Story Archive - February 2004

Poor Schmoomobile (02/29/2004)

Don't worry. As long as you hit that wire with the connecting hook at precisely eighty-eight miles per hour the instant the lightning strikes the tower... everything will be fine. - Dr. Emmett Brown (Back to the Future)

Will: "Are you sure you want to let him do that? Ross has a habit of breaking cars."

Ross: "Be quiet Will. The car is already not starting. How much worse could it get?"

*crack* *snap*

Jordan: "What as that?"

Ross: "Hmmm."

Jordan: "What?"

Ross: "I think I broke your flux capacitor."

Jordan: "What?"

Ross: "It's what makes time travel possible."

Jordan: "Yeah, I know. My car didn't have one of those."

Ross: "Really? Then it was definitely your distributor cap. These contacts are really corroded, I bet you're not getting anywhere near the 1.21 gigawatts required."

Broken Flux Capacitor Engine Guts New Flux Capacitor

Slightly later that day my car had a new distributor cap, rotator and wires connecting them to the flux capacitor. It's been running like a charm ever since.

That Way not THAT Way (02/27/2004)

I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty... you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. - J. D. Salinger

She read the earlier post where I'd commented on the first girl I felt "that way" about. "Who was that girl your mentioned?" The question came casually. It's not like her to ask those kinds of questions of me. She's learned over the course of the last quarter-century I don't tend to answer those kinds of questions off the cuff.

I responded, "of all the people in the world I might tell, my mother is pretty low on the list." Mom knows that I don't tell secrets. Ever. She knows she's not going to finesse it out of me, so she makes one last ditch effort and guesses a name. She's many years off and clearly didn't take the time to do the math of my current age and the reference of how long ago it way. I tell her just that. Still, even if she'll never know exactly who, it's a fun story!

To compliment this I took a trip down memory lane with my 8th grade year book. Interspersed are a few of my favorite notes from 8th grade.

Luckily, I can do basic arithmetic. So I know that I was thirteen at the time. That means when I say I felt "that way" it in no way implies that I felt THAT way. It implies, at best, that I wanted to sneak off to the hinterland of the playground with her during recess and maybe hold her hand. I think eighth grade is roughly the time I theorized that girls don't have cooties, but I hadn't had any field-testing to prove it. It's only many years later that I learned girls do in fact have cooties, but cooties aren't as easily transmissible as I had told back in grade school.

Yearbook Signature

She and I were in afternoon core class together and that class included all the humanities stuffed into a three hour-long extravaganza. Band was first thing in the morning, which meant all the band geeks were in afternoon core class together. She was not a band geek, but had somehow gotten stuck with the rest of us.

I remember being bored senseless in core during 8th grade. I remember that our brand new teacher had a shelf full of novels that we were encouraged to read and she generally wouldn't beleaguer you for reading them during class instead of paying attention to her. I plowed through her complete set of science fiction. I remember reading "I, Robot," Foundation and Rendezvous with Rama and paying very little attention to what was going around me.

Yearbook Signature

The flirting ritual went something like the following: I would be engrossed in some novel and not paying any attention to class. The ingeniousness of arranged seating had placed my desk directly behind hers in class. We were in those brilliant school desks with the little metal rack under the seat that is clearly designed as a footrest for the person behind you. So I would have my sneakers kicked up and resting through the cage under her chair. She would, I believe, be equally bored to tears by the material. Therefore, to entertain herself, she would surreptitiously reach under he chair, untie my shoes, and retie them after threading the laces through the surrounding wires.

At some point, of course, I would attempt to move my feet and discover that I couldn't. The brilliant design of the desks coupled with the fact that I was exceptionally pint-sized made it impossible for me to lean over the top of the desk and untie myself. I also could not reach under the desk and extricate myself. It was possible to shuffle sideways off my seat onto the floor and liberate myself, but it would have drawn serious attention to what an idiot I was. She was diligently looking forward, but I knew there was a big grin on her face.

