Story Archive (11/2003)

Drugs, Prescription (11/30/2003)

Attention to health is life's greatest hindrance. - Plato

I urgently beseech you to scale back the dosage of your various and sundry medications. - Chris Harriman

I just achieved the point where all my prescriptions are available at the same time. That means I just make that one trip to the drug store each month. It also allowed me to see exactly what they cost me. Combine total after tax: $63.09 per month, or $757.08 each year. Be thankful for your health. It buys you a new computer each year.

Thanksgiving (11/28/2003)

Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic. - from "The Sayings of Muad'Dib"

Thanksgiving. So what am I thankful for?

Friends: Friends who play Warcraft. Friends who have websites. Friends who write me postcards. Friends who write me email. Friends who call on the phone. Friends who fly up from Los Angeles. Friends who think they should live in Nepal. Friends who smile.

Everyone tells to be thankful I have a job. I'm not. Guess I've just never suffered through that time of looking for one.

Money doesn't buy happiness, but it can sure buy a lot of things that distract from sadness!

Water Closet Etiquette (11/25/2003)

The longer I live the more I see that I am never wrong about anything, and that all the pains that I have so humbly taken to verify my notions have only wasted my time. - George Bernard Shaw

Speaking of punching people with poor social etiquette, there are bunches of tenets of good decorum that I don't understand how people have missed learning in their life. Seriously people, get with it!

Case in point (from a previous engagement), I would pass by a person's cubical on my way to the water closet. He would often, upon seeing me pass to the loo be reminded of some off hand topic he wanted to speak with me about. The first few times this occurred I politely stopped to listen to him. His offhand comments were generally nothing very important and were distracting me from using the restroom.

So, after a few incidents like that, I would tell him to "hold that thought while I use the restroom." I think a normal person would, at this point, hold that thought. He would generally stand up and follow me to the restroom. Now, that's not a best practice. Following someone into the restroom to engage them in conversation is bad. It got so much worse.

He would stand next to me, attempting to make eye contact while I was... ummm... doing my business. For goodness sake! NO!

I would then casually wash my hands thoroughly with soap and water, then I would punch him.

I don't consider myself a completely insane person on the social etiquette topic. The man behind me on BART is snoring loudly, and I've got no issue with that.

Shuffling (11/24/2003)

It's kind of fun to do the impossible. - Walt Disney

Sweet! I just moved my navigation to the right side of the screen for every page in my site and all it took was a one word change in my stylesheet. The reason I did this was to address the complaint of a user that reads this site with AvantGo. They had to scroll past my menu to get to the tasty content. So, now you don't have to anymore. How do you like that?

There's also a request for me to setup an RSS/RDF feed. I suppose at some point I should just throw up my hands and get a real package like MT. Yet, I'm quite stubborn.

In Need of Title v0.91 (11/23/2003)

Through the hall I hear the sound of stones and shudder at the future they foretell. The hollow noise can permeate the bones and sting the nostrils with a muskey smell. It's emptiness in something near at hand and creeping up the shores of conscious thought. A course of action will it soon demand or tragic untold perils will be wrount. Though sloth is told to be a deadly sin, its warmth has guided fools for countless years and so it made a lasting friend of men who knew with it they could delay their fears.

Bart Etiquette (11/22/2003)

Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. - Albert Einstein

My favorite visual eavesdropping incident came when I was reading an e-Book on my Palm. I was sitting on BART reading away and a woman crouched down beside me in the aisle and started reading off my Palm as well. She was breaking some sort of etiquette rule here; I know it! You don't just stare at the contents of a stranger's PDA while riding on public transportation. Do you? A quick survey at work today reveals the proper response is to punch people who do that (more on this later).

"Is this Norse mythology?" She's speaking loudly. We're in the transbay tube and the train noise is freakishly loud at that point. Of course, asking me a question derived from the content of my book removes any plausible deniability she may have had that she was, in fact, not reading my book.

