wish I'd post.

Daze

2006-06-16T16:25:00.000-04:00

It's been difficult to focus on anything to write recently. I'm not sure if it's the summer weather, the slow-down at work, or just a blah time.

Work has been quite tedious lately. We're making fewer and fewer cells for the summer (don't worry, it's normal), and a lot of the newer people are experiencing the summer pace for the first time. They enjoy taking off early or sitting around chatting it up with their buddies. Right now, after four on a Friday, there aren't ten cars left in the parking lot. The workers that still here are trying to find other things to do. The shipping ladies downstairs are cleaning the breakroom - I know this because I moved the refrigerator and coffee pot out and back for them. I'd be surprised if the receptionist is even still here. I've been in a few meetings this week - which is a few more than normal. Some of the changes are for the best; others... Some of those new people try too hard to find something to do.

For the rest of us who always have something to do (yes, I am making labels right now), it's tiring to listen to the rest complain about either having nothing to do or about reduced hours. Sure, I snuck out early a few times this spring, but I stick around as long as possible. Most Fridays I get a few ASAPs right at the end of the day, but maybe today will be different. I won't hold my breath. I certainly don't suggest that you hold yours. I mean really, what if I forget to remind you to start again? Big oopsie there.

..shh... The printer stopped for a moment. It's so quiet now. All I hear is the a/c unit over my head. Wait, I hear another similar sound. A freezer downstairs, maybe. Someone is talking somewhere, I can hear the murmurs. The door just clicked.

And there is the printer again! Whew. Sometimes those moments seem to take forever. I know there've been times when; the printers stop, it's quiet downstairs (the main source of annoying noise), and the white noise of the a/c and freezers hum; I zone out. Total blank, total loss of time.

I wonder if that's a bad thing? It's not like sleeping, I think. There's no recharge, refresh, reboot of waking. It's just time standing still. Of course, I never know when I'm in one until I'm coming out of it - usually because someone has broken my concentration.

See, now this writing sucks. What the hell happened? I thought I started out okay, but now it's lost all its luster. This sucks. Why can't I write anything right now? Is it because I'm not interested in anything? Two things I've held true about writing: be interested, and your writing will be interesting; and write what you know. Writing what you know ends up never changing. If you only write what you know, then you'll never know anything new. Right?

Now, for the interesting part... Readers (yes, you) are fickle. One wrong word can send the mind into a haze, a wrong phrase sends the mind packing. The same is true for errors. Nobody's perfect, yes, but if you spell words wrong, use improper punctuation, or generally fuck up altogether, no one will read it. Or if they do, it's with the careful haze we all use to scan something uninteresting - like an off topic article. See? Your mind is glazing over like fog on the windshield. I don't blame you. I really need to find something to write about, or you won't be back.

Well, some of you will, because you're still holding your breath. You may stop now.

Simon says.

Speaking of Simon, who the hell does he think he is? Where did he come from? Why does he have to be the one to tell us what to do? I understand the mother-may-I's, but Simon says? What an ego.

Wait, don't go. I promise I'll write something better! I promise!

(something better)

See, are you happy now? Where are you going?

Hey, what'd I say?

...

Fine. Be that way.

Who cares?

2006-06-13T10:01:00.000-04:00

I was going to write about apathy, but I stopped caring.

Few things bother me more than apathy. I can't stand it when someone doesn't care about something that they should - but I'm a hypocrite. I'm pretty laid back most of the time. I let things go, I let people do their own things, and I try not to get involved in much because I often feel that it doesn't matter. The funny (the sad kind of funny) thing is, is that it irritates the hell out of me when someone else does it.

For example (you were begging for one, I know), if we were talking about, say, illegal immigration, and I picked a side and you stayed on the fence (pun intended). If you had a valid argument for not choosing sides, I'd be okay with it - but if you just out and out did not care... That's a poor example, but an example nonetheless. Pick something that effects you. Taxes! How do you feel about taxes? What, you don't have any opinion about taxes?! So you like giving money away! No, you don't? Well then think about it! Argh!

heh.

What a crap post. It's yours now!

Food, Family, and Friends; the three deadly F's...

2006-06-12T15:24:00.000-04:00

What a pleasant weekend! Friday evening was a celebration of Vinnie's college graduation, as was Sunday (when he actually graduated). We're all very proud of him. Also, we had the chance to have a meal with each family this weekend, and were able to spend some time with them all.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm a bit tired and sore. We'll talk more later, okay?

Congrats Vinnie!

