Holy Worrior
Being a kid during the height of the coin-operated video game boom of the early 80's meant that it was inevitable that I would be hooked on video games for life. One of the hilarious features of the Super Nintendo game "Donkey Kong Country," released sometime in the mid-nineties, was the character Cranky Kong. Cranky would moan about how when he was a young video game character he did not have all these fancy moves, nor need them - No Sir! He contented himself with what they had: 2-D environments and flat-screen mazes, a single move, and his considerable "wit." Although even that game is ancient by today's standards, I felt an odd relation to and camraderie with Cranky because I knew exactly what he was talking about. I'm spent hundreds of allowance dollars playing games that would, in the more sophisticated world of 2003, quickly bore just about everyone: case in point, The Wizard of Wor.
Wow, was I ever hooked on this game. My mother made the mistake of allowing me to hold on to some of the money I had received for my birthday, which I'm sure was rooted in her idea of teaching me some responsibility. Obviously, she assumed that the experience of buying a nice gift at the ever-respectable department store - the place where I usually was brought only to search for school clothes - would teach me all sorts of lessons about value of money and the importance of being a smart consumer. And just maybe, daring to hope, just maybe she believed that I might even suggest that I would like to save it, or start - gasp - a savings account!
Of course, being ten, I turned that parental dream to disaster by, after school, hiking two miles - up the large hill near our place, past the imposing block of apartment buildings, past an open field strewn with litter - to the 7-11 store.
It was a holy pilgrimage.
Once inside this veritable palace of delight, once inside this virtual temple devoted childhood treasures - a place that not only sold candy, but had ice "slurpees," and kept 3 or 4 video games in a secluded corner - I made my way to the tantalizing Wizard of Wor video game, reverently dropped a quarter in (a holy sacrafice), and took on the role of Worrior. I tracked down the Burwors and the Worluks. I navigated countless mazes. I tracked the Wizard himself, only to be defeated. Yet, I was a hero preserving this virtual world from unholy destruction. TWENTY FIVE dollars later (which was spent a quarter at a time and took a few hours) I honorably admitted defeat before the more powerful wizard, but not before vowing that I would return to avenge my pride and defend the realm of 7-11 once more.
Of course, once my mom found out that I spent 25 bucks, I had trouble keeping that vow because I was grounded and banned from going to that store ever again. Then, and sometimes now, I have to ask myself: "Seeing as how (especially in 1982) for a poor ten year-old that was really a lot of money, do I regret that?" As Cranky would say, "No Sir!"
Life explorations of a middle-aged man searching through the meanings and expectations of what could have been and what still might be.
Sunday, July 27, 2003
Saturday, July 26, 2003
Zoo Autographs
Taking a break from the mountains of actual work that I have been actively avoiding at my data entry/internet specialist job, I updated some of the left sidebar content to include the links for the author Anthony Doerr, and his collection of short stories "The Shell Collector." I admit that I haven't even finished the first story yet; still, I'm very interested in the book so far, both in terms of the content and the artful use of writing style.
Last night, my girlfriend and I - as part of a present that she received from her mother - went to the Big City zoo to see a concert by Suzanne Vega. It was somewhat of a funny gift because her mother says that her daughter (my girlfriend), as a moody teenager, drove her crazy by constantly playing Vega's songs. Although we enjoyed the concert, and saw a lot of animals before the show (including a chimpanzee that slides on its feet in a kind of dance whenever it moves around), the most interesting part of the night occured when we stayed afterwards to get an autograph from Suzanne Vega. Normally, neither of us is the type of person to get autographs, but we thought it might be a fun thing to do since one of the security guards we were standing next to casually mentioned to another concert-goer that the line for autographs was forming up at the bottom of the stage. The real point of the whole evening was making sure that my girlfriend enjoyed herself.
As for the guard at the autograph line, he told some funny/scary stories about being an official zoo security guard at large public events: From chasing a drunk concert crasher around the zoo who, unknowingly, jumped into the grizzly bear enclosure just to escape paying for a ticket, to the five and ten-year-old who - on separate occasions - wandered into the elephant pen and started playing in and around the elephant's legs. Regarding the teenagers who, on another occasion, were dangling their feet inside the tiger enclosure just above the moat - "if they'd have accidently fallen in, the tiger would have eaten them before they even hit the ground."
Taking a break from the mountains of actual work that I have been actively avoiding at my data entry/internet specialist job, I updated some of the left sidebar content to include the links for the author Anthony Doerr, and his collection of short stories "The Shell Collector." I admit that I haven't even finished the first story yet; still, I'm very interested in the book so far, both in terms of the content and the artful use of writing style.
Last night, my girlfriend and I - as part of a present that she received from her mother - went to the Big City zoo to see a concert by Suzanne Vega. It was somewhat of a funny gift because her mother says that her daughter (my girlfriend), as a moody teenager, drove her crazy by constantly playing Vega's songs. Although we enjoyed the concert, and saw a lot of animals before the show (including a chimpanzee that slides on its feet in a kind of dance whenever it moves around), the most interesting part of the night occured when we stayed afterwards to get an autograph from Suzanne Vega. Normally, neither of us is the type of person to get autographs, but we thought it might be a fun thing to do since one of the security guards we were standing next to casually mentioned to another concert-goer that the line for autographs was forming up at the bottom of the stage. The real point of the whole evening was making sure that my girlfriend enjoyed herself.
