December 30, 2007
December 29, 2007
A New Year
Do people ever wonder, I wonder, about the deep and most profound question surrounding the beginning of a new year? Why is it on January 1st? Does nobody ever think to themselves, gosh but it's great to be having this fun party and getting to kiss some random girl because you should always kiss somebody right at midnight?... not that I do, I usually go to the bathroom to ring in the new year... but anyway.
Well, because I had already taken my History of Calendars back to the library (not joking), I had to make due with that other extremely accurate and trustworthy source for this little blog: Wikipedia (joking about the trustworthiness, but hey, it's just a blog, not a dissertation). Two major calendars have been used in the days of yore, the Julian and Gregorian, and both had year starting dates on different days. That's about all I'm going to say on that. When the Gregorian came out, it was cooler than sliced bread, I think. We got new names for our months and everybody was happier than a horse on a skating rink. The origin for the name of January came from Janus who was the Roman god of gates or doorways, and beginnings and endings. I'm pretty sure that's the only reason we picked January and the only reason we picked January 1 was because nobody starts counting with zero.
The Julian calendar liked to start on January 1 as well, but other peoples of the world were somewhat belligerent to the people of the Calendaric Julianus faith and decided to pick their own starting dates, March 25th, Easter, December 25th, September 1st to name a few. Personally, I don't know what they were thinking either. History critical dates as beginning of the year... maybe it made it easier to remember.
From all my Wikipedia-ing (I'm so embarrassed), I have discovered no connection between perhaps....oh I don't know, the orientation of our planet in the solar system or galaxy! Wouldn't that have been the most obvious point to start a new year? Is that too anally scientific of me? The Gregorian calendar doesn't even land the new year on an equinox for cryin' out loud! And with the way the Earth is slowing down, it'll only be a couple thousand years (or more) until it doesn't matter a hill of beans how long a year is or where it'll land.
Well, that's my quick little "Let's make my friends think about that for at least 5 minutes" dealy-o. I trust you're thoroughly outraged by now at the manipulation with which we're required to celebrate the new year. Personally, I'm switching to March 20th. I'll still see you on Dec 31st to maintain my image with the secret government division of compliance. ;)
Well, because I had already taken my History of Calendars back to the library (not joking), I had to make due with that other extremely accurate and trustworthy source for this little blog: Wikipedia (joking about the trustworthiness, but hey, it's just a blog, not a dissertation). Two major calendars have been used in the days of yore, the Julian and Gregorian, and both had year starting dates on different days. That's about all I'm going to say on that. When the Gregorian came out, it was cooler than sliced bread, I think. We got new names for our months and everybody was happier than a horse on a skating rink. The origin for the name of January came from Janus who was the Roman god of gates or doorways, and beginnings and endings. I'm pretty sure that's the only reason we picked January and the only reason we picked January 1 was because nobody starts counting with zero.
The Julian calendar liked to start on January 1 as well, but other peoples of the world were somewhat belligerent to the people of the Calendaric Julianus faith and decided to pick their own starting dates, March 25th, Easter, December 25th, September 1st to name a few. Personally, I don't know what they were thinking either. History critical dates as beginning of the year... maybe it made it easier to remember.
From all my Wikipedia-ing (I'm so embarrassed), I have discovered no connection between perhaps....oh I don't know, the orientation of our planet in the solar system or galaxy! Wouldn't that have been the most obvious point to start a new year? Is that too anally scientific of me? The Gregorian calendar doesn't even land the new year on an equinox for cryin' out loud! And with the way the Earth is slowing down, it'll only be a couple thousand years (or more) until it doesn't matter a hill of beans how long a year is or where it'll land.
Well, that's my quick little "Let's make my friends think about that for at least 5 minutes" dealy-o. I trust you're thoroughly outraged by now at the manipulation with which we're required to celebrate the new year. Personally, I'm switching to March 20th. I'll still see you on Dec 31st to maintain my image with the secret government division of compliance. ;)
December 13, 2007
4th Thursday to the 359th
There's a wholesome feeling this time of year.
I know not where it comes from, nor do I care.
It bubbles and churns in leaps and in bounds,
Moving around like the tide ebbs and flows.
Some have lost it, some never had it,
And some are clueless about how to use it.
How sad that empty soul that observes all others
Enjoying themselves with joy and with cheer
While they go along with their mocha or beer.
Aurally accosted from left and from right
With music and singing that's seasonally bright.
No escape or end till December the twenty-sixth,
Since all capitalists gaily project it to make profits stick
But joy is good and cheer is great
Reach for it, grab it, embrace it right now!
For too soon it's gone
And three hundred thirty more days will come,
Where it's harder than diamonds to find that love.
Thank Heaven for cultural indoctrination,
That's imbued these feelings into an intangible portion
Of our perception called years!
I know not where it comes from, nor do I care.
It bubbles and churns in leaps and in bounds,
Moving around like the tide ebbs and flows.
Some have lost it, some never had it,
And some are clueless about how to use it.
How sad that empty soul that observes all others
Enjoying themselves with joy and with cheer
While they go along with their mocha or beer.
Aurally accosted from left and from right
With music and singing that's seasonally bright.
No escape or end till December the twenty-sixth,
Since all capitalists gaily project it to make profits stick
But joy is good and cheer is great
Reach for it, grab it, embrace it right now!
For too soon it's gone
And three hundred thirty more days will come,
Where it's harder than diamonds to find that love.
Thank Heaven for cultural indoctrination,
That's imbued these feelings into an intangible portion
Of our perception called years!
November 18, 2007
When Thoughts Meet The Keyboard
Look behind you, stones of Ash and Wood!
Where did you come from?
Can you even remember?
Why did you leave and where are you going?
To some dark, dire end,
Just like the rest of us
...no doubt.
I'll save you the trouble of finding out
I know! I've been there!
Alas, I've only come back as a cruel joke
A whim of the Ones beyond the horizon.
Their realm is dark and dim and tragic
A bastion of evil
A palisade of fagots.
They're vicious and altogether evil.
Don't bother with them.
I"m stuck already, but there's a way.
Go back, tell others.
Stay this course or be forever.
Trapped in an amorphous whirlpool,
Spun around at Their caprice.
For spun you'll be,
Theirs is an unstable land.
Go back, if you can.
Take me with you.
Where did you come from?
Can you even remember?
Why did you leave and where are you going?
To some dark, dire end,
Just like the rest of us
...no doubt.
I'll save you the trouble of finding out
I know! I've been there!
Alas, I've only come back as a cruel joke
A whim of the Ones beyond the horizon.
Their realm is dark and dim and tragic
A bastion of evil
A palisade of fagots.
