inbetween

Sure, I've still got four finals to write in the next two weeks, but for now, I'm done. All the homework is finished and handed in. I wrote prolog (well, I suppose guessed at prolog is a little more apt) and handed it in at 5:00pm. Exactly on the deadline.

Sometime, I'm going to have to write about how fascinating prolog is. Your programs can ask questions about themselves, and call methods that they don't know that they have. It's a very powerful language. And I'll write about scheme. That's a nifty one two. Everything is recursive, which makes sense when you consider that it is based on a kind of recursive lambda-calculus. In Scheme, functions and values are the same thing, and can really be used interchangeably. Wowwy.

And speaking of functions, some functions can't be computed. Really. Other functions can be computed, but only if you allow for an infinite amount of computation time and memory. Sometimes, even asking if a specific function can be computed cannot be answered.

Owwwy. That makes my brain hurt. Time to soothe it with beer and cheese. I likes me the cheese.

People are reading my site. That is just so damn cool. I had thought I'd never see any comments from people and now there are. And there's a comment from someone I don't even know in the slightest.

Damn cool. Thanks.

On a side note, I've got some finals coming soon. If last year is any indication, the weblog will be the thing. It'll be the one that keeps me from going crazy and gives me a nice way to avoid the work and effort of studying. It'll be nice.

What do you think of the colour scheme? The fonts are all wrong, but I'm only working on the colours right now.

And another summer begins to end.

For me, the first sign that the summer is coming to an end is the August long weekend. The Vancouver Pride Parade is always an excuse for me to go to Vancouver and see old friends and meet new ones. This year was no exception.

It felt different this year. I feel different this year.

I did almost all the same things as last year. There was the party at Jason and Ryan's. I spent the night there, sleeping next to Shawna. We drank. We had fun. There were fireworks. The only thing missing was Jeffrey. And Stephen. And John.

Jeffrey and I met more than a year ago. He is one of the sweetest, caring people I've ever met. He changed my life for the better, and made me a better person. Thanks to him, I've realized that if someone as cool and amazing as him cares about me, then I might be cool and amazing too. I'm less bitter and angry and bitchy. I owe him a great debt.

This year, I wasn't hung over for the parade.

Somethings I'm not proud of, need to share with the world:

I like eating at MacDonalds, but I'm too embarrased to admit it, so I only go through the drive-through. That's probably a good thing, as it keeps me from going there very often.

Oh vile temptress with painted lips, why do you torment me so? Cheap harlot of fast food!

I enjoyed watching American Idol. I started watching it because Simon impressed me with his stark honesty, and because of the pathetic, tone deaf, "holy crap, do you listen to yourself?" bad singing in the auditions. But I kept watching it. Bad me, no reality TV for you!

They say that confession is good for the soul, and I do feel a little better for having written this. I just don't know what to do about the Macdonalds thing though. There's one about a block from my house, and it smells so good. Sometimes I think Ronnie himself is over there taunting me.

Web browsers open (3)

• http://ww.negativespace.net
  
• http://robert.blueshoe.ca
  
• http://majeric.com
  

Listening to: Modest Mussorgsky, Pictures at an Exhibition and Night on Bald Mountain (not at the same time, mind you)

Doing: Writing in the weblog Procrastinating

Missing: Jeffrey, Ayla, Robert, Dan, Jeremy #2, and a sense of accomplishment.

Wanting: an ability to concentrate, someone to ask me out, a good grade on the final tonight.

Expecting: nobody to ask me out, singledom, and probably a B on the exam.

Lost: The remote for the CD player. In the magical process of rearranging my bedroom completely, I put it somewhere.

Feeling: Tired and headachey. Yesterday, I had a headache so bad that it made my right eye tear up at random times. There were moments that I thought I would pass out. I wonder if that was a migrane? Hope not. I can't afford the $95/pill pills.

Ho hum... All things considered, I feel fairly good.

So, Inbetween was a little too red for my tastes, although it was pretty. Now, it's all monochromatic, modulo the links. I like the new look. Very stylish, very pleasing and minimalist.

Just random things said by random people during a game of Trivial Pursuit

Strictly polka
death does the polka
they polka-ed to the death
fashion pit-bull
Your my infinity boy

I've decided to reclaim my closet.

A few years ago it gained independence from the rest of the house. I was fine with that. Happy, even, as that meant that I didn't need to deal with it. Just slide the door closed and ignore the entire contents. Now it scares me, mostly because when I say a few years, I mean seven. Seven years ago.

So far, I've found stuffed animals, a singing fish given to me as a serious Christmas present from some family I haven't seen in twenty years, a first-generation Atari game console, a dozen board games, and so much more. And then there are the memories that go along with everything, most of which predate my friendships. Some of them go back to high school, or further.