As for the guard at the autograph line, he told some funny/scary stories about being an official zoo security guard at large public events: From chasing a drunk concert crasher around the zoo who, unknowingly, jumped into the grizzly bear enclosure just to escape paying for a ticket, to the five and ten-year-old who - on separate occasions - wandered into the elephant pen and started playing in and around the elephant's legs. Regarding the teenagers who, on another occasion, were dangling their feet inside the tiger enclosure just above the moat - "if they'd have accidently fallen in, the tiger would have eaten them before they even hit the ground."
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
Blah-ging
It seems like the only time that I'm able to find both the time and the energy to make a post here in the cellar is when I'm also leaving to go the Big City. Technically, I've been home for a day and could have made a post yesterday. Frankly, I've not been doing too well personally and have had a few personal set-backs that are beginning to take their emotional toll, but I'm determined not to turn this into "one of those Blogs." Therefore, you'll not be hearing it from me.
Rather, I'll talk about the heat. Once, my sister traveled a few thousand miles to spend time in Florida, the furtherest southern state she, or I, had ever been to. When the temperature dropped down to 65, everyone was putting on their sweaters and jackets, bewildered by the fact that my sister could still feel hot. She says that she spent most of her day assuring people that she, indeed, was not cold and did not need to cover up. I've been thinking about that these last few hot days. Those self-same people may not think it was very warm at all; but by each sunset, I find that I'm practically drenched in sweat.
If I had enough financial resources, and could have payed for a web hosting service, I might have turned some of this site into a photoblog, because there are times when you'd like to say things with an visual image rather than one carved from words. While I do love words, it would be wonderful to share the light of a sinking sun on small blanched grey, northwestern town with someone who could appreciate it as much as I do. Enjoying those small moments in life - each one like a gift - is something I try remember and keep with me.
It seems like the only time that I'm able to find both the time and the energy to make a post here in the cellar is when I'm also leaving to go the Big City. Technically, I've been home for a day and could have made a post yesterday. Frankly, I've not been doing too well personally and have had a few personal set-backs that are beginning to take their emotional toll, but I'm determined not to turn this into "one of those Blogs." Therefore, you'll not be hearing it from me.
Rather, I'll talk about the heat. Once, my sister traveled a few thousand miles to spend time in Florida, the furtherest southern state she, or I, had ever been to. When the temperature dropped down to 65, everyone was putting on their sweaters and jackets, bewildered by the fact that my sister could still feel hot. She says that she spent most of her day assuring people that she, indeed, was not cold and did not need to cover up. I've been thinking about that these last few hot days. Those self-same people may not think it was very warm at all; but by each sunset, I find that I'm practically drenched in sweat.
If I had enough financial resources, and could have payed for a web hosting service, I might have turned some of this site into a photoblog, because there are times when you'd like to say things with an visual image rather than one carved from words. While I do love words, it would be wonderful to share the light of a sinking sun on small blanched grey, northwestern town with someone who could appreciate it as much as I do. Enjoying those small moments in life - each one like a gift - is something I try remember and keep with me.
Friday, July 18, 2003
Entropy in Big City
Tonight, I leave again for Big City. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to accomplish much while I was home this time, except with the possible exception of paying off my electric bill. I will finish all of the other stuff, including paying more bills, when I return on Tuesday morning; and yes, I'm aware of how many intentions I communicate here and don't follow through on, but I sincerely believe this time will be different. This post is going to be very short, since I haven't done anything other than work, or really thought about anything except how tired I am.
Tonight, I leave again for Big City. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to accomplish much while I was home this time, except with the possible exception of paying off my electric bill. I will finish all of the other stuff, including paying more bills, when I return on Tuesday morning; and yes, I'm aware of how many intentions I communicate here and don't follow through on, but I sincerely believe this time will be different. This post is going to be very short, since I haven't done anything other than work, or really thought about anything except how tired I am.
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Sunburnt Summer
Recently, I received the letter from my graduate school of choice explaining the TA (teaching assistantship) job requirements to me, some of which included having office hours, attending some of the undergraduate classes, grading papers, preparing presentations, and maybe even, giving a lecture. All of this sounds very interesting; it is beginning to feel more like an official job rather than an extension of my undergraduate studies, which is something that I'm honestly looking forward to. At some point, I'm going to travel to the city where the grad. school is at and spend a whole day exploring, investigating, and doing general reconnaisance.
Unfortunately, the summer schedule that I have chosen for myself remains hectic. I thought about many of things that I still have to do as I drove the hundred plus miles from the big city back to my meager home this morning. (One of those things includes buying some sun screen because my left arm - the one that normally hangs outside of the window on top of the car door - is getting rather burned. Each arm is now a separate color.) My diploma is messed up; despite all of the checking and double checking I tried to do during my last two terms, the registrar still goofed it up. I've also fallen a bit behind with my job, but thankfully, I think I can catch up.
Frankly, I need to figure out how to balance my social life - something I enjoy tremendously - with the part of my life that includes a job and school. At one point last year, I thought that during this summer (2003), I would work hard at applying at all of scholarships I could, devoting several hours to writing great scholarship essays. I even thought I would try to write a book - short stories at least. Unless I change tack, it is not going to happen, although I have at least been able to read a couple of books; so in that regard, I have done at least one thing that I wanted to do. We'll see what the future holds.
