Today is Friday the 13th. It is also my birthday. I will be 26 this year, and 26 just happens to be 2*13. Just a little trivial piece of knowledge for you.

It's always been a little strange to have my birthday on July 13th. When I was a kid all of my friends were away on vacation and so I never had birthday parties. And I never got to bring cupcakes into school like all the other kids because school was always out on my birthday.

But there are a few interesting things associated with my birthday. For one, my date of birth is 7/13, 7 being one of the luckiest numbers and 13 being one of the most unluckiest. And I am also a cancer, which means my sign is named after two disease, crabs and cancer.

However, my favorite thing about my birthday is that there is almost always a thunderstorm. And I love thunderstorms!

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This part written on the actual day, July 13th

Well, my first Friday the 13th birthday that I can remember has finally arrived. In my life I have always craved attention like no one else I know, but only the good kind of attention, not the bad kind. So today I am in heaven. So far I must have informed at least a dozen complete and total strangers that today is my birthday. I went to the DMV today, was there for about an hour, and jokingly tried to convince three or four people to trade numbers with me. No one bit though, considering they were now serving number 8 when I took my number 37! Ick! but the wait wasn't all that bad. It's funny how things that would normally bother you don't when you are in an extra good mood. When I got up to the counter and handed over my re-registration information I of course told the man that it was my birthday and asked for my birthday discount. I am sure that he didn't give me any such discount but I was very pleased with the total amount it cost me, I was expecting much more.

After the DMV I went to the bank to deposit my measely pay check. But even the small number written in big black letters and numbers didn't bother me today. Cos who the hell cares about money on your birthday? Today is my day off from all worries. When I pulled up to the drive through window the cutie pie teller at the window smiled and wished me happy birthday! It was so cool that he remembered :) Then I was off to spend the little money I made last week working at Starbucks. And where did I end up? Not at the bar like I would have wished. Not shopping for a new outfit....not at Media Play....but Monro Muffler. It's weird how my birthday has been so pleasant for me thus far yet writing this all out it looks horrible! Anyway, I walked right up to the counter and asked the guy if he could find time to look at my car, since it's my birthday and all :) And the woman next to me said, it's my birthday too! And of course that brought out the good ole 'They say it's your birthday...duuuhnanana nanannaa, well it's my birthday too ya!' song. Which reminds me, I need to get back to Monro so they can take a look at my car! But don't worry, I'll be sure to bore you with all the details of the rest of my day!!

And thanks everyone for all the birthday wishes! You're all so very sweet!!!

I'll write something here in a few days... in the meanwhile... I would just like to point all of your attention to the date the above write up was written...

Damn if THAT isn't planning early... i don't know what is.

Happy Birthday Deb!

After a crazy day and night (yesterday), today was kinda fuzzy. The demo I prepared for (with quite a bit of effort) was a disaster--even after we resolved some stupid routing problems on our end, it ended up that they had firewall issues. Bleh.

Meanwhile the box that I froze for the sake of, did end up being utilized as planned for another (upcoming) demo. It is mighty fast -- of the the 1.4G Athalons. We named it "hot" and boy is it ever. I can actually tell the difference between it and the normal boxen I work on...certain application startups are noticably faster.

Once the day hazed by, I walked from One Kendall Square all of the way up to Harvard Square with someone else from work. I've almost been here a year, and although I've been to Harvard Sq. before, this is the first time I actually walked through the campus of Harvard. It was pretty, peaceful, etc.

Once at Harvard square, I waited for the 86 bus, which was supposed to show up at 6:35, but it ended up coming at 7pm. Anyhow, I had a nice warm seat at the back of the bus (it was getting cold and close to raining). I got off at Cleveland Circle, and went into the theater, but the movie I was thinking of watching, Final Fantasy, had already started, so I took the T the rest of the way home (short).

Here I am, ultra-ready for the weekend. I updated pics of my nephew (you can see them at http://photos.yahoo.com/sgs1370 -- he's a cute kid). Now what to do? I feel like partying...yet I do have work early tomorrow. Sigh.

Got my new bookbag today...or rather, I purchased a used Swedish rucksack that I will use as a bookbag. It is unusually comfortable and has an internal frame that has been well broken in. It ridgidly curves to fit my back damn near perfectly. On the back it reads:

Furrer Andreas
Elohweg 8
8*****thur (almost completley unreadable)

I believe this was the original owner. So Furrer, if you're still out there uh....thanks for breaking it nice-like I guess. Bork Bork Bork

That girl wasn't mine. She never was. I was fooling myself around her, living in a fantasy world, which I knew would end, but couldn't accept. And now it has ended, she is back with the one she loves, and I am alone once again.

