Spent all day asleep dreaming about running around museums with a bb gun shooting people. Just to annoy, not to maim or hurt. Now I just missed out on a chance to visit nyc a bit early, by waiting to long the flight got filled up.
Still waiting on the damn dsl to come on. For now all I have is a 42667 k connection that won't hang up when call waiting comes through. Ugh. Annoyances.
Still missing my gf beyond understanding. I miss everything about her. Can't wait to get back.
Is Everything2 not everything? Or rather more to the point, should any writeup be killed? For every writeup adds to the database. Personal writings do have value, even if only getting into the mind of a user who nodes for the ages.
Day and dream logs are not enough, what if you wanted to understand how someone feels about a particular subject, or what a user feels is important enough to node, you could go through all of their day log writeups, or just go to Everything user search and look at the titles to see what is important in that user's life.
Day logs are for what happens throughout the day, dream logs are for what one dreams about, what about Thought logs? or I Wish logs? or What I Want Most In The World logs? A single homenode is not enough, to go into too much detail in one's homenode will lessen how often it is read, however by creating writeups about things which are important to you and linking to them through your homenode, one can allow other users to pick and choose what they wish to know.
I'm not mad about my writeups being killed. They deserved it, I did not follow the superdocs. I accept the fact that they were not adding to E2 in any way other than allowing a brief glimpse into what type of person I am. However I still feel that knowing about who is writing these facts is important. Everyone puts their own spin on the truth, and facts get twisted through language and in our minds. If you look into the mind of the writer, then your understanding of the actual writing is enhanced.
</RANT>
you may now return to your day logs and waste your votes, for I have not earned any bullshit. You can find me in Node Heaven.
Especially considering that they only had the temerity to actually get up on the dancefloor half an hour ago, that expanse of pine is heaving with a thronging mass of drunken partygoers. Everyone who's not on the dancefloor is at the bar, trying to squeeze in one last round before time is called. Usually it's a double, or a triple, round, or fourteen Baileys over ice, or something, and we're running out of glasses.
Behind the bar I slog from one customer to the next, mindlessly pouring vodka and Bacardi and pulling pints of lager. I have to wash and dry a glass for each drink they order, 'cos there's none left on the shelves and there's no way I can get out from the bar to bring any back.
And then the DJ announces that we're almost out of time, and he's going to play some slow songs to wind up the evening. A Sinatra number is not uncommon, Shania Twain's Still The One and that bloody awful When You Say Nothing At All almost obligatory. Beyond the mayhem at the bar, the dancefloor is another world of soft lighting and couples moving in harmony.
I serve the last drink and tell some guy who doesn't understand the meaning of 'last orders' that there is absolutely, positively, not a snowball's chance in hell that he can get another drink. I start to cash up the till, stained twenties and tens flipping through my hands in practiced, unthinking motion. Andy, my colleague, starts to dunk dirty glasses in the sink as he explains to some other drunken geezer that there is absolutely, positively, not a snowball's chance etc.
The last song draws to a close: Ronan Keating reiterates that you say it best when you say nothing at all, and I flip on the main hall lights. People begin to shuffle off the dancefloor and make absolutely no effort to leave.
It's Sunday morning, I'm still at work, I'm tired, I have a million glasses to wash and all your crap to tidy up before I can go home. And I'm the only one in the whole building who isn't drunk. Go home. Please.
The foil event will probably be a D1 competition, maybe a C1 if they get a whole lotta talent and E1 if they fall short of 16 fencers. So, my goal is to renew my national ranking of "E", with hopes and dreams of getting my "D".
I'M PUMPED UP.
You also must all come to The Parry-Riposte E2 NYC Fencing Competition of Nuclear Proportions OR DIE!
It begins with "This letter is to inform you that you have been qualified for jury duty". (That is an interesting way to put it.) There is some blah, blah, blah of when and where then it ends with "Please bring the upper section of your summons and this letter when reporting". So I'm qualified to be summoned. Hmmmm
I have been a registered voter for 30 years and this is the first time I've had jury duty. Talk about stepping out of the box, this will be something different for me. Part of me is excited and a big part is dreading it. I could have gotten out of it, I am a essential employee" in a hospital. I maybe should have gotten out of it, I am going to have to call on my colleagues to cover for me but I want to do it.
I'll probably get disqualified right off the bat anyway. I have strong opinions, I am educated. I've heard these are not "good things".
Well, it is out of my hands now. Update 4/2/01 (my first day).
Given my present total of 5140 writeups remaining in the database (ignoring the untold legions milling restlessly in node heaven) some calculations show that my net contribution to the Everything project has been at a rate of positive one writeup every 204 minutes over the past 730 days, each landing (according to the node tracker) at an average of reputation 3.6.
I have on average accrued one point of experience every 15 minutes (and six seconds) since first creating my user account, please keeping in mind that there was no XP system in place for much of my first three seasons on e1.
For my birthday (this or my biological one in 15 days) I think I shall be treating myself to more time engaged in other activities.
in our last episode... | p_i-logs | and then, all of a sudden...