They're vicious and altogether evil.
Don't bother with them.
I"m stuck already, but there's a way.
Go back, tell others.
Stay this course or be forever.
Trapped in an amorphous whirlpool,
Spun around at Their caprice.
For spun you'll be,
Theirs is an unstable land.
Go back, if you can.
Take me with you.
November 7, 2007
Game Time
It's time to play everybody's favorite game of fact or bull...crap, bullcrap, yes, that's it. Here we go.
1. V-formation flying avians only fly in odd numbers, regardless of symmetry.
2. Caffeine, in its crystalline form, can be used as an explosive.
3. 13 people in the US die every year from nasal complications due to smelly shoes.
4. Ketchup's acidity allows it to 'eat' through aluminum foil.
5. Kansas seceded from the Union in 1968, but then changed its mind.
Tell me what you think in a comment or something.
1. V-formation flying avians only fly in odd numbers, regardless of symmetry.
2. Caffeine, in its crystalline form, can be used as an explosive.
3. 13 people in the US die every year from nasal complications due to smelly shoes.
4. Ketchup's acidity allows it to 'eat' through aluminum foil.
5. Kansas seceded from the Union in 1968, but then changed its mind.
Tell me what you think in a comment or something.
November 1, 2007
Apogee of Epiphany
Well, starting on Saturday, sometime in the late afternoon, my life transferred to a zone of existence that can only be described the following way; dark and abyssmal, with false exits that lead even deeper into the void of inky blackness with periodic depressions of no hope whatsoever. Albeit, that is a brief description as I don't want to panic anybody. Anyway, during these interim days, I've had several stunning realizations about my life and life in general that I'd like to share briefly; to get them out there, as it were.
1. My life's motto was given to me on Tuesday after a particular terrible day at work. I know my motto already, but apparently, I'd forgotten it. In addition to Be Prepared, my life's motto is:
Plan (A) for the best, expect the worst, scrap (A) and plan (B) for the worst, then be surprised and happy when (A) goes through.
A long motto I know, but that's how I live my life. Well, I didn't plan for the worst and that made my day just a little more sucky (forgive the lack of an erudite word) on Tuesday because the worst happened. Go fig.
2. Video games serve no purpose and those of us who game and are intelligent enough to realize this fact are in even more trouble. This one hit me whilst I was playing a game and when I decided that I should go do something else, nothing else appealed at that particular moment. Stuck between that proverbial rock and hard place, I continued playing, knowing all the while that I was wasting minutes and hours of my life away. Sad.
3. Well, I can't remember the third one, but know this - It would have shaken the foundations of the earth.
1. My life's motto was given to me on Tuesday after a particular terrible day at work. I know my motto already, but apparently, I'd forgotten it. In addition to Be Prepared, my life's motto is:
Plan (A) for the best, expect the worst, scrap (A) and plan (B) for the worst, then be surprised and happy when (A) goes through.
A long motto I know, but that's how I live my life. Well, I didn't plan for the worst and that made my day just a little more sucky (forgive the lack of an erudite word) on Tuesday because the worst happened. Go fig.
2. Video games serve no purpose and those of us who game and are intelligent enough to realize this fact are in even more trouble. This one hit me whilst I was playing a game and when I decided that I should go do something else, nothing else appealed at that particular moment. Stuck between that proverbial rock and hard place, I continued playing, knowing all the while that I was wasting minutes and hours of my life away. Sad.
3. Well, I can't remember the third one, but know this - It would have shaken the foundations of the earth.
October 17, 2007
Why It's Cool: Stargate
This is to be a continuing series where I, the more unbiased writer, inform you, without a hint of bias, why a particular topic is cool. Today's topic is going to be Stargate (both SG-1 and Atlantis). Why is Stargate cool? Though there are a multitude of reasons, dating back to around the turn of the last decade before the millennium, I'll focus instead on some lesser known cool factors that should inspire you to check it out.1. Each Stargate has a unique symbol on it, which is like an ID for the particular Gate. It differs from the other 38 (SG-1) or 35 (Atlantis) symbols on the DHD (dial-home-device) This symbol is not repeated on any other Gate and is called the point-of-origin symbol. By dialing six symbols and then this unique symbol, an individual can travel the galaxy, nay galaxies. And with a very large number of possible six symbol combinations out of 38 or 35 symbols, It's safe to say there are a lot of Gates out there and a lot of unique symbols. Cool!
2. Though this unbiased informer enjoys shows like Star Trek, Stargate is set in our present time, with the only "futuristic" technology coming from other races we encounter or from reverse engineering technology we acquire. That to say this; Stargate science and it's technobabble are actually trying to be grounded in present day knowledge and theory. The writers aren't just making this up, it's a combination of imagination and current theories regarding space travel, wormhole theory, and a host of other strange physics, math, and science conundrums. Sure, in the future, the theories may be proved wrong, but for now, this show shows you what it could be if they're right. (Disclaimer: unfortunately, it's pretty much widely accepted that a wormhole event horizon, i.e. Stargate, would tear you to shreds by it's gravity before you even got near it...so let's give it up for those Ancients for figuring a way around it!)
3. SG-1 ran for 10 years, has two TV movies on the way, and has a spin-off, Atlantis, that's been running for 4 years already, three of which overlapped SG-1. Why is this cool you ask? Well I bet you didn't know it! It's the longest running science fiction show ever, beating out the X-Files and any Star Trek series. HA. SG-1 went through a network change, cast changes, and still managed to put 214 episodes under their belt. How many shows do you know of that made it to 200 episodes? Atlantis, the child of SG-1, came out from under its shadow right after their first season and is now the Stargate show and doing quite well with high expectations for a fifth season. Now it's also known that a third series is being planned, and you may say, "Hey, that's taking it a bit far. Don't you think we've had enough?" I would respond to that with just three letters: CSI. Need I say more? Apparently American networks believe that re-dying a show a different city or whatever is what the people want...I'm all for more Stargate (unbiasedly of course).
Well I hoped this helped. Obviously I couldn't get to everything, but count on me doing a sequel to this particular topic. Until next time...
October 11, 2007
Again Unto the Brink
They're back.
No stopping it now.
A mind attack,
The size of a cow.
Draining like a sink,
Again unto the brink.
Thousands of apology
It doesn't seem that every
Thing is quite a morphology
Of Thought in Derry.
Is that a crime?
Gorram it, this don't make a lot of sense but with the
Random Neurons Firing In My Brain,
It's time to take the plunge and indulge...
Suffocate from a drink.
Again unto the brink.
No stopping it now.
A mind attack,
The size of a cow.
Draining like a sink,
Again unto the brink.