Recently, I received the letter from my graduate school of choice explaining the TA (teaching assistantship) job requirements to me, some of which included having office hours, attending some of the undergraduate classes, grading papers, preparing presentations, and maybe even, giving a lecture. All of this sounds very interesting; it is beginning to feel more like an official job rather than an extension of my undergraduate studies, which is something that I'm honestly looking forward to. At some point, I'm going to travel to the city where the grad. school is at and spend a whole day exploring, investigating, and doing general reconnaisance.
Unfortunately, the summer schedule that I have chosen for myself remains hectic. I thought about many of things that I still have to do as I drove the hundred plus miles from the big city back to my meager home this morning. (One of those things includes buying some sun screen because my left arm - the one that normally hangs outside of the window on top of the car door - is getting rather burned. Each arm is now a separate color.) My diploma is messed up; despite all of the checking and double checking I tried to do during my last two terms, the registrar still goofed it up. I've also fallen a bit behind with my job, but thankfully, I think I can catch up.
Frankly, I need to figure out how to balance my social life - something I enjoy tremendously - with the part of my life that includes a job and school. At one point last year, I thought that during this summer (2003), I would work hard at applying at all of scholarships I could, devoting several hours to writing great scholarship essays. I even thought I would try to write a book - short stories at least. Unless I change tack, it is not going to happen, although I have at least been able to read a couple of books; so in that regard, I have done at least one thing that I wanted to do. We'll see what the future holds.
Saturday, July 12, 2003
The Zeppelin Generation II
When I was very young, about five years old, I occasionally would wake up at about 11:00 p.m. (my bed-time was about 8:00 p.m.), walk the long hallway to the living room and loudly ask that my mother turn the stereo down, which was blasting Led Zeppelin songs like "When the Levee Breaks" and "The Rover," along with the inevitable "Stairway to Heaven." Little did I realize that I was echoing my grandparents who pretty much had said the same thing a few years earlier; truly, I had no desire to be a little "Ike" Eisenhower being a "major bummer," and "coming down hard on a bunch of 'laid back' groove riders," such as my mother and her friends; but alas, my nerdly leaning manifested itself rather early. Still, I try to redeem myself now by saying I was five, and a five-year-old does need to sleep a lot.
Now, however, I look back on that particular memory with some nostalgia because it helps me see my mother, and everyone from my parent's generation not as parents and authority figures, but as the youth of a specific generation fixed in a specific period of time. They were the Vietnam era generation. They watched young men die in a jungle half-a-world-away during their nightly dinner (broadcast with a shocking immediacy we're not likely to ever see again). They felt oppressed by the proverbial "Man." And of course, they believed that the "revolution [would] not be televised."
There are odd intersections between the generations, and as my parents get older, I find that I may be in a position similar to the one when I was five: without saying too much, I'll just mention that unconscious expectations, the force of reality, and the circular nature of experiences through time are things that, for myself, should be reckoned with and given serious thought. Although I'm sure I'm going to have to cope with these thoughts and experiences for a long period of time, I'm going to try harder not be a "major bummer."
When I was very young, about five years old, I occasionally would wake up at about 11:00 p.m. (my bed-time was about 8:00 p.m.), walk the long hallway to the living room and loudly ask that my mother turn the stereo down, which was blasting Led Zeppelin songs like "When the Levee Breaks" and "The Rover," along with the inevitable "Stairway to Heaven." Little did I realize that I was echoing my grandparents who pretty much had said the same thing a few years earlier; truly, I had no desire to be a little "Ike" Eisenhower being a "major bummer," and "coming down hard on a bunch of 'laid back' groove riders," such as my mother and her friends; but alas, my nerdly leaning manifested itself rather early. Still, I try to redeem myself now by saying I was five, and a five-year-old does need to sleep a lot.
Now, however, I look back on that particular memory with some nostalgia because it helps me see my mother, and everyone from my parent's generation not as parents and authority figures, but as the youth of a specific generation fixed in a specific period of time. They were the Vietnam era generation. They watched young men die in a jungle half-a-world-away during their nightly dinner (broadcast with a shocking immediacy we're not likely to ever see again). They felt oppressed by the proverbial "Man." And of course, they believed that the "revolution [would] not be televised."
There are odd intersections between the generations, and as my parents get older, I find that I may be in a position similar to the one when I was five: without saying too much, I'll just mention that unconscious expectations, the force of reality, and the circular nature of experiences through time are things that, for myself, should be reckoned with and given serious thought. Although I'm sure I'm going to have to cope with these thoughts and experiences for a long period of time, I'm going to try harder not be a "major bummer."
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
The Zeppelin Generation
One day, I'll try to write another post called The Zeppelin Generation which describes how sometimes it is weird living in the shadow of a generation that grew up during the Vietnam War era. There are some odd intersections with the history, daily life, and the youthful aspiration of a generation that you're decidedly not a part of. Unfortunately, I tried to write something like that just a half an hour earlier combining those thoughts with the rock group Led Zeppelin, but the downside of technology reared its digital head and sent that piece of writing into the great unknown. Unfortunately, despite my attempt to save it, I couldn't, and I don't have time to do a rewrite. Insert your own expletive here. Oh well. I'm off to the big city to spend the next couple of days trying to get my girlfriend something for her birthday. Seen you then.
