| A moment's reflection |
[Aug. 10th, 2009|11:51 pm] |
Earlier today I was talking with coworkers about the awkwardness of facebook. The way that you always seem to get a friend request from someone you knew 10 years ago, and haven't talked to in all that time due to total mutual lack of interest. And it occurred to me that I've always been on the receiving end, always been the one wondering "If I don't friend that person, will they be offended? If I do, will I actually have to talk to him?" You know. The Awkward.
So I decided that just once I would *be* the awkward. Almost instantaneously I knew the perfect target- My ex from about 5-6 years-and-change ago. We didn't part on bad terms or anything, but she was always very traditional about relationships (specifically about the dysfunctional traits that should be present in both the male and female according to stereotype) right down to the "conversation post-relationship should always be awkward and uncomfortable" rule.
Didn't find her. Curse the heavens! If my girlfriend were of a significantly less awesome caliber, I suspect she would arch an eyebrow in suspicion at me trying to look up an old flame on facebook.
I can only say that there are few people I would be comfortable making feel awkward, and since she was always so committed to it, it fit an ethical loophole on the matter. :D
Anyway, the moment of reflection of this post isn't about her. Really what I'm trying to say is that in skimming her old blog for a last name, I came across reference to an event I didn't remember, so I tried to look it up in my blog, at which point I started reading old posts of mine from around that time period (circa 2K3), and it occurred to me that relative to then-me, I have my life relatively together.
That's strange for me. Not to have my life not teetering on the brink of insanity (well, sort of), but to realize it. It's normal for people, actually. When was the last time you thought to yourself, "I'm not currently on fire" or "A jet engine has not randomly crashed through my ceiling, hooray!" ? You don't, because unless it's happening, that shit just doesn't occur to you.
This is the paragraph that brought it home for me, at a key moment where I was just *barely* starting to pull out of what my life had briefly become, toward what it actually could be:
"Later that night, another random greek tradition, burning the Christmas tree. Burning branches of the tree is supposed to bring good energy to the new year, and erase bad energy from the old one. Most of my branch burning was for the old year. I tossed one in for the month I spent in a chemical fog. One for living with a guy who thinks waking me up at 1 in the morning with a 12 gauge shotgun is a really funny joke. Another couple branches for my classes, one for the duo's quest for my soul. And I watched all my bitterness flare up in a blaze of fire, and then just go up in smoke, floating amongst the burning ashes up into the sky, out of my life forever.
I think I'm getting a handle on life. So I made an anti new years resolution. I resolved not to change a thing." |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 10th, 2009|11:50 pm] |
According to wakoopa, that weird computer-stalker that lets you share how you roll, software-wise, with the internets... my pet project is the 447th most popular windows app in use.
That's kind of ridiculous. As much as I'd love to revel in my own badassery, the simple truth of the matter is that there's no earthly way that only 446 apps in the entire windows universe get more action than Migratr. Of all the IM clients, zip utilities, web browsers, file sharers, antivirus, spyware protection, multimedia viewing/editing software... Holy crap. I could probably *name* 500 apps. I'd get to at least 200 without having to peek at my start menu.
What I'm trying to say is this. Wakoopa is wrong. I'm humble enough to know that there's no way I rank that high, but narcissistic enough to want to know where that number really is. As such I demand a recount, and I won't accept a placement anywhere in the top thousand. |
|
|
| Cheating |
[Jan. 2nd, 2009|11:43 am] |
Just had a smoke. Oh man, nicotine high. Body sluggish, slightly nauseous.
Hoping that recording my relapses, thus shaming myself publicly, will provide extra incentive to resist in the future.
Didn't have one all of yesterday, meaning I actually pulled off a full 24-hour-and-change-period. Very promising.
I'd forgotten what it was like. Distinct, cyclic, tangible pangs of almost overwhelming <i>need</i>, over time, slowly giving way to a more constant, subdued, mournful yearning. Singular relapses carry a powerful, psychologically difficult combination of satisfaction and guilt.