A day very nearly wasted, alternately spent in a state of half-sleep or complete hyper jumping-around-the-dance-studio-pretending-to-be-a-frog-ness. A day in which I asked my friend "so, whatcha doing?" via AIM and his reply was "checking out e2" "what?" and then the URL, and now, the supernova. One of those days when I'm just screwing around without a purpose. A day when I actually ate three meals as opposed to my normal state of semi-anorexia. The type of day when my bemused mind could find patterns in long strings of random numbers. Time for a nap.
Happy hour with Tom & Lyd, and Maria last night. Spent over an hour reconnecting in a very good, nice, almost trusting yet a bit wary way with Tom. He told me a little about his horrific childhood, which explains his self-hatred so well.
We talked again about what happened between us, and why I left the relationship when I did. I reminded him that I could feel myself beginning to fall in love with him; as he and Lyd were married and committed, and I knew I would never be number one, I had to go. There was no way I was going to put myself through that kind of pain. And he told me how often I come up in his therapy, how I'm one of the few people who he hasn't angered or turned on in order to get them to leave him, thus validating his self-hate. He had a terrible childhood - his parents sound like thugs. Unfeeling, self-absorbed brutes who couldn't be there for him in any real way. No wonder he still hates himself; they taught him well.
He also listened to me, and to me explain myself a little more. It was very good, very helpful...and the sexual tension continues between us. He said it perfectly - "my mind says no but my body says yes".... perhaps we did know each other in another life...
Me and Sara have been exchanging emails throughout the day. It all started when a friend on AIM invited me to come to orlando with him and his ex-girlfriend on Friday morning. I turned him down saying that they should spend some time together alone. Well that seems to have been a newsworthy item because apparently he told his ex-girlfriend (they seem to be getting back together, hence what I said), his ex-girlfriend asked Sara about it and then Sara asked me about it. So I had to explain myself.
Basically I wound up telling Sara that the reason I told them that was becuase I just wanted to stay out of whatever would develop between them. The real reason I didn't want to go though was that I didn't want to leave Sara behind. (she couldn't go because she had a lot of schoolwork to do).
Well after telling her that, it seems that we have gotten into a "discussion" about it. In the end, she won, as always :) She told me that she would be upset if I missed out on having fun because of her. I thanked her for giving me a kick in the butt for being so pathetic.
I finally got rid of the stuff that's been sitting in my living room corner for the past year. I got my brother to help me load up his truck to take it all down to a thrift store. There was some decent stuff there, not all junk. A 19" TV, a VCR, two Commodore 64 monitors, a box full of phone stuff, some beanie babies and some clothes. We rearranged the living room a bit and my brother cleaned up, so now it looks pretty good. However, now my room looks like a mess in comparison :)
I wasn't feeling too good. I was sort of feeling down because Sara hadn't responded to one of my comments in one of the emails I sent. I was sort of fishing for her feelings, but she managed to skip over that in her repsonse. I got a chance to talk with TC for a while, she cheered me up quite a bit. She said how Sara is shy and maybe even in denial about being attracted to me.
Sara logged on soon afterwards and we talked for a little over an hour. I feel much better talking to her in chat than I do via email. It's easier to get feedback about what each of us means. I seem to be making her laugh more, I guess that's a good sign.
I ordered pizza and now thinking about going to sleep. I never did get my apartment cleaned up at all. Oh well, that can be done tomorrow :)
Wake up on US Airways flight 741, seat 17G. The guy next to me is very friendly but keeps accidentally ringing for the flight attendant. He possibly put my tray table down and placed my book (The World According to Garp) in the seat back pocket in front of me while I was asleep. I made my way out to the curb, and had been waiting there not one minute before Mom showed up. We talked about many current things and went grocery shopping because I knew there would be no food in the house. How can people live in a house with no food? (When I'm starving in the middle of the night, I blame the lack of an all-night food store rather than my lack of planning. They have no such excuse.) No wonder the family is falling apart. Dad has all these computers and 150 Game Boy Advances (party favours) and copies of Mac OS X that we picked up as soon as they were released, but he can't teach Gary that it might be wrong to commit violent hate crimes.
Anyway, I spent all night installing Mac OS X and watching movies like Firestarter and The Outsiders, but couldn't get classic working properly before it was time to go socialize: I went to the mall with Jeska and I bought some socks and underwear and we talked about many exciting things in our lives. And then we went to the party. Kenny and I each parked on the hill opposite jeska's house, rolled down our windows, and walked to my house from there. first thing we did was I took out Nine Stories and read A Perfect Day For Bananafish to Jeska. After that there was very little besides some pathetic flirting to distract me from the party. Which brings me to my point: there is no reason this party should have happened. It was a rehash of previous parties and previous unfounded rumours about such parties. Dad's getting pretty eccentric lately. He said iDVD was "the best software since VisiCalc" despite the fact that it has no real application, and he said that Fisher Middle School's production of Annie Get Your Gun was the best musical he'd ever seen, even above Miss Saigon in London, despite the fact that it was Fisher Middle School. I watched a bunch of the magic shows at the party, eventually got the shuttle to take me back to my car, and talked to some soc girls on the (roundabout) way there. I made it home in one piece and got to sleep.
