This is getting OLD. |10:19 PM|
I'm quite tired and bored of being sick. Latest symptom is that it's screwing with my temperature regulation. I'm walking around in a heavy shirt, and my peasant sweater, but I'm wearing just shorts and boxers below my waist. I keep having to cover myself up for warmth, then shed as much clothing as possible and turn up the fan to shed heat quickly. It's annoying.
I'm working my way through an anime series called "Read or Die". I can do little else besides sit and watch. Reading is near impossible, and working out is out of the question.
We've only got so many years on this planet, I wonder how much that is affecting my decision making process. I seem to be getting more and more impulsive. But that just might be the constant changing cocktail of medication I'm dumping into myself on a daily basis. I'll beat this sickness to death with my own hands if I can.
However, my Manta Ray is maitaining a status of "Highly Operational". I found a decent set of wooden chopsticks in my house, I will now consume noodles with said sticks. On my christmas list already: A nice set of ivory chopsticks. Yeah, that'll happen.
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Natalie Imbruglia Needs to smile more |6:52 PM|
Well, she does!
This entry was too short.
In the past, to avoid looking like a suck up, avoided talking about my love for violin and fiddle music. Since I don't think that's a concern anymore, I will express that of the enjoyable parts in "Queen of the Damned" I really appreciated the violin scenes quite a bit. In and before junior high I used to take trumpet and piano lessons all over the place. Some of them were at places that had other students practicing as well, and I would stick my ear up against the doors in which I heard violin music being played. Even if the missed notes on a violin were particularly wince inducing, I still listened with rapt attention from behind closed doors. I saw "Riverdance" right before they became big, then very little as America left them behind, and it was the Irish fiddle tracks on the soundtrack that I would listen to in my car. I approached my high school orchestra teacher about the possibility of learning the violin, but something about being raised on the trumpet doomed my want forever.
Now I play a sullen didjeridu. Perhaps I should take up the trumpet again.
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Dream samples from times of sickness |6:44 PM|
Dream 1: The dream obviously meant "Ultra lights" but everyone kept calling them gliders. Main character is a master of "gliders"(Ultralights GOddammit) who at one point escapes the authorities by building his escape craft out of newspapers. They want to stop him because he has stumbled upon this barn with a glider launcher using some bizzare energy system that temporarily makes energy into a solid object, but not at the standard "E=mc^2" exchange rate.
Dream 2 starred myself as a low credibility FBI agent stumbling from airport to airport trying to stop huge crowds of criminals from nefarious undertaking. Success rate high at foiling plans, not so high at capturing the bad guys, credibility of agent continues to suffer throughout dream up until he finds a pile of grenades in a hall closet.
Shoot, I know I had more than that. I need to go get some Effexor from the pharmacy though. And I need to finish shaving. I did manage to eat breakfast, at 6:30! (pm. dammit. maybe next time)
Recovery Time: ... a lot |10:59 AM|
I seem to have been asleep since 5:45 pm yesterday. Most of my cold symptoms are gone but my nose is still stuffed up. A couple interesting dreams, some horrifying nightmares, and a couple breaks for food.
My head seems to be mostly back in order, but geez, I'm really tired of being sick.
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Friday, March 01, 2002
WE ALLL SHINE ONA |1:47 PM|
This post originally was some kind of delusional madhouse. I am replacing it with the statement that I dig the name "Molly". Do not ask how, but I watched "The Eagle has landed" today. It is excellent, I strongly reccomend it. But the love interest is named "Molly". I had a crush on a Molly once, but I liked the name before that.
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AWOOGA! AWOOGA! ALL HANDS ON BATHING SUIT AREAS! |1:37 PM|
I woke up this morning with new and exciting head cold symptoms! I took a panmist to get rid of the symptoms, but my nose was still stuffed when I got in my car to drive to work. It was stuffed up until I was quite close to work. That's when I started to smell something. Something unpleasent but familiar. I tracked the source of the smell to my shirt. I got to work, and found out that I had in fact cleaned out enough of my car to not have any extra shirts. Lucky for me, my boss did have an extra shirt. But I did start the work day drug-addled, sleepless, and covered in cat piss. Fuckin' cat. I'm mailing the damn thing to Budapest if it hasn't learned how to sing and dance by the time I get home.