"Yes." I responded curtly. It was nearly my stop and I didn't feel like getting in a conversation with a complete stranger when I know what the next question is going to be.

"I haven't read that kind of literature in a long time. How do you like it?"

I'll admit to being taken aback at this point. The expected questions go along the lines of asking where I happen to get Norse legend in e-Book format (the answer is project Guttenberg).

"I'm not very far into it, but I'm enjoying it."

"It's pretty small font on that thing, so it's hard for me to read it."

I punched her at this point.

Visual Eavesdropping (11/21/2003)

It's always weird for me to hear from people I know who read my site, especially my mother. It's always easier when the audience is hidden by the footlights, you know? - Wil Wheaton

I write while riding to work on the train. People really enjoy attempting to discreetly look at what I'm typing. I realize that I'm going to publish this to the world at some point, but that doesn't mean I want total strangers ogling the creative process. It's my process dammit!

I respond by shrinking the font size on the document to something so disgustingly small that even I can't read it. Stare away lady! You can't read it, and I don't want you too. Ironically, this increases the stalker's need to stare even more diligently in a failed attempt to interpret what I'm writing.

Just to make the escapade more obvious, I like to stare out the window while I'm typing. Well, I like to stare into the window, which gives a good reflection of the person sitting next to me. At this point, they assume I'm gazing off into nothing, when in fact I can clearly see them squinting and trying to read what I'm typing.

Maybe she'll write about it on her website tonight. "There was this guy on BART who was typing at like 100 words per minute and not looking at his keyboard, and the font was so small on his laptop, that even though I was rudely staring straight at the screen, I had no clue what he was typing."

Yea. That would be sweet...

The Lost Art of Letter Writing (11/20/2003)

Although I am a typical loner in daily life, my consciousness of belonging to the invisible community of those who stive for truth, beauty, and justice keeps me from feeling isolated. - Einstein

I was told that when I quote friends, they feel like celebrities. Wow. So now I'm infusing another person with that little spark of excitement!

I haven't talked to you in a while, though it feels like I have, because I check your b--- during my morning no-one-is-at-work-yet routine.

I don't know if that train of thought is a good or a bad thing. It's a weird phenomenon that all these people share their lives online to the world. How is that going affect the world? There's a good psychology thesis just waiting to be written. If everyone I know has a website, and I can keep up with their life (and they with mine) by never having to actively engage in conversation, then will we? What about conversation by website? I read something on someone else's page and write a response on mine, to which they respond on their's. What about those poor fools that read one or the other, but not both? It's just bizarre. There's no turning back; people's modes of interaction are changing and it's just going to have to be dealt with.

I send out a "Life Update" e-Mail to various groups of friends a few times a year. I admit, it's a bribe. I'm not really interested in revealing things about my life, but you have to give a little to get a little. I love hearing their life summaries. I give cue topics. This last set was based on health, wealth and women. So how are your health, wealth and women doing these days? Do you have enough time to enjoy them all?

I remember wonderful days eight years ago when I started out in university. It was when all of my friends got access to e-Mail and it became their standard mode of communication. Before mobile phones made free nationwide long distance the standard or instant messengers made computer interaction split-second, the poor college student could go farthest on free e-Mail. Yet letter writing is a dieing art. Mobile phones and instant messenger are making sure of that.

I'll admit to missing the nightly ritual of responding to a dozen emails from all my friends. When interaction is work, being able to take in an entire chunk of thought from someone and construct a solitary thought out response is a blessing. I spent a good hour a night writing to everyone else plus one final e-Mail to myself.

I raise my glass to those few pen-pals that I still have. Cheers my friends. Don't stop writing; your letters are great source material for my website.

Rings of Power (11/17/2003)

I am not young enough to know everything. - Oscar Wilde

Hey xxxxx,

Would you like to hear a story? I want to tell one. So you're going to hear it. Well, at least you're going to read it. Well, at least it's going to presented to you in text format for you to do with as you please. I think it's the same thing metaphorically speaking.