The 24th was a Saturday, and I'm noding this (today is actually Monday 26th) as this was one of the more interesting days of my week.
I worked at the café, and had an interesting experience which I have noded elsewhere. That night, we had all the people from a local off-roading competition which we were the sponsors for, come in for their prize-giving. There were about 80-100 of them, and it was absolute madness. They all wanted to eat, and there were also quite a few casual diners coming in off the street. We ended up running out of food by about 8:30pm - we were cleaned out! A big night financially, but all that money goes again today as we restock for this week.
As well as that function, some idiot had organised another function for that night - the indoor netball team whom we also sponsor. The trouble with this is that most of the team is made up of cross-dressers. Now this is normally not a problem, but you have a room full of dirty, red-neck off roaders, and then bring in a whole bunch of feminine, cross-dressing males, and you've got a recipe for disaster.
As we had closed the café early, we went home and showered and got changed, then went back to enjoy a couple of beers. Most of the off-roaders had left thankfully, but the doormen were looking a bit frazzled, having broken up many near fights, and cooled off a few arguments.
What a night!
We got home at about 3am, and I did a bit of work until 4am, before going to bed. I got up the next morning for Sunday at the café at about 7:30.
The moral of the story: When double-booking functions, be aware of the people-types you'll get. Don't mix oil with rose-water.
But Saturday, things that happened, noteworthy enough to record, entertaining in their way, enough to let others read about.
The day began with Ed Spiegel's birthday conference, no thats a lie, the very first hours of the morning, before I had to leave for the conference, they were spent making an unbirthday card for a friend that I would meet later.
So the conference was held in the {courant Instittute] at NYU. Ed is a professor at Columbia and he turned 70 a week ago. He works on cahos in astrophysics, has has been for a long time. The head of the mathematical physics institute from Cabridge England was giving a talk. Turns out the guy was Ed's first postdoc! That talk was on turning around a singularity, a pretty neat talk, but most entertaing was the banter between Ed and the other participants. After the conference I had to go to Carnegie hall, I had free tickets and a friend to meet. I ask Ed how to get to Carnegie hall. He looks at me in all seriousness and says "Practice Ian, you need to practice".
So i'm on the subway, meet some other friends who are heading the same way and then I find myself in the foyer cutting up some sheet music that I printed off the web. My bank account is in credit to the tune of $0.20 ! so I had to make my own card and envelopes. I now have a much greater appreciation for the engineeing that goes into an envelope, after trying to make one myself.
The card I made using the gimp , a clarinet overlayed on a fantasy background. The girl, allways a girl eh! Carol, she plays the clarinet, rather well too. I wrote music girl for her, inspired by her playing, if you ever get a chance to hear her take it, Carol Mcgonnel the clarinetist.
We met, rushed out for burnt coffee before the prefoemace, she buys me the coffe, we share a giant cake-biscuit thing, sitting watching her from my chair as she pays, and all of the little questions that had been plaguing me, all the uncertantie, and they are gone and it stikes me, wow, I really like this girl, I mean, a lot, it just feels right, comfotable, and perhaps now I'll be able to tell her without the aid of distance, answering machines alcohol and a late hour.
But the concert begins and we go in, and the next few hours, sitting in the front row, watching the preformers, Orpheus Chamber Orchestra play Hayden, Pergolesi and Resphigi.
On the way back the, uptown on the train and she tells me she has to go home now, has to attend the ball with HR, her septeginarian friend. He is very close to her and so I accept this. We do the crossword as the train rattles us back an forth, freshly printed from the irish times.
I get off a few stops before her, she forgets to give me my hat, perhaps later today I'll see her, and recalim it. I'm wandering now, convert the seven dollars in my wallet into a full stomach and then head to a party that I had been hoing to brin Carol to. In my briefcase is the remnants of the poiteen that I brought back from Ireland. It's a carnaval party.
Within a quater of an hour my face is painted and I am wearing beads. I finish the poiteen. It's pretty strong, much stronger than the alcohol you can by over the counter. Thats not the proble, the problem is that one I have consumed this I have no fear of the other drinks that are avialble, tequila, rum beer for a break.
Randall arrives in a dress. I demand it from him, we swap cloths. Suddenly I'm on the roof of the building in a dress, back to the party and I'm dancing with some girl. I've not danced with a girl for such a long time, so close. It's almost embarassing, our legs are interleaved and are bellies are pushed against one another. I'm thinking about the erection that she can defnitly feel, but she seems less than concerned, almost encouraging. We turn and her hair is brushing my face and we chatter, about history, the universe, our past lives. I ask her "you're proabaly going to think that physcicists are terribly rude, but would you mind if I kissed you?" She says I don't think you're rude at all but the answer would probably have to be no". It dosen't matter, were still dancing.
Four comes around, the people thin out, I don't remember her name, or her face, but printed on my memory is the feel of her against me and printed on my shoulder is her email adress.
I walk home in the dress, climb a bit on the way, find that I am stonger than I hvae been in the past, pass out and sleep on my bed.
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