2006-06-11T12:55:00.000-04:00

Decaffeinated

2006-06-09T12:07:00.000-04:00

It's hard to live in a world without caffeine. I tried it for a week, and finally lost.

I used to drink about a pot of coffee every morning, followed by tea and pop in the evening. It was a habit. About a month ago, I started cutting back on the coffee, and got down to maybe four or six cups a day.

Then, I got sick. I drank my coffee that morning to keep me upright, and that was it. I was dead by mid-morning, and home mid-afternoon. No more caffeine that day. I spent the next day sick at home, and no caffeine (okay, two ounces of sweet tea, maybe). None the next, or the next, and then it was weekend. No morning coffee, no afternoon tea, no evening soda. But my head was killing me (I stopped taking my pain meds by then). Saturday night at Angie's cousin's wedding, I had five or six Hershey's kisses, and a couple were chocolate (oh, and I like the Dulce de Leche a lot). All in all though, a caffeine-free weekend.

Then it was Monday, and I survived it without caffeine - and it was the first day I didn't have a headache. Tuesday rolled around, and Angie and I decided to grab some BK on the way home. I filled my cup with the usual mix (Coke and Dr. Pepper 65-35) and turned to wait on the food. That's when it hit me: I might actually have some caffeine again. If I drank that cup (32oz, geez!), I most certainly would become caffeinated again. I mentioned it to Angie, and she told me that it would be okay; so I kept it.

As we're driving home, I started on my Dr. Coke. It tasted pretty bad - sticky sweet and bland. But, I'd not had any cola for a few days, so I knew it wouldn't be a picnic, but I didn't expect it to be so foul. Yuck. I drank it anyway.

Then I waited for the caffeine buzz that everyone talks about. And waited. And waited.

Nada.

Zip, zilch, zero. Nothing.

Since then, I've had three cups of coffee (one each morning) and two cups of unsweetened tea with lemon. I have felt zero difference in my body - and I'm pretty disappointed. Now, perhaps I killed whatever reaction I used to have through overdose over the years; or maybe I'm expecting more of a reaction from it. I'm not a small person, so it might take a bit of it to have any effect. But still! I went a week without it!

Shouldn't I get something for all my troubles? It was actually pretty difficult to find alternatives sometimes. At home, sick, it's not so hard. We usually keep loads of juice and ades and such in the fridge in addition to all the tea and pop. I stocked up on a couple extra this past weekend just to give me more options. The problem is when you're out and about. Juice costs a small fortune, and you don't really know what to expect from the local water supply. The alternatives at Ruby Tuesdays included lemonade. The alternatives at Trav and Jen's wedding were ginger ale, sprite, and water. The alternatives at burger king were water and Hi-C. Gag. No wonder everyone drinks that crap.

In our refrigerator at one point this week (before I drank it all), there was (in gallons): 1% milk, water, orange juice, apple juice, cranberry-grape juice, kool-aid, lemonade, sweet tea, Coke, and some years-old wine coolers. Come to think of it, those things need tossed. There's also a tap, coffeepot, rum, whiskey and a blender. The only way you'll go thirsty at our house is if you can't make a decision.

Why the hell did I tell you all that?

Third Anniversary

2006-06-07T21:39:00.000-04:00

Today is Angie and I's third wedding anniversary! (Here's a pic on Angie's blog) It's hard to believe that it's been that long already - but looking back, we've done so much since then.

I woke up to an anniversary card, very nice, and smooches from all my girls. Then we got around for the day. She had her SIRI class, and I had work. After her class, Angie came to pick me up from work, and we headed home for the pups. I gave her my handmade card then.

We got home and let the little ladies pee, then let them run the house while we drove to P-burg to the Outback. After a shameful amount of food (we're both very stuffed), we drove over to Civitan park in Belpre, where we got married (remember this?). We walked to the gazebo and all around, and walked around the park a bit and reminisced. It was very nice. Driving up there kind of separates real life from our anniversary celebration, and I think we enjoyed it much more because it was a break. Then, back to the car, where we motored home to let the girlies pee (again!).

After all that, it's probably safe to say that it's time for bed. We're both exhausted (Angie's already asleep and I'm catching up on housework). All in all, it was a great anniversary, and I look forward to many more.

Dam!

2006-06-06T13:30:00.000-04:00

Although the highly controversial Three Gorges Dam was finished back on May 20th, they finally blasted the final cofferdam today and let the water flow. What an amazing engineering feat! Here's the story at Xinhua.