Yearbook Signature

Between classes break (recess) would occur and she would turn around and playfully mock me with playful banter and a raffish glare. I would kindly ask her to untie my shoes and woefully demonstrate that I couldn't do it. Eventually she'd untie my shoes. She never publicly made fun of me after tying my shoes (not like those jerks in high school who stole my backpack during algebra!) and I never publicly had my friends (including Bob, who was quite an ass) ridicule her for being mean to me.

Yearbook Signature

I would say our little shoe tying game happened around two to three times a week for a good half of the school year. Then the teacher moved me to the front of the class because she considered me too much of a distraction to the other students and thought it would help gain more control over the chaos. At the end of the year we headed off to different schools and never saw each other again. I got hordes of friends that fall into the "never saw again" category. So life goes.

Open-ended Role for Excitement (02/26/2004)

A topologist is a person who doesn't know the difference between a coffee cup and a doughnut. - Someone

(Aside: If you honestly understood the joke in the above quote and laughed at it, you are as pitiful as I. If you did not, be thankful that you do not understand the existential nature of mathematical topology.)

It's been a few years since I've felt the excitement of gaming. The most recent games that I was involved in both fizzled out due to my inability to be in town often enough to be involved. Yet, with promise of reduced traveled coupled with the generous offer of one of my friends homes, we're getting ready to go dungeon crawling again (metaphorically).

They've asked me to run, or I've forcefully volunteered, but nonetheless I've had the great excuse to kick my imagination back into full charge mode. My coffee table is strewn with all sorts of support books and large doodles of maps on graph paper.

A treasured booked boldly titled Atlas del Noroeste de la Tierra Media is open to Dol Amroth. Running games mixes my joy of trying to be creative with my urge to being obsessive compulsive. I offer the two following frightful data sheets from one of my previous campaigns where I tracked experience and all of the stats on every characters sheet at the end of each game.

Experience Graph Character Table

Californian at Heart (02/25/2004)

Money doesn't make you happy. I now have $50 million, but I was just as happy when I had $48 million. - Arnold Schwarzenegger

My brother compiled these and edited them to his style. I have re-edited them to be my style.

Even if you've left California, you're a California boy if...

I Smell Gasoline (02/25/2004)

If the automobile had followed the same development as the computer, a Rolls-Royce would today cost $100, get a million miles per gallon, and explode once a year killing everyone inside. - Robert Cringely

My car failed to start twice in the past week. I looked under the hood and saw that the big switch had not flipped from the "working" position into the "broken" position. This is roughly the complete extent of my automotive abilities. Yet, as a consultant, I am a master of sounding like I know what I'm talking about it.

Therefore, since I could smell gasoline, I theorized there was a break in the fuel system somewhere which was causing the fuel system to lose pressure and the car's ECM would likely refuse to engage the electrical fuel system if it sensed a problem.

A few hundred dollars later and I have a new fuel line (it was cracked) and a new fuel filter (it was dirty), yet the mechanic had no clue if either of those were actually what was causing the problem. He said I should hope that the car's problem would stop being intermittent and be constant so it was easy to diagnose. I responded that I hoped the problem would never appear again.

Engrish (02/25/2004)

If the English language made any sense, lackadaisical would have something to do with a shortage of flowers. - Doug Larson

Patroclus is, of course, a native speaker of Greek. While laying seige to Troy he has been writing letters back to his friend Mr. Squirrel. Luckily, Mr. Squirrel was able to hold a telephone conversation with him recently.

Mr. Squirrel: My friend, I wanted to speak with you about this letter that you had recently sent to me. Inside it talks of your plan to defeat Troy.

Patroclus: We're all proud of the ruse. It should get all our soldiers inside without a problem.

Mr. Squirrel: Well, you see, you've written that you are about to start the "productionization" of your master plan.

Patroclus: That's true! Once that is done, I think we shall slaughter the Trojans!