The lower-left pocket of my cargo shorts has been partitioned as a Quit Kit. 3 packs of gum, a stressball, and tea tree toothpicks. The stressball is currently sitting on my desk, and every now and then I notice that I'm already holding it, squeezing it, tossing it back and forth forcefully between my hands.
I know I can do this, I just wish I didn't have to. I tend to hold to the philosophy that the journey is more important than the destination. Quitting nicotine (and I imagine, any physically addictive substance) is an exception. The journey blows. It's not satisfying, I don't learn anything from it, I'm not a better person for it. It's just one long, drawn-out exercise in feeling tense and unhappy. I don't feel like it's making me a better person. The destination is, basically, not having to feel like this anymore. |
|
|
| Continuing to quit. Or, "Not quitting quitting." |
[Dec. 30th, 2008|04:19 pm] |
Dec 26: 5 smokes
Dec 27: 4 smokes
Dec 28: 3 smokes
Dec 29: 3 smokes
Dec 30: 2 so far (Probably 3 smokes)
The original plan was "5,4,3,2,1". I seem to plateau at about 3, though. Can't seem to get down to 2, no matter how many violent video games I play, movies I watch, stressballs I pump, peices of gum I chew, or how much I pace across the kitchen and flex my fists and pull my hair and hate, with such burning passion, hate every good reason on earth for quitting because in my head they're just... they're just fucking there, between me and a sweet pull of relief into my lungs. Because they hate me. This is my state of mind right now. Health and longevity, escape from an ever-present chemical dependancy, I actually feel genuine animosity for all these things, because the only significant roll they play in my life today, is standing between me and my cigarettes.
That's how fucked up this is.
But it's wrong, and I keep telling myself that. Quitting's not the enemy, the goddamn cigarettes are. This was perfectly clear to me only a week ago. I felt "done", like it was time to put the whole thing behind me. The stars were aligned- Week off of work, end of the year, could have a sense of closure to the whole thing. Pretty much the only thing I have to go on right now is an epic stubborn streak and faith that before I was twitchy and edgy and tense, my judgement was sound and my reasons were valid. I can't really stop to re-evaluate my priorities right now, 'cause honestly, I don't have any today. And the ones I had a week ago will fail.
It's amazing, really; A single smoke is a small bit of plant, wrapped up in paper. And to resist the power this weird little plant-stuffed paper cylinder has over me, I need gum to chew and toothpicks and stressballs and distractions, as many distractions as I can find, and I burn through them like I'm on some sort of A.D.D overload.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm a little tense right now.
-Alex |
|
|
| So's you know |
[Dec. 23rd, 2008|01:58 pm] |
Remembered this today when discussing mixing music tracks with a co-worker.
When I talk about the years I lived with my college roommate, the bizarre, hysterical, borderline frightening stories tend to be the ones that float to the top, because those are the most vivid (either the most fun, or scarring, or, often, both). As a result, people tend not to understand why I remember those years so fondly.
In part, it's because when one of us got a wild hair, the other never judged. Having that kind of relationship with someone is rare- No talk of complications, or "I don't feel like it", or "wtf are you thinking, you effin' nutjob". This environment is incredibly conducive to enjoyable, truly random experiences on otherwise lazy days, often with something to show for it when we were done.
Like this.
-Alex |
|
|
| Domains: Yet another battleground, ravaged in the geekwars. |
[Dec. 2nd, 2008|02:38 pm] |
From: Jenny
Sent: Tuesday, December 02, 2008 12:59 PM
To: Alex Lucas
Subject: FYI...
Until further notice, Jenny is the coolest person EVER.
PS... there will be no further notice.
------------------------------------------
From: Alex
Sent: Tuesday, December 02, 2008 1:02 PM
To: Jenny Rose
Subject: RE: FYI...
In that case, I proclaim myself coolest person EVAR, with an "A", as that represents a different category.