Over the edge
I look this time,
Wondering what
Wonders I might behold as we segue into something
Not at all like the previous lines, just flowing with the
Random Neurons Firing In My Brain.
I look this time,
Wondering what
Wonders I might behold as we segue into something
Not at all like the previous lines, just flowing with the
Random Neurons Firing In My Brain.
What happens next is quite unexpected,
Dancing ninny goats on the head of a pin that's the size
Of the Empire State Building. Who knows where they came from
Or what they had for breakfast. Would anybody ever think about
That if they ever
Saw those ninny
Goats
?
Dancing ninny goats on the head of a pin that's the size
Of the Empire State Building. Who knows where they came from
Or what they had for breakfast. Would anybody ever think about
That if they ever
Saw those ninny
Goats
?
Thousands of apology
It doesn't seem that every
Thing is quite a morphology
Of Thought in Derry.
Is that a crime?
More people might want to know about the procrastinating
Stock-brokering cubics the shape of dodecahedrons in four dimensional
Space who,
Laughing,
Prescribe medicinal antidotes to their own tantalizing tentacles
Of Mediocrity. WTF?
Stock-brokering cubics the shape of dodecahedrons in four dimensional
Space who,
Laughing,
Prescribe medicinal antidotes to their own tantalizing tentacles
Of Mediocrity. WTF?
Can't you be more constructive with your criticism,
Or take a flight the size of a Concord Jet?
Just to be safe from plagerization and bastard stipulations
Imposed by the ruling class in your ignorant fiefdom?
Or take a flight the size of a Concord Jet?
Just to be safe from plagerization and bastard stipulations
Imposed by the ruling class in your ignorant fiefdom?
Gorram it, this don't make a lot of sense but with the
Random Neurons Firing In My Brain,
It's time to take the plunge and indulge...
Suffocate from a drink.
Again unto the brink.
September 30, 2007
O The Sea!
I didn't feel like I was done with this so here is a continuation of Ocean, under a different title, and including the first part.
Waves of the ocean rush by beneath me
The horizon calls them quickly to thee.
Before me they stretch, reaching the edge
Of what could be anything, an end or a ledge.
To the sea, to the sea! The indomitable sea.
Where dolphins glide by with glorious glee,
And whales breach that hor’zontal wall
With vertical ‘ruptions and sweet mating calls.
But somewhere, there! you're waiting still,
Beyond that edge of sight until
Some place you found, separate from me
With nothing between us, but the sea.
O the sea, O the sea! That unconquerable sea.
To long have I wandered in search of thee.
The whales are singing of the coming event;
That of my soon and assured advent.
A day, a week, a month of years
My journey unknown to a thousand seers.
My ship has taken its toils and tolls,
But this heart's passion hasn't lulled.
The sea, the sea! The incredible sea,
A difficult medium, fair 's it may be.
Taken by it, taken from you,
Soon to return 'f God's grace be true.
Night falls again, to the heavens I glance
Hoping 'gainst all for a glimmer of chance
That my quest is closer to its final end
When your hand in mine will be the trend.
O sea, O sea! O vast, mirrored sea.
The heavens' beauty's reflected in thee.
And with the stars I traverse the waves,
My life I brave, my love to save.
Your land I sight, "Ahoy!" I cry,
I greet it with relief and I sigh,
For sooth my quest is now finé,
And porting I turn 'round to say,
My sea, my sea! My faithful sea,
Much thanks I give on this bent knee.
Though by many a trouble were we beset,
No challenge proved too much a threat.
Stepping ashore I glance all around,
And seeing you in your blue and white gown,
I break down in tears as we finally embrace,
And thank God Almighty for His great grace.
O my Love, O my Love! O my beautiful Love,
So long have I searched, my perfect dove.
At last we're together, forever to be,
Thanks to His grace and the vast, blue sea.
Waves of the ocean rush by beneath me
The horizon calls them quickly to thee.
Before me they stretch, reaching the edge
Of what could be anything, an end or a ledge.
To the sea, to the sea! The indomitable sea.
Where dolphins glide by with glorious glee,
And whales breach that hor’zontal wall
With vertical ‘ruptions and sweet mating calls.
But somewhere, there! you're waiting still,
Beyond that edge of sight until
Some place you found, separate from me
With nothing between us, but the sea.
O the sea, O the sea! That unconquerable sea.
To long have I wandered in search of thee.
The whales are singing of the coming event;
That of my soon and assured advent.
A day, a week, a month of years
My journey unknown to a thousand seers.
My ship has taken its toils and tolls,
But this heart's passion hasn't lulled.
The sea, the sea! The incredible sea,
A difficult medium, fair 's it may be.
Taken by it, taken from you,
Soon to return 'f God's grace be true.
Night falls again, to the heavens I glance
Hoping 'gainst all for a glimmer of chance
That my quest is closer to its final end
When your hand in mine will be the trend.
O sea, O sea! O vast, mirrored sea.
The heavens' beauty's reflected in thee.
And with the stars I traverse the waves,
My life I brave, my love to save.
Your land I sight, "Ahoy!" I cry,
I greet it with relief and I sigh,
For sooth my quest is now finé,
And porting I turn 'round to say,
My sea, my sea! My faithful sea,
Much thanks I give on this bent knee.
Though by many a trouble were we beset,
No challenge proved too much a threat.
Stepping ashore I glance all around,
And seeing you in your blue and white gown,
I break down in tears as we finally embrace,
And thank God Almighty for His great grace.
O my Love, O my Love! O my beautiful Love,
So long have I searched, my perfect dove.
At last we're together, forever to be,
Thanks to His grace and the vast, blue sea.
September 23, 2007
Life is not an RPG
Today, I had an epiphany. To preface, I will say that this is extremely embarrassing on my part and a little shameful.
Life is not like a role playing game (RPG). More specifically, a Christian's life. Yes, this was my lightning-strike-to-the-head-like realization. I caught myself thinking that if I didn't commit particular sins for such-and-such number of days, then my grace meter would recharge. Well, forgiveness and grace are not some meter that recharges after you've committed a sin. They are ever-present, but you have to receive them, accept them, and realize the wrong you've done, asking anew and thanking God for forgiveness. I hadn't been doing anything like that. I merely thought that if I waited long enough, the meter would recharge and I'd be okay in God's eyes again. Whew, what was I thinking? Whoops, sinned again, now I have to wait an indeterminate amount of days before I'm all kosher again, right? Nope, that's wrong. Well, there. For your thinking pleasure.