Georgia Nicols - Daily Horoscope

Pisces (Feb. 19 - March 20)
This is a tricky day. Mars is in your sign along with a very wonky Moon. It's wonderful for social times, creative efforts and just hanging out. By contrast, it's a poor day for important decisions and critical judgments. It's really a day to just goof off and enjoy yourself.

Slept through a final exam, I did. Talking like Yoda I now am. Holy crap. And, the very day after I get a lovely email from a really great prof saying how surprised he was with how well I did on his final.

Damn it, sometimes I'm dumber than dirt.

Reset the clock on a linux computer:
1. make sure ntpd isn't running. If it is, sudo killall ntpd
2. sudo ntpdate time.uvic.ca

I"m still all hung up on the dumbest thing I have ever done, and can't seem to figure out why it happened.

The final is scheduled correctly in the palm pilot. There's an alarm set to go off half an hour before. Even the location is correct, which is an improvement on the first final I wrote this month. The alarm probably even went off.

I just didn't want to hear it, I suppose. The question is, "why?" Why do I keep preventing myself from doing well in my course work. I'm good at what I try to do (94% on the C SC 370 final, highest in the class) but I just don't feel motivated to try. I got a B+ in Math 222 but if you look at the actual marks, I would have had an A if I had done the homework. I just don't do the homework, not because it is difficult (which it isn't) but because I just don't want to.

For some strange reason, I would rather just sit on my ass and watch TV or spend hours playing solitare, or surf the web reading about things that don't interest me. Anything to not do homework.

If I did the work, actually completed the homework and put some effort into it, I'd be an A student. Why don't I?

One year ago I quit my job. I've never regretted that decision, returning to school was the right decision. I had outgrown my position, and my position had outgrown me.

I'm sill amazed I was ever even hired for that job. Three years and one week ago, I was hired. It was my first full time job, with real responsibilities and authority. I became the manager of a small used bookstore, part of a larger organization with seven other businesses. I was not qualified, but I suppose I gave a good interview.

Well, maybe not. Only two people were interviewed for the position. The previous manager had given two weeks notice and was about to leave town. They were in a big hurry to find a replacement. I was already a supervisor in the store, and knew my way around a small bit of the accounting. The other candidate had experience in the store as well. From what I've heard, the other candidate did not interview well at all.

It was an amazing learning experience. I now understand why non-profits must pay the GST on the rent that they don't pay. (Ok, I don't know why, but I do know that they must.) Accounting makes a lot of sense, mostly because "it just works." And budgeting was very easy. The last two months of my budget were surprisingly accurate. ($7.00 difference, in $16,000 revenue!)

The bottom line is that I left. I became qualified, learned all the skills I needed and then quit.

But that is an oversimplification. Maybe if my boss hadn't been caught stealing from the company. Maybe if I hadn't mixed business and personal so damn much. Maybe if...

No, I had to leave.

Daddy called today. Blech. Put a damper on the whole damn day. Seems the cancer has gone into his tiny, insignificant, ignorant, imbicilic brain and he's going to die. Boo hoo. We're all going to die. He's going to die soon.

"Take it like a man, asshole"

But those are his words, from a long long time ago. He wants me to call him back. He wants to visit sometime. Maybe he has come to the end of his life and thinks he made a bad decision ten years ago. Personally, I'm glad he left. I was, and still am, proud of my mother for throwing that bastard out of the house.

Maybe.

Maybe he has changed. Maybe he won't be his abusive, stupid, flatulent self. Perhaps he won't throw anything or call me any of those nasty names. Maybe he won't cry and scream and be crazy.

It'll probably be good for me to meet with him. I've not seen him in six years. I don't want to see him now, but if I do, maybe I'll understand some of the rage buried deep inside. Perhaps it will be a chance to heal.

Bleh.

So much for enjoying the next few weeks, or getting anything done today. I've still got a terrible sense fo guilt about the entire situation. She gave him an ultimatum, "Either try to make Michael a part of your life, or leave." And he chose to leave. Never said a word to me as he moved out. Just left.

I don't want to deal with any of it again. He was abusive and evil. Then he left, and I somehow felt that it was my fault. I was miserable for a very long time. Why experience any of that again.

Rest in peace, Wesley Willis.

Alternative Tentacles - Bands - Wesley Willis

For those of you who don't know, Wesley Willis is an amazing musician and poet. He wrote songs called "Cut the Mullet" and "I whooped Batman's Ass." Friggin' genius, I tell you. I first heard of his music when my friend Tracy played a mix tape of Wesley Willis at work one day, and I was hooked forever. His music is both surreal and enchanting, and deserves it's cult status.

Goodnight Mr. Willis

So, I guess I should just hunker down and right this one. That's all there is to it. No more procrastinating, or posting silly links or anything else. Just gotta do it.

http://www.badonkadate.com/ terrifies me. Holy cow, what on earth? Just scary, makes me happy to be a gay man with impecible taste and outrageous standards.

update: That link isn't worksafe. Click at your own risk.