One day, I'll try to write another post called The Zeppelin Generation which describes how sometimes it is weird living in the shadow of a generation that grew up during the Vietnam War era. There are some odd intersections with the history, daily life, and the youthful aspiration of a generation that you're decidedly not a part of. Unfortunately, I tried to write something like that just a half an hour earlier combining those thoughts with the rock group Led Zeppelin, but the downside of technology reared its digital head and sent that piece of writing into the great unknown. Unfortunately, despite my attempt to save it, I couldn't, and I don't have time to do a rewrite. Insert your own expletive here. Oh well. I'm off to the big city to spend the next couple of days trying to get my girlfriend something for her birthday. Seen you then.
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
Fireworks and Music
I've pretty much chosen to work on the same days that my girlfriend does, and because she works on a weird 2 days off / 3 days on and vice versa schedule, I've not been as active a poster as I was when I had to go to school during the weekday. I think that I've adjusted very easily to the summer, but I'm still excited about the upcoming school year. Today, I found out that my graduate school is going to send me my job assignment as a TA (teaching assistant) very soon. You'll be hearing about that soon.
On the night of the fourth of July, I drove the several miles on the freeway to the big city just as all of the fireworks were going. Therefore, I had an opportunity to see fireworks from about seven different communities as I passed them along the freeway at about 75 miles an hour. In one sense, it was kind of cool to see this large celebration thing occuring in several towns all at once; the sense of the larger community I had then was unlike any I had ever had before. Yet, the downside of it was that I noticed all of the illegal fireworks that were exploding in places that they shouldn't have been (i.e. crowded neighborhoods). The fire risk from those things was very high, and it was obvious that the police were having trouble being in all places at once. This was one of those occasions were you have to trust that nothing happens, and then wait until the whole thing is over.
On a more staid note, I went a music festival on Sunday in the downtown, waterfront park of the big city. The scenery at sunset was really beautiful - oddly urban and natural at the same time. The music was also pretty good; we saw Etta James, which I must admit I had heard before, but I wouldn't have been able to say so if you had asked me before the concert. Unfortunately, the place was packed. There was barely any place to sit down - and even if you did sit down, more than likely you were staring at someone else's bum, because they, unfortunately, chose to stand up. Oh well, I had a nice time anyway.
I've pretty much chosen to work on the same days that my girlfriend does, and because she works on a weird 2 days off / 3 days on and vice versa schedule, I've not been as active a poster as I was when I had to go to school during the weekday. I think that I've adjusted very easily to the summer, but I'm still excited about the upcoming school year. Today, I found out that my graduate school is going to send me my job assignment as a TA (teaching assistant) very soon. You'll be hearing about that soon.
On the night of the fourth of July, I drove the several miles on the freeway to the big city just as all of the fireworks were going. Therefore, I had an opportunity to see fireworks from about seven different communities as I passed them along the freeway at about 75 miles an hour. In one sense, it was kind of cool to see this large celebration thing occuring in several towns all at once; the sense of the larger community I had then was unlike any I had ever had before. Yet, the downside of it was that I noticed all of the illegal fireworks that were exploding in places that they shouldn't have been (i.e. crowded neighborhoods). The fire risk from those things was very high, and it was obvious that the police were having trouble being in all places at once. This was one of those occasions were you have to trust that nothing happens, and then wait until the whole thing is over.
On a more staid note, I went a music festival on Sunday in the downtown, waterfront park of the big city. The scenery at sunset was really beautiful - oddly urban and natural at the same time. The music was also pretty good; we saw Etta James, which I must admit I had heard before, but I wouldn't have been able to say so if you had asked me before the concert. Unfortunately, the place was packed. There was barely any place to sit down - and even if you did sit down, more than likely you were staring at someone else's bum, because they, unfortunately, chose to stand up. Oh well, I had a nice time anyway.
Thursday, July 03, 2003
Span-glish
Soon, I'll get around to updating much of the information on the side panels. After I graduated from school, and moved out of the old cellar (read: University Computer Lab), I haven't had as much time - or as much computing power - as I would like to get most of it done. DSL and T-1 lines sure are nice; I'm still stuck in the technological dark ages with a 56k modem. Oh, well.
The summer job continues to go along, but I really would like a lot more free time to sit and read some of my critical theory books for literature. I must admit, being a huge nerd and all, I'm a bit excited about graduate school, so I'm doing my best to get caught ahead. Another nerdly thing that I've been doing is reviewing my spanish by listening to the spanish language radio station whenever I take a trip to the big city. I'm afraid that after all of the hard work that I spent trying to pass all of the tests, worrying about whether or not I would get a good grade, doing all of the laborious homewrok, and struggling to understand what was going on in class, I'm might forget all of that hard-won knowledge. Initially, I thought I would be relieved that all of the studying was over; Turns out, it was a life sentence.
Soon, I'll get around to updating much of the information on the side panels. After I graduated from school, and moved out of the old cellar (read: University Computer Lab), I haven't had as much time - or as much computing power - as I would like to get most of it done. DSL and T-1 lines sure are nice; I'm still stuck in the technological dark ages with a 56k modem. Oh, well.
The summer job continues to go along, but I really would like a lot more free time to sit and read some of my critical theory books for literature. I must admit, being a huge nerd and all, I'm a bit excited about graduate school, so I'm doing my best to get caught ahead. Another nerdly thing that I've been doing is reviewing my spanish by listening to the spanish language radio station whenever I take a trip to the big city. I'm afraid that after all of the hard work that I spent trying to pass all of the tests, worrying about whether or not I would get a good grade, doing all of the laborious homewrok, and struggling to understand what was going on in class, I'm might forget all of that hard-won knowledge. Initially, I thought I would be relieved that all of the studying was over; Turns out, it was a life sentence.