Life is not like a role playing game (RPG). More specifically, a Christian's life. Yes, this was my lightning-strike-to-the-head-like realization. I caught myself thinking that if I didn't commit particular sins for such-and-such number of days, then my grace meter would recharge. Well, forgiveness and grace are not some meter that recharges after you've committed a sin. They are ever-present, but you have to receive them, accept them, and realize the wrong you've done, asking anew and thanking God for forgiveness. I hadn't been doing anything like that. I merely thought that if I waited long enough, the meter would recharge and I'd be okay in God's eyes again. Whew, what was I thinking? Whoops, sinned again, now I have to wait an indeterminate amount of days before I'm all kosher again, right? Nope, that's wrong. Well, there. For your thinking pleasure.
September 19, 2007
September 18, 2007
Ocean
Waves of the ocean rush by beneath me
The horizon calls them quickly to thee.
Before me they stretch, reaching the edge
Of what could be anything, an end or a ledge.
To the sea, to the sea! The indomitable sea.
Where dolphins glide by with glorious glee,
And whales breach that hor’zontal wall
With vertical ‘ruptions and sweet mating calls.
But somewhere, there! you're waiting still,
Beyond that edge of sight until
Some place you found, separate from me
With nothing between us, but the sea.
O the sea, O the sea! That unconquerable sea.
To long have I wandered in search of thee.
The whales are singing of the coming event;
That of my soon and assured advent.
The horizon calls them quickly to thee.
Before me they stretch, reaching the edge
Of what could be anything, an end or a ledge.
To the sea, to the sea! The indomitable sea.
Where dolphins glide by with glorious glee,
And whales breach that hor’zontal wall
With vertical ‘ruptions and sweet mating calls.
But somewhere, there! you're waiting still,
Beyond that edge of sight until
Some place you found, separate from me
With nothing between us, but the sea.
O the sea, O the sea! That unconquerable sea.
To long have I wandered in search of thee.
The whales are singing of the coming event;
That of my soon and assured advent.
September 14, 2007
Blockage
No! I'm not talking about my nose, but as I write this, I'm still getting over a head cold I got on my vacation. The blockage I refer to is in my mind...yes, the mind. It is home to millions (guessing on number) of neurons all firing to keep you walking, sitting, breathing, and thinking. Unfortunately I think some neurons got fed up and went on strike. They've clustered together and are inhibiting...something artistic. I can't seem to form any words that go together in that beautiful form of expression known as poetry. It makes me angry and I'm afraid I may just pop. I just wanted you to know that something is just waiting to come forth into form, and even though it may suck...at least it'll be there. More to come...
September 11, 2007
The Garden Isle
After returning from his exploits just over 25° worth of latitude south (relative to the Earth's magnetic north pole) of the place he calls home, the intrepid explorer felt the need to bring people who knew and cared about him up to speed on his journey in the quickest possible way, so as not to bore them. Deciding then to focus on just one of the many places he visited, the journeyed man chose Kaua'i, or Kauai as the principal and only location with which to tell a story. Writing from the third person and vaguely referencing the first jokingly was only an afterthought...to him.
Begin entry:
It began like any other day, but somehow, he knew this day would be different. For one, it wasn't as humid as the other islands. This one must be special, and indeed it was, for this was the Garden Isle, the oldest of the eight. Home to wild chickens, wild pigs, and wild cats (kitty cats, not wildcats). Scenes from Six Days Seven Nights and Jurassic Park, among others, were filmed here for the mountainous jungle country rampant throughout the land. A paradise in the traveler's opinion.
Disembarking his extravagant ship, the brave explorer, along with his select kindred, traversed the outer markets and too'rist traps to find the adventure awaiting them; a trip down a two mile, water filled, hand dug trench, 70% of which is in dark, twisting tunnels. Originally dug to bring water down the mountain to irrigate sugarcane fields, the trench is now used as an attraction for visitors to get a little history, stay cool, and enjoy the scenery as only a moving body of water can give.
The inner tube used as the transport device down the channel, was large and encumbering. Armed with only a helmet-light and gloves, the tube would bounce off the rock walls as you lazily drifted down this man-made river. Into dark foreboding tunnels and briefly back into lush jungle shrubberies before diving into another tunnel; this was the path the river took. His party consisted of two guides that were both amusing and informative with an added bonus that they were also quite personable. Yes, indeed, it was a journey that the traveler will not soon forget.
The completion of the traversement involved a lunch that had been prepared for the travelers and a swimming hole, complete with small waterfall. The intrepid man was pleased. Small wild cats even appeared, as if Ace Ventura: Pet Detective had sat with the group of explorers. The adorableness of the situation was not lost on our protagonist. Returning to his craft, our brave explorer reflected, and decided that this island was indeed...perfect.
Begin entry:
It began like any other day, but somehow, he knew this day would be different. For one, it wasn't as humid as the other islands. This one must be special, and indeed it was, for this was the Garden Isle, the oldest of the eight. Home to wild chickens, wild pigs, and wild cats (kitty cats, not wildcats). Scenes from Six Days Seven Nights and Jurassic Park, among others, were filmed here for the mountainous jungle country rampant throughout the land. A paradise in the traveler's opinion.
Disembarking his extravagant ship, the brave explorer, along with his select kindred, traversed the outer markets and too'rist traps to find the adventure awaiting them; a trip down a two mile, water filled, hand dug trench, 70% of which is in dark, twisting tunnels. Originally dug to bring water down the mountain to irrigate sugarcane fields, the trench is now used as an attraction for visitors to get a little history, stay cool, and enjoy the scenery as only a moving body of water can give.
The inner tube used as the transport device down the channel, was large and encumbering. Armed with only a helmet-light and gloves, the tube would bounce off the rock walls as you lazily drifted down this man-made river. Into dark foreboding tunnels and briefly back into lush jungle shrubberies before diving into another tunnel; this was the path the river took. His party consisted of two guides that were both amusing and informative with an added bonus that they were also quite personable. Yes, indeed, it was a journey that the traveler will not soon forget.
The completion of the traversement involved a lunch that had been prepared for the travelers and a swimming hole, complete with small waterfall. The intrepid man was pleased. Small wild cats even appeared, as if Ace Ventura: Pet Detective had sat with the group of explorers. The adorableness of the situation was not lost on our protagonist. Returning to his craft, our brave explorer reflected, and decided that this island was indeed...perfect.
August 29, 2007
Summer Saga Pt. 4
Well, so it's been a while, and in the way of a summer saga of reading, not much has happened. After completing Vonnegut's Player Piano, I moved on to Larry Niven's Ringworld, based on the recommendation of my fine fellow friend Trev. An incredible read, one that is definitely reminiscent of Greg Bear or Gregory Benford. That is, it's heavy on the descriptive technical portions with a noticeable different style of writing in regards to character and plot development. I liked it. The concept of being on a "world" that is a million miles wide and circles all the way around a star at a distance of 90+ million miles makes for great food for the imagination. I was going to continue the series (I think there are three more books), but I had bought a book that I'd owned in the past, and had never made it through, and I wanted to start it.