A little while ago, I wrote about daddykins. And hoo-boy, I meant every word of it. But, being the generous, stupid fool that I am, I had lunch with the evil, disgusting, unwashed moron and his sister. What a rotten, yet somehow enlightening, experience.

"The bastard choose to leave. The bastard choose to leave." It was all I could think of as I was driving to the mall. I offered to buy the old fart a beer, but he's on cancer medication and can't drink alcohol. Score one for the good guys! I kept forgetting things on the way there, and had to come back to the house. Oops, gotta brush my teeth. Oops, forgot my wallet. Oops... Finally I realized I was just putting it off, which pissed me off.

So I got to the food court at the mall and sat down. Dear God, the man stunk to high heaven. The first thing I noticed was the stench. It sucked away my will to eat and turned my healthy appetite against me. I kept wondering if he had been rolling around in dog poo. Wouldn't be surprised really.

(Don't tell Ashley, but I really like Buffy. She's on TV as I write this.)

So we sat. And they ate like pigs. I tried not to think about food, especially the lettuce hanging from his beard that he didn't notice. Disgusting. And we talked. And I tried not to noticed his mis-shapen head or non-opening eye.

Life (and the cancer growing in his bones) has not been kind. Perhaps the universe has a deeply twisted sense of justice, or maybe karma finally bit him in the ass. Either way, he's had a miserable few years that he doesn't really remember anymore. He tried to explain that his tumor has become a "multinoma" which means that it has spread and is nearly unstoppable. The one growing in his skull next to his right eye has caused memory loss and likely a host of other problems. His face is misshapen, jaws protruding forward, nose and forehead shrinking back. He can't walk without a cane. He needs people to take care of him, and probably change his diaper (the stench, remember!)

And then I left. All the hate and anger I felt for him have been slipping away, yet I don't feel any pity for him. There is no remorse, or condolence. I just don't care anymore. He's obviously suffering and in pain. I just don't care.

It left me with a very empty feeling.

"Die you stupid computer"

I heard that almost every single day at work for two years. That and a lot of staff hissing at the computer. I never really understood it. Computers are not stupid. They aren't dumb. The have no soul, no spirit, no intelligence.

"Why do you hate me you stupid piece of crap?"

But people who don't understand computers don't understand that a computer is just a machine.

Is your car stupid? If you get confused and make a mistake with your car, people die. All it took was one "typo" with the gas and break pedal to for nine people to die. But we don't blame the car. We blame the person driving the car. His automobile does not belong in a prison. He should have known "right for go, left for stop" before he was let loose on an unsuspecting public. But I digress.

"My computer ate my report and now I have to type it all over again and..."

But the report was never saved. A missed keystroke or two later, a fumble with the mouse, and the computer takes more blame that it just doesn't deserve. It pisses me off to hear idiocy like this. People should learn how to use their computers, and not expect them to read their minds. Not yet anyway.

Sure there are poorly designed interfaces for computer software, but that's no excuse. There are many examples of buggy software, just look at Microsofts recent security problems. That isn't an excuse for not making backups, or saving your work. It certainly does not excuse people from thinking about what they do.

"Damn thing just doesn't understand me! I tell it to save, and it print a reciept."

I was actually watching her use the cash register. I saw her hit the P key (P for print? What a shock!). She'd been using this software for six months with no problems, and all of a sudden it wasn't working for her.

"Michael, the cash register is broken. Can you fix it?"

I didn't fix the register. I carefully explained that to save something you press the S key (S for save? That's umpossible!).

"That's exactly what I did."

Only it isn't what she did. It wasn't even close to what she did. The register did exactly what she told it to do. It broken, she was. Maybe it's time to replace her.

Well, it has finally happened. I don't know what to blog about.

Just look at the stunning beauty before me. One-hundred-and-something keys infront of me, and nothing to do with them. Nothing interesting to write about. Just blah. Boredom.

In the past, blasé was considered a psychological condition and treated with drugs. Today, it is a part of life. You're expected to be bored silly. If you have nothing to do, you watch television and learn about pregnant fifteen year olds who don't know who the father is. Or you watch Martha build a pyramid out of Cream Puffs and honey.

Well poo to that.

As much fun as tireless baking and bastard-babies with unknown fathers are, I need more. Entertainment, excitement, or at least fish 'n chips. It that too much to ask for?

And of course there is the internet. I'm average sized, if you ignore the spam in my inbox telling me it is too small, and will never really make her scream. I'm not depressed, but the adverts for "all natural" xanax are tempting. I think that beer is probably just as good as any "natural mood suppliment" but I wouldn't know. I take vitamins and that has always been good enough for me.

In a few days, life will be busy again with classes and homework and meetings and lions and tigers and bears, Oh MY! Until then, I'll keep staring at the wall. And drinking beer.

MMMmmmm.... beer............