Category: tech

Talk about software, hardware, electronics, and a myriad of other sex-repellent topics.

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there’s a doctor i know can cure the boy

I'll wait for you.
Daylight savings time doesn’t do much for me, aside from making me feel depressed walking out of work under cover of dark. Leaving work in the dark sucks, it truly does.

Halloween was typical in our new neighborhood, slim on trick-or-treaters but what we had seemed appreciative of the effort. New neighborhoods just don’t have the same things that established ones do: throngs of all-aged kids, trees, you know. It’s OK, the compliments we do get make it worth it to me… heck, I’d do it for one kid because I don’t even care. I cued up the music, flicked on the strobe light, and fired up the fog machines – all for about twenty kids. Don’t matter though folks, I still love this holiday; can’t wait to experience it through the eyes of my daughter, either.

If you noticed from yesterday’s Halloween images, I abandoned my Gallery 2 install in favor of Coppermine, another open-source image gallery app. I liked Gallery, but I always did think it was a tad too option-heavy. I tend to like a lot of functionality that’s presented as if it were being used by dummies. Coppermine’s install took all of 1min and it just worked. Not only that, but the bulk-upload feature works like a charm, and the editing/commenting/rating features are great. The interface is simple, speedy, and skinnable. Anyway, I think I’ll move to this long-term as opposed to Gallery, especially since G2 “lost” the ability to let users vote/rank files.

I think you know you ended up with the right person in life when your deepest-rooted escapist fantasies still include them. If I could have my way, and get away from everything for a while to be surrounded only by things which bring me joy – Sharaun’d be there. OK so yeah, maybe it’s sappy, but I’m for really. I’d need some music, comfortable clothes and maybe a few books, and my wife; that’s all really. I could ask for good weather and tasty food and a host of other amenities I suppose, but that’s more of a utopian fantasy than the escapist one I’m writing about (shit, I’m off track again aren’t I?). In reality even my die-hard “get away” scenarios (the ones that aren’t Thoreau-esque fantasies of extreme solitude, which aren’t long-term anyway) see her with me. To me, that’s a good thing.

Nightnight.

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world debut

Yargh.
Sharaun and I went to get Lil’ Chino’s first ultrasound last week. Man… what an amazing thing that was. This little baby, barely four months old and two inches long… was kicking and squirming and moving all over. Going in there, I expected so much less… people had set me up to expect seeing a peanut-looking thing with little definition. Turns out that’s about as wrong as wrong can be. This thing had a lot of definition… little arms, little legs, fingers and toes you can actually count, and clearly visible facial features. Looking at the little guy, alive and moving around on the screen (and even more impossibly, alive and moving around somewhere in the depths of Sharaun’s belly), it was hard to believe that something that’s already that real-baby-looking is, in reality, just a two-inch long “tadpole.” We got to hear the heartbeat, and got to take home Lil’ Chino’s first pictures. I was going to post them today, but my scanner is broken…

This weekend was a barnburner for music. Heard some ill tunes while at a party at Ben & Suzy’s place, and downloaded that. The album’s by some group named after an REM song, World Leader Pretend, but there’s this one song on the album that is just outstanding. I’ll try to find a link before I post this. Also at Ben’s party, he decided to kick the new Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! record, and to my surprise, it sounded different than mine. Then I remembered that my copy was seemingly patchwork in song titles and bitrates, and figured it must have been cobbled from various sources – some obviously including EPs of the same songs that were much different than the released album versions. Still, it’s nice to have heard the fetal version of some of the tracks – but the album versions have a nice shiny polish of studio applied, and I like it better. Then, Saturday morning, someone leaked the new Death Cab album. A pretty boast-worthy leak which surprisingly wasn’t accompanied by any release group hubris – which leads me to believe a lowly college-mag reviewer or record store worker ripped and released his/her promo copy for the love of the tunes. Not sure how I feel about it yet, but I’ll let ya know.

I think, had I been born 5 years later, I would’ve been a great MP3 release group insider. For those not familiar with how the whole pre-release MP3 thing works, the general process involves an “insider,” someone who has access to new albums before they are released for sale. This person could work at a radio station, newspaper, or in a record store that has access to promos. The insider gets the album, and sends a copy to the group’s encoders. The encoders follow the release group’s ripping and verifying protocol, ensuring a high-quality rip. The encoders then send the newly ripped MP3s onto the packagers/releasers. The tracks are then “packaged” for release and posted to one of the top-echelon underground FTP distribution sites. Within hours, a secondary group of folks, distributors, go in and download the album and spread it around to file-sharing locales accessible to us folks who aren’t “in.” Speed is key in the entire process, as the bragging rights only come for those who hit the ‘net first with the newest stuff in the best quality. It’s a huge deal, and it’s the machine that keeps me fed.