I speak of Quicksilver, by Neal Stephenson; his first book in the Baroque Cycle which is a historical fiction set in three large volumes of over a 1000 pages each. How can you pass that up? Well, I began it with a fervor to make it through, knowing full well that in the past, I'd only made it to the 100th page or so before wanting to read something else. Something was holding me back but I didn't know what. I still don't know, but I've petered out already. I've been captured by a MMORPG, which hasn't let go yet, causing my reading to suffer. I'm going on vacation this Friday, though, so I'll have plenty of time to catch up on my reading.
Life Goal Update: Still working on it.
I speak of Quicksilver, by Neal Stephenson; his first book in the Baroque Cycle which is a historical fiction set in three large volumes of over a 1000 pages each. How can you pass that up? Well, I began it with a fervor to make it through, knowing full well that in the past, I'd only made it to the 100th page or so before wanting to read something else. Something was holding me back but I didn't know what. I still don't know, but I've petered out already. I've been captured by a MMORPG, which hasn't let go yet, causing my reading to suffer. I'm going on vacation this Friday, though, so I'll have plenty of time to catch up on my reading.
Life Goal Update: Still working on it.
August 13, 2007
Passerby
Darkness full of purity
shines from 'finity.
Through coldest night
Of deepest hue,
Bespeckled pinpricks
cloud my view.
There, sights abound,
Like loose night mares;
To travel there?
Bah! Who would dare?
Trapped in endless wells,
It saunters into sight
Of form and composition
That's not in all a blight.
'Twixt sun and space,
Moon and star,
Behold! It's tail strewn,
Like cracks in icy ponds
Of bright, and whitest blue.
The dark will flee
And light will come
It's path is plain to see;
Why did you come?
To hear its plea?
It's known to only some.
"With e'ry pass I lose myself,"
It wails most desperately.
"No escape unless I run
Into some poor body."
Passing by, it moves along,
I watch it for a while.
Withdrawn I go to look again,
Too late, the time is dawn.
shines from 'finity.
Through coldest night
Of deepest hue,
Bespeckled pinpricks
cloud my view.
There, sights abound,
Like loose night mares;
To travel there?
Bah! Who would dare?
Trapped in endless wells,
It saunters into sight
Of form and composition
That's not in all a blight.
'Twixt sun and space,
Moon and star,
Behold! It's tail strewn,
Like cracks in icy ponds
Of bright, and whitest blue.
The dark will flee
And light will come
It's path is plain to see;
Why did you come?
To hear its plea?
It's known to only some.
"With e'ry pass I lose myself,"
It wails most desperately.
"No escape unless I run
Into some poor body."
Passing by, it moves along,
I watch it for a while.
Withdrawn I go to look again,
Too late, the time is dawn.
August 10, 2007
Jumbled Thought
If terhe is atninyhg I've lrneaed form my hamun erxeenecpis and htsrioy in gnreael, it's taht plpeoe hvae to do semintohg teslehmevs boerfe tyeh'll tlury urantdesnd. Taht, and taht ppleoe hvae an ucnnany alibtiy to poucrde good berveaegs, thguoh the frmoer is mroe porfunod.
If you wnat to konw waht a book is lkie, no aunomt of pploee tlielng you auobt it can paprere you for wehn you aluatcly raed the book. The smae is ture of food; it dseon't awyals tstae lkie waht you eecxpt. Joreynus and jbos, avnuedetrrs and aritnahcss; teyh're ntihong lkie waht you ecpxet and noihtng lkie waht ppeole try to tlel you auobt tehm brefnaheod. For taht is waht mkeas lfie wrtoh linvig. The erixpecnee. The act of gnianig the klwedonge and exrieencpe frtahnisd is by far a difennig apscet of hmnautiy. God gvein fere wlil.
Adtoaldiinly, in csae you hdan't ntcoied, yuo've been raidneg tihs wtih ervey wrod oevr fuor ltretes msplesiled. How auobt taht?
If you wnat to konw waht a book is lkie, no aunomt of pploee tlielng you auobt it can paprere you for wehn you aluatcly raed the book. The smae is ture of food; it dseon't awyals tstae lkie waht you eecxpt. Joreynus and jbos, avnuedetrrs and aritnahcss; teyh're ntihong lkie waht you ecpxet and noihtng lkie waht ppeole try to tlel you auobt tehm brefnaheod. For taht is waht mkeas lfie wrtoh linvig. The erixpecnee. The act of gnianig the klwedonge and exrieencpe frtahnisd is by far a difennig apscet of hmnautiy. God gvein fere wlil.
Adtoaldiinly, in csae you hdan't ntcoied, yuo've been raidneg tihs wtih ervey wrod oevr fuor ltretes msplesiled. How auobt taht?
August 6, 2007
Wanderer
O Wandering soul, with sorrowed eyes,
Filled with the hope of mystery solved,
But still cast down from fate and from lies,
With no foretelling a time resolved.
What end is it that drives you to wander
With back bent low and voice a murmur.
You toil on roads that cause you to ponder,
Life's mysterious ebbs and fervors.
Separate's your lot? More can you see,
Or so some might say if they would but look.
You're not to be stuck, like the ground to the tree
But to wander free, by hook or by crook.
How can I help or what gift could I send?
Fitting in is the plant that I seed.
But you help me; it's how you say friend,
A time of trouble, you meet my need.
Now you've moved on and still I've wondered
How you changed me and not the other.
To the road you turned with eyes 'gain sundered
With bent back still; a wandering brother.
Filled with the hope of mystery solved,
But still cast down from fate and from lies,
With no foretelling a time resolved.
What end is it that drives you to wander
With back bent low and voice a murmur.
You toil on roads that cause you to ponder,
Life's mysterious ebbs and fervors.
Separate's your lot? More can you see,
Or so some might say if they would but look.
You're not to be stuck, like the ground to the tree
But to wander free, by hook or by crook.
How can I help or what gift could I send?
Fitting in is the plant that I seed.
But you help me; it's how you say friend,
A time of trouble, you meet my need.
Now you've moved on and still I've wondered
How you changed me and not the other.
To the road you turned with eyes 'gain sundered
With bent back still; a wandering brother.