A Little Shitty Update

2006-06-02T15:25:00.000-04:00

Well, I just had my first pee of good health (and by that, I mean that it came out the proper way and not the other... well, you know). What a wonderful thing, to again be able to pee standing up! You ladies have no idea what you're missing.

We have freedom of movement. We have freedom of locale. We have freedom of paper. We have FREEDOM!! HA! So eat that, you girly girl-girls with your girly girl peeing stuff and.. stuff. Ha.

Since I'm not in the hospital right now, I'll guess I didn't have meningitis. I'm glad modern medicine is able to make slightly more accurate leaps of faith these days.

And that's all for now! Check back next time for more fowl humor, when we'll pluck chickens!

Back to work...

Meeting John

2006-06-01T11:51:00.000-04:00

So, I guess I was wrong about that plague thing. Sorry dear.

As it turns out, I had to go to the doctor Tuesday night. I had the hippyjippy shakes and ached all over, with a fever and burning pee and nausea and sinus headache and sore throat and isn't that enough? After the aliens probed my brain, they tossed me in the freezer to think things over. At least they gave me a blanket. Then, they poked and prodded me here and there, and ended up jamming something sharp in my butt. I heard them mumble their language, then it was back to the hotbox to sit on my now-painful ass.

Then my baby took me home and took care of me.

If you have the flu, it might be better to just have the flu. The test they gave me involved jamming some metal a foot up into my nose and scratching the back of my head (from the inside). It only hurts a lot. Then later on, when they decided that I didn't have the flu, they flipped a coin between viral meningitis and a bacterial infection. Good stuff. I cried. Could have been the shot, though. I was a little delirious by then.

Anyhoo, yesterday I slept and shat. I had loads to drink and little to eat. I've peed officially three times since Tuesday night. The rest has come flying out of me at warp speed rather uncomfortably. I'm walking in the danger zone as I write this, trying to eat a small yogurt. It promises fun in my future.

I still feel awful, but I think I'll make it. If not, you'll be the last to know!

Angie gave me the plague...

2006-05-30T14:39:00.000-04:00

And I gave it to Steve.

In the Nick of Time

2006-05-26T15:22:00.000-04:00

I'm not much the shaving type. It's not just that I don't enjoy it, or that I don't grow enough facial hair, or that it's too time consuming: it's all of that. I'm okay with it. I get to shave two or three times a week, and look like a fourteen-year-old kid the rest of the week. It's not a bad gig (like 120 times a year to your 365, ha!).

I've tried the electric shaving thing more than a few times, and although I currently have a rotary type shaver, I'm not in love with it. I did like the straight-line type razor I had for a few years. With either one, though, the razor really just eats me. Really. They'll do in a pinch, but they take half my face with them. More often than not, I only use the back side of the razor; the 'beard-trimmer'; in the winter when I keep a little stubble (okay, very little).

Most of the times that I shave, I use a two-bladed disposable razor and aerosol shaving cream. They rust long before I get the chance to dull them, and I just use the flowery shaving cream Angie uses so I don't have to lose my own. It works. Anyway, I was taught (or I learned) to shave a particular way: against the grain. Up the neck, up the face, up up up. Short strokes, rinse between them. Hot water. This has worked for me for years.

But there's a problem with it. I almost always get razor burn on my adams apple. Hurts like hell, and looks even worse. It's really great because I usually shave to wear a shirt and tie, and the collar rubs right on that spot half the time. It's fun.

Yesterday, I noticed an article on WikiHow on shaving without razor burn. I'm intrigued, so I hop over and check it out. Then I read more article on shaving on more sites, and found out that I've been doing it all wrong! Years of wrongness! Wow!

The proper way is with a straight razor and fresh cream. Well, I'm not that daring, so the next proper way to do it is with the disposable. Collective wisdom says to shave with the grain; down the face. Use short strokes, rinse between them. Cold water. With the grain prevents ingrown hairs and razor burn, cold water makes the blade shrink and keeps it sharp.

Well, I gave it a shot this morning.

I'm uncomfortable and I have stubble, but no razor burn. Basically, it feels like I shaved with the electric, but didn't take so much skin off. Perhaps this evening I'll get a second opinion...

On another topic, I've had the theme song to 'Transformers' stuck in my head all day. I understand, 'robots in disguise'. But will someone please tell me: WHY? They're robots, for fucks sake. Why are they hiding? Who are they hiding from? What makes them think changing into a giant red truck will make them less inconspicuous? Do they think I won't notice? Their disguises suck. They'd be better off with the groucho marx glasses and moustaches. Seriously Autobots, look in the mirror. You can't hide when you're a fifty-foot robot.