What is left is only confusion. Feelings for others shattered. Feelings for her scattered. Feelings of jealousy and rage scattered across thousands of people across thousands of miles across an endless sea of time.

What I did was wrong. I've now committed two major sins in my life. I do not regret things that happen in the past, and I cannot take back actions that took place in the past, but I can at least atone for one of my sins.

She should know this, know what I've done, how I've sinned. I haven't talked to her in so long. If I do not confront my demons now, they will forever overcome me. The darkness in my soul is spreading, changing me from the inside; making me into a new person - hateful, greedy, jealous. A few words are all it takes to destroy this blackness.

Nancy, I've been a coward. I've been running for these past 8 years. Running from my feelings for you. If I continue to run, I will continue to change. The darkness will overwhelm me.

I will stop running this weekend. I can't take back these past 8 years, but the atonement must start now.

Over this summer I've been taking a French at the Boston Language Institute, in order so that I can skip a year of it in High School and not fall behind. Anyway, it's entirely different then French in High School.

For one thing, there aren't any tests. There are about 7 of us in the group, so the French teacher (who is native Française, and almost relies on us to speak French to her because she speaks very poor English) can slow down for those of us who need it (mainly myself), but the group moves rather fast anyway. It also gives her a chance to kind of know us all personally.

Maybe she learned more then she may have wanted to know today. The French teacher asked this one guy in our group, Mike, a personal question inocently enough "Est-ce que vous aimez une fille?" (for the French illiterate, that is "Do you like a girl?")

At this point he kind of turned bright red, and said "J'aim un garçon." ("I'm in love with a boy.")

And the French teacher looked at him, kind of confusedly, had him repeat it two or three times before she kind of stared blankly and finally moved on to the next person "Thomas, est-ce que tu est marrie?" ("Thomas... are you married?")

"Non."

"C'est bonne." ("That's good.")

All this was followed by a bought of silence, then cackles of laughter from the entire class. Fortunately, I think everyone in the class had the right attitude about the situation; and it's good to know that people in Boston have an air of understanding about themselves about Homosexuality. Mike seemed like a nice enough guy... lent me a quarter which I wasted in the coke machine as it ate my change : P. Anyhow... I'm just happy that French class is different; High School French is really, very boring, by comparison.

Friday the 13th scares the shit out of me this month. I just know I've forgotten something horrible I was expecting to happen to me, and now it will probably come true. Probably a large number of things I've forgotten about will all come to pass.

July 12, 4:15pm: My roommate (as soon as I move into the new place, this Saturday) was supposed to call Sunday to ask me about getting a ride back from the airport on Monday or Tuesday. I've heard nothing from him in over a week and he's not at the apartment, and today I realize that rather than being dead or hospitalized, the damn fool probably got busted for possession while staying with his folks in Dallas. Having given up on the possibility that I'll hear anything from him while he's in jail, I call his parent's house and find out from his mother that he's en route to Tucson as we speak.
July 11, 8:00pm: I check my email, hoping to hear something from Jeeves, who is returning to America very soon. Instead, I find a letter from a former music professor. He may be going into the recording studio next week, and he says to call him on Monday. I emailed him over a week ago asking if he still needed an assistant in the recording studio (he mentioned this to the class on the day of our final, two months ago), and had just today realized that he hadn't replied in over a week, and that that opportunity was probably shot.
July 5, 6:00pm: I check my email to see if my former music professor has responded yet, and instead find correspondence from Jeeves, after realizing earlier today that he probably wouldn't be sending me any mail now that he was somewhere in Sweden
July 3, 7:00pm: A guy who's looking for a second guitarist for his band calls and asks if I can come jam on Thursday. A week earlier, he'd called in reponse to my voice mail (in response to his flyer) and said they were thinking of playing *that* Thursday, and that he'd call me back before then. He didn't call me back until after I gave up on the idea, sometime on July 3.
June 29, 8:00pm: I get a call from the ERP lab in the Psychology department, and they ask me if I'd like to participate in an experiment next Tuesday. I'd called in a week earlier to say I was interested in being a guinea pig. Earlier that day, I saw the flyer for the experiment again and noticed the age range it listed was 20-25. Since I'm 18, and I'd said so over the phone, I'd figured I was out of luck (ie, they wouldn't call me back).
June 28, 2:30pm: I put out of my mind all my prior bad luck with members of the opposite sex and ask the cute girl from my class to go to lunch with me. She replies, after a moment's hesitation: "Well... I'm married."

