November 4th, 2003

teddyborg, geeky

GIP: the Reruns

As I'm a permanent user and now have 50 icons to play with...

...first I'm going for the classics, the icons I had to get rid of when 10 or 15 was not enough.


Not even remotely my project, but excellently cool as an "I am g33k, I r0x0r" icon.
running, bomb tech

Posting Frenzy

It's come sort of to my attention that by the calendar, it looks like I post a lot more than, really, I actually do.

I have two things going here.

First, I'm a compulsive writer and reader. If I'm not writing in a journal, I'm writing a novel, a poem, a letter, or (rarely) finding some form of non-written outlet for my excess energy. On the vast scale of things, I'm not devoting any more time to reading and writing with LJ than I would be to other forms of reading and writing did LJ not exist. Even with all those forms of reading and writing, I have historically spent a lot of time on my journal. I'm the one you'd always see with some kind of notebook. Call it an obsession, call it a paranoia: I've always been afraid of losing my mind, and saving it to paper regularly has been the one thing that keeps me sure that if I lose myself, I'll be able to restore.

Second, I'm a pack rat, a scrapbooker. I glued my ticket stubs from this recent California visit (10/24 - 10/27) into my paper journal. I save the notes my friends and I pass back and forth. I may well have the ticket stubs from every single movie I've seen in a theatre. With the participants noted on the back. So it should come as no surprise that I save chat logs. And where do I save them? That's right, LJ. Because there are things that I say in chat that are more indicative of my mental state than my actual journal entries are, and I want to be able to save that (see: paranoia indicated above). So I put those in.

2003/11/03 has 12 entries listed, on year view. Only five are public. The rest are private: chats/messages from seven distinct friends. Of the five public entries, one is a grammar peeve/quiz, and one is an LJ PSA, which I count as "not real content". So, that's three real posts from me today.

Three posts, for me, is low-volume. Keep in mind, though, that my calendar posts are artificially inflated by my habit of using LJ as a tool to keep track of when I had that conversation about the thing that was so very entertaining.
running, bomb tech


At school. Caffienated. Will soon hit Student Services (to enter the raffle for the DVD player), then will hopefully go to RI for paperwork.

Have (re)discovered my capacity for eating large amounts of carrots in favor of eating more high-calorie/fat/carb things. This dates back to my pseudo-anorexic days, but this is hardly as draconian a plan. The carrots are to convince my stomach that there's enough to work with, so it should shut it already. That'll make my body a lot happier with me than pretending to eat with the stupid stuff in cans.

I still think we need to take this place over.
running, bomb tech

Jobs, updated...

Went to Hell. Hell recognized me, and said that they weren't hiring until January.

Next stop, LF's school, to pick him up, then go home, and from thence, to Fry's Electronics, because I have to get some zip diskage. Yay, zip diskage.

The McGuirk class is indeed COBOL. McGuirk reminded us that if we got mad, to remember that this was designed to be written on 80 column punch cards. I remembered Dr. Hopper's military rank when McGuirk didn't, and had already heard the story about the bug in the computer. Also, I played with 80 column punch cards when I was a little fayoumis.

The guy running the Wired (cafe) was using typical male/bad language, and then only belatedly remembered that there was a lady present. I reassured him on all fronts, and he carried on. There was discussion of bathroom issues when understaffed. He finally wound up kicking us all out momentarily and locking up until he returned a few minutes later.

There's also a raffle for a DVD player, for getting stuff at the Wired. You can be sure that I entered.
running, bomb tech

Rights to Nome

This is a sweet publicity stunt organized by an old high school acquaintance of mine. It's called Rights to Nome. From the website:
Rights to Nome has recognized a unique opportunity to make a stand for the priceless document on which the protection of our freedom rests, the Bill of Rights. Your Bill of Rights.

In Alaska's Iditarod 2004, musher Mike Lawless will carry, on his sled from Anchorage to Nome, copies of your Bill of Rights.

When he reaches Nome, he'll sign them and personally deliver them to the heads of state of the 13 original states, Alaska, and finally to the President of the United States, as commemorations.

(crossposted to alaskans, sos_usa)
  • Current Mood
    hopeful hopeful
loud fayoumis

Sometimes, they accuse me of tact. Sometimes, they're right.

Tonight on the bus, I saw Shrimpy, the kid from Darkside's class group at DeVry who had the unfortunate IP conflict with Darkside with the given names. (It's really unfortunate when the withdrawn one who everyone respects the mad skillz of has the same given name as the oversocial and undersocialized you-mean-he-was-smart-enough-to-get-in? class clown.) Shrimpy is under the mistaken impression that he is friends with half the people he knows, and I am one of them.

He sat down next to me at the back of the bus, and we chatted briefly. I mentioned the kick-ass Halloween party.

"Aww, how come I wasn't invited?" he wanted to know.

"Because you're a twit," I said briskly.

His stop was the next one.