Mr. Squirrel: Yes, but you clearly are a native Greek speaker and have conjured up an imaginary word.

Patroclus: How so?

Mr. Squirrel: Well, the word originally comes from the Latin of 'producere' which means 'to extend, bring forth.' You have started with the verb 'produce'. Then you have transformed it into a noun by adding the "-tion" suffix back on. So you have production, which is "the act of producing."

Patroclus: I fail to see where this is leading?

Mr. Squirrel: Well you then add the verb-making suffix "-ize" back on. So you have taken a verb, converted it to a noun, and then converted it back to a verb again. Yet you do not stop! You add the noun-making suffix "-tion" a second time! Thus with "productionization" you have taken a verb, suffixed it into a noun, suffixed it back into a verb and then suffixed it once more into a noun.

Patroclus: I see. I may get caught in some sort of infinite suffix recursion loop until I die!

Mr. Squirrel: Correct, the proper way to state what you want is to use the phrase, "to make ready for production."

Patroclus: I have heard Achilles use the word "productionize" as well as Sarpedon. So the word is in regular use here and I think it will be understood.

Mr. Squirrel: My friend, even if other people are incorrect, it would be unkind of me to let you perpetuate this. Do not invent words! I shall send you a dictionary.

Patroclus: Thank you! I am in full agreeance. This advice should keep me from constructioning new words. I will quickly finish the updation of all the other words I have made.

Serial Experiments Jordan (02/24/2004)

It may be that our role on this planet is not to worship God, but to create him. - Arthur C. Clarke

I had just finished reading his essay on the philosophical underlying of Ghost in the Shell when I told him, "I think one could make a good case interpreting Serial Experiments Lain as a second coming of Christ story."

He paused and gave me a long hard look. "Well, that's probably because you're a freaky Catholic." Sure, this coming from a stupid Viking. I recall a moment of abject shock at the statement, followed by a personal analysis of why in the world I was in abject shock.

In retrospect many years later, it was the utter astonishment of having someone I considered to know me rather well, make such a ridiculous statement. Sure, I spent eight years going to Jesuit institutions. A good percentage of all those kids were like me (and Viking) and not Catholic, but I'm sure many of us were burdened with some amount of Catholic philosophy during that time.

In his defense the boy had recently been exposed to one of my computer art projects, which had a _slight_ Christian tilt to it. Still, I'm well aware of the fact that creating art that alludes to religious imagery is a pretty cheap way to evoke emotion. Here is my ART 34 midterm. I believe I got an A- on it.

Old Testament Gospel Revalations

I also still strongly believe that one could write a superb essay interpreting Serial Experiments Lain as a second coming story. I'm not saying it is, I'm just saying I could writer a paper with that as the thesis and get an A on it. Here are some very simple allegories to get you started. Lain = Jesus. Lain's Father = The Father. God of the Wired = Anti-Christ. I will leave the rest as an exercise for the reader.

Hello Myself (02/23/2004)

The disturbing thing isn't that they treat us like idiots. The disturbing thing is that we may be idiots. - Andy Rooney

I realized that I had two computers and two web cameras. I thought to myself, as any rational person would, "I'm going to have a video conference with myself!" It was by far one of the most intelligent conversations I've been involved with in a long time. I would have to be though; just look at who the participants were!

iChatAV AIM Video Chat

From a technological perspective, iChatAV with the iSight kicked AIM Video Chat with the Logitech Quickcam Notebook's butt so hard is not even funny, it's sad. Let's be honest, in the AIM window it's hard to tell if you're talking with a human or a shaved monkey.

Little Green Men (02/19/2004)

No intelligent person can contemplate the night sky without a sense of awe. The mind-boggling vista of exploding supernovae and hurtling galaxies does seem to require a certain amount of explaining. - Arthur C. Clarke

(Aside: Clarke is one of my favorite personalities. He often quotes his own epitaph which he wrote many many years ago, "He never grew up; but he never stopped growing.")