My roommate told me once that to make something happen, you have to focus your mental energy on making it happen, and then forget about it. He's unaware, but his explanation actually beared some resemblence to explanations of magick that I've been reading about lately. Earlier in the year, I was starting to convince myself that every belief system was just a fiction invented to justify one's actions and morals. Now I find myself thinking that believing in anything will cause it to become true. (maybe that's just because I'm a brain in a jar, and the evil scientist who owns the jar can read my thoughts, and has a fucked up sense of humor when he sits down to construct my reality)

it was an odd week all around, exhausting but noteworthy.

...

My father took a day off work to head down to Sedro Wooley (WA) to visit his sister, my Aunt Emily. Her condition had been gradually worsening over the past few years - from a silly and trivial injury, something along the lines of stepping on a nail, gone untreated leading to gangrene, amputation of the foot, higher, higher, not enough - leading to vague internal organ (kidney?) problems and either strong medication or reliance on machinery, intolerable either way.

The treatment was harsh. Too harsh, she finally decided. She'd decided to terminate the treatment, but the family was extended warning of a few days for peace to be made and good-byes exchanged.

He asked if I wanted to come down with him. Yeah, like dwelling on the imminent death of a relative will ease my depression. Nice try, Dad. Too bad I'm not better-adjusted, since this opportunity only comes once.

...

Spent a day stomping around in the hot (and rare!) Vancouver sun with a human foot visting from Toronto and this database. I've been getting spoiled on great grand noder-conventions - I've almost completely forgotten how to interact with newly-met people in one-on-one situations. Fortunately my mouth remembers the motions, and my brain can fake it on demand.

A remark was made regarding something she'd observed - at a public Internet terminal within her eyeshot, someone accessing everything2 and her having had from somewhere the infernal restraint necessary not to greet the anonymous user. If they were noding from non-work/home space, chances are they were travelling... and if they were travelling, they ought to have dropped a line before leaving and arranged a lunch date or something. WHOEVER YOU ARE... know that my agents are everywhere, and spare no expense in the tailing of your shadowy movements. Vancouver remains my inviolate domain.

Later that night, we mastered once again the secrets of water and fire, or, a node-to-be: How to produce large (meter+ diameter!) fireballs from tea candles using only a propane torch and a bottlecap of water. Photographs will be posted. Pho at dawn concluded, always one of the better endings.

...

What were the crows doing? Wriggling, shimmying through the grass on their bellies with wings unfurled. We know crows engage in play behavior, but this looked like nothing so much as pathetic attempts at recovery after having their wings dislocated by some thuggish onlooker. Still, they hopped up and flew away neatly enough as I approached to investigate the matter. Were these just goofy birds (no stranger to the bather of Maxwell) or was there a substance on the ground they were rolling in, a kind of crow-nip? Ants, there are ants on my shoes! Stepping back a bit and shaking my feet I observe that the area of almost highest ant activity correlates almost exactly to the mysteriously favoured spot of the crows.

After repetitions of this spectacle (never before observed, then a dozen times in a couple of days), our eventual hypothesis: the crows were intentionally seeking to introduce ants on to their bodies, insinuating them between feathers to eat or otherwise take care of parasites living on the crows. Shit, I knew them crows was smart birds, but if I was a crow I would be spending so much time in the air and trees that I wouldn't ever have even seen an ant, let alone been aware of their theraputic capacities.

(My subsequent question: do they roll in anteaters to get rid of the ants? She swallowed the bird to catch the spider that wriggled and tickled and jiggled inside her...)

...

We were never particularly close. Well, aside from my playing Mendelssohn's Wedding March during the procession at her wedding.

My aunt died at 11:30 this morning. My father has extended another invitation to me, to come to her memorial service. Not having found sufficient will or interest to say good-bye with her, where might I dreg some up to say good-bye to her?

in our last episode... | p_i-logs | and then, all of a sudden...