Anyway, when I was in college, I worked at a mom-‘n’-pop record store, and had daily access to promo releases of big albums. I know, because I used to beg my manager at the time to let me take choice ones home and rip copies to cassette (the pirate’s medium of choice at the time). That’s how I was tired of the Pumpkin’s Mellon-Collie before it ever hit the shelves; why, to this day, my copy of OK Computer is just a white disc with a black and white illustrated paper sleeve. Once I became “assistant manager,” I had unlimited access to whatever promos I wanted – and I used the privilege to be benefit. Transplanting those days five or so years into the future, I can completely see myself participating in the digital pre-release trade. Maybe not hooking up with a release group proper, but at least being an “indie” ripper/releaser for the glory of it. Y’know, the whole “I had it first, but am feeling benevolent… so here, you should hear this” thing.

I like the headline from CNN today, “Typhoon hits China, killing at least 1.” Not that I like typhoons, or them hitting China, or even killing, I just like the statement. Doesn’t the fact that some “killing” happened pretty much guarantee “at least one” was killed? If it were any less than one, you couldn’t really say any “killing” happened at all. I think it was the “at least” part was funny to me, it’s like CNN got some word that folks had died – but no hard numbers. Then, in a macabre desperation to post a body-count, they went with the safe “at least one.” Hey if there’s death, at least one poor dude must be dirt-nappin’… logical to me.

Goodnight.

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A plague o’ your house!

All I can do to post this and go back to bed.
Warning, this is likely going to be a very boring entry for some, since I talk mainly about a home-improvement project I’ve been working on. However, when I stared writing about it – the words just kept coming, so I think it’s a good topic.

Saturday I started feeling odd, that sensitive-skin achy-chill feeling I get at the onset of a fever. Ignoring the obvious signs, Sharaun and I headed over to Pat and Cynthia’s place for a good ol’ fashioned because-it’s-summer drinkin’, swimmin’, and eatin’ party. I felt good throughout the soirée, my pre-fever feelings either ignored or temporarily gone. Later, Sharaun and I were the first to leave, as she was feeling pretty tired. As soon as I got home, the fever feeling came back. And now it’s Sunday afternoon and I’m laid up. A fever of 102 accompanied by a raging sore throat. I’m glad I wrote this before I started feeling crappy.

You don’t know how many times I’ve gone out in the backyard to “finish” the pavers/porch. I’ve been at this “almost done” phase for a long time now. I’ll be honest, I’m not finished because the project has bested me mentally, it’s presented me with it’s final challenge… and I’m convinced I will not be able to finish until I’ve proven myself its intellectual equal. Yes, this is an inanimate porch made of bricks we’re talking about, but it’s had me stumped for months now. I’ve been wracking my brain over how to solve the problem, and just don’t know what to do. This morning, for instance, I went out and stared the thing down again. I took some measurements, kicked around the same two or three ideas I’ve had since I discovered I was in a jam, and then drove up to Lowes in another futile attempt to find something that would work. What, you ask, has been able to keep me so beat-down? I’ll tell you. But first, you may need a crash-course in paver installation.

Pavers are just bricks, that’s easy. To “install” them, you first mark off the intended area, usually by setting up a border of bender-board or special paver-retention border. You then lay down a bed of base material within the border, usually gravel. Then, on top of the base, you lay down a layer of finer sand as a secondary base. In my case, I skipped the gravel+sand combo and went with decompose granite as a single base material (you could argue that DG is a lot like sand+gravel anyway, and it packs as solid as cement if you wet it a little). Anyway, after laying the base, you then level the entire area, ensuring that you’ve got the proper slope away from the house for drainage. After leveling, you just lay out the bricks like a puzzle, cutting in the edges with a stone saw. Once all the pavers are laid, you make a pass over them with a plate compactor. Now compacted, you brush sand over the entire thing and make another pass with the compactor. Finally, once the things are compacted and set with sand in the cracks, you brush a layer of “finishing” sand over the thing, which can be bought colored to offset the stones and make the whole thing look awesome. As an optional step, you can paint the entire thing with a sealer to bring out the color of the stones and protect them from the elements.