------------------------------------------
From: Jenny
Sent: Tuesday, December 02, 2008 1:21 PM
To: Alex Lucas
Subject: RE: FYI...
So solly, not allowed...
EVAR 301 redirects to EVER. So does EVERR, EVARR, ARRR! And any other variation of the word "ever," including foreign languages.
------------------------------------------
From: Alex
Sent: Tuesday, December 02, 2008 2:34 PM
To: Jenny Rose
Subject: RE: FYI...
I beg to differ.
http://www.moniker.com/whois/whois.jsp?domain=EVARR.COM
------------------------------------------
From: Jenny
Sent: Tuesday, December 02, 2008 2:35 PM
To: Alex Lucas
Subject: RE: FYI...
Hahaha! |
|
|
| Headspace |
[Nov. 22nd, 2008|03:02 pm] |
|
My headspace today can only be characterized as Epic Fail. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 22nd, 2008|01:36 pm] |
A few days ago, I sneezed so hard it made me fart at the same time. Embarrased as all hell, I looked around to see who had noticed. EVERYONE around me was wearing headphones.
Thank god. It's not every day you get away with a snart. |
|
|
| It was bound to happen eventually. |
[Aug. 11th, 2008|04:06 pm] |
I have a few self-assigned merit badges. Among my top two:
1- I have, on multiple occasions, eaten "just one" Lays Potato Chip, whose penultimate slogan is "you can't eat just one."
2- I have never, ever engaged myself in an argument regarding best Star Trek Captain.
Today I must relinquish merit badge #2. Our IT guy was saying that he never got into DS9 because he just didn't think much of Sisko.
I said I thought Sisko had the most character development out of the lot of them, and was the first one with a human personality (Kirk was a futuristic James Bond, while Picard was, let's face it, a little bland as a person). This made him by far the best.
He looked at me in shock. "Better than Picard." He stuttered, disbelief in his eyes.
Just like that, man. It was on. |
|
|
| A new definition. |
[Jul. 31st, 2008|09:38 pm] |
Being a geek to the degree that I am, I am regularly super-mega-excited by things stereotypically attributed to geek fandom. I admit it, I match stereotype. Series finale of Avatar, Google Android, the Batman movie, building my own media pc.
Until this day, however, I don't think I fully understood the definition of "geekasm". Why today?
Because today I found out that Joss Whedon directed a 40 minute musical in the form of a supervillian's video blog, with Neil Patrick Harris has Dr. Horrible, and Nathan Fillian as his arch-nemesis, Captain Hammer.
Furthermore, you can watch it over the interwebs, for free, no login, totally legal, right effing now.
http://www.hulu.com/watch/28343/dr-horribles-sing-along-blog
Go. Experience the awesome.
-Alex |
|
|
| Off-center |
[Jul. 27th, 2008|09:04 pm] |
The laundry room in our apartment complex is right next to the "business center" (two desktops, a table a printer and a fax machine). During a load of laundry, I walked through the door to do some good old fashioned websurfing instead of walking all the way back to my apartment.
Internet was down. How does a business center function without the awesome might of the interwebs?
I played FreeCell instead. After a couple minutes I noticed two things. First, the AC was as broken as the internet and I was sweating profusely, and second, the smell.
It wasn't a bad smell. It was a familiar one. The first time I woke up at the Andrews' house after moving in (the first night I was too tired to unpack, so couch ahoy!) is a somewhat vivid memory for me. Natural sunlight streaming through the windows, 10:30 in the morning, Hot cushions and cold floors, and the smell- This odd, inviting smell of college and heat and desert. I didn't realize I'd actually attributed that smell to so many tangible, positive memories- Playing Dark Cloud II on the playstation in the living room, Halo parties in the Laundry room, Clone High Marathons and parties where people drank pucker/zima concoctions. Red Vine licorice with hot wing sauce. Making Didgeridus in the backyard with Jenny The B, communicating advanced programming concepts back and forth with Andrew Oplinger at 2 in the morning through a series of grunts and hand movements. Brittany B demanding that we go trolling for cybersex in online chatrooms together. It was the first time in my life, outside the time I spent travelling, that I remember feeling like I was where I was supposed to be, and the people around me were the ones I was supposed to be there with, that they were the reason I was supposed to be there.