Today I confirmed that a patient my team admitted yesterday had consumption (aka TB or tuberculosis). This 20-ish year old man of Vietnamese origin had been sick for over two months with fevers, feeling unwell, coughing up brown sputum. Over the last two days, he started coughing up blood (haemoptysis) and came to the emergency department yesterday with an X-ray which his local doctor had presumably ordered. He had lowered air entry into his right upper zone and had a right upper lobe pneumonia on chest X-ray. For some god-forsaken reason, he was not immediately put into an isolation room with negative-pressure and started on anti-tuberculous medication.

Instead, he got placed in the general ward, where he ended up in a single room with the door closed. I saw him yesterday morning with my registrar and one of my consultants in the emergency department and we started antibiotics to cover community acquired pneumonias (i.e. we put him on penicillin and roxithromycin). The same evening, I got called to see him because of increased haemoptysis. I reviewed him and found that he had a temperature of 38.7C but was haemodynamically stable with good peripheral perfusion and a SaO2 of 96% on room air. I inserted another 18 gauge IV cannula, took blood cultures and more sputum samples and did a group and hold for his blood in case he lost more and did require a transfusion. I found out that, while he had been in Australia for more than 10 years, he had been born in Vietnam and did indeed know of a possible personal contact - his friend's wife was recently diagnosed with TB. In my mind the most likely diagnosis was definitely tuberculosis.

Handing off his case to the evening staff, I went home.

In the morning, I came to work to find that he had just coughed up a "large amount" of blood - approximately 200-300ml and his oxygen saturation had dropped to 70% on room air and 85% on 4L/min oxygen via nasal prongs.

He was given IV fluids and the respiratory team were called in. A mobile CXR was done. The ICU team were called in to assess him so that he could be placed in the ICU if he deteriorated further. A CT angiogram of his lungs was arranged. I bugged the people in microbiology to do urgent stains for Acid-Fast Bacili on his sputum samples.

Radiology showed a cavitating upper lobe lesion in his right lung but no involvement of bronchial blood vessels. Microbiology paged me to say that one of his sputum samples was positive for AFBs.

Well, this poor man is now in the ICU receiving anti-tuberculous treatment - probably some combination of rifampicin, isoniazid, ethambutol and pyrizinamide. The respiratory team will take over care of him soon.

---

What bothers me is the possible infection risk. He was not placed in a negative pressure room. Even though the door was closed and everyone who wanted to enter the room was instructed to wear a mask and don gloves and a gown, it's conceivable that, as he was coughing the stuff all around all day and all night, someone could have been infected by now ...

Which reminds me - I should go have a Mantu test and a chest X-ray in a few months time ...

The advantage to nightmares over real life is that you can wake up from a nightmare.

The Background: A couple of years ago, my brother-in-law came to live with us for a few months. He had drunk himself into a stupor on too many occassions and his wife was divorcing him. As he hadn't contributed anything to the payment of bills for such a long time, the judge decided that he should not be allowed to live in the house.

He called my wife (his sister) and asked if he could come and stay with us, while he went through a drug treatment course, so he could regain his driver's license. My wife, being the sweet woman she is, said yes and the living nightmare began.

Ronny, my brother-in-law, moved in and I immediately set some ground rules. NO DRINKING was rule #1 - it had ruined his marriage, his career, and most of the relationships in his life. I told him he could drink all he wanted, just not and live with us. I also told him that he would have to find a job. Not an unreasonable request, I thought.

Over the next five months, we went through a number of conflicts. He drank. He argued. He made a general nuisance of himself. Finally, I had to physically move him to the apartment of one of his co-workers, before one of us ended up in the hospital, either me from stress or him from me beating him.

The Nightmare Returns: My brother-in-law is back. His live-in accused him Tuesday morning of beating her, and the police picked him up. Neither of them is the most stable person in the world. We bailed him out of jail yesterday, and because of the judge's decision, he can't go back to his apartment, so he is sleeping on my couch.

The stress and general feeling that all is not right with the world is back. I didn't sleep well. I am back to playing father to a 38 year old. And I can't seem to wake up.

Oh, bother!

    I think I'm done here.  

    I don't really know anyone on e2, I never really found a niche. I'm not a computer whiz, a well-read scholar, or some amazing writer of prose. I'm just wasted bandwidth on e2's precious servers. 

    I've been looking over my  year and a day here, and I haven't added much to anything. A lot of crappy, short nodes about nothing in particular; and I fear I can add nothing but that. Everything2 is a great experiment, and I get the overwhelming feeling that it would be better off without my input.