Man, that was boring, right? For the most part, I followed those steps. I’m at the point now where I’ve got my pavers all laid out, nice and level (well, OK, pretty dang level for a 1st-timer DIY job), and ready to be plate compacted and sealed. However, I’ve got one tiny problem… my retention border. See, when I began the porch, I marked off my area with neon orange marker paint, and then installed a border of bender-board held in place with stakes. I filled in this outline with DG, and set to leveling. After leveling, the bricks were cut and laid, and now you’d think I’d be ready to compact and we’d be done. But no… I’m not. Why? Because my border is not right. In some places, the height of the base material plus paver stone is more than 6″ off the ground – with the bender-board just high enough to retain the base. What I don’t know is, how to make sure that the stones stay in place – what border to use? Maybe it will help to see it (this is how obsessed with this problem I am):

Paver problem

See what I’m saying? They don’t sell paver border that’s taller than about 2″, and my pavers are set much higher than that in some areas. I’ll admit, I’ve tried to solve this thing several ways. I could “build up” the ground outside the pavers, so the border would then be tall enough to hold them in place. My problem with this though, is that I think a built-up “artificial” ground level outside the pavers wouldn’t be “strong” enough to hold the border down (you “nail” it into the ground with large metal nails/stakes). I’m going to have to bring in an inch or more of topsoil over the entire yard anyway… so maybe that’s the best idea. But I still doubt that hammering stakes into newly laid topsoil will give me as sturdy a hold as I need.

Option 1

Then again, I know someone who also did his own pavers, and his solution for this problem was to pour a 4″ concrete border around the entire installation. It’s a brilliant idea really, and it actually adds a nice decorative touch to the installation because the sometimes imperfect-cut curves of the paver line are masked by the smooth curved edges of the concrete. Plus, you can do a colored concrete border that nicely offsets the stone color if you want to get really fancy. If I did that, the base+paver height off the ground would be irrelevant – since I can pour as high as I want. To be honest, this is the route I’ve been leaning towards. My buddy did it with nothing more than bags of cement, a wheelbarrow to mix it in, and a smoothing trowel. I’d have to setup the forms around the porch, but that’s not too big a deal.

Option 2

Well, there’s my quandry… and I still haven’t moved on either idea. I guess that’s because I know, before I can even start down either path, that I have to go around the porch edge and move all the sprinkler heads back a few inches. See, in another novice mistake, I brought the sprinklers right to the edge of my porch border, and they are now too close – and won’t allow any kind of retention. So, I have to dig them all up, cut them back, and reattach all the heads. Ughh….

Also this weekend, I learned that my keygen’d version of Windows XP will no longer do Windows Update (and before you ask, yes – I am aware of the javascript hack to get around this). The point is, some months back, I actually bought a legit copy of XP Pro and had planned on making my previously hacked version legit with it. Come to discover that my hacked version is the volume license version, and I can’t just change the key to a Pro key. Not wanting to re-install Windows, I figured that as long as I actually owned a legit version my conscious would be at ease. Then, I’m locked out of Windows Update. So… time to fix this. I did a repair install of my legit XP Pro over the top of my pirated XP VLK (but not before doing a complete system backup first, I’ve learned my lesson). Worked like a charm.

Goodnight.

Posted on

ten years gone

Blimey.
Things are finally moving and shaking in places I’ve been waiting for them to move and shake. And that means I can start talking about them on Sounds Familiar soon enough. Until then, though, it’s the same-old same-old. The Gods of Northern California still have the oven on “broil,” and each day is so miserable I don’t even like being outdoors. Everything absorbs heat and then radiates it, the cars keep the garage sweaty well into the evening hours, concrete stays warm to the touch until the wee hours of the morning. Each afternoon I eagerly await that moment when I arrive home from work and can strip off the unneeded layers of clothes and get down to shorts, a t-shirt, and bare feet. As I’m pulling my shirt over my head, I imagine it as taking off an electric blanket, removing that outer layer of clothes that’s just been soaking up the sun. I immediately feel cooler. A man of my… stature… is not built for this kinda heat. Give me mild days and I’m happiest. You’ll know when that happens, as I start fawning over the Fallishness of things when those halcyon days arrive.