I felt I needed to write about this, to share that this moment had happened for me. So I opened up the browser and was immediately reminded that the internet there was not, in fact, working.
The rest of the day kind of sucked, which is honestly a tragedy. Not that today was tragic by any means, it's just that genuinely introspective, cerebral moments aren't meant to be compromised and weighed down by a giant ball & chain that consists of nothing more extraordinary than a slightly higher-than-normal concentration of small, unremarkable, everyday lame. It dragged me so far back that I'd forgotten this moment had happened until 7 hours later, when I stepped outside for my first cigarette of the evening, and it happened again. Some of the more emotionally potent moments of my life have happened in the desert at night. Indigo almost-night sky, raw heat radiating off the pavement an hour after the sun had gone down, the smoke of my cigarette twisting around in the air, curling and grabbing at some invisible glob of nothing that always hung a foot from my face. I thought about Billy and Dave, and wondered where they were and what they were thinking about. I remembered Josha Tree and White Sands, and wandering through an abandoned nuclear bunker with Coral, andwalking to campus at night with Andy, looping through underpasses and grass fields and walkways, casually, calmly, desperately cobbling together a loose framework of a plan which, upon success, would save a friend's life. I remembered the concrete table and bench in the apartment complex I lived in 5 years ago, sitting on the table and chainsmoking, quietly panicking about the blasting range of drama-bombs that had all managed to blow up in my life at once, trying figure out if I was happy, or even on the right path to becoming so.
And now I feel off. Not depressed, mind you, just out of body, a few inches to the left. I feel like swing back and forth between two distinct states in life- Sometimes I'm living it, and sometimes I'm watching myself live it. Life's been too busy lately, too scheduled in that live-by-campbell-soup-instructions kind of way, for there to be a real sense of need to reflect, and I think a little of that is an unusual lack of moments that inspire any need to reflect upon. Okay, so there's a chance I'm a LITTLE depressed. I did the crowd thing waayy too many times (3) this week so I'm probably just suffering a little bit of burnout. Burnout is good every once in a while, though- It usually provides a little bit of perspective.
I'm honestly at a loss on how to finish this entry. I'm... I dunno. I'm done now:P
-Alex |
|
|
| First serious monsoon of the season |
[Jun. 26th, 2008|03:37 pm] |
New fun thing in life- Working somewhere with skylights, during a monsoon, listening to bohemian rhapsody.
It's chalk full of vitamin Awesome. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jun. 25th, 2008|08:35 pm] |
I'm super-jealous that Dave got a Dr. Who Pinball machine.
Also, in a new era of domestication, my roommate slash girlfriend and I have purchased a Dyson DC18 vacuum cleaner off of the latest wootoff.
It's the first time in two years that I haven't had a sneezing fit right after vacuuming happened. I looked online, the thing has a hepa filter. Which means the air is actually cleaner after vacuuming, instead of full of dust and crap that wreaks havoc with my sinuses.
As a nerd and gadget fanatic, I can't help but marvel at all the little optimizations that have gone into this device. It pivots on a ball instead of wheels, so it's easy to turn and tilt and stuff without the flat bottom ever leaving the floor. You can actually spin it 360 (I tried!). Using the wand basically amounts to pulling the handle out of the main unit. And the "cyclone technology", buzzwordy as it sounds, sends everything into a plastic canister that you can just remove and dump out, which means we never have to troll walmart in search of a compatible bag again. The feature-set and UI are so slick you'd think the thing was made by Apple.
I'm serious. If Apple made a vacuum cleaner, it'd probably be a Dyson.