Monday, June 30, 2003
Awards
After spending several weeks fretting about whether or not I would have the money to attend college, I just found out today that I should have sent a reply on my financial aid award letter to my graduate school about a week ago. I missed the deadline, and they reserve the right to cancel all of the awards that do. I'm hoping that they're not going to cancel, and I'm fairly confident that they won't because I'm just receiving loans, but we'll see.
Yet, on a better note, at work I found out how to disable the messenger program on Internet Explorer. Whenever anyone here would log on to the net, they would recieve several gray text messages from the "messenger service" that were essentially tyring to blackmail the user into buying their pop-up killer. Make no mistake pop-ups and the people who use them are, in my admittedly flawed estimation, pure evil. But the guys behind these messages are worse than that.
Of course, the FREE solution - something that took me about an hour and a half to discover - is to disable it from the control panel. The audacity and offensiveness of these types of pop-ups is amazing. Thankfully, they're gone, and now the only pop-ups I have to endure are the ones I encounter when surfing the Internet. And those I don't mind, because if I find them particularly annoying (which, frankly, is a term that doesn't really capture the negative emotions inspired by pop-ups), I simply stop visiting whatever site it spawned from. Freedom from pop-ups should be the unalienable right of every computer user; I look forward to the day when that goal is acheived.
After spending several weeks fretting about whether or not I would have the money to attend college, I just found out today that I should have sent a reply on my financial aid award letter to my graduate school about a week ago. I missed the deadline, and they reserve the right to cancel all of the awards that do. I'm hoping that they're not going to cancel, and I'm fairly confident that they won't because I'm just receiving loans, but we'll see.
Yet, on a better note, at work I found out how to disable the messenger program on Internet Explorer. Whenever anyone here would log on to the net, they would recieve several gray text messages from the "messenger service" that were essentially tyring to blackmail the user into buying their pop-up killer. Make no mistake pop-ups and the people who use them are, in my admittedly flawed estimation, pure evil. But the guys behind these messages are worse than that.
Of course, the FREE solution - something that took me about an hour and a half to discover - is to disable it from the control panel. The audacity and offensiveness of these types of pop-ups is amazing. Thankfully, they're gone, and now the only pop-ups I have to endure are the ones I encounter when surfing the Internet. And those I don't mind, because if I find them particularly annoying (which, frankly, is a term that doesn't really capture the negative emotions inspired by pop-ups), I simply stop visiting whatever site it spawned from. Freedom from pop-ups should be the unalienable right of every computer user; I look forward to the day when that goal is acheived.
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Updates
I'm firmly ensconced in my new job for the summer - although the pay is dismal, and I'm dangeorulsy flirting with the reality of not having any money to pay for anything beyond rent and car insurance. I'm hoping I can slide until the middle of september on the scant savings I have left and make the most of free meals without trying to be the next Freddie the Freeloader.
As for the summer job, I should mention that it is the exact same one that I had last summer, and - by way of explanation - it was during that previous summer that I set-up the managerial system and structure for operating its small web store division. Now, I don't really have to have any great reserves of web knowledge or expertise, which is fortunate, because I truly know next-to-nothing. However, I do seem to know more than the remaining employees, so that has made me the defacto expert. An example, you may ask? Well, last year I registered the virus protection software and faithfully installed the updates almost every other day. Turns out, no-one ever updated the software after I left - a year ago . A whole year! That there has not been an infection or system crash during the interim I take as a sign that miracles do, in fact, exist
I'm firmly ensconced in my new job for the summer - although the pay is dismal, and I'm dangeorulsy flirting with the reality of not having any money to pay for anything beyond rent and car insurance. I'm hoping I can slide until the middle of september on the scant savings I have left and make the most of free meals without trying to be the next Freddie the Freeloader.
As for the summer job, I should mention that it is the exact same one that I had last summer, and - by way of explanation - it was during that previous summer that I set-up the managerial system and structure for operating its small web store division. Now, I don't really have to have any great reserves of web knowledge or expertise, which is fortunate, because I truly know next-to-nothing. However, I do seem to know more than the remaining employees, so that has made me the defacto expert. An example, you may ask? Well, last year I registered the virus protection software and faithfully installed the updates almost every other day. Turns out, no-one ever updated the software after I left - a year ago . A whole year! That there has not been an infection or system crash during the interim I take as a sign that miracles do, in fact, exist
Saturday, June 28, 2003
Summer Vacation
Well, I'm back; I've spent the last several days on an extended vacation. Graduation has happened, and I actually lived through it. And yes, it was extremely boring - except for a breif moment when a couple of eagles flew overhead during one of the speeches; I must admit eagles are pretty cool. Now I really need to finish up all of the random forms and applications to graduate school; I only have a few more days left to reply to the new school that I'm going to accept the Teaching assistantship position. I could explain more about my trip to the coast, the beaches and the campground. However, right now I've got to get started on my summer job and earning some payola.