The house is a complete wreck again; one of those additive, snowballing kind of wrecks that just gets worse by the day… and more frustrating as well. I hate it. It begins pester me whenever I inhabit the place, my only escape being leaving for work each morning and letting it fester until I return again each evening. For all my complaining, I’m still sitting her ignoring it as I write. Oh, it’s there, looming right behind me; the menacing shadow of an ironing board left out for days, a table still in the wrong place from painting, unfinished half-painted walls, looking like the march of the yellow fungus growing on them is stalled in rough lines. Ack, I do hate it you know. I’m pretty anal when it comes to things like neatness… and I don’t think that’ll ever change about me. Sharaun, on the other hand, has about as high a tolerance for clutter as kids these days do for rubella (whatever that is). I’m trying to resign myself to the fact that it’ll never change, and if I want to have the place be ever-clean, I’m gonna have to pony up and maintain it that way.

Back to Florida in three days. Ten years have gone by and it’s customary to re-convene with your graduating high school class. I’m not looking forward to having such an abbreviated trip “home” (I do still consider the place home, for whatever reason), but I am, in fact, looking forward to the whole business of reuniting. Thinking about it, ten years doesn’t seem all that long – but when I think about what all I’ve been through since my last year of high school… good lord it’s been a long time. Flashback to 12th grade, and you’d find a skinnier me, fooling around on his long-time girlfriend with the willing. Trying to do right by his newfound religion and thinking only the slightest about college and “a future.” Things were looking up, my folks had given me the little red Nissan for graduation, and I’d managed to score my dream job hawking wax at the local mom-‘n’-pop record store. Having moved on from fast food and go-fer positions at the local CPA, I was ready to tread the cheap carpet of the retail world. Breezing my way through the no-more-challenging-than-high-school community college curriculum and blowing the multiple-scholarship windfall on things I can’t remember. Man, those were some good days. Lots less to worry about… that’s for sure. My biggest daily concern is when Jeremy would get home so we could go smoke menthols on the porch and catch up.

Did you know I won a cruise to the Bahamas at my “keep-’em-sober, keep-’em-alive” school-sanctioned graduation party? Yeah, I totally did. And, since I was 18 at the time, I could totally go too. I took Jeremy, and we road-tripped down to Miami to catch the smallest cruise liner I’ve ever seen, the no doubt affordable Dolphin IV. Three nights, four days. My first night on board I hit the triple-7s and took $450 back to the cabin. We had a great time, sleeping in hammocks on private islands, smoking triple-price-for-the-whiteboy Cubans, parasailing, and getting robbed by a local named “Deuce” (really). And although I know many look back on their own with detest, my high school years were not that bad at all. I had a good time, and I’m actually kind of exciting about seeing some folks. I’m sure I’ll be writing about the whole thing, as it’s bound to produce some good material.

As I go, I thought it was interesting that, despite JK Rowlings’ insistence that the latest Harry Potter book not be released in electronic form, entrepreneurial pirates have manages to scan and proofread the entire book – producing a complete and accurate copy within twelve hours of the book’s on-sale date. What’s more, they’ve also made an audio-book version available… all within one day of the books release. Things like that make you wonder, is there really every going to be a way to “secure” any kind of media? Makes me think that, despite various industries’ attempts to protect their content, the pirates will always be one step ahead of them. Seems the best you can do is change the public’s opinion what constitutes “stealing” in regards to digital media… an uphill battle, it would seem.

OK then, g’night friends and lovers. Until tomorrow.

Posted on

there is not nobody out there can play like metallica

No reason, liked the image.
This weekend I was walking along the coast, looking for driftwood that was dry enough and not-chemically-treated enough to burn for a fire later that night. The weather was the typical bay area coastal gloom – moderate temperatures with the sun hidden behind a gray blanket above, and a fine mist drifting on the air all around. But it wasn’t gloomy at all, I rather enjoyed it. Sharaun and I walked hand-in-hand for a bit, away from the group, and it was almost like we were alone. There was no one else on the entire beach, not a soul. At one point, the place went silent between two waves, just for a second, but it was a remarkable absence of sound. Usually it’s the constant crashing of waves, must’ve been some odd off-timing to create the gap – but it was the most memorable sound of the walk. All sorts of things flash through my mind, I play out scenarios where we’re trapped wherever we are… and being trapped on that beach at that time seemed pretty OK to me.

The men’s restroom at work has polished tile walls. Wait… wait, just stick with me here, I swear I’m going somewhere. Anyway, it’s got these bone-colored polished tiles, so polished that you can see your reflection in them when you step up to a urinal. The way the place is laid out, there are three urinals and three stalls. The rightmost stall wall is directly adjacent to the leftmost urinal. Now, if you were designing a bathroom, you would probably step back and look over your drawings and say “It is good.” However, you would be wrong – and I’ll tell you why. The stall partitions do no go all the way to the wall. There is probably a good inch, maybe more, of space between the wall of the stall and the actual smooth, polished, mirror-like wall. You see where I’m going? No? Lemme ‘splain.