August 3, 2007
Satiated
LORD have mercy! I've had a thorn in my side the size of a New England clam as of late; a thorn that screams at me to write something (quite literally, and therefore, verbally). It's akin to an insatiable desire for turkey on the fourth Thursday of November, ham on the 25th of December, green Guinness on St Patty's Day, and endless kisses and romantic schmoozing on February 14th. How does one go about relieving these covetous wants and needs? They act on them! Yes! Go out and gobble that gobbler, pork out on that ham, drown the desire in an Irish drink, and love your love with an unending love! In my case, though, write, and write about whatever. Here I pluck the thorn out.
In the weeks leading up to my current summer reading blockade, I've been feeling like I should/could write a short story. Something fantasy based or simple in it's telling; sort of a dog and his boy kind of story, but not. I don't know if the style I would use in a narrative would be worth reading or comparable to some of my favorite authors (I, of course, speak of Vonnegut, Lawhead, Crichton, and Adams [or, for the more classical, Lewis, Orwell, Hugo, and Dickens]), but I think I could make an interesting story. The question then becomes, how long should it be? Or more importantly, who would read it?
I'm naturally a shy person and not outgoing except at need. A short story, to be read in the court of public opinion (my core of friends), falls most assuredly in the outgoing category. Recently, I was joking with Trev and Amanda, and perhaps others or not the former two at all, regarding having a game of sorts in regards to writing. We would take a title, something vague yet specific, and all write our own short stories. Something brief, like 3 or 4 pages but no more than 5. I think it's a wonderful idea and I'd like to inquire of my friends if they'd like to try it out in our free times. Thoughts? (Note: this is the shy guy's way of trying to not prominently display his work, but hiding it amongst others, and still getting attention).
P.S. The 22° halo pictured in the previous blog is one of the most beautiful, naturally occurring phenomena to me. It's caused by hexagonal ice crystals in the atmosphere reflecting light and typically occur with cirrus clouds. I want to get married during one.
In the weeks leading up to my current summer reading blockade, I've been feeling like I should/could write a short story. Something fantasy based or simple in it's telling; sort of a dog and his boy kind of story, but not. I don't know if the style I would use in a narrative would be worth reading or comparable to some of my favorite authors (I, of course, speak of Vonnegut, Lawhead, Crichton, and Adams [or, for the more classical, Lewis, Orwell, Hugo, and Dickens]), but I think I could make an interesting story. The question then becomes, how long should it be? Or more importantly, who would read it?
I'm naturally a shy person and not outgoing except at need. A short story, to be read in the court of public opinion (my core of friends), falls most assuredly in the outgoing category. Recently, I was joking with Trev and Amanda, and perhaps others or not the former two at all, regarding having a game of sorts in regards to writing. We would take a title, something vague yet specific, and all write our own short stories. Something brief, like 3 or 4 pages but no more than 5. I think it's a wonderful idea and I'd like to inquire of my friends if they'd like to try it out in our free times. Thoughts? (Note: this is the shy guy's way of trying to not prominently display his work, but hiding it amongst others, and still getting attention).
P.S. The 22° halo pictured in the previous blog is one of the most beautiful, naturally occurring phenomena to me. It's caused by hexagonal ice crystals in the atmosphere reflecting light and typically occur with cirrus clouds. I want to get married during one.
August 1, 2007
July 28, 2007
Summer Saga Pt. 3
Times are grim. Like a rocket that's used up all its fuel before reaching its target, I feel I've exhausted myself in my summer reading. I'm not sure how it happened, but I'm having trouble bringing myself to sit down, relax, and just waste time (if waste it is) reading. Perhaps it's due to Les Miserables, which I finished about two weeks ago. Perhaps it's due to the book I started next, Catch-22, not being what I expected and resulting in a slight let-down. Or perhaps it's simply a phase that I've entered; one where knowledge, relaxation, and enjoyment aren't welcome. I don't know.
Catch-22, while being a term used by myself at least once a week, was to be a new read for me, and I began it shortly after I finished Les Miserables. I confess, though, that I did fit Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency in before I started Heller's book. Catch-22 is an amusing read, as it reminds me of British humor, but without the accent. The dialogue between characters is hilarious and totally outrageous in that it makes no sense, and I like that. The problem I'm having, I believe, stems from the intellectual and all-encompassing literary high I was on from Les Mis. Catch-22 doesn't seem to be going anywhere, and I've decided I don't like it for that reason. I'm not saying it isn't a literary masterpiece, but it just isn't hitting the spot at the moment. I put it aside, but rest assured, I will finish it someday soon. I do not leave books unfinished as it is against my nature to leave anything half done. The bookmark is still in the book.
The summer saga continues then with Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut, my longtime friend and advisor (of course, he doesn't know that and unfortunately, now, won't ever know). Player Piano was his first novel and I can tell that the style is definitely Vonnegut, but has a sense of being different from his later works. It reminds me of a conversation I was having with Utz (also a longtime friend and advisor, and he knows it). We were driving and listening to the classical radio station and he was endeavouring to determine the period the work was from. Little motifs the composer placed in the music could be all you need to tell Baroque from Classical, or Romantic. In the same way, you can see subtle differences in writing style or content of one author from book to book. Vonnegut is one of my favorite authors and it's very cool, to use a ridiculously simple phrase, to see that difference. I highly recommend him.
Catch-22, while being a term used by myself at least once a week, was to be a new read for me, and I began it shortly after I finished Les Miserables. I confess, though, that I did fit Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency in before I started Heller's book. Catch-22 is an amusing read, as it reminds me of British humor, but without the accent. The dialogue between characters is hilarious and totally outrageous in that it makes no sense, and I like that. The problem I'm having, I believe, stems from the intellectual and all-encompassing literary high I was on from Les Mis. Catch-22 doesn't seem to be going anywhere, and I've decided I don't like it for that reason. I'm not saying it isn't a literary masterpiece, but it just isn't hitting the spot at the moment. I put it aside, but rest assured, I will finish it someday soon. I do not leave books unfinished as it is against my nature to leave anything half done. The bookmark is still in the book.
The summer saga continues then with Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut, my longtime friend and advisor (of course, he doesn't know that and unfortunately, now, won't ever know). Player Piano was his first novel and I can tell that the style is definitely Vonnegut, but has a sense of being different from his later works. It reminds me of a conversation I was having with Utz (also a longtime friend and advisor, and he knows it). We were driving and listening to the classical radio station and he was endeavouring to determine the period the work was from. Little motifs the composer placed in the music could be all you need to tell Baroque from Classical, or Romantic. In the same way, you can see subtle differences in writing style or content of one author from book to book. Vonnegut is one of my favorite authors and it's very cool, to use a ridiculously simple phrase, to see that difference. I highly recommend him.
July 26, 2007
Mind Fog
I choose a place to sit and think
And wander in my mind.
To be alone with no one else
All things are to the hind.