Well, I'm back; I've spent the last several days on an extended vacation. Graduation has happened, and I actually lived through it. And yes, it was extremely boring - except for a breif moment when a couple of eagles flew overhead during one of the speeches; I must admit eagles are pretty cool. Now I really need to finish up all of the random forms and applications to graduate school; I only have a few more days left to reply to the new school that I'm going to accept the Teaching assistantship position. I could explain more about my trip to the coast, the beaches and the campground. However, right now I've got to get started on my summer job and earning some payola.
Friday, June 13, 2003
The Final
While certainly not my best work, I've managed to complete all of the homework that I have had hanging over me this past week; I almost can't believe I got it done. On another note, it is somewhat sobering to realize that this is my last official day of school as an undergraduate, the last day to go to class, the last day to work in the library, the last day with a lot of people I spent the past two and half years with. (Although I'm still planning to do thank you notes.) Tomorrow is graduation, and by way of underlining that fact this morning on my way to study, a group of four men - obviously related - asked me to take their picture in front of the large garden sign of our school, as a way to commerorate someone's time here. Posts might be sparse over the next few weeks as I adjust to a summer schedule divided between a summer job and the big city. (My girlfriend is looking forward to our spending time together, and so am I.)
While certainly not my best work, I've managed to complete all of the homework that I have had hanging over me this past week; I almost can't believe I got it done. On another note, it is somewhat sobering to realize that this is my last official day of school as an undergraduate, the last day to go to class, the last day to work in the library, the last day with a lot of people I spent the past two and half years with. (Although I'm still planning to do thank you notes.) Tomorrow is graduation, and by way of underlining that fact this morning on my way to study, a group of four men - obviously related - asked me to take their picture in front of the large garden sign of our school, as a way to commerorate someone's time here. Posts might be sparse over the next few weeks as I adjust to a summer schedule divided between a summer job and the big city. (My girlfriend is looking forward to our spending time together, and so am I.)
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Quick Update
I just learned that the graduate school I am planning on attending in the fall has offered me a teaching assistantship after all. While it doesn't cover all of the expenses that I'll incur going to school, it will take a huge chunk out of it. Of course, although I'm excited that I've pulled off a minor coup, I'm worried if I'll be able to cut the mustard. I guess we'll see. In the mean time, I have exactly one day to finish all of my school work before the final at noon tomorrow. Due to the amount of work that I still have to do, the deadline is beginning to seem like an old western showdown - high noon, and then when the dust settles, we'll see who's left standing. (I'm betting it won't be me.)
I just learned that the graduate school I am planning on attending in the fall has offered me a teaching assistantship after all. While it doesn't cover all of the expenses that I'll incur going to school, it will take a huge chunk out of it. Of course, although I'm excited that I've pulled off a minor coup, I'm worried if I'll be able to cut the mustard. I guess we'll see. In the mean time, I have exactly one day to finish all of my school work before the final at noon tomorrow. Due to the amount of work that I still have to do, the deadline is beginning to seem like an old western showdown - high noon, and then when the dust settles, we'll see who's left standing. (I'm betting it won't be me.)
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
The Remaining Days
These are the last few days that I'll actually be in this particular cellar, the dark, slightly dank, hidden corner of the ol' computer lab in the university's technology center. After Saturday, when the official graduation ceremony occurs, I'll have to find a new cellar to post from over the summer until I get to grad. school in the fall. It shouldn't be too hard, but I confess that the final few days have become a little nostaligic for me. Here is where you insert all of the typical cliches about how I'm glad to be graduating, but sad that it is all over - blah, blah, blah. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even go to graduation because sitting around listening to boring speeches with about two hundred other people is not my idea of fun, but my girlfriend is coming from the big city to see it, and my parents want to make this a big deal, so I'm going.
But in the mean time, I have to finish my finals, which, since they are mostly take home, I have procrastinated so long that I'm now behind. I've got to friday at noon; that's D-day for me. Last term around finals, I started this blog to avoid doing any real work until the last minute. I'm hoping that I don't go that far, but unless I really get started now, I'm sure I'll find even more creative ways to lose track of time.
These are the last few days that I'll actually be in this particular cellar, the dark, slightly dank, hidden corner of the ol' computer lab in the university's technology center. After Saturday, when the official graduation ceremony occurs, I'll have to find a new cellar to post from over the summer until I get to grad. school in the fall. It shouldn't be too hard, but I confess that the final few days have become a little nostaligic for me. Here is where you insert all of the typical cliches about how I'm glad to be graduating, but sad that it is all over - blah, blah, blah. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even go to graduation because sitting around listening to boring speeches with about two hundred other people is not my idea of fun, but my girlfriend is coming from the big city to see it, and my parents want to make this a big deal, so I'm going.
But in the mean time, I have to finish my finals, which, since they are mostly take home, I have procrastinated so long that I'm now behind. I've got to friday at noon; that's D-day for me. Last term around finals, I started this blog to avoid doing any real work until the last minute. I'm hoping that I don't go that far, but unless I really get started now, I'm sure I'll find even more creative ways to lose track of time.
Monday, June 09, 2003
Concerts
Yesterday night, I took my girlfriend to a Tracy Chapman concert, which was really good and a lot of fun, but when we got there, another couple was already sitting in our seats: row U, number 12 and 13. An usher, about fortyish with a medium length ponytail wearing a wine colored sports coat, quickly stumbled over to us through the purplish-blue dark and examined the tickets; they were exactly the same. (Flash back to a month and a half ago when I bought them - the clerk behind the counter, a young man still struggling with the subtle mysteries of technology, screwed up the tickets three times trying to get them to print out of the machine.) Fortunately, after missing about the first ten minutes of the opening act which wasn't all that great, we got the seats I paid for, and the couple who we "evicted" were moved further to the center, ten rows closer to the stage. I wish we had the option of getting closer to the stage but that's life I guess.