I walk up to the urinal to turn back the Starbucks I rented earlier in the morning. Let’s say I choose the leftmost urinal, for argument sake. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, someone has entered the restroom earlier and chosen the rightmost stall in which to pinch their loaf. So I walk up and prepare for the pee, all the while keeping my eyes honorably focused in front of me. In front of me. Where the damn polished tile is playing a scene reflected right from the stall next to me, the horrid vision escaping through that gap between the wall and barrier that should separate our two private acts. I try to take my eyes away, but where to look? I can look down, but it’s still in my periphery. Any movement draws my eyes to the scene, unbidden by my brain. This is not some watery, frosted-glass-looking reflection that is thankfully obscured; this is a live HDTV feed of the business end of what’s going on in that toilet. I mean we’re talking I-can-read-the-tattoos-on-your-ass DVD picture crispness folks. It’s bad news, it’s bad planning, it’s just plain old bad. This is why I stay away from the 3rd urinal. Well, that and the fact that it’s mounted a good 3″ lower on the wall than the “normal people” urinals. Midget-compliant, or something. The horror.

We have nothing on our walls. Not pictures, not paintings, not even a different color than the original white that came with the virgin house. Over the course of the three years we’ve been here, we’ve spent countless dollars which could’ve instead went to put things on the walls, to make the place feel more lived in. We have no furniture in the front room. Hell, we still call it the “front room” because we don’t do anything in or with it. It has no function. The biggest open space in our entire house is nothing more than a wide, wide hallway between the front door and kitchen. I don’t know what to chalk this up to, but I have some suspects. First, laziness. We are just lazy. Second, Sharaun’s unreasonably high standards for anything which will be displayed on our walls. Honestly, I think finding one or two items every three years may be the pace at which we have to move based on her insane requirements. Third, the notion that money will be better spend elsewhere. As time passes though, I’m beginning to wish we’d spent more time “homey-ing” up the house. Sometimes it feels empty, like we’re always poised to pack up the lot of it and hit the road. I want more things on the wall, more places to sit, more color. Oh, and I want less rampant mess… but that’s a function of my marriage and completely inescapable.

You guys may or may not know that I “run” several different websites. I put the word run in quotes because I honestly do little to “run” them at all. I wrote them at some point in my life, and for the most part they are now on autopilot… their tired and trite layouts and designs in a state of atrophy, embarrassing to look at. There are sites all over this domain, those linked from the root and those not. Those that are “done” and are never touched, and those that are in a constant state of “working on it.” Anyway, the page I’m most ashamed of is my Question Mark & the Mysterians page. The thing is appalling. I think I did the layout in high school, no kidding (however, I may be wrong as the oldest copy I can find on the Wayback is from 1998 and says “since 1997” on it). I changed the layout early along in college, converting the thing to some form of CSS style management. The site is really disgusting to me, but I’m not willing to go and give it a remake. Thing is, it’s consistently one of my biggest visitor-getters, and it also generates a large amount of e-mail. And that’s what I want to talk about, the e-mail.

People are retarded. No, I’m serious. People are straight-up retarded. Sure, the site is hideous – but there is still plenty of good information to be found there, and it’s relatively easy to navigate despite it’s abominably ugly shell. Despite this, the retarded masses insist on mailing me with any question they can think of – regardless of whether or not it’s answered on the pages. I’ve long stopped responding to any mail generated by the site, but you’ve got to check out some of these gems… they consistently crack me up.

Subject: who are they?
the mysterions

Subject: Bass player
What were the names of the musicians that help record “96” tears..

Subject: hey
hey question mark and the mysterians you are a good group you play good music where do you all go when you all on the road do you all go to buger king do you all go to wendys do you all go to pizza hut do you all like buger king do you all like wendys do you all like pizza hut i do i like buger king i like wendys i like pizza hut at buger king i like those whoppers do you all like whoppers thats what i get when i go to buger king is those whoppers there is nothing like a whopper boy they are good

Subject: 96 tears
dude you must have gotten your hands on that song by now, if not i can give an mp3.