Sulz told me that it seemed like I was falling apart. Whether or not this is true, when enough high powered stimulants burn through my skull, I can almost fake normalacy on the phone. My boss is quite sick of hearing me say "My head hurts". I'm going to grow some damned flowers. I don't know how the local nursery will look upon a speed tweaked out 22 year old buying extensive indoor growing supplies. But at this point, they can go to hell. I'm growing some damned daisies and the lives of some flower mongers are so many grains of salt to me. I'll have to make a note not to express these feelings directly to the manager.
I am FILLED with the MIGHT of HORSERADISH!
I keep the spirit of Bastille day alive in my heart.
1 part superman, 2 parts Kryptonite, 1 part Vin Diesel's voice |6:31 AM|
You know what's bad ass? The pull tab inside a half gallon container of Orange Juice. Few things, if any else, scream 21st technology and paranoia other than that little ring and plug. Look at it this way, you've got the basic firm cardboard/plastic coated OJ container. Now, for convience you add a damn SCREW TOP made out of plastic to the damn things top. The engineering marvel that represents makes me giddy. From there, you have to have an anti-tamper seal that can only be opened once. Do you use foil? Nah, you us a thin plastic shell, with a PULL RING attached. Goddamn, how do you even make the test mold to make a screw top nozzle with a "pull-once" anti-tamper seal thing? I want to write the men and women responsible for that a fan letter. If it's one guy, or one gal, I want a picture of them I can frame, and then stare at, starry eyed while I lie on my stomach and kick my feet in the air. I want to run off with them, start a farm, raise a family, all in an idyllic setting of guaranteed poison free Orange Juice.
In other news, yes, I am clearly still a wee bit....off....from my sickness. Ian (Sulzanti) told me if I came looking for him online instead of trying to sleep, well, he's the quote. "I'll....kill...you"* so I have to try to go back to sleep now.
** Actual quote "I'll set an 'akill' on you if I see you back on here, don't think I can't". An akill is a command to automatically disconnect a user from a chat network. Basically, if I jumped onto a server to go privately talk to Sulz, he'd tell the server to constantly disconnect. Bastard wasn't lying, either. I think that means he cares.
The sky was the color of a television, tuned to the Weather Channel |12:57 AM|
Well, yeah. The Panmist was quite an upper. However, it did nothing for my lungs and throat, so I was coughing. In fact, I was coughing so hard that I was on the ground at Vorpals house wondering if I was going to pass out. As I was rolling around, trying to remember how to manually breathe and exchange oxygen, I realized some important things. However, oxgygen deprivation is messing with me pretty fiercely at the moment. Of course, I can't sleep, since I'm pumped up on stimulants. Such is life.
Earlier, when I had more energy, I was going to write a "screw-jack" style tale, how the drugs were making my whole body tingle and zip around and drive too fast and how all the ideas came rushing back through my skull and it was too loud too fast and I thought I was going to explode, but I can't write anything right now. I'm going to try to go to sleep. I don't want to call in sick.
Christ. I feel awful. But so much PEP.
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Thursday, February 28, 2002
|7:45 PM|
I'm getting sicker. I'm feeling really weird. I just took a panmist along with what should have been my afternoond osage of Adderall. I'm out of my anti-depression meds, I don't think that will be an issue. I can't remembner what Panmist's side effects are. If it's an upper, then I just took a strong ass upper with a POWERFUL amphetamine. In other words, I'm going to be Secretly Ultra Man in about 20 minutes.
Other than that, It's anyone's guess.
running out of time before I'm supposed to go see Vorpal. Nap time.