After the concert, we went the city park blocks and talked to an old friend who we both haven't seen in about a year. We sat on a park bench, and as the small hours of the morning burned away, I watched the moon glide through some of the leaves of a smaller tree. Of course, I was really tired, so we went home around 3:00 a.m. Overall, a good day.
Yesterday night, I took my girlfriend to a Tracy Chapman concert, which was really good and a lot of fun, but when we got there, another couple was already sitting in our seats: row U, number 12 and 13. An usher, about fortyish with a medium length ponytail wearing a wine colored sports coat, quickly stumbled over to us through the purplish-blue dark and examined the tickets; they were exactly the same. (Flash back to a month and a half ago when I bought them - the clerk behind the counter, a young man still struggling with the subtle mysteries of technology, screwed up the tickets three times trying to get them to print out of the machine.) Fortunately, after missing about the first ten minutes of the opening act which wasn't all that great, we got the seats I paid for, and the couple who we "evicted" were moved further to the center, ten rows closer to the stage. I wish we had the option of getting closer to the stage but that's life I guess.
After the concert, we went the city park blocks and talked to an old friend who we both haven't seen in about a year. We sat on a park bench, and as the small hours of the morning burned away, I watched the moon glide through some of the leaves of a smaller tree. Of course, I was really tired, so we went home around 3:00 a.m. Overall, a good day.
Wednesday, June 04, 2003
Almost Completed
Of the three papers that I needed to write in as many days, I'm finally glad to say that I finished one of them, and second is about 85% done. Now, I'm off to get some food and try to rest the brain as much as I can for about an hour. Unfortunately, I stayed up all night last night, getting only about an hour and a half of sleep, so it might be a losing propostion, and if I don't keep up the pace, I may have to do that again tonight. However, I think I'm in pretty good shape; although I do have finals to study for and other assignments to complete by Friday afternoon. Those things do not stress me out as much as the papers have. Once again, I need to stop waiting until the last blah blah blah. You know the rest.
Of the three papers that I needed to write in as many days, I'm finally glad to say that I finished one of them, and second is about 85% done. Now, I'm off to get some food and try to rest the brain as much as I can for about an hour. Unfortunately, I stayed up all night last night, getting only about an hour and a half of sleep, so it might be a losing propostion, and if I don't keep up the pace, I may have to do that again tonight. However, I think I'm in pretty good shape; although I do have finals to study for and other assignments to complete by Friday afternoon. Those things do not stress me out as much as the papers have. Once again, I need to stop waiting until the last blah blah blah. You know the rest.
Writing in the Laundry Room
Trying to kill two birds with one stone, I went to the local laundry mat to get some badly needed clothing washed while getting some incredibly postponed homework done, when a man - about twenty years older than my father and, who I suspect, has a mild mental impairment - asked me to fix his pen. He couldn't get the end of it removed so he could access the ink cartridges. Soon, I found myself not doing my own homework, but rather helping him write a love letter to his girlfriend. He asked me how to spell "lifetime partner," if the second line sounded right, and whether or not I thought the ending appropriate. Because I spend three days each week working in the college writing center, I initally took his requests a little too seriously until I realized that he was lonely and was actually looking for a stranger's approval, in this case mine.
It was all rather odd, but I began to feel a little guilty because I have never written my own girlfriend a love letter; It also occured to me that writing a good love letter took some practice and that this guy obviously had more practice than I did. I suppose that love letters belong in their own genre, and speaking "literarily," it might be good to read a compilation of them. Griffin and Sabine has been a popular book in recent years that fictionally explores the art of writing of love letters. Personally I've avoided reading it because I feared a heavy dose of schmaltz, but maybe I should finally take a look.
Trying to kill two birds with one stone, I went to the local laundry mat to get some badly needed clothing washed while getting some incredibly postponed homework done, when a man - about twenty years older than my father and, who I suspect, has a mild mental impairment - asked me to fix his pen. He couldn't get the end of it removed so he could access the ink cartridges. Soon, I found myself not doing my own homework, but rather helping him write a love letter to his girlfriend. He asked me how to spell "lifetime partner," if the second line sounded right, and whether or not I thought the ending appropriate. Because I spend three days each week working in the college writing center, I initally took his requests a little too seriously until I realized that he was lonely and was actually looking for a stranger's approval, in this case mine.
It was all rather odd, but I began to feel a little guilty because I have never written my own girlfriend a love letter; It also occured to me that writing a good love letter took some practice and that this guy obviously had more practice than I did. I suppose that love letters belong in their own genre, and speaking "literarily," it might be good to read a compilation of them. Griffin and Sabine has been a popular book in recent years that fictionally explores the art of writing of love letters. Personally I've avoided reading it because I feared a heavy dose of schmaltz, but maybe I should finally take a look.