I was watching the news on PBS and they had an extended interview with Steven about the first half of the rover's mission. The interviewer made the comment that the rovers are designed to operate for ninety days and Steven corrected him that it was ninety Sols (ninety Martian days). That comment just gave me a huge moment of pause.

We, the human race, have two rovers ON MARS! We have two devices we are in two-way communication with that are experience Sols and not Earth-length days. I can, in the comfort of my home, look at a 3-D rotating image of Adirondack, which is a rock ON MARS! Even more than that, I can download Maestro, one of the key programs used by NASA to analyze the data and I can myself look at simulated 3D images produced from RAW DATA FROM MARS! It's mind-boggling. Even better, I can see images from the Pancam that show images in the human eye color range and is set at human height. These images are what it would be like if I were standing where the rover is ON MARS!

Maestro Screen Capture

This activity is not for the faint of computer. It was the first time I had ever seen my poor machine overrun it's gig of physical memory and create swap file. Still, I was looking at images taken ON MARS!

Dental Damage (02/18/2004)

I don't have false teeth. Do you think I'd buy teeth like these? - Carol Burnett

I hadn't been to the dentist in a while. It had been a very long while. I've just been lazy about the whole thing. Finding a new dentist is annoying. Going is annoying. I tried a couple of times, but ended up getting shipped off to some remote place in the country and had to cancel the appointment.

I don't know why I dislike the dentist. I've never had a problem with cavities. Isn't going to the dentist a pampering? It's like getting a manicure for your mouth or something. I did finally go this week to fretfully learn my teeth are not in a salubrious condition. Yes, this new dentist will be able to retire off the work he is about to on my teeth.

I have added prescription toothpaste to my list of sundry medications. This stuff has enough fluoride to kill someone. Can you imagine death via toothpaste ingestion? Gross! I suppose as long as I follow the directions and expectorate after brushing I'll be okay.

Murky Day (02/14/2004)

Of course, if you don't have a Valentine, you get to feel like [beep] because everyone around you is cooing and making eyes, and some of those guys are going to get [beep] tonight while you're watching Cinemax and trying to convince yourself that Shannon Tweed really does look hot in Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death. - Wil Wheaton

It's a cold an murky day for Saint Valentine. The sun peaked its head out for a few hours in the early afternoon but has since run away.

While spending some quality time at the library, my car was dented in the parking lot. The dent isn't horrible, but it's there. I was inside when it occurred, but I can just picture the event. It was probably some evil yuppie driving a monstrosity like the Yukon or Expedition. I deduce this because the dent left by his bumper is roughly a foot above where my bumper is. Evil yuppie was backing up and couldn't even see my little coup out the back window when *bump*. Then he probably told the person he was enevitably talking with on a mobile phone, I think I just killed a squirrell or something. Oh well, I'll see you at Starbucks in fifteen minutes where we can discuss the South Beach diet. Yes, just like that.

Chaos-mobile Bump Chaos-mobile Bump

I think of this day of love and my mind wanders to the first girl I felt "that way" about (meaning, "had a crush" not "in love"). I haven't seen her in around thirteen years. Amazingly, we are currently only separated by two degrees. A quick moment of Internet-stalking brings to light her Amazon wish list. It is covered with cool geeky Mac stuff. That makes me smile.

One final picture that is meaningless to most, but very meaningful to at least one. Others can do their best to deduce it's deep meaning. The line that is slightly flash obstructed is "My pet name for him is Schmoo, and for putting up with that, I think he deserves a really great gift." I wonder when Starbucks started hiring mearekats [sic].

Schmoo

Happy valentines to those in international waters, those in California, those in Illinois, those in Oregon, those in Tennessee and any other ladies I've picked up in my travels around this fair world who are wondering why the child support is late.