...snip...

I was fifteen years old the first time a girl gave me a ring. It was way back when I was young and shy (as opposed to now, where I'm young and shy). The rules of gift giving required me to give something back. Are those the rules? I've actually never seen a copy of the rules of gift giving, so I was working off a hunch. Anyway, I wanted to. But, being a young silly boy I had nothing that I felt was appropriate in exchange. Being too young to drive, I had no simple way to acquire something. That left me only a single recourse: to make something.

So I decided to make a ring. Making a ring in exchange for a ring seems appropriate, right? Bending a paperclip into a circular shape is a difficult thing to do. Have you ever tried? I'll leave that as an exercise for the reader. I did a poor job my first time, but it was somewhat circular, and it's the thought that counts, right? I gave the somewhat orbicular metal to her, and she was happy to get it.

In the years that followed I perfected the art. There are quite a few tricks required to do it right. I think I've learned all the ones that don't involve using a form of fire. I wore paperclip rings for a long time. I gave out quite a few of them as well.

Most of those rings got lost over the years. I suppose rings made from scraps of cheap metal aren't worth a lot. Still, there are a few people out there who have held on to their ring for quite some time. Just a little while ago, one of my friends sent me a picture of her hand decorated with my little ring. I was surprised she still had it.

So I did what anyone would do. I got out a paperclip and my secret ring-making tools, created a new one and started wearing it. It's fun. You want one? I've been told they work really well for cleaning underneath the fingernails.

Peace,

Jordan

What Kind of Hipster are You? (11/16/2003)

The Low-Fidelity All-Star: he was born with the cool, and it's totally natural. He runs the gamut from Hipster Supreme (only they can ingest as much coffee as he) to the geeky hipster%
You are the Low-Fidelity All-Star. You were born with your cool, and it's totally natural. You run the gamut from Hipster Supreme (only they can ingest as much coffee as you) to the geeky hipster (Mario Kart, anyone?).

Statues (11/15/2003)

Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue. - Roger C. Anderson

I went walking in the rain last night. Somehow I ended up at the coffee house about a mile away from home. It's open twenty-four hours. That was nice, since I got there rather late. I stayed there rather late as well. I didn't get home until around four in the morning. It happens. If had any sense, I wouldn't go wandering the streets at that hour. I rarely do it.

I do enjoy walking the rain. There's that lovely pitter-patter of the drops. There's the way it soaks your hair to the scalp. There's the way your glasses get covered with drops like a car windshield when the wipers aren't on. I was pretty much soaked by the time I made it to the coffee shop. I don't worry about catching cold; studies have been done which involve throwing people naked in the snow, and those studies showed that being cold and wet does not increase one's chance of catching the misnamed cold bug.

I doodled on a napkin while I was there. I was thinking about the stubbornness of my friends. I it comes with age. The older a person is, the more they think they've got a pretty good system worked out for life.

The human development process is similar to the carving of a sculpture out of rock. A person is born as huge chunk of stone. Some people are made from marble while others are granite. It's a genetic thing.

In early childhood the chunk of rock is made into the basic human. The person knows the how to interact and get through the basic of life. She learns almost all she needs by the time she's out of kindergarten. There was a book about that.

By the time a person is in their late teens and early twenties, there's not much work left to be done. At that age, a person has the needed arms, legs, face and all those others parts. By that point, a person is an introvert or extravert. A person is a flake or responsible. The major shaping of their personality is over.

By that point, it's just the finishing details of the personality that need to be done. Those finals bits of chipping and sanding are very delicate and very slow. Still, what separates a good statue from a masterpiece that will be remembered for all time? It's not that it looks human; it's the fine touches. The most amazing thing, is at that point, the status can finish itself.