Subject: 96 TEARS 45
DEAR WEB MASTER , I HAVE A 45 BY ? AND THE MYSTERIANS. SIDE 1 IS 96 TEARS,BLUE “ABKCO” LABEL, MANUFACTURED BY ABKCO RECORDS INC. ,MONO , # 4020 , (XRQ-75039) , ABKCO MUSIC INC./MYSTERIAN MUSIC / ED ARGUILLO BMI , TIME 2:57. SIDE 2 IS “I CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF YOU , BABY”, BLUE “ABKCO” LABEL , (LINZER/RANDEL) , MANUFACTURED BY ABKCO RECORDS,INC. , MONO , # 4020 , (XQR-75040) , SATURDAY MUSIC , TIME 2:00 .

Subject: hey (same sender as above)
hey question mark and the mysterians what you all have been doing for me i have been playing with my playstation playing with my radio playing on my computer playing with my bose watching dvds on my tvo and watching tv on my tvo i am sorry i have not send you guys any emails thats because i got other rock and roll stars to send emails what bands do you all like do you all like white snake judas priest acdc van halen motley crue scorpons night ranger billy squier billy idol tom petty and the heartbreakers the cars duran duarnboston the police phil cooins bad company queen aerosmith pink floyd led zeppelin kansas foreigner black sabbath blue oyster cult bon jovi def leopard fog hat sammy hagar iron maiden kiss mega deth men at work metallica ozzy osbourne styx twisted sister stevie ray vaughan skid row def leppard quiet riot ratt poison winger guns n roses lover boy lynyrd skynyrd queen asia genesis meat loaf molly hatchet so tell me all of these rock and roll bands which one do you like and which one you dont like do you like all of them or you dont like all of them i like metallica there is not nobody out there can play like metallica because they are to good they play alot of good songs they are just to good

Subject: Your music
Please have a look at the attached file.
—————-
Viruses found in the attached files.
The file mp3music.pif: Virus identified I-Worm/Netsky.J. The attachment was moved to the virus vault.

Maybe the loud colors and disjointed layout just attract the stupidheads. Who knows.

Goodnight.

Posted on

chin on chest

I have no home.
Monday night and I’m up late, in one of those don’t-want-to-go-to-bed moods. Listening to a new album by a group called Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! that is really rubbing me the right way. Reminding me of the Arcade Fire, although they don’t sound much alike at all. I’ve got the blinds pulled up and the window open, inviting the cool night air into the room, along with all the sounds of late-night suburbia: the teenage neighbor boy arriving home from wherever his coming-of-age took him this evening, the occasional chirp of a cricket, and sprinklers spraying to life in the distance. In some ways, this is better than sleeping to me; but I do love my sleep. It’s nice; it strikes me as the first time in a while I’ve had the luxury of sitting here with nothing to do but write and listen to music. Work tomorrow will be busy, but not so terribly demanding that I go to bed ASAP. So I’m gonna sit here and do nothing for a bit, because I can.

5:30pm on Tuesday and I’m dozing off on this call… the action of my head dropping forward waking me from a moment of rest. I don’t know why I’m so tired lately, but today I have an agenda. Immediately after this meeting, my last of the day, I’m gonna run to the gas station. I’m gonna fill up the truck, and fill up my new little two-gallon gas can with an oil/gas mix for my new two-cycle blower. Then, it’s back home to mow the lawn and use that newly gassed-up blower. After that, I want to finally unpack my suitcase and do a proper level-setting cleaning job in the kitchen, y’know, catch up to where I should be. That’s what I want to do, I’m hoping I stick to the plan. Lately, there’s just not enough time. Neither of us have time really… Sharaun comes home from her day that begins at 4:45am and just wants to crash. I’m severely unmotivated for some reason, and have been feeling more tired than usual – I think I may have a sinus infection that’s been lingering since my last trip to Taiwan. Complain, complain, complain… I’m sure it makes for exciting reading. My apologies.

While I didn’t get a chance to TiVo it, because I only learned of it yesterday morning at work, I did read the text of last night’s Bush address in full on the internet. And while I concede it was indeed a well-crafted speech, I still find myself coming back over and over again to Bush’s “new” agenda of tying the war in Iraq to the terrorist attacks of 9/11. Fine, there are “terrorists” in Iraq, and “terrorists” flew planes into our buildings. I simply cannot understand how people don’t remember that the #1, unquestionable, unmistakable reason President Bush gave this country for going to war was the purported “fact” that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction. Whether or not ending an evil regime or freeing a tyrannically ruled people or waging the global ware on terror are noble and just causes for a war, they are not the reasons America voted for war. When did that become OK? You know, I’m not one of those calling for the immediate withdrawal of troops, at this point that’s pure folly and will only lead to anarchy. But I am also not one of those people who have managed to seamlessly transition from supporting a war against a country who presented a real threat by having weapons of mass destruction, to supporting a war to end an evil dictatorship and free a populace, to supporting a war that is just the “… central front on the war on terror.” I respect our soldiers and the job they do. But, as a nation, I do believe we were lied to, and manipulated by the administration with regards to the justification for the war.