Imagination Consultant (02/12/2004)

Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine and at last you create what you will. - George Bernard Shaw

When the viking was asked how he got the title "Imagination Consultant" from me, he could only say this:

To get the business card, I had to first collect 100 undead robo-wolverine pelts with the aid of my trusty Vik-O-Rang Of Quickly Returning And Stabbing You In The Hand When You Try To Catch It.

These I traded for a Diamond Spatula, which, when alchemically combined with your mother, produced the Unholy Pomegranate.

The Pomegranate was delivered to the Witch King of Elken Grove, allowing me to complete my final apprentice-level quest and achieve the hard-earned title of Master Blaster.

This, in turn, unlocked the ability to craft Vorpal Venetian Blinds of Falling Off The Window And Slicing You To Ribbons, which were all the rage during the Winter of Aught Three.

The sales proceedings of which I wasted entirely on an EMP blowdart.

Stuff of Food (02/11/2004)

I would like to take this opportunity just to tell the press to KISS MY SKINNY WHITE ASS! - Calista Flockhart

It's nearly bedtime and I've had nothing beyond soda today. I know I should try to eat, but nothing sounds tempting. I walk over the scale that I haven't used in a few weeks and step on it. It's nearly twenty pounds less than what I expect and my heart jumps. I step off, hit the calibrate button and try again. It, thankfully, comes out twenty two pounds above where it was before. I perform some crazy mental gymnastics and calculate my body mass index to be around twenty. It's on the lower side of the bell curve for normal, but still normal.

I wander back over to the kitchen and shuffle through the edibles. Nothing looks appealing. Even the various cookies and ice cream hold no sway over me. So have some miso soup (forty calories) and gum (six calories) and thank my lucky stars that soda has nearly three hundred calories per bottle.

While eating red vines at the movies my friend said that they were good for bulimia. Eat all the red vines first, then eat your meal, then when you go to purge you can stop when you see the vines again. I'm pretty confident, without resorting to experiments, that this will not work. I thank my lucky stars that I am not bulimic.

the process (02/10/2004)

I keep my buttons on scroll and all the ladies in check. Did you find the spare key to my apartment yet? - Strongbad

asuka:~ jordan$ ./jordan_email.sh

Darkhawk: Hey, hey, Jordan
Darkhawk: How do you post these things? How do you come up with little chaosisms to say most every day?

Darkhawk? That's a pretty short and ordinary name. What not use Timmy? Timbo? Tiznimzar.

You want to know how I come up with these things, eh, Tiznimzar? Sure, I can do dat, but I should warn you, it may spoil the magic for some of you out there. I strongly recommend those who have anything actually worthwhile to do to leave the room at this time.

Usually, I like to start things off by firing up iTunes and choosing an inspiring song from my overly large anime archive. Today I have chosen my freshly created Vision of a Sunset playlist.

Then, while Suteki da, ne (Orchestral Version) is playing in the background, I sync my Palm and digital camera and look at the various notes I have jotted to myself and pictures I have taken. Today, I see that I got some IMs from Darkhawk that might be entertaining, lots of various pictures of me playing hockey and a few from Starbucks. Some I will use today, others will go into the list of potential future postings.

At this point, while Track 03 - Cloe is playing from the Arjuna sound track, I close my eyes and type away at somewhere near 100 WPMs. My mind wanders randomly, I think about the fact that Strongbad manages to type at about 120 WPMs with boxing gloves on his hands.

Americas Second Harvest Card Late Night Reading on the Palm Delicate Whisper Poem Me Playing Hockey

Sometimes I change it up by dragging some of the various photos from iPhoto into the mix. Sometimes I don't. I also throw in allusions to various literary, cinematic, geeky or make-believe items without providing any type of link to help you out. Overally, I know it's desultory and there's hopefully at least one word you need to lookup.

Othertimes there is a conversation that I want to repeat, but I don't think the people involved should be known, so I call upon my friends Patroclus and Mr. Squirrel to reenact it.

Patroclus: General and pointed insults are not going to get people to want to contribute.

Mr. Squirrel: It's much easier to deal with pointed insults than the passive-aggressive insults we so often see.