Loners and Gothics (11/13/2003)

The man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait till that other is ready. - Henry David Thoreau

The book I'm reading is all about loners. The author is a self-proclaimed loner. The book is grating on me. The author basically goes on chapter after chapter explaining how all the bad feelings society has towards loners are misplaced. They are directed at people who are alone. Being alone, apparently, does not at real loners. Obviously, in the eyes of the author, loners are people who want to be alone and anyone else that may be alone is a "fake loner." I'd be curious to see the etymology of that one because I'll be she's wrong.

It reminded me of the sharp division one would always see in the gothic subculture. In college I downloaded a great gothic tamagotchi program. What was most entertaining about it was the classifications of all the subcultures in the gothic subculture. There was one called the "anointed goth." The main indicator of this sub-subculture was its constant need to point out why they were goth and why other people where not goth. An "anointed loner" wrote the book I'm reading.

Of course, the most entertaining goth was the "glam goth" who would enjoy the sensationalist clothing and dance clubs. There was also the wonderful "poseur goth" who was intrinsically a "glam goth" but wanted to be viewed as a "sad goth." Or the "wannabe goth" who couldn't even make it to "poseur goth" status.

I think I was a meta-wannabe goth. Sound about right? Not a goth, and didn't want to be a goth enough to be a wannabe goth. Look there in my closet! I still see the long black trench coat, the black leather gloves, the black leather hat, the dagger necklace, the skull rings, and the chain belt. Weren't those the days? Man does teen angst do stupid things to good people.

The objective of the tamagotchi goth was to keep your little guy depressed enough to be a "sad goth," but not so depressed she committed suicide.

I Can Write Better Than Anybody (11/12/2003)

I can write better than anybody who can write faster, and I can write faster than anybody who can write better. - Liebling

I got a few comments on my typing speed today. In the class that I'm attending there is a good deal of typing required. What does that mean? It means that I'm finishing up the exercises well faster than a good portion of the class. It's ironic that programs have all these usability tricks to make data entry faster, when the real bottleneck is people's typing speed, not bad design.

Consider this: If you type at 30 WPM, and I type at 100 WPM, then I can produce e-Mails and other text heavy work THREE TIMES as fast as you can. Dear God! I shudder every time I see a programmer using the hunt and peck method. The only advantage that has is a lack of repetitive stress injury.

Surprise! (11/11/2003)

Comfort and happiness have never appeared to me as a goal. I call these ethical bases the ideal of the swineherd. - Einstein

Here are some important rules when throwing a surprise birthday party for someone:

  • Do not crash their domicile
  • If you crash their domicile (see previous rule), make sure it's clean
  • Do not throw a party for someone the day after they've been out drinking
  • Make sure the person has had a chance to shower (and hasn't been sleeping on the couch all night)
  • Make sure the person doesn't have unfinished chores to do before they fly to Memphis

Train it! (11/10/2003)

I just had a bizarre, "what the heck?!?" moment on my machine. I had a copy of the photos from this years surprise party brought over. I scanned them all. I had them in a nice folder on my machine. Now, the folder is empty. WTF!?! My hard drive is spinning away searching for them right now. It's tragic. I was going to be all excited about it posting them too!

I found my stack of postcards I wrote while I was in Memphis. They are all written. They are all stamped. None of them are addressed. I wrote them on a week when I didn't have access to my address book. Then they just sort of sat around. I think I'll get them all address and sent out pretty soon. What makes a post card any better than an e-Mail? I suppose it's a little physical object that I actually touched that actually comes from where I was. Something like that...

I just finished up day one of about three weeks of PeopleSoft training. Applications would work perfectly if it weren't for those pesky users.

Love Just Is (11/07/2003)

Anne, the only thing better than falling in love with you is being in love with you. - Wil Wheaton

Even a couple of months ago, while pondering what love truly meant, I couldn't figure out something that seemed quite right. - Dave

Love just is ... Nothing less and nothing more; I don't know what I love you for. - Hilary Duff

Two of my daily reads had comments about love. How could I resist a commentary? I couldnít. So let me bang my head on the side of the bowl and let the tasty nougat out (I have a fondness for mixed metaphors). Conversation via disparate public website is quite a bizarre thing, eh?