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I am soooo fired |3:56 AM|
I've been out. I was at another Hotrod Hillbilly's concert (They still rule) and I even convinced this woman to dance with me up near the stage. I will likely never see this woman again, but when the 'Get the fuck out of this bar" lights came on, she was still attractive looking, in fact, more so. So, a fine evening. Joe (the poker host) his wife, a guy we played poker with( and took all his money), and some other folks went out to dinner. I kind of felt like a jerk later on, as one of the women we were with had her boyfriend along, but she seemed highly entertained by me. She was damned attractive. Why do I feel like a jerk? I kept oggling her. I'm not usually an ogle type human, but I couldn't resist. Luckily neither she, nor her big boyfriend, noticed my..."appreciative stares". Nice people. though.
Geez, I meant to be back here by 1, maybe 2. It's four. I have to go to work. Ugh.
Ugh I say.
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Wednesday, February 27, 2002
Rabid self, eliminated. |11:16 PM|
I beat some serious ass at the poker table. I played solidly, and only when I chose to did I deviate from standard poker playing techniques. I came out with twice the cash I walked in with, and only up against 2 people. This whole "Good mood" thing kicks ass. I also stopped by the courthouse, and I got my tickets dealt with. Everything is going really well, on this whole roller coaster to finacial destruction.
Weeee!
I've got a good set of flapper jokes I keep meaning to post, but I suck. Sorry.
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|10:21 AM|
I played Warcraft 3 last night. In my unpopular opinion, it is not a good real time strategy game. I thought as much back when I saw it at E3, and having played several games I do not feel my attitude changing very much. There have been some incredible refinements, resource gathering and managment is a breeze, the controls are relatively responsive and intuitive, and the hero system is a huge leap. But the fact that armies are no larger than about 10 units or so is really annoying. What's the point of an epic strategy game when your incredible army is slightly larger than a high school gang of thugs? "Thanks for defeating the scourge of a dozen orcs, my liege!" There is no sense of epic conquest, no satisifaction in trampling over what would have been considered a "Light scouting party" in earlier games. Even Blizzard's old titles required a good 20-30 units for a decent attack. This 10 units-or-so system makes the game feel very small. I was suprised during the first game I played that it was all over before I even had a dozen units running around in the field.
Total Annihilation still tops the entire genre of meat grinder RTS games. No other game accomplished 150 unit attacks nearly as well as TA. And heck, TA still has the best explosions, they even have seperate loading progress bar for all that good Blowin' Up action.
I have to go get a ticket dismissed, and cough up $371 for the rest today. I'm still in too damn good a mood to let it get me down, though.
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Tuesday, February 26, 2002
"Yeah, that'll have to come off" |4:00 PM|
I was going to write an update about how I blew every bit of my suppossed tax return check getting my car insured, and registered, and how I am now earning less then I am spending per month. But instead of bitching about that, I'm going to say just how pleased I am to be alive, and in general how nice it is to be in Texas right now. It's bone chillingly cold outside, the sky is a dull gray, and the wind is blowing hard enough to sail around the parking lot with your jacket as your jib.
One of the best bosses I have ever had just had 7 more tumors found in his lungs. He's already lost an arm to cancer. Luckily, they apparently caught these cases early, so he's got a better chance of survival. I'm not putting this information in this entry to make it depressing, or serious sounding, or to inflate my sense of self worth. Instead, I'm trying to keep things in perspective, for myself if no one else. I know I bitch too much, and I don't appreciate what I have enough at all. So, once again, I'm trying to feel better for what I have, and what I have not been saddled with by fate or genes or luck.
I would have added the "Jet Alone" tags to my car (I cleaned off a section of car in preperation) But christ on a bike, it's cold!
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Monday, February 25, 2002
For the benefit of others. |7:03 AM|
This entry is to show Mister Videodrome that I am, in fact, up and getting things done today. He thought I would sleep through today, accomplish nothing, and generally be a fuckup. Well, to hell with him.
I'm off to go wrestle with the DMV.
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Sunday, February 24, 2002
Wabbit Season has ended. |7:45 AM|
Chuck Jones has died.