Patroclus: Actually, it's much easier to be civil and act like and adult.

Mr. Squirrel: We've tried maturity. Maturity SUCKS!

Now we've reached the point where I run the magical version of fortune I compiled specifically for my brain to see if there are any appropriate quotes.

jordanbrain:~ jordan$ fortune

"In short, our struggle to determine what is true is the struggle to decide which of our perceptions are genuine, and which are false because they are handed down, or sold to us, or generated by our own hopes and fears. " - Michael Crichton

jordanbrain:~ jordan$ fortune

"I keep my buttons on scroll and all the ladies in check. Did you find the spare key to my apartment yet?" - Strongbad

Once this is complete, I simply go to the AppleScript dropdown and click publish which calls AppleScripts that integrate with jEdit and Transmit to post the new entry. And that's it Tiznimzar. That's how we do things around here. Now you can write web entries like a true Jor-dan.

...

And sometimes, if you refresh the page a lot looking at the random photos, a bizarre message appears that the RSS nerds never see.

I Do Believe in Fairies (02/08/2004)

But there was no elation in his gait, which kept pace with the action of his sombre mind. Hook was profoundly dejected. He was often thus when communing with himself on board ship in the quietude of the night. It was because he was so terribly alone. - Narrator (Peter Pan)

Okay, so maybe I'm a book snob. Still, that's hip, right? People like book snobs. I think so.

When I first saw the preview for the new Peter Pan movie I ran out and snagged the book. It's in public domain, so a quick download from Guttenberg and I'm rearing to go. I figure, if I'm going to tell people they have to read Lord of the Rings before they see the movie, I can't be hypocritical about this kind of thing. Heck, I even read Congo before I saw that disaster in theaters.

I was completely moved by the tragedy of Hook in the written work (I can't say book here, because that causes a weird sounding assonance with Hook and book, right? Right.). He, like the lost boys, had been forgotten by the world. No one cares for him. Yet it happened to Hook after he grew up, when he was old enough to really understand what it means to be forgotten by those you care about. So Hook, I hope the gator's belly gave a sweet release.

And $3.50 for two movies! Now that's about what I think it should cost! Godbless second-run theatres (did you notice how I spelled that the British way? That way it's got better parallelism with the word 'sombre' in the quote. Gosh English is cool and funny, like the colour grey! Ohh, I kill me sometimes...).

Tiny Magic (02/07/2004)

Boy, why are you crying? - Wendy Darling (Peter Pan)

April is crying, but that's nothing new. She knows what we're prepping for. She knows the burden that's going to be asked of us and the amount of pain we'll be in when it's done. I look over at Jane, thinking perhaps I can talk her out of it. "We don't have to do this you know? Why not skip it this time? I'll bet it'll be nearly the same."

Jane smiles. It's a big grin that's rare to see on her face. I try to remember the last time I've seen her smile like that, but I can't. She reaches out and takes April's hand. Then she takes mine as well. "This is what we do. We're the feet under the water."

April has stopped openly weeping. She reaches out her other hand and takes mine. The three of us are linked full circle. April looks up, choking back the frustration at the burden we're asking her to endure, and says those inspiring words. "Let's make a bit of tiny magic."

Somehow, when all is over, we do.

Sweetheart (02/06/2004)

I don't know how I did, something that I do. - Hilary Duff (Where Did I Go Right?)

The coat was on, the keys were in my pocket, and I picked up the remote to turn off the TV and step out the door when Ryan said that Hilary was going to be on the show. "You sneaky boy," I think and plop back down. I do the calculations, and I'll still have time to hit all the local supermarkets in search of Pepsi iTunes caps.

Hilary looked fashionably cute. I was reminded why Britney is so last year. Ryan asked Hilary if she was dating someone and she said "yes." I was anxious. I was worried about what she would say next. He asked for the lucky boy's name and Hilary blushed. She avoided the question at first, but folded under pressure. She's just never been good at keeping secrets so she looks at the screen as says, "Hi Jordan." Silly girl, it was suppose to be top secret.