    Whenever I'm on e2, I feel like there's this great joke that I just don't get. There's familiar and fun dialog in the catbox; there are people with actual friendships here; and I was never able to share that. I never connected with anyone, aside from a quick note /msged about a write-up. The best aspect about e2 is sharing human experience and knowledge with others, but I never was able to do that. This isn't complaining or an attempt to blame anyone, I guess I'm just not cut out for this environment.

    I learned a hell of a lot here, and I wouldn't trade my time here for the world. I just wish I could add more, be a part of something. A part of Everything.

Two of my very close friends had been rather happily going out for the past few months. I'm sure you are all familiar with that situation where, despite common sense and cynicism, you honestly believed that this high school relationship would actually last. My other friends and I thought that it would. Sure, we talked about "the split" every now and then, but it was always a hypothetical, formless doom, lurking somewhere just beyond the shadows, in the sense that Ragnarok had already been determined, although it had not yet happened. We were never sure what would happen; and we didn't want to lose either one of them.

And then yesterday, I was at the gym, feverishly trying to get back into shape after my school's three-week trip to France, when my friend Mark told me that our friends were going to split. I am still in a state of shock over this. The worst part is that the girl in question has not broken up with him yet, but she told Mark she was going to. So I was talking to my friend in question last night, and he was in high-spirits, and he had no idea what was going to happen. I felt so guilty knowing that he was going to be heart-broken in 24 hours, and I felt so weak knowing that there was nothing that I could do to help him. I feel even worse knowing that I already want to go out with her after they break up, and I feel awful knowing that. Even down the road, if I should ever be so lucky as to go out with her, I know that I will be letting him down. I don't want to feel like a rival with one of my closest friends.

Never before in my life has a friday the 13th been unlucky. Today, however...yes...today...has been and promises to be...hell.

I woke up this morning next to masukomi without realizing what today was...it was just a normal day like always. It was just a friday, therfore it should be a good day. After all, tomorrow is saturday and sleeping in becomes an option on saturdays.

Everything seemed normal...that is, until I went to walk into the kitchen...and saw how our dog, Hama, had graciously decided that the garbage had no right to be in the garbage bag and that it looked much better all over the floor. Masu and I cleaned it up...rebagging it for the third time this week, morons that we are, and went about getting ready to walk the dogs.

Before walking the dogs, however, we discussed the missing keys, the lost bank card, and how there were no more checks in the box when we needed checks badly.

Walking the dogs, Hama, the garbage lover dog, decides that she doesn't feel like waiting to shit until we get to the park and deficates on the sidewalk. Not too much of a big deal; she's done this before...just gross. Walking...walking...lalala...get to the park and things go normally...Masu lends a friend a bag for her doggie poo since she forgot one...and we head home. On the way home, Ebony, the once angelic-never-do-anything-wrong dog, decides to take a second shit...in the middle of the road...and us without another bag. So home we go, Masu saying that she'll grab her scooter and clean it up on the way to work. We get home and she leaves for work with a baggie.

About 20 minutes later she comes online...and says that she got a flat tire on the way to work and had to push her heavy metal scooter over four blocks to work.

After awhile, I look down at Hama who is between my feet, and she's twitching oddly. I watch her a little more, trying to figure out what's wrong, and she stands, shakes and walks off. Blinking, I watch after her, thinking she's ok...and then I hear the most disgusting sounds coming from our bedroom...and run off to check it out.

Hama had thrown up garbage all over our bed.

I cleaned it up and went to check E2...and saw that today is Friday the 13th.

Oh, yes, Virginia...there is a god. And when I find out what his mailing address is, he's going to get a nice snail mail bomb with his name all over it.

---

Oh, and, btw...it did get worse...Masukomi got home and we had to take the garbage eating dog, Hama, to the vet for chocolate poisoning, where we stayed for four hours, because a hamster with a broken leg took precidence over a poisoned dog.

You know what? Fuck you, world.

Fun on a per-contract basis, Blasted Tool, and Multiprocessor Woes

Well, apart from DD350s, DD1057s, ACSA Reports, and other fun Contracting-related business, I've succeeded in doing virtually nothing with my time at work. This, of course, is a difficult-to-master form of art. To achieve satisfaction with the boss while remaining completely "phased-out" is a skill which has taken me years to acquire. Over the few weeks I've been working summer hire at the contracting division, I've learned a few items that can specifically help the lazy employee act out on his instincts.