Here’s my random one-sentence thought roundup paragraph. Friday noon we leave for Oregon, doing the long drive once again. Spending the long weekend at my folks’ place, looking forward to the time away from work and this abominably messy house. The crabgrass is back in my lawn, I noticed it’s return today… and it’s back in force. This time, however, I decided I’d turn to my friend the internet to find a solution. Looks like I can get some stuff and totally kill the bastard-weed while we’re in the early days of summer… so I plan to act fast. I imagine it like I’m swooping in at the last moment to rescue the lady tied to the tracks, just before the train bears down on her. Downloaded and messed around with Google Earth tonight, and found it really really awesome. It’s a free download, and it does some amazing stuff.

Goodnight my friends, goodnight.

Posted on

on my own

Home of bottom dwellers.
The wireless connection in my hotel room is the most frustrating thing ever. What’s worse, it’s my only option. It’s off and on, dropping me all the time, and only giving me sucky connections when it feels like it. There’s one “hot” spot in the corner of the room, which I found by wandering around with my laptop out in front of me – but we’re talking a one foot square area of space about 4ft off the ground in the middle of nowhere. What the heck Hilton, you got nothing?! I tell you what, I wouldn’t recommend this ~$400/night place to anyone. Stay away folks – the hotel blows, the service is lukewarm, and the internet is non-existant. You hear me Connie? Your hotel blows, I don’t care if the legacy of your loins did offer forth Paris unto the world, you are not fogiven.

Today (Monday) was great. As I mentioned yesterday, I wasn’t really sure what this conference had in store for me. Turns out I was done “prepping” at around 9am this morning – and effectively had the rest of the day to do with as I pleased. As I triumphantly packed up my bag and sauntered away from the area where myself and my colleagues were located, I mentioned I was going to get some breakfast and would probably be back down to “check on things” in an hour or so. Even as I was saying the words, I knew them for a blatant lie. I had no intention whatsoever of returning to the conference floor today. I mean, why would I? I was completely setup, and I don’t have to be back until noon Tuesday. I did mention to a fellow employee (whom I’ve never met) that I might be able to offer some assistance with his “prep” later on, and left my cellphone number for him to get in touch with me. Again – knowing full well I would not be answering his calls.

Is this wrong? I don’t know. In some ways, when I do things like this, I do feel slight pangs of guilt. But for the most part, I feel liberated. I get this rebel thing in my head and just ignore phone calls. As soon as I saw the conference area this morning, I made a for-me-only decision: I was going to half-ass this thing. Sound bad? I don’t think so, here’s why: I’ve been working hard; I deserve a little break. So, I’m going to go in there with my dress pants on, stand up in front of people, and absolutely wing it.

Let me take a seemingly unrelated segue here, the reason for which will become apparent towards the end. Sharaun used to tell me to “stop!” doing embarrassing things or acting silly in places like restaurants, amusement parks, grocery stores, etc. – any public place really. My reply to her was always, “Why? We don’t know these people, it’s very likely we’ll never run into a single one of these people again in out entire lives. Who cares if they think I’m an idiot?” So, while not as extreme (I don’t quite want people thinking I’m an idiot), I’m sorta taking that position with this conference.

Anyway, having decided I wasn’t going to make any big investment in the work-bit of this trip, I decided to strike out on my own one-man tour of the city. Yeah sure, one of my new acquaintances from the conference had offered to tag along – but I declined, thinking that a solo adventure might be more interesting, and would certainly be paced more to my liking.