Also, the first monsoon of the season is hitting today. We're at the fringe and only get a sprinkle and a tiny light show, but every now and then a bolt of lightning lights up the clouds off in the distance, and they go from black to this amazing liquid blue that reminds me of the ocean at sunset, and it kind of tweaks something inside me, like the stirrings of a long-slept inner groove. Kinda gives me the grins.
-Alex |
|
|
| When I started |
[Apr. 27th, 2008|08:51 pm] |
I pruned my buddy list.
I kind of feel like this warrants a post- Well, no. It DOESN'T warrant a post. It warrants a disclaimer as to the process behind it.
If I tend to skim past your posts, I cut you. If I don't remember who you are or how I met you (a lot of these I suspect migrated here from diaryland around the time I did), but you're just a screen name with a couple paragraphs a week, I cut you. There, I said it. Oh my god, I bet you wish you could come out and say it too.
Regarding category 2: Honestly, you probably forgot who I was too. I bet you looked at your buddy list a few times and thought about pruning, and I was at the top of the list for the exact same reason, but you didn't want to hurt my feelings. Livejournal buddy lists are like making your speed dial public. It's horrible. I want you to know my feelings won't be hurt. I understand. And the thing is, if there was a way to keep a friend without having their posts show up on your buddy list, so you could show symbolic solidarity but not have a total stranger's summer reading list show up on your friend feed, I would totally do it. But livejournal doesn't support that. And I can no longer abide it.
Ultimately I suppose the filtering mechanism came down to which people, ultimately, had intersected with, and to some degree affected, my life.
A special note: Crow, I cut you. I love you like a brother, and you're not remotely insignificant to me in any way. But your livejournal is a memo pad with the occasional actual entry. I'm not being judgemental or condescending here- You use it to remember things. Mostly I've been trained to look for bold text at the beginning of paragraphs. If it exists, it's a list of homework assignments for classes and the whole entry disappears in a stroke of "pagedown". I'll keep checking your blog regularly, but the signal-to-noise ratio doesn't work for what I want my friends page to be- A concise distillation of current events in the lives of people I care about. Just wanted you to know that we didn't stop being friends or anything. If you split off the writing from the digital checklist, I would definitely add the writing back into the feed.
As for the rest, please remember that my lj friends list is not indicative of my opinion of you. Don't worry about not getting access to my private posts- I don't use that feature.
And for god's sake, close down the browser before you go and check if you're on my friends list. I'm not that important. Seriously. You shouldn't care. Honest to God, I Don't Really Matter.
Oh yeah, and feel free to duplicate this post on your own lj, should your day of Information Overload come as mine has.
-Alex |
|
|
| Your daily dose of perspective |
[Feb. 10th, 2008|11:14 am] |
While skimming a backlog of XKCD, I came across a strip that attacked conventional wisdom. Specifically:
"You can catch more bees with honey than with vinegar." Not true. Put out a tray of honey and one of balsamic vinegar, and see for yourself.
"A watched kettle never boils." While Quantum Physics introduces the wacky notion that observing quantum behavior will actually change it, this doesn't extend all the way to boiling water. You probably knew this already."
While there's no handy turn of phrase for the next one, I was thinking about it for god-knows-what-reason, and I felt it worth mentioning.
I'm opposed to the phrase "Pissing Contest". Not that I take offense to the concept itself, but more that I feel it's connotations are inaccurate. A pissing contest (wherein two or more males wizz in the same direction and attempt to best their fellows in distance, arc, duration, and/or accuracy) is not, itself, a "Pissing Contest" (Competition to determine masculinity and establish bullshit alpha-male pecking order).
My theory is that the origination of "Pissing Contest" as a phrase pertaining to masculine competition is female in nature. Disclaimer: I don't believe every wrong statement ever uttered is wrong, or anything stupid like that. It's simply that women don't possess the anatomical prerequisites for participating in an actual pissing contest, and thus have no frame of reference- Whereas men, the vast majority of whom have participated at some point in their lives, would not draw the link between the contest itself and the alpha-male-style competition.