I've Lost It.

2006-05-24T15:36:00.000-04:00

In the manner of the pen or Mr. Pot, I've got yet another inanimate object personification story for you. This one's really short.

I lost a requisition today.

I was printing labels today (imagine that!) and I turned to the printer to check on it. They get lonely sometimes, and take their frustration out on the labels. I made sure that everything was running as well as could be expected, and turned back to my desk.

That's when I realized that the requisition I had just entered (and was printing at that moment) was no longer sitting on the top dead center of my work surface (where I had left it).

That was over six hours ago. I've gone through every pile of paper in my office several times, and I cannot find it. It's gone. I've got no explanation for it. I logged it in, keyed in the data, began printing the labels, and lost the requisition. That's it. Fin.

Pen, the Tale

2006-05-23T11:43:00.000-04:00

This is the story of my poor pen. RIP.

Yesterday, my blue Bic round stic medium ran out. You know, one of those dime a dozen white barrel blue tip pens? Yeah well, every nicer pen I've ever had runs out quickly. If they don't run out, then they stop working for some reason or another. It's frustrating to spend a few dollars on a mid-level pen and then use it for a month before it dies. You get all attached to it, and learn to love it's little flaws, like the way it skips if you twist it one way, or the excess inkage if you stray. Then, it's gone; the ink dried up, ran out, ball stuck, broke, or usually: lost... You go to the store, and buy its twin, the same exact model and size pen with the hopes that this pen, the pen exactly like the one that's gone, will fill the void, the hole in your heart, the blank on your paper.

But of course not. Two pens are never the same, and this new pen will never heal your sorrow or love you the way the old one did.

So enough was enough! I decided to stop using nice pens, and settle down with a used Bic I found on someone else's desk. After I got used to it and all its style, I grabbed a whole box of them, and tossed the old one out (what a waste, I know; but who had it been with before me?). Now; I was settled. Now; I was whole. I grabbed a fresh Bic from the box, and began my work.

What great times we've had, filling out requisitions, signing forms, logging data, chewing on the cap. Day in and day out, the trusty Bic by my side; my work was completed. I started writing more and more with my new friend. We started logging more numbers, tracking more variables; all because now I could depend on my little friend to not run out in the middle of a lot number. Month after month of report tracking, safe! Hundreds of signatures a day, safe! What an amazing little stick of ink.

Then yesterday, my friend's heart gave out. We were writing, just like old times, and right after the C510 and before the 523A, he was gone. No notice, just gone. Quick and painless for him, I hope. I was shocked, and I was stunned. I tried to coax him back with a massage, a shake, a lick; something anything not to lose him now! We weren't done, we couldn't be! But, it was too late. My little friend was gone for good.

After a brief memorial, I re-capped him one final time and laid him to rest.

Goodbye, dear friend.

Goodbye.

Then I dug out that box, and picked out his heir. After a short breaking-in session, Junior is doing well. We're still a little shaky, like this morning at the 15-154, but I think he'll grow into this just fine. Maybe someday I'll show him the secret cap-chew. We'll see.

Moanday

2006-05-22T15:00:00.000-04:00

Does anyone else out there feel tired and sore? I guess that's what I get for not being a teenager anymore...

Ugh. I'll try this again tomorrow.

Geekier and Proud

2006-05-19T15:10:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I had a meeting. Exciting, right? Well, maybe. The meeting was with a person from the ACT center; she was collecting job profiles for each position at our company. This is not only to test possible new hires, but also to set a standard for my position (verses a similar one elsewhere). I had to answer questions based on my job; specific ones like the tasks I perform, and general ones like time usage. We eventually got into setting the various levels required for my job. They have a five point scale to determine the knowledge for math (oddly enough, it goes from 3-7). She and I worked through each of the levels, one by one, sample by sample; and finally had to throw in the towel. Apparently, math-intensive careers are not included in their databases. I do a bit of statistics for tracking and projecting, and statistics is in the top two levels. We decided that although my job is stat-heavy, most of the work could be completed by a level 6, and that the rest (to make a level 7+) could be learned (trained) on the job.

According to their data, I'm not only a nerd, I'm a supervisor without any supervisees. Go me.

This weekend, however, I plan on steering clear of as much math as possible, and spend some time with my baby and our babies (arf, arf!). Have a lovely one yourself.

It's the End of the

2006-05-17T16:41:00.000-04:00

Hi there. I'm Joe, remember me? I'm the guy who used to post on a regular basis here. I was gone for a while, now I'm not; I'm over it, you will be soon enough. So let's get back into it, shall we?