My head is full of thoughts and cares
That rain like cats and dogs
Shoving, sifting, sieving, straining,
Akin to winter's fog.
To hone the mind and calm the soul,
To relax and be set free;
When in this place a taxing thought
Relief is hard to see.
I wait and like the waves on the beach,
My thoughts, they're briefly fractured.
Though gaily through my mind they flew,
Their wings are now all tattered.
And wander in my mind.
To be alone with no one else
All things are to the hind.
My head is full of thoughts and cares
That rain like cats and dogs
Shoving, sifting, sieving, straining,
Akin to winter's fog.
To hone the mind and calm the soul,
To relax and be set free;
When in this place a taxing thought
Relief is hard to see.
I wait and like the waves on the beach,
My thoughts, they're briefly fractured.
Though gaily through my mind they flew,
Their wings are now all tattered.
July 23, 2007
Labyrinthine
Have you ever had one of those moments where your mind begins fathoming so many topics at once, that time seems to slow? A moment that lasts for several moments, even a gross amount of moments? It's like having one of those garden labyrinths suddenly springing to life inside my mind. I become lost in a tangled trough of trepidation that actually leads to one conclusion, but through multiple paths. They happen frequently to me as of late.I used to attribute it to daydreaming, but since I wasn't doing anything exciting, like blowing cars up with my mind or flying a really sweet fighter plane, I decided it wasn't daydreaming. I was examining some fact, instance, or event from different angles, calling on past experiences or knowledge of history to further understand the one item I was analyzing. It wasn't quite unlike Victor Hugo in Les Mis - the way he would tangent on some small item of interest that would turn out to change the whole course of events later on. Is that impressive? Who knows? Most people think I'm just zoned out, not listening. Half the time, my thoughts are on something that, in my intense analytical deconstruction, leads me to a very depressing train depot of conclusions. I've learned to not log or record those conclusions. The other times, it's refreshing to be able to come at something from different sides and come to a reasonable decision that I won't regret later.
I'm not sure yet if this is the ultimate way to think, but it seems much more efficient than just having a problem presented to you and guessing, or going with your gut. I'm not saying you can't go with your gut, but there should be some process by which you conclude your gut has the right course of action. Most people these days, in my opinion, don't look before they leap, and people like that die! (metaphysically speaking). You don't even have to do one of these extreme deconstructions, but just use your frakin' head (pardon my BSG language) and common sense. A pity that common sense is not so common, as Voltaire would put it.
July 20, 2007
Clarification
Firstly, a quick aside (knowing full well that I haven't even started writing yet and therefore couldn't possibly have an aside to go off to just yet, but you know what, roll with it. Think of it as a block of written words that have all been indented together, such that you think them very important and imposing). I do not, I believe, have a swollen ego. I like to have friends and don't mind being the topic of conversation, though I fake being upset about it (at times). Among other things, I don't think about myself either, nor have aspirations at being somebody completely famous and important. All that to say, I do not like blogging. I really couldn't care less if anybody actually reads what I write or go to links I think might interest people. It doesn't matter. You could hand me a flaming bucket of sour kraut and I will act as interested in that as I do with blogging. I do however, have an intense desire to write, and to put it somewhere where I can easily access it and have other people read it if I so choose to make them aware of the location. I thought it very important to clear that up. Now back to the beginning of the story.
Woe! Woe to the designer of Woodinville-Redmond Road and 127th Place NE. The intersection that is from, leads to, and looks remarkable similar to hell can be found there. May flaming coals be heaped upon his head with no other provocation than for simply thinking of this intersection, let alone actually allowing its implementation. It's no wonder that so many traffikitus boredus terminatus (death from sitting bored in traffic) cases are found near here. No doubt the city, county, and state have already hired the best lawyers to cast blame on some naturally occurring flora or fauna that abound only at that conjoining of two roads. Should we sit by idling or should we rev the engines of change and demand justice?! I for one will no longer just sit and watch the seconds of my life tick away whilst screeching brakes, obscene bus waiters, topless old men joggers, snob nosed bicyclists, and the same old billboards cacaphonize into a hideous din all around me. I just won't.
Woe! Woe to the designer of Woodinville-Redmond Road and 127th Place NE. The intersection that is from, leads to, and looks remarkable similar to hell can be found there. May flaming coals be heaped upon his head with no other provocation than for simply thinking of this intersection, let alone actually allowing its implementation. It's no wonder that so many traffikitus boredus terminatus (death from sitting bored in traffic) cases are found near here. No doubt the city, county, and state have already hired the best lawyers to cast blame on some naturally occurring flora or fauna that abound only at that conjoining of two roads. Should we sit by idling or should we rev the engines of change and demand justice?! I for one will no longer just sit and watch the seconds of my life tick away whilst screeching brakes, obscene bus waiters, topless old men joggers, snob nosed bicyclists, and the same old billboards cacaphonize into a hideous din all around me. I just won't.
July 17, 2007
Inexpressible
There is something indescribably satisfying about completing a 1463 page classic novel in 16 days; a novel by which your entire range of emotions was not merely placated, but was accosted right and left by the most heinous of extremes. Les Miserables has left me with impressions and emotional memories that I believe I will not soon forget. On the one hand, there was the misery (hence the name) that was indigenous to almost every major character. Victor Hugo did a remarkable job of describing the totality of sorrow that a person could endure, which in fact was the result of the love of one or more persons. To read about love leading to such sadness for the one who's loving...it goes beyond my ability to comprehend. It's the ultimate sacrifice; to give up your existence (but continue to live) so that another can have a normal life. Words fail me.
Then there was the happiness, which I'll be honest, I was surprised to read about. I thought the entire book would be about sad people; you can't have sad without happy, though. Hugo did an incredible job at describing the pure joy and ecstasy inherent to certain moments. I found myself almost weeping, well crying, well tearing up, at both the sorrowful and joyful events. This is probably one of only two books that has ever moved me to the point of actual tearing up, I don't mind telling you. Unfortunately, I can't name the other one, but that's beside the point.
It's 12:38a on Tuesday, June 17, 2007, and I didn't want to wait until morning to write my first impressions upon completion. I may have to read it again in just a few months. That's how incredible it is to me. Welcome to the book at the top of my list. More to follow.
Then there was the happiness, which I'll be honest, I was surprised to read about. I thought the entire book would be about sad people; you can't have sad without happy, though. Hugo did an incredible job at describing the pure joy and ecstasy inherent to certain moments. I found myself almost weeping, well crying, well tearing up, at both the sorrowful and joyful events. This is probably one of only two books that has ever moved me to the point of actual tearing up, I don't mind telling you. Unfortunately, I can't name the other one, but that's beside the point.