I did it all. I walked to Times Square (took a picture of the MTV building for my forever-teenybopper wife), then over to the Empire State Building (didn’t go up, the wait was two hours and I wanted to make sure I took in as many sights as I could). I caught the subway to Ground Zero, which, not having ever seen the two buildings while they still stood, was not quite as impactful as I’d thought it might be – although surely still a solemn attraction. Then, the guilt started getting to me. I decided maybe I should head back and return to the conference floor, where the multitudes were still milling about and setting up. I bought a return ticket on the subway, and sped back in the direction of the hotel. It was nearly 1pm as I climbed the stairs from the subway up to street-level, which meant my no-breakfast-having stomach was beginning to think about lunch. And what do you know, I emerged from the underground a mere block from the world-famous Carnegie Deli. Seeing that the line waiting to get in was relatively short, I decided to again forsake my conference brethren and instead go for a corned beef sandwich.

The first phone call came as I was waiting in line, a number I didn’t recognize. I didn’t answer; they left no voicemail After my sandwich, I did decide to return to my room and change into pants, since some clouds had rolled in and the city had cooled down a bit. I was only there for 15min before I decided that, since today was really my only “free” day, I’d better take full advantage of it. I made up my mind and decided to make for Battery Park and the statue of liberty. As I took the elevator to the lobby, I found myself hoping that I didn’t bump into any of my colleagues on the way out. I walked through the lobby, and paused at the escalators that would put me back on the conference floor. “I should just run down for a few minutes,” I thought, “Make and effort, make a show of being there, maybe help someone out…” I hesitated, and then turned and strolled out towards the subway.

The second phone call came while I was walking through Battery Park, the same unrecognized number. This time, a voicemail: “Hey Dave, just wondering if you were going to make it back today, I was going to call someone to ask them some questions about setting up my stuff – but figured you may know. Anyway, give me a call at this number or stop by if you’re around. Hope to see you soon.” Ugh, guilt. The voicemail is harder to ignore than a missed call, but I managed to press ‘3’ for delete and force myself to go on with my self-indulgence. I snapped some pictures of the Statue of Liberty (again, opting out of the harbor tour in the interest of time), and got back on the subway intending to make my way towards Central Park. I got of a little early, so I could walk down Broadway and check it out, and eventually made it to the park. I bought a bottled water and one of those strawberry shortcake ice cream popsicle things I used to love so much in middle school, and started on my leisurely trek, pointed loosely towards Strawberry Fields.

I stopped to watch the crowd on Sheep Meadow, took in what looked to be some rec baseball at some fields near there, and finally found a nice bench to plunk down on in front of the Imagine memorial in the Strawberry Fields section. While I was sitting there, people-watching and enjoying some busker’s rendition of “No Reply,” my cellphone rang – the third call. This time it was a different number. I silenced it. Buzz-buzz, a voicemail. I listened, “Hey Dave, this is so-and-so what’s-her-face from the show. Boy, your ‘about one hour’ kinda turned into ‘all day,’ huh? Well, anyway, I’m calling to see if you wanted me to do anything with your stuff. If not, no need to return the call. Hope to see you tomorrow, thanks.” Great; more guilt. But you know, if I had wanted to do something with my stuff, I would’ve gone and done it or let someone know. I was done, and I was not going back. It didn’t matter though, because the sun was setting and a beautiful little girl was dancing around the Imagine memorial, picking up the fresh flowers and twirling around with them. The temperature was perfect, and I felt so relaxed and self-sufficient having ferried myself about town all day. I had about twenty blocks to walk back to the hotel, but it was worth it.

And that’s how I managed to spend a whole day shirking responsibility and still feel good about myself. Tomorrow, I’ll go down there, make up some excuse for being MIA all day, and then get down to business. I’ll do what I do, do it well, and then get out of this place on Thursday. I’m not excited, and I’m hating all the “real work” I’m missing by being here, but I’ll stick it out as always. OK, enough of that.

One thing I will say about New York, it’s extremely easy to get around. I actually expected the opposite, a huge, maze-like city of tall buildings and numbered streets. Turns out upper Manhattan, at least, is no problem. And the subway is great. I can get to pretty much anywhere for $2. One other thing I’ll say about New York, the people here make me feel sorely lacking for not having an iPod. Honestly, they must give them out with the drivers’ licenses or something. You walk down the street and every third person has those distinctive white earbuds stuck in their ears. If I lived here, I’d surely cave to the peer pressure.

Oh… and now I’m pissed. I was on the season finale of Lost (yeah, I watched a whole season in a week or so, so what?), and the dang file is cut off – ends about 20min short! What’s worse, the little download meter tells me I’m looking at more than a day of download time on this hobo wireless connection to get a complete version. Now I have to wait until I get home to watch those final 20mins. I’m mad, yes, mad.

I wrote a lot today, first time in a long time. Felt good.