I Can Neither Confirm... (02/06/2004)

We know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns, the ones we don't know we don't know. - D.H. Rumsfeld

It started as a message. The I noticed it rhymned a lot. Then I realized it was on par with on of our secretary of defense's brilliant poems.

Some day, when we're both old and gray, I know there are things I will be allowed to say. Just wait. Just wait till that day, when we're both old and gray and hope that I'm not dead that day.

There Is No Try (02/04/2004)

Great is the man who has not lost his childlike heart. - Mencius

I finally set down the dictionary. I spent around an hour sitting on my balcony just fiddling through for the right words to describe the sensation of cutting my finger on the bone saw. I think I've settled on "painful." The saw is going back into the closet. It's tasted my blood, and I'm not sure if I can trust it anymore.

The Bone Saw The Bloody Thumb

Yoda is diligently at work solving all my pickles. I whimsically ask why it is that the only kajin that catch my eye are either outgoing lively flakes who seem to primarily ride off the good nature of their friends -OR- dysthymic moppets who are tragically crushed under the despair of our worthless world and struggle at every turn to discover that ray of hope they think must be there. She asks which of the two categories she falls into. I consider if I can pull off deftly changing the subject, then say "flake" and thank my lucky stars she's a long distance off and won't be able to smack me for a while.

Immersion -Level 4- (02/04/2004)

Excerpt from "Introduction to the Corporation - Level 4"

The wired is built on a set of axioms and programs to process them. Level-3 immersion is achieved by adapting electronics to match the processes of the human mind. Level-3 is straightforward. The brain receives signals from the rest of the body through an electro-chemical process. When we mimic that process with wetware, everything works as expected.

Read more...

Crap... I've iterated on level-5 around six times and I'm still not happy. Maybe this weekend it'll all come together magically.

Dream Sequence (02/03/2004)

I only drink the blood of my enemies... and occasionally a strawberry YooHoo. - Sarge (Red vs Blue)

I wonder what a psychologist would say about this one. I had another pseudo-violent dream recently. I think it lacked some of panache of the Valentine-inspired battle royal with my brother as recounted in Killer Dreams.

Someone commented that their enjoyment of my posts was relative to the amount of cool pictures it involved. Unfortunately, current technology does not allow me to photograph my dreams, but I can at least try some artist's renditions.

The location is one of those big x-mart stores (s/x-/Wal/ or s/x/K/ or whatever). There are two teams of people and we're about to start a Nerf-gun battle. The only actual weapon we have is one of those tubes that holds a single ball in it. When you fire it, there's a loud and majestic popping sound. The ball flies at incredibly slow speeds.

Nerf Guns

Everyone scatters and we're out wandering the aisles. For the most part, the game is futile. You hear a large popping sound and you get the heck out of the way before the ball hits you. I was in the men's clothing section when I hear a pop that's frighteningly close to me. I spin, to see what I should avoid, but it's too late. The ball hits me square on the left shoulder. The arm freezes, similar to what happens to the kids at battle school in Ender's Game when they're pegged.

These guns require two working arms to use, so I'm pissed. I take off. It's the kind of flight that's become standard for me in dream sequences. I levitate around half a foot off the ground and can travel a speed that is roughly equivalent to power walking.

I soar out of there quickly. My arm is working again, which is an obvious flaw in continuity of the story line, but since I'm currently flying, I think I can overlook the logical issues. Dreamer Jordan (which is the part of my consciousness that is having the dream) notices that Dream Jordan (which is the part of my consciousness that is the lead character in the dream) has four metal loops on his left arm. There are three on the outside of the arm a single loop on the inside at about the level of the wrist. My right arm has complimentary positioned hooks.