Regardless of origin, the pissing contest is nothing more than a bonding experience revolving around an every day mundane activity, only with the activity being elevated from "something to get out of the way" to "something to do." I myself have participated. While "Pissing Contests" are themselves stupid and useless, please stop confusing them with pissing contests. There are metaphors out there which more accurately portray the concept you're trying to convey. One popular one is "Dick measuring contest". |
|
|
| The secret to a reset. |
[Jan. 6th, 2008|09:34 pm] |
Today started out pretty shitty. It wasn't anything serious, just one of those mornings where, upon reflection, you realize that getting out of bed was a serious tactical error on your part.
In an effort to reverse my greivous mistake, around an hour after getting up, I just went back to bed. Took a short nap, woke up, and just stayed for a while. As I laid there I visualized the "reset" button on my old NES, and pictured myself pushing it. I focused on the thought, and with a deep breath, got back up.
Things were a lot better. I'm kind of jazzed- Apparently I have my own reset button!
-Alex |
|
|
| In other news |
[Jan. 2nd, 2008|08:22 pm] |
A few days ago I discovered that all verizon customers can download a "song ID" application- Go to "Get New Ringtones -> Song ID", click "Identify", and put your cellphone up to the speakers playing the song for about 10 seconds. It'll analyze and tell you what song is playing.
Pretty accurate, it's been delivering solid results so far, with only one depressing exception.
It didn't work on our dishwasher.
Here me out. Here I am, typing on my computer, when I realize that there's this really kickass gorillaz-style rhythm going on in the background. "bica-bica-PSSH-ba". It sounds so familiar, it HAS to be the mad mix of some DJ genius out there somewhere. So I put my phone on "ID" and place it atop the washer, in hopes that it'll identify the beat, and give me a song for my coding playlist. The Song ID app, sadly, could not place the tune.
Shut up. Our dishwasher's got soul.
-Alex |
|
|
| They insist on being dumb |
[Dec. 16th, 2007|06:18 pm] |
Someone recently pointed me at some info on how I could add ImageStation support to Migratr. ImageStation is Sony's online photo sharing site, and a recent addition to the deadpool (they've announced they're going out of business.) I'd like to add support for it, but I don't have an actual account with them, and they're not accepting new signups. I tried to go the "customer support" route, but I got a very "uhr, no" response from them- I kind of get the feeling they'd prefer to sell all their users to a different service (cough SHUTTERFLY cough), and letting their users find a free way out to do what they want just wouldn't be as profitable.
So I guess I'll have to pull an indie folk hero maneuver (like I tried & failed to pull off with Yahoo Photos... stupid TOS).
Therefor- If any of you have an ImageStation account, if you could hook me up with your username/pass so I have a test case for all this... I'll give you a way to get all your photos moved anywhere you want, hassle free:D My email address is callingshotgun@gmail.com.
Much appreciated.
-Alex |
|
|
| Being on campus again is weird. |
[Dec. 8th, 2007|06:17 pm] |
Today I was on campus, in McClelland Hall, to help a friend out by being in a psych experiment.
Before the experiment, standing out front with Nikki and smoking a cigarette, I was suddenly overwhelmed with memories of 5 years ago, when this building sat between my classes and my apartment, and I saw myself in a ghostly third-person fashion doing everything I did back then.
"I used to get Energy Drinks from that store right there," I pointed out to Nikki, "When I knew there were long nights ahead. See those steps? I ate a giant pretzel with plastic-tasting nacho cheese with Coral right there once, after we'd both barely made it out of our finals."
She rolled her eyes at me, as one is wont to do when forced to listen to such things. "You're not getting nostalgic on me, are you?"
"No!" I shook my head emphatically. "It's only nostalgia if you miss it."
"Not necessarily."
"If a person gets mugged on a street corner, and passes by it years later and remembers... That's not nostalgia."
She laughed. "No. That's post traumatic stress disorder."
I paused for a moment to reflect before speaking.
"You know what? Little of column A, little of column B."
-Alex |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
everwhat's journal