November 18th, 2003

exhausted, tired, Azzsleep

(no subject)

It's ectogenesis, is why I'm refusing to acknowledge that I'm good at this.

That novel isn't done, and may never be. When I was a child, I played with childish things. Now that I'm a grown-up, I'm not really into reworking it so it's good.

Plus, I'm used to wanking here on LJ. And, despite being read by 200 people, give or take, I'm not used to the thought of myself as a good writer. Good takes effort, and the effort I put into LJ -- well, frankly, the effort I put into LJ is the effort that I put into restraining myself from keeping on here all day, more than I already am. I could happily add a hundred more people and be on here all day, following threads in comments and /friendsfriends, and share each second of now and my past in all my angstwanking glory.

That's the effort I put into LJ, mostly. Every now and then I write a rant, and that's a bit of work, but not very much. Mostly, I grump about Semagic's lack of ability to have multiple windows with entries-in-progress open, when I'm trying to do that, and will often leave my essay boiling in Semagic, and go to the web-based update page so I don't have to finish it before it's done stewing.

I have harnessed the awesome power of my procrastination, and need to change the catboxes out tomorrow.
  • Current Mood
    tired tired
Little Fayoumis, Nephew

Oh, and...

...need to ask LF who the fifth person in the family picture is. They're all stick figures, so one can't really tell, but there's a grouping of three, and a grouping of two, and obviously the three are votania, marxdarx, and Little Fayoumis, and the grouping of two would be me and someone else, and I've got to ask him who that someone else is.

votania suspects she knows who it is.
running, bomb tech

And remember:

The Goddess gave me neurotransmitters that can be mimicked by chocolate covered 'spresso beans that I might partake of them and thereby hallucinate Her.
running, bomb tech

grr, hss.

Well, here in the Dark Arts lab, we've managed to get BIND halfassedly working. There was a missing period, a few tabs that oughtn't to have been in there, and a missing priority.

I can't cuss, as this is the lab. Y'see, it's not working on all the machines...

running, bomb tech


Things we mistype: ServerName localhose instead of ServerName localhost

running, bomb tech


We just needed to flush the cache on the domain controller. Pfa.
running, bomb tech


"I wouldn't recommend going to that photo album site and searching for me unless you want to see some photos that aren't exactly professional."
"You have stuff like that on the internet?"
"Well... I'm holding some items that aren't exactly professional."
running, bomb tech


Have determined that I'm looking more and more like the stereotype of Resident Linux Geek. I've got the long hair, I've got the slight to serious scruffiness, I have the occasional sharpness and the occasional total obliviousness-to-fashion, I have the portly figure, and I have the growing sadistic attitude towards users.

This was determined in part by both my decision to show up at 7:45 am in the Server Admin lab, and my decision to wear my hair loose under my "Azz 1337" hat from yaksha42. The baseball cap wound up going on backwards over my abundant and slightly curly hair (the longer it gets, the more curl it has).

Evidently I look like my ex-fiancee, still.

We didn't get all of the security issues with the website resolved; I'm going to have to talk with Bruyn about that later.

Sheldon was substituting for McGuirk in COBOL. We got a lot done, and I was not once tempted to fall asleep. He says he'll be substituting tomorrow, too! Happiness!

I hung out in the cafeteria afterwards, first with my one friend who I haven't seen for a while, the one who also went in garb last Halloween. She's happily settled down in a triad now, and other nice things are happening with her, yay! Then I chilled with Mr. President's roommate, and we had some very nice conversations about freaking the mundanes, the straight guys, and also about Dubya's scrotum, or the potential future lack thereof. It was one of those conversations that you want to have recorded and then voice post them, or else no one will believe it.

Caffiene contributed.

Then I picked up Little Fayoumis. He's doing his homework now.
running, bomb tech

A Night's Reign

... A night of surprising quiet, and music.

I'm not sure how this is going to work out for longer-term. marxdarx is going to be staying later for classes, as the computer here is not working so well for him, and this leaves me in charge. I get to pilot bedtime, which is always Little Fayoumis's highest-stress time of day short of morning.

He went to bed quietly, with a short stint in the corner for snapping his sock in the face of the cat. He read me his reading book, which earned him another nickel colored in, which completed the sheet. Yay, LF!

Not a peep out of him since.


He won't really see his mom until Saturday, when we'll be hitting as a family. (Incidentally, the thing with the family in the book he made? The group of three was Mommy, me, and him, and the group of two was Marx and Grandma.)

*sigh* At least he's not in the hands of strangers.

Thanksgiving plans have been made. votania's working, so she can't make the family get-together that her mother's throwing. marxdarx's mother has her own celebration, and Little Fayoumis will be picked up by Grandma on Wednesday night. Votania was worried about me being at loose ends. This does not really bother me, as I'm not half as attached to the family-holiday aspect of Thanksiving as even votania is, let alone her mother.

So it's me, the radio, and the computer until everybody gets home.