Patroclus: I've been attempting to come up with a good definition of love and failed.

Mr. Squirrel: What's your problem?

Patroclus: I seem to find too many special cases that fall outside my definition. When you have far more exceptions than rules, you don't have a theory, you have Latin.

Mr. Squirrel: Quite right. Perhaps I can help? Can you explain to me some of your problems?

Patroclus: Sure thing. I'm not sure what do with the concept of unconditional love. Why do some people get this magical special form of love? For example, I unconditionally love my parents.

Mr. Squirrel: I see your problem, but you simply have an error with semantics. You see, you happen to love two people on the condition that they are your parents. That love is quite conditional you see.

Patroclus: I see your point. Indeed I have been quite foolish. What about the distinction between loving someone and being in love with someone? You see, both seem to be love but they are very different!

Mr. Squirrel: Why so?

Patroclus: Well Mr. Squirrel, we are very good friends. I would go so far as to say that I love you, but I would not say that I am in love with you.

Mr. Squirrel: What is missing from that feeling? What would make you willing to say you are in love with me. I so desire to know!

Patroclus: I think it is the physical component. While you are quite cute, I do not have any strong physical desire for you Mr. Squirrel.

Mr. Squirrel: I am disappointed Patroclus, but not surprised. Still, your description of being in love seems to be a combination of love and physical attraction. By any reasonable logical deconstruction, love plus something else will no longer be love (assuming that something else isn't more love or the additive identity). Therefore, your term of "in love" is just more bad semantics. It's love plus something which is not love and not a different form of love.

Patroclus: I think you have solved all my problems Mr. Squirrel. I thank you. Look over there, it seems Achilles is sitting atop your friend the tortoise.

Whatcha Up To? (11/04/2003)

Call me when you get bored.

Then perhaps you wonder why I don't call? Perhaps you picture me sitting at home alone and wonder why your phone isn't ringing. That's not boredom. That's a good book. That's a good show on TV. That's time to write, doodle, browse and a million other tasks that are just waiting to be done.

It is a rare person who, on the tele, can entertain me through pure social interaction better than I can entertain myself.

Are you busy this weekend?

Always. I'm busy writing up programs. I'm busy playing the harmonica. I'm busy beating video games. Oh, I misinterpreted. You merely wanted to know if I have other social engagements. That's poppycock.

Maybe I just plan to have myself a good sit. You ever have a good sit? It involves finding a nice comfy chair and sitting in it. Or, perhaps a bench overlooking some gorgeous view, though that would be more of a good look than a good sit. Actually, I greatly enjoying having a good look or a good watch or a good sit. What great things!

Endings (11/02/2003)

I'm proud of the fact that I never invented weapons to kill. - Thomas Edison

The train whistle woke me up tonight around ten thirty. I'm not really sure what time I fell asleep. The tracks are about half a mile from my apartment and every time a train crosses them it has to whistle. The last train is around eleven thirty on weekdays. It often wakes me up at night.

This was a week of endings for me. I finished up the Odyssey series. I completed the anime series I was watching, Love Hina. I finished up the game on my PS2, Kingdom Hearts. Endings tend to be bittersweet. I think most things in life are like that. There's little good and a little sadness in it all. It reminds me of the Death tarot card. It's not a bad card, it is a card of transition. Things in your life have ended, and so new opportunities have arisen.

So now I've finished through all those things, but it opens the door for more. What is the next book I will read? What is the next series I will watch? What is the next game I will play? It will introduce a whole new set of personalities into my life. Sure, they will all be fantasy people, but that doesn't mean one can't form emotional attachment to them. Heck, they have a much better chance of being good people than those who are actually alive.

thump... thump thump... thump... thump thump... man do my neighboors have a good subwoofer.