It's 12:38a on Tuesday, June 17, 2007, and I didn't want to wait until morning to write my first impressions upon completion. I may have to read it again in just a few months. That's how incredible it is to me. Welcome to the book at the top of my list. More to follow.
July 16, 2007
Summer Saga Pt. 2
Well Gents and Ladies, I've made it beyond the 1100 page mark in Les Mis and it feels phenomenal. I'm on the final part of the book, the one entitled Jean Valjean. I'm really excited to find out how it's going to end. So far, a riot has started and we just finished following the exploits of a barricade that had been established. It was riotous, to say the least.
What's next you ask? Well, there are several options.
Player Piano - Kurt Vonnegut
Neverwhere - Neil Griman
Jupiter - Ben Bova
Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency - Douglas Adams
What do you care what other people think? - Richard Feynman
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
All of these will of course be read. It's simply a matter of choosing in what order to read them. The saga will continue, don't worry.
What's next you ask? Well, there are several options.
Player Piano - Kurt Vonnegut
Neverwhere - Neil Griman
Jupiter - Ben Bova
Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency - Douglas Adams
What do you care what other people think? - Richard Feynman
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
All of these will of course be read. It's simply a matter of choosing in what order to read them. The saga will continue, don't worry.
July 14, 2007
Untitled
Oh! What ache torments the soul;
The soul that is the backbone to living.
The pain from sorrow,
crippling; absolutely.
Can it be undone?
Why does it exist?
The need; the desire;
the want; the wish?
What remedy prescribed?
Could it be destiny; to live
in this throe?
The soul that is the backbone to living.
The pain from sorrow,
crippling; absolutely.
Can it be undone?
Why does it exist?
The need; the desire;
the want; the wish?
The most terrible of blows
A thousand times a day
What antidote would cure?What remedy prescribed?
Could it be destiny; to live
in this throe?
To never know?
Reflections
Well, I'm here at the Lyons' Den, A Coffee Shoppe. There is no air conditioning here, it's slightly muggy and warm outside, my favorite seat is taken by some foreign exchange students, I'm taking my first draught of an iced americano (no room), I'm about to start working on the powerpoint for a church and I'm feelin' good.
Folks, there's nothing that screams introspective opportunities, quiet reflection, and plain old good times like an independent coffee shop, or shoppe. I can't tell you how glad I am that it is Friday and that I can spend my Friday evening alone; working, reading or even studying. Would I choose to have companionship? Yes, I would even welcome it/he/she with open arms, talk with it/them, and listen to its/their concerns and woes. But...there would have to come the time when you do what you came to this place to do. I didn't originally plan to come here alone, but fate has seemed to say that that is the way it's going to be. Do I feel irked? Not at all.
Let this be a lesson to myself in the future and to anyone that ever gazes upon these words. Do what you planned to do in the place that you planned to do it. All other activities serve only to augment that which you planned to do. Do or do not; there is no try. Yoda. Good man.
Folks, there's nothing that screams introspective opportunities, quiet reflection, and plain old good times like an independent coffee shop, or shoppe. I can't tell you how glad I am that it is Friday and that I can spend my Friday evening alone; working, reading or even studying. Would I choose to have companionship? Yes, I would even welcome it/he/she with open arms, talk with it/them, and listen to its/their concerns and woes. But...there would have to come the time when you do what you came to this place to do. I didn't originally plan to come here alone, but fate has seemed to say that that is the way it's going to be. Do I feel irked? Not at all.
Let this be a lesson to myself in the future and to anyone that ever gazes upon these words. Do what you planned to do in the place that you planned to do it. All other activities serve only to augment that which you planned to do. Do or do not; there is no try. Yoda. Good man.
July 12, 2007
Erudite Conflagrations
I moved from Sacramento, CA for one simple purpose: to pursue my life goals. Sounds like a cheap reason? It probably is but that doesn't mean it's not true. Double negatives, btw, are a strong firmament on which I build my prose. I find them ridiculous and though they may be frowned upon, I find them a refreshing moniker for myself. A synecdoche if you will; the part representing the whole. Back to life goals. I moved for several distinct and valid reasons (well, valid to me).
1. To go to school for engineering at UW (since translated [math usage] to physics).
2. To room with somebody I knew (trevor, who went and got himself married, bless his heart).
3. To avoid a disastrous summer of centenarian degree days.
Today was 101° in Woodinville, WA where I work. I do not approve of this weather and therefore having complained about it, I will now think happier thoughts and pray that it's not like this tomorrow.
Life goal update: it's going well.
1. To go to school for engineering at UW (since translated [math usage] to physics).
2. To room with somebody I knew (trevor, who went and got himself married, bless his heart).
3. To avoid a disastrous summer of centenarian degree days.
Today was 101° in Woodinville, WA where I work. I do not approve of this weather and therefore having complained about it, I will now think happier thoughts and pray that it's not like this tomorrow.
Life goal update: it's going well.
July 11, 2007
Summer Saga Pt. 1
I'm reading Les Miserables this summer, on the recommendation from a very nice barista I happened to talk to at the Lyon's Den coffee den (redundancy allowed) in Bothell. I had been reading (and have since finished [that night in fact]) The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. A marvelous book that has a fantastic ending (even if you know it) and therefore should be read all the way through, regardless of how you feel during the book.
Anyway, this pleasant barista inquired as to what I was reading and I said,
"The Picture of Dorian Gray," to which she replied,
"I've always wanted to read that. Have you read Les Mis?"
Unfortunately, I had to say no, it had never really peaked my interest. NOT UNTIL NOW! Anyway, it would be wrong for me to say that I wasn't a little intrigued by this girl who was clearly learned in literature, but regardless, I went and bought the book the first chance I got and am now over 500 pages into it. I've completed the first two primary book sections and they were amazing.
I'm well on my way to declaring this one of the best books ever. It may very well reach my top 5, at the least my top 10. Maybe later I'll actually think about what my top 10 favorite books are and will post them here. Obviously, as I read more, the list may change.
Anyway, this pleasant barista inquired as to what I was reading and I said,
"The Picture of Dorian Gray," to which she replied,
"I've always wanted to read that. Have you read Les Mis?"
Unfortunately, I had to say no, it had never really peaked my interest. NOT UNTIL NOW! Anyway, it would be wrong for me to say that I wasn't a little intrigued by this girl who was clearly learned in literature, but regardless, I went and bought the book the first chance I got and am now over 500 pages into it. I've completed the first two primary book sections and they were amazing.
I'm well on my way to declaring this one of the best books ever. It may very well reach my top 5, at the least my top 10. Maybe later I'll actually think about what my top 10 favorite books are and will post them here. Obviously, as I read more, the list may change.
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