Alt+Tab alot. That keystroke is your friend. Also helps when you have auto-hide activated for your task-bar.

Keep a folder sitting on your lap most of the time. It also helps to keep your finger pointed on a block of numbers whilst intensely concentrating on the screen. Also, be sure to note that this folder should be exchanged a few times during the day in case anyone is actually paying attention.

Make up work-related questions every now and then and go ask your boss. He/she will think that you're motivated and inquisitive, instead of doubting your potential as even a future organ donor.

Pace yourself. If you do too much work at once, your boss will know what you are actually capable of and will try to enforce that higher standard upon you in the future. If you go at a nice, relaxed pace then you will have more time to do nothing.

In other news, whilst writing my newest song ("the beauty of imperfection"), I've noticed that, ever since I began listening to Tool, I have been unable to write a song in a normal time signature or in a normal format. Whatever happened to Mr 4/4 and the Verse/Chorus/Verse/Bridge/Chorus Family? Oui.

My dual P-IIIs haven't been much of a tool lately at all. One of them just refuses to let the operating system recognise it's existence at all. After long periods of usage, it won't even show up in the BIOS messages on reboot. Perhaps it's due to the fact that I don't have a fan designed for the P-3 installed on one of them. Oh well, only time (and a lot of money) will tell.

Quick and Dirty WU

Leaving work early to take my son to his first hip hop concert. He's seen some free stuff, but never bands he loves. He asked if he could bring a friend - of course. So this is going to cost me $35 - ouch! But Incubus will be playing, and I love them - and Moby will be playing - they're pretty good - and I might end up liking Outkast and Roots, which was the first one on his list. Yes, I made him write me a list of his fave bands just for this reason. I thought - hmmmmm. I've taken my nieces and nephews and my other kids to shows - but never this son. What's up with that?

So I'm pretty excited about it, hopefully there will be some cheap beer available so I can sneak off and have a smoke or two....I went on a date recently with some one cute and it was fun, although I was feeling inordinately shy around her. I had fun. The fact that I was so nervous and shy brought the realization that I don't really know how to do life as an integrated, whole person. I forget that sometimes, think I'm okay, and everything is just fine, then something like this pops up and I realize how far I really have to go before I am whole. I am so good at faking it that I just forget that's what I'm doing.

A good reminder. So we chatted, I'm relaxed about the whole thing now (being nervous for the entire date, that is) and have let it go, and next time we see each other, I anticipate we will both be more carefree and easy. I'll just be myself, and she'll be herself, and who knows? Maybe we'll be able to share some laughs and some confidences and begin to be friends. That would be so cool. I would love that. And I don't have to worry about anything further than that, if it happens it happens, if it doesn't it doesn't. Period.

I just told a woman I went on a date with (a few weeks back) that I wasn't interested in casual sex with her - that I realized it wasn't the right thing for me at this time; that I would prefer friendship. But if she wasn't interested, that was okay. She called today and said essentially that I was silly, she'd much rather be friends, that was way more important! And of course, she's absolutely right. Duh!

So I'm going back to Brooklyn next week to visit. I go to school there, and I'll be moving back this fall to be a sophomore at Pratt Institute. Brooklyn has become home, but I haven't seen it for over two months since I left for summer break. Now I'm going home. I'll be there for only four days, but in Andy's words, I need to feed my soul.

It'll be weird to not have my own place to go back to, seeing as they're probably still trying to clean my old room out for the freshman who'll move in next year. I have plenty of places to crash, including with Andy and with this really cute girl from school named Danielle, who I actually didn't hook up with at school, but who I know is interested, so that's no problem, but it's still weird to be coming home to someone else's place.

I briefly considered comming back today.

I wrote a node Don't feel bad to call him black. Then it went to -1 and someone softlinked it to boring. Someone else, (After I had read 31 messages and found that some new bot notifies you when your favorite nodes are sent to Node Heaven.) told me that my grammar and syntax in it was not so good, without any explanation or suggestion. Hell, I don't even know what they ment by Syntax!

All and all it seems whenever I come back I remember why I left. Editors like Jet-poop who are always have been and always will be convinced i'm involved in some major conspiracy, even though they are actually seven diffrent people living in a secret base under Quebec City that share a collective conscious and memory. (If you ask me, thats a much more intre