June 27, 2003
Resdesign
Resdesign in progress - very little will change but we are converting over to XHTML Strict and better CSS since we now understand how it works and wish to bring pride to our homeland.
01:36 PM part of webJune 23, 2003
"The whole world is put in motion by the wish for riches and dread of poverty."
- Johnson, Rambler 178
June 19, 2003
Stand up
A professor comes into the first day of his college class. The large lecture hall is filled to capacity for the only time during the semester, and the rare quiet makes him smile to himself. He puts down his books and looks out over the audience for a few seconds before speaking. "Everybody please stand up right now" he says in an emotionless voice and looks down at the floor. After a few seconds a couple of the students begin to stand and then slowly the rest join them. After they have been standing for a few seconds he looks up and says: "Ok, you can all be seated." There are a few quiet chuckles and some of the students give each other confused grins while they slide back into their seats. He lets them get settled and then tells them to stand again. He then walks to the front of his lecture space and begins talking.
"When you came into this room today you may have thought of people in terms of groups - college students, rich kids, black students, whatever. Simply put, I think that we are, instead, a series of individuals with different views, histories - different everything. But at the same time we can be grouped into certain categories based on whatever grouping mechanism you like. For example, you could say that just now there were people who were very resistant to me making them stand up, and you could say that there were those that simply stood up without questioning it. There were those that got mad at what they saw as an abuse of power, and those that laughed and thought it would make a nice little story to tell when your friends asked you how your first day went. The point is, we can group people based on small things like this, but that doesn't mean that we are different. Now, let's talk a little bit about biology."
06:45 PM part of storiesJune 04, 2003
Quiet at last
Last Sunday night, I had to work from home. I had just picked up my wife from the airport, so I waited for her to go to sleep before starting to work since I hadn't seen her in weeks I didn't want to greet her over the top of my laptop. Our new apartment has two bedrooms, so I was able to work in another room with the door closed. I hate to admit it, but it was fun to work in the middle of the night again, it reminded me of college in its purity. I was alone in a quiet place in the middle of the night working under a deadline. No cubicle, no distractions, no dependencies on other people, motivation. I worked for maybe 3 or 4 hours, from about 2 until about 5 in the morning when I got done and emailed the result and then went to bed. I did maybe a full day's work in that time - everything just worked on the first try, which is very rare. I hope I never have to do it often, but it was a fun experience
07:36 PM part of personalRacial revenger
I am the racial revenger. Whenever anybody says anything racist or seemingly racist around me I spring into action, verbally and sometimes physically lashing those that say things that they can normally get away with. My punishment is shocking, quick, and effective. Here are my methods:
1. If I do not know you I will stare at you for 25 minutes after you say something racist until you look away, leave the room crying, or continue with your sermon until the kicks to the face begin.
2. If I do know you I will look at you with an expression that says: "Hmmm. That's weird, I thought that I was talking to a friend but suddenly a pile of shit has replaced him, a pile of shit that I will now destory." At this point I will begin making you feel guilty for what you said through a series of logical arguments which end with you urinating all over yourself, going to confession, and apologizing personally to Jesse Jackson.
3. If I barely know you, I will not ever know you. This includes job interviews, dates, and other social gatherings. If you say something racist, I disappear.
4. If you catch me in a bad mood there is a chance of me feeding you your own medicine depending on how effective I estimate this to be. For example, "simple inbred redneck fucker" rolls off my tongue like poetry.
07:35 PM part of personalBy the time he had looked up a full five seconds had passed - he wouldn't have thought it was that long if you had asked him afterwards as it was only enough time for him to grab his drink, which had fallen on the floormat - but it was. When he hit it, he didn't really feel the impact of his chest and cheek against the steering wheel, or his wrist, which ended up against the radio at a strange angle, but he did hear the noise very clearly. It was much softer than he thought - no broken glass or last minute screams - frightened eye-contact between the two as they stared together at the inevitable - but it was a soft thud and then the screech of the tires. Then silence. An alley cat was searching in some trash when it happened and darted underneath the dumpster when it heard the noise. When he was out of the car and looking for help, its eyes followed him as he got back into his car and drove off, leaving the man.
07:35 PM part of storiesMan standing in the middle of the street, lucky there is no traffic - he's freestyling, I think is what they call it. There was no freestyling when I was coming up, only music that was written then recorded later on. I think he is talking about himself, most of them do don't they, it is a very egotistical genre - like they can't talk about life or anything, or why they are in so much trouble most of the time. By the time he had crossed the street he was very happy with his conclusion and he didn't turn around to see if the man was still at it.
07:34 PM part of storiesShaking inside, man am I nervous about this. Job interviews are always bad, but this has to be the worst. His suit is a little tighter than it used to be, with small little creases showing up around his middle even though he didn't know it since he always stood up really straight and sucked it in when he looked in the mirror out of habit. His eyes were very wide by the time they called him, and that is when the sweating started - at first just a warmth around the arms and face and then moving down him until he felt as if he needed to change pants. It was panel-style, with multiple people asking him questions with various degrees of nastiness. Afterwards, he won't even remember the first few questions that they asked, which is ironic considering that they were the only ones that counted in any way.
07:34 PM part of storiesI wonder if I will ever get a bigger office, I mean my cubicle is nice and I have a pretty good view of the edge of a window which means I get that sunshine sometimes and I feel like I am outside working with my laptop, but wouldn't it be nice to have an office. The sheer respect of it - here, honey, is where I work - this is my office, where I make important phone calls and do other adult and somehow manly things that allow us to live - be attracted to me in a primal way; bow down before my altar of power. Cubicle sex is impossible, but in an office at least there is a chance of a little action, of a little privacy. It would also be cool to have an office on the bottom floor of a very large building that faced right onto the sidewalk so that you could look at the people as they walked past. Maybe that would be too distracting, all that movement out of the corner of your eye. If you moved your desk so that your back was to them then one day you would probably turn around and get scared shitless by someone flashing you, and there would probably be spitting since if I was homeless the last thing that I would want to see is some prick with a nice leather chair five feet away from me behind some glass moving papers around. Maybe it would have two way mirrors, or one-way, one-way, like in the movies where they drill the criminal until he confesses, but only no one would punch through the glass without your permission because if they did then you would have to smell and hear the street, and that isn't the point. Oh, we're here, and just in time, because I am fucking starving.
07:34 PM part of stories