Month: February 2010

So Discovery channel makes these commercials (I love the Myth Busters back-and-forth):

Then XKCD, which I love, makes this comic:

Which NoamR animated:

I Love xkcd from NoamR on Vimeo.

Then, Olga Nunes got together and got “Neil Gaiman, Wil Wheaton, Cory Doctorow, Lawrence Lessig, Bruce Schneier, Jason Kottke, Google Zurich, Hank Green, MC Frontalot, Patrick & Teresa Nielsen Hayden, Mr. Toast, Miss Cellania, Team Genius, Phil Plait, Allan Amato, Maddy Gaiman, Charissa Gilreath, Belinda Casas, Chuck Martinez, Jeremy James, Joanna Gaunder, Lee Israel & Octavio Coleman Esq. of The Jejune Institute.” to make this:

The internet is a pretty awesome place.

I feel like New Year’s just passed.

What have I done… let’s see.

I went to that beer,bourbon,and barbecue festival, said goodbye to a friend who moved to vegas, and A and I also went to the zoo in the winter.

I’ve lost about 15 lbs. I have about another 30 to go before I am comfortable again, 60 before I am where I want to be.

I kickstarted the tech for a discount ticket box office (which involved a cameo to the guts of the discount ticket center at Times Square – holy crap was that intense). I’ve downshifted into new responsibilities in my job. I’ve absorbed a huge amount of data for a call-center system automation system. I’ve learned more about telefundraising than I ever wanted to. I’ve started trying to think about my future in a scalable way, rather than an infinite thread spiralling out ahead of me. A late-night conversation with had no small hand in that, but also A.’s reaction to my regular extra hours, and off-hours firefighting.

I’ve grown increasingly dissatisfied with my lot, and increasingly convinced that it is not a great time to be shaking trees in a paralell or advancement move. I’m not at the point where I can be considering demotion – too many things on the horizon. As long as I can rein in my frustrations at the crux moments, I should be able to skate for a while. I need to get signed up for a certification course.

Every spring since the year after it came out, I’ve read Stephen King’s “IT”. Usually, sometime around April/May, I have a dream, which always makes me crave the book. This year, that dream came the eve of a day that was tied to both a huge flood in Germany in the 60’s, and the mudslide in the Phillipines a few years back. The dream always features a flood, and always links in to the opening scene of the book. Maybe because of Hati, maybe because of some springtime connection, this year, the dream featured both water and mud. I am wondering if on some level my subconscious is parsing all this stuff, creating patterns for me, or if this is all just coincidence that I am ascribing meaning to. Once that dream comes, the book has to follow, or the dreams get worse – there is catharsis somewhere in the story that lets the valves blow off the steam that accumulates through a year. A horrifying thought, abstractly, that something like “IT” is what it takes for my brain to stretch out the fatigue, particularly coming two/three months earlier than usual, but I do not question the tonic what heals my woes.

I’ve not written much of note, despite stories moving along rapidly, which irritates me. I’ve tackled innumerable side jobs, in an attempt to finance a healty tax biil, and a vacation planned prior to the establishement of said tax bill.

I need to focus on appreciating the largesse of good things in my life, instead of bemoaning the neighbor’s lawn.

I definitely need to get back into a better writing groove.

To say my life has been hectic of late is a pretty serious exercize in understatement. Aside from the Beer, Bourbon & BBQ Festival Saturday (and I did end up working about 15 mins satruday during the festival), I haven’t had a clean day off this year.

Yesterday morning, I was running late, so I hopped a cab to a meeting I needed to make on time (and failed, despite the expense and effort). When I got out of the cab, the cabbie decided he was going to shoot across the street before I was totally out of his cab. It was a van cab, and I had one foot on the curb, the other was still in the cab, with the door open, before he decided to try and cut across Broadway to pick up a fare down the block. My foot hooked the door, and I was spun around like a paper mache dredel in a blender. I don’t think he ever noticed.

My bag, which I had on one shoulder, caught on a streetsign before my face hit the sidewalk. The shoulder strap is the only thing that stopped me from totally wiping out into the middle of traffic. This makes twice in a year I almost died on Broadway.

I was in enough pain, and angry enough, that I didn’t realize in the abrupt spinning crane kick I was thrown into had split the seam in the crotch of my pants. When I say I split the seam, I obliterated any rememberance of stitching from the base of my fly to halfway up my ass. I do not wear yoga/workout pants to work – these were dressy suit pants that were exposed to G forces and rapidity that they were never designed to withstand. I didn’t hear the rip, but I am sure it was mighty.

Thanks to draft, I instantly realized (wearing white boxers, of course) that I was standing on a center island, on Broadway, essentially showing off my undies to all passers by (pedestrian and vehicular alike). This is a prelude to a recurrant nightmare for much of the population. All thoughts of rage and contemplations of charging across traffic to snag the cabbie and pull him out his window (he was stuck behind someone else who managed to snag the fare) evaporated.

I always carry a roll of gaffer tape on my bag. Aside from all the other impliments of destruction I keep handy in case of need, that tape has saved me in many a tight spot – yesterday was no different. I managed to fashion a fast double strip which I slapped over my crotch-area as serruptitiously as possible, so I could make my way across the street to the first restroom available. Thankfully, yesterday was a black-pants day. I hesitate to think what may have befallen me crossing Broadway, had it been a khaki day.

Once in the public restroom, I secured a booth, and managed to re-assemble the seam from the inside out, after creating a multi-strip reinforcement patch of gaffers tape on the _inside_ of my pants, where it was invisible. That patch held me until around 9 last night, when I managed to get out of the office. When I got home, I threw away the pants, but momentarily contemplated keeping the gaffer-tape undergarment they housed, in commemoration of the event. After about three seconds of contemplation, I tossed the tape in with the pants.

I usually pay cabs by card, and would, then, have a follow-up reciept, but, I was in a rush, and I paid cash, and had no reciept. I’m out a pair of pants, and a few minutes of dignity – but I managed to survive the day.

At least I still have my bag.