I've spent most of my hiatus reading on the internet (when I should be writing for you, I know) and trying too hard to be my own gardener. I've read some fascinating and awful and boring and vulgar and enlightening things. It's been fun, but I'd like my brain back for a while.

A lot of what I've read recently has been very troubling; government conspiracies and other bad news - and certainly due to the political atmosphere out there. The world feels stressed. The news screams 24-7 loads and loads of crap that they want us to care about. The statesmen (-people) keep trying the shell game; look at this really important thing we're talking about today while ruining life for the rest of you! So much else is a bunch of self-important people pushing and shoving for their fifteen seconds of fame on reality tv. Everyone is on the edge of their seat for the next great terrible thing. Oil prices! Drugs! Immigrants! Bird flu! Africa! War! And still the ruling class crushes the rest. It's an awful world out there. Doom, doom!

So is the experiment over yet? Will Britain reclaim the US? Will the aliens reclaim the Earth? Will your higher power push their magic boom button? How long before the dollar is gone? How long before I lose my job, and how long before you lose yours? How long before the economy and/or the government collapses? (And why won't it hurry up?) Gloom, gloom!

Yes, I've been in an off mood for some time, thanks to much of all this. The society I never wanted won't leave me the hell alone. I turn off the tube, I put down the paper, I lock the doors; and they still want my time, money, and attention. I wait for the whole system to come crashing down; and yet it still stands. I'd want nothing more than a better world to raise my kids (big if there), but what can I do about it? Can I do anything about it?

Nope. It's la, Joe. Deal with it.

(The new Joe, version 2.0 coming soon!)

2006-05-15T13:16:00.000-04:00

Read on the web:

"I'm expecting a miraculous narrow victory in both Houses for the underdog Republicans, confounding exit polls showing a Democratic victory."

Yikes.

Use your brain.

2006-05-12T11:34:00.000-04:00

Here's a nicely written article on mind control and propaganda.

http://freedom4um.com/cgi-bin/readart.cgi?ArtNum=18651&Disp=0

And if I weren't already on the watch list, I am now.

Yeah, so?

2006-05-09T12:07:00.000-04:00

I'm been busy. Don't believe me? Fine then. Look for yourself.

I've been here
http://weeksbabystory.blogspot.com/

And here
http://weeks-home.blogspot.com/

And here
http://weeks.joe.googlepages.com/waterexperiment

And here.
http://www.frogtails.com/forum/

And a bunch of other places. But I don't need to prove any of it, now do I?

2006-04-28T18:03:00.000-04:00

Got my butt kicked by Russell.

Today? EDITED

2006-04-28T14:05:00.001-04:00

I'm working on a decent post, I promise.

Hold your breath.

EDIT (4:36PM EST): Okay, so you might as well let it out. You're starting to turn blue anyway. Work went to shit in hurry, so no post yet. My apologies.

Down with MySpace!

2006-04-25T11:45:00.000-04:00

I think MySpace is stupid. Here's someone who agrees with me:

http://moneydick.com/wordpress/2006/04/23/science-of-myspace/

Brain food

2006-04-21T16:13:00.000-04:00

Two sites for your brain:

http://www.damninteresting.com/

http://www.headbutler.com/

Oh shit, I'm one of them.

2006-04-18T09:21:00.000-04:00

I am...

the Wit

Your humor style:
Clean | Complex | Dark

according to this test.

2006-04-14T16:41:00.000-04:00

If I catch that rabbit that lives in our yard, I'm going to eat him.

And his little basket of eggs.

WWJD?

2006-04-13T16:59:00.000-04:00

And no, don't even think I mean that guy.

I've finished reading Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand.

I don't really have much to say about it - to you - other than that I enjoyed it, and that some of it fit my philosophy of life rather well. The actual storyline is something I've thought of myself, and I know I've written it on here somewhere, but I won't take credit for writing her book - for more reasons than you know (like a 57 page monologue - wow).

All in all, well done.

So, the bumper sticker for me is:

What Would John (Galt) Do?

2006-04-13T16:04:00.000-04:00

No, they never pose...

2006-04-12T09:07:00.000-04:00

Meet Reese.

2006-04-12T09:05:00.000-04:00

Shh! Let her sleep.

2006-04-12T09:04:00.000-04:00

Here's a fuzzy shot.

whoosh!

2006-04-10T11:56:00.000-04:00

I had a wonderful weekend. So many things happened, I'll tell you about them later.

For now, I get to catch up at work...