Hooks and Loops

I'm zooming around like a Mazda when an opponent springs out from behind and aisle and shoots a ball at me. The gun makes a triumphant popping noise as the foam ball of death blazes towards my face. I quickly insert the three hooks on my right forearm into the three loops on my left forearm. I fan the arms apart and a paper thin sheet of metal is pulled out allowing me to block the single-ball onslaught.

My opponent is horrified by my deft maneuver. These Nerf guns only hold a single shot, and he knows he will be slow to reload. He whips out another Nerf weapon that is a finger-mounted hand crossbow. The sneaky rival impresses me.

Secret Shield

Releasing the metal shield, I use the other side of my arms. I place the single hook on the inside of my right arm through the single loop on the left and make a circular motion with the right arm. Another paper-thin metal sheet flies out. This one is roughly two inches wide. The motion has caused it to loop. Dreamer Jordan is expecting Dream Jordan to suffocate the assailant with it. Instead his head pops off. There's no blood, because I dream in PG-13.

Fatality

Dream Jordan seems proud of his accomplishment. I wake up. It's 4am on the clock.

Polar Bears, Part 2 (02/02/2004)

I believe that Ronald Reagan will someday make this country what it once was... an arctic wilderness. - Steve Martin

Jordan,

Just wanted to let you know that Snowflake has arrived safely at his new adoptive residence. Unfortunately, he has been sequestered and is in isolation at the current moment...he was hungerly eyeing Mr. Froggy and Mr. Doggie. BJ, also know by some as Mr. Bear, seemed to have given him pause, however. I think once I can supply him with a consistent source of SUV drivers, he will have both entertainment (his tendency to maul his toys IS a bit disturbing) and sustinence, he will co-exist peacefully with the current plush ecosystem.

Thanks, friend.

Dishwater (02/01/2004)

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. - Robert Frost (Mending Wall)

"2 O'Clock means it's closing time. I'm going to shut off the WiFi."

My favorite coffee house closes early on Sunday just to frustrate me. The owner is already at home with his family to watch the big game. I pack up my stuff and get in my car. I'm on my way to a Super Bowl party at a friend's house that will be mostly filled with people I don't know trying to watch a game I don't care about. I approach the off ramp to my apartment and take it. I've had a change of heart.

At home, I flop on the couch and pick up the anthology I've been reading. One hundred and fifty pages later and I can hear that the rain has stopped. So I stand up and reach for the leather fedora, than think twice and grab the "gothic fisherman" hat instead. I notice someone has recently written "Hi Jordan" in my Zen garden sometime recently. I guess that's why there's been no Zen growing.

Zen Garden

Outside the weather is somewhere between mist and drizzle. I'm about two miles away when I get the feeling that the clouds are going to open up again, so I suck up my pride and walk another half-mile to get to the Starbucks.

I sit over at the bar on the side away from everyone else. I start to doodle mindlessly on the napkin. I'm not really in the mood to write or draw anything of substance so I look up at the window where I can see the reflection of everyone else in the room behind me. Someone snaps a pencil and I notice they have a big textbook titled "Numerical Analysis." Their frustration is wafting over the rest of the room.

One of the employees I know by face, but not by name, comes over to cleanup used paper cups and crumbs sitting on the bar around me.

She notices me and recognition enters her faced. "How you doing tonight?"

"Good." I smile in that symmetrical way that my closer friends might know means I'm too conscious about it to be instinctual.

"Well that's good to hear." She picks up some old newspapers next to me and notices my napkin. "What are you drawing?"

"Lines." It's one of those maze drawings I was first inspired to do in college. It's boring and mindless, perfect for lectures, meetings and sitting mindlessly at Starbucks.

Starbucks Napkin

She chuckles and pats her hand on my shoulder a couple of times. Then she turns around and walks off.

I check my watch and notice I need to leave to fit in my plans for the night. The coffee is cold and I've barely touched it. The moment I step outside the door the rain starts. A genuine smile comes across my face. I put on my gloves knowing I'm going to be wet by the time I reach home.