I grew up watching Bugs Bunny cartoons, and Chuck-A-Muck was the first autobiography I ever enjoyed. Chuck Jones was a man I looked up to, and I was always in awe of his work in those old cartoons. Others will write about him more effectively than I can, but I wanted to express that he really meant something to me. The world was a better place for having him in it.
Thanks for everything, Mister Jones.
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Wow! Another GODDAMN Shoutcast Server |5:07 AM|
If you want to listen to a random mish-mash of songs off of one of my hard drivers, open up Winamp and press ctrl-L to get the "Open Location" box. copy shodantpl.selfhost.com:8000 and paste it into the box, and commence your listening. Hooray. Clicking the link might work, but I don't think it's a common setting.
If you are at all interested, you can see the computer that this Shoutcast server is running on by looking at this old webcam image.
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Yesterday. Or maybe the day before. |2:33 AM|
I wanted to type up something to describe the long ass day I had friday night, but I wasn't really up for such a project until now.
I was invited out to see the Hotrod Hillbillies, which is a rock-a-billy band that includes a friend of mine. (if you recall the entry in which I blew a lot of money buying a keg, that was this guy's house/party). I managed to get ass lost on foot, even though I was on the correct street. I was in such a hurry that I managed to run most of the way across Austin before realizing that the street wasn't getting much more music club like. I was in sight of a used bookstore called book people, and when I mentioned I had run that far my friends were incredulous. I ran all the way back, found the right area, but had to run up and down the entire music club district three times before finding the place. I managed to completely miss the band's show, but I got my hands on one of their CD's, so I can listen to it and perhaps simulate a concert by closing my eyes, having friends spill beer on me and blow cigarette smoke in my face. I'll put the CD on the shoutcast server, just as soon as the damn shoutcast server works. And DAMMIT, Vorpal has my CD. I have one of his, hostage exchange time, I guess.
Oh! The reason Vorpal has my CD is for safe keeping, as I expected everything fragile on my person to be destroyed. You see, a goddamn mosh pit kept breaking out directly next to where Vorpal and I stood listening to the other bands that played at the club. We had been talking to these attractive women a few minutes earlier, and they were still dancing in front of us. They were a little younger than Vorpal and I, and a bit shorter, but that doesn't come into play until later. Anyway, this mosh pit breaks out to our side, so 175-250 pound, spike covered punks keep flying out of the pit on a dangerous path towards Vorpal and the females. I had to use my incredible Kung Fu skills to correct their paths away from my friend and the females. I was doing such an incredibly good job that the women barely noticed the incredible danger that kept being knocked aside with contemptible ease. Vorpal noticed, and was highly impressed and entertained as I pulled my Pinball Machine paddle trick. My arm would shoot out, I'd tense up at impact, then redirect the punk back into the crowd. I made it almost look easy. Later, however, I paid for this job with huge bruises and some cuts, not to mention a strained ankle. The below diagram portrays the evening:
After all this kung-fu action, Vorpal's drunken ass scared the women off by looming over them. I won't hold it against him, as he did manage to not vomit in my car. Vorpal and I left the club in search of other interesting past times, and decided to go to the relatively popular dance club in the area. Vorpal was a good guy and paid my cover charge to get us in the door. We failed to find anyone to dance with us, so we ended up heading home. We left Vorpal's car downtown, so I later drove a sober person down there to retrieve it, and only once managed to drive the wrong way down a one way street.
It was a hell of a night, though it was punctuated by drunken banter(which lowers IQ's):
Vorpal: I think we should turn left
Cecil: I think we should head right
Vorpal: I have GENETIC knowledge of this area
Cecil: Fine, we'll head left
Vorpal: Ah ha! We are on the right track! *Hiccup*
Cecil: That's the same bank, why do I listen to you?
Vorpal: *Hiccup* I dunno, I'M DRUNK! HEY LADIES!
Cecil: Stay away from them. We're heading right this time.
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