Monday, June 02, 2003
Sunlight and Diet Coke
Here we go - I'm going to have to burrow further into my cellar here and not emerge until I have completed at least three papers, one for each of the next three days. It is a theme (no pun intended) with me that I typically wait until the last minute to write my papers, and although I sincerely had good intentions this term, too much of actual life (read difficulties) has gotten in the way and set me back a little. I'll not bore anyone here with the lurid details, suffice it to to say that once I emerge from the darkened corner of the computer lab to joyfully embrace the clear sunlight of the elysian like days of summer beyond graduation, I'm sure that things will be better.
Things of note recently: my lingusitics professor, who has returned to work after surgery (and incidentally who is also my advisor), seems to still be recuperating. Perhaps it was because I knew that she wasn't feeling well that I consciously noticed that she always drinks a diet coke midway through her lecture. Usually, I'm too involved in the topics under discussion to pay any attention to that sort of thing, but maybe like the friend who buys something frivolously expensive and also owes you money, I noticed this time because a diet coke doesn't seem to me to be the kind of thing you should drink a few days after surgery. Another item: an older man, a student I admire, complimented me on my paper presentation at Friday's award ceremony saying: "I always wanted to know if that guy could write." Being a little paranoid, I thought the statement was odd and began to wonder what type of impression I give other people to make them thing that don't have the ability to write well. Finally, I suppose it is something approaching mandatory for me to mention that my graduation from college is less than two weeks away. If I wasn't currently struggling with the papers I have to write and an allergen assault on my respiratory system, I'd be happier about it.
Here we go - I'm going to have to burrow further into my cellar here and not emerge until I have completed at least three papers, one for each of the next three days. It is a theme (no pun intended) with me that I typically wait until the last minute to write my papers, and although I sincerely had good intentions this term, too much of actual life (read difficulties) has gotten in the way and set me back a little. I'll not bore anyone here with the lurid details, suffice it to to say that once I emerge from the darkened corner of the computer lab to joyfully embrace the clear sunlight of the elysian like days of summer beyond graduation, I'm sure that things will be better.
Things of note recently: my lingusitics professor, who has returned to work after surgery (and incidentally who is also my advisor), seems to still be recuperating. Perhaps it was because I knew that she wasn't feeling well that I consciously noticed that she always drinks a diet coke midway through her lecture. Usually, I'm too involved in the topics under discussion to pay any attention to that sort of thing, but maybe like the friend who buys something frivolously expensive and also owes you money, I noticed this time because a diet coke doesn't seem to me to be the kind of thing you should drink a few days after surgery. Another item: an older man, a student I admire, complimented me on my paper presentation at Friday's award ceremony saying: "I always wanted to know if that guy could write." Being a little paranoid, I thought the statement was odd and began to wonder what type of impression I give other people to make them thing that don't have the ability to write well. Finally, I suppose it is something approaching mandatory for me to mention that my graduation from college is less than two weeks away. If I wasn't currently struggling with the papers I have to write and an allergen assault on my respiratory system, I'd be happier about it.
Friday, May 30, 2003
A Check
Defying expectations, when I arrived to present my paper at the Phi Kappa Phi ceremony today, the man behind the prize contest for which I recieved second place changed his mind and decided to award me a little cash as well, which I think was pretty darn cool; I'll now have to remember to write him an official thank you for your generosity card/letter. Aside from that, I have to admit that the paper that won the whole shabang, and five hundred bucks was actually pretty well written, and as such, works an object lesson for me in that I need to remember not to wait until the last minute to write my papers. The first place award winner even indicated in her presentation that she practically spent half the previous term writing her paper, whereas I waited until the last week to even start. This blog was started as a partial attempt on my part to alleviate some of the stress that I felt during that week trying to write a good, prize winning, 12 page paper in a matter of days. Despite everything, I still think that second place is not that bad.
Still, all of this brings to mind the famous movie, A Christmas Story, because the father - a somewhat luckless and frustrated man who is known for his outbursts of cursing - recieves a "major award" from a radio contest, something that he obviously loves tremendously because of its association as a "major award," but which is so hideous to everyone else that his wife "accidentally" breaks it while cleaning. Of course, he returns to earth in his normal more distraught condition. But as for myself, I can't help thinking about the "major award" whenever I start to feel a little pride in my accomplishment, because on some level, I fear I may instead be acting foolish.
Defying expectations, when I arrived to present my paper at the Phi Kappa Phi ceremony today, the man behind the prize contest for which I recieved second place changed his mind and decided to award me a little cash as well, which I think was pretty darn cool; I'll now have to remember to write him an official thank you for your generosity card/letter. Aside from that, I have to admit that the paper that won the whole shabang, and five hundred bucks was actually pretty well written, and as such, works an object lesson for me in that I need to remember not to wait until the last minute to write my papers. The first place award winner even indicated in her presentation that she practically spent half the previous term writing her paper, whereas I waited until the last week to even start. This blog was started as a partial attempt on my part to alleviate some of the stress that I felt during that week trying to write a good, prize winning, 12 page paper in a matter of days. Despite everything, I still think that second place is not that bad.
Still, all of this brings to mind the famous movie, A Christmas Story, because the father - a somewhat luckless and frustrated man who is known for his outbursts of cursing - recieves a "major award" from a radio contest, something that he obviously loves tremendously because of its association as a "major award," but which is so hideous to everyone else that his wife "accidentally" breaks it while cleaning. Of course, he returns to earth in his normal more distraught condition. But as for myself, I can't help thinking about the "major award" whenever I start to feel a little pride in my accomplishment, because on some level, I fear I may instead be acting foolish.
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