It's November 17, 2000 server time right now, but it's past midnight here in Sydney, Australia, so I'll log this as November 18th, Sydney time.

I recently got back from a day out involving a visit to the Sydney Intenational Motor Show and a dinner party at a friend's girlfriend's place where we celebrated his upcoming birthday and took the opportunity to wish him well as he is off to the U.S. of A soon.

The food was excellent, most of it cooked by the said friend's girlfriend (with some help in preparation from yours truly and others). The chocolate ice cream cake was heavenly. Beautiful.

Left their place after midnight. Refused offers for a ride back as I did not want to bother the friends with cars (it is a good 20 minutes drive out here) and took the train instead.

I guess the thing I want to say is that I find it weird that my ex-girlfriend is now not only not talking to me but is instead noding nodes, some of which seem to have the intent of me reading them, on Everything2 ...

Everything Day Logs
Yesterday | Tomorrow
Editor Log | Daily Evil | Dream Log

Everything Snapshot

Time: Sat, 18 Nov 2000 00:20:47 GMT
Everything server: Apache/1.3.9 (Unix) Debian/GNU mod_ssl/2.4.10 OpenSSL/0.9.4 mod_perl/1.21_03-dev

Number of nodes: 753861 (712 new since November 17, 2000)
Number of users: 20008 (34 new since November 17, 2000)
Number of links: 2596454 (13837 new since November 17, 2000)
Number of writeups: 420259 (390 new since November 17, 2000)
Number of cools: 45712 (202 new since November 17, 2000)
Number of votes: 1367319 (7957 new since November 17, 2000)
Number of hits: 22297320 (127868 new since November 17, 2000)

Node to user ratio: 37.678 nodes per user
Link to node ratio: 3.444 links per node
Link to user ratio: 129.771 links per user
Link to writeup ratio: 6.178 links per writeup
Votes to cools ratio: 29.912 votes per cool
Cools to user ratio: 2.285 cools per user
Hits to user ratio: 1114.420 hits per user

New Nodes: [Crad Kilodney] [Why people in movies sometimes hold the bow horizontally to fire an arrow] [treehouse] [the Man] [November 17, 2000] [I Want Your Sex] [Pell-mell] [taco pie] [rdrr] [charnel house] [gemutlichkeit] [translating the Kama Sutra] [Schleiffen Plan] [ninja magic] [guanxi]

Users Online (38): [Segnbora-t] [dannye] [General Wesc] [JeffMagnus] [dragoon] [tftv256] [discofever] [Shanoyu] [kamamer] [Jinmyo] [junkpile] [simonc] [achan] [Frater 219] [piq] [Psk] [Inyo] [Gone Jackal] [Brian Feldman] [lillianvalencia] [Kimonade] [mordel] [mailspd] [Prophet4] [NSA] [Dataknife] [PMD] [fatboyrafe] [Aresds] [Clone] [meta] [WildFyre] [billh] [n6] [sid] [bells] [Pasta Of Muppets] [Schmelter]

JeffMagnus node count: 4046 (0 new since November 17, 2000)
JeffMagnus experience: 9756 (13 more since November 17, 2000)
JeffMagnus experience to node ratio: 2.411 XP per node
JeffMagnus nodeshare: 0.537% (Via alternate method: 0.963%)
JeffMagnus node of the day: God

I think I got fired today, by e-mail, from my job back home. Now, I need to find a place to work over winter break. I'd like to take the time off to write, play music, etc., but I need at least $450 for December and January to pay bills and so on.

Sux.

I'm going to play my guitar now, and I'm going to do it loudly. I hope I can eventually feel better.

Well as I sit here at my computer in the front room. It is dark outside and all is still at 2:20am. I speak with my one love that is nine9. And the converstions flow from one to another like leaves in a breeze. I say the words 'I love you' and he sheds a tear for me. And I wait until the morning for when I wake up. I can return to my place, to my love. Where we can rejoin our conversation. Muttering the words of love.

2:20pm. 12 hours later and I take my dog for a walk. As I walk down the road, not one car drives past to break the silence. I walk past the house where the jack russels live. They stay silent and watch me wander by, staying silent, saving their words for another day.
I climb into the field, the wind blows cool onto my face, running through my hair. As I walk past the trees, they breathe in and out as the wind dances between the branches. The leaves clinging on, yet wanting to be released to be free.
I Throw my frisbee for my dog as far as I can so that I can be alone once again. The wind carrying it in its breeze, yet he returns to my side. I look up to the sky to see the clouds moving across toward the horizon. I walk slow, every step I take, savouring the moment.

Its like everywhere knows I am falling in love

Lisa's last day at work today. She gave me a star-shaped pin:
This Little Star
Is for you to wear
To remind you that
I will always care!

If you are ever feeling lonely
Or a little blue
Look up to the stars
And know
I am thinking of you!

It was really sweet and most thoughtful of her. I know she enjoyed working for me, but it was time for change in her life. I bid her well in her new job. I gave her a nice bunch of minature roses today.

These have been very trying days for me: the two people I most depend on are gone.

History of the world: 11/18/XX

Events:
Birthdays:

Paxil log: day 4;
So I have been on paxil now for 4 days. It seems to have SOME effect on me. I've noticed several things:
  • Every time I take a pill I gotta shit about 20-30 minutes later.
  • People who used to really annoy me are now just a droneing background noise.
  • The sky is much bluer, really... I thought at first it was maybe just my imagination, but when I look around, colors really do seem a bit more vivid, weird.
  • I still get all anxious and panicky around people I dont know, but thinking about it is easier.
  • I can now seem to trigger mild panic attacks when I am in a situation where I think I should have one, but I dont, and I start thinking about it.
  • I sleep _MUCH_ better, and wake up easier.
There's more, but that's mostly it. It seems to be a close balance of pros and cons. I'm told many of the negative side effects will eventually go away, so this is, over all, a good thing I think.

In other news, I've been in a writeup slump. It seems I have only been doing my daily history logs, and not much else. Maybe I'll change soon, who knows.
Our good friend Pseudo_Intellectual brought up a point with me concerning the daylogs and my little history of the world stuff. So, anyone who actually reads this, please /msg me if you have an oppinion on the following:
1 Should I continue to node the little history things, which I compile by hand from 2 or 3 websites and a little book of facts about dates, and put them in the daylogs as part of my exsisting daylog (which I write almost every day).
OR
2 Should I stop it altogether, give up, it's futile and hopeless, I would better spend my time trying to nail both my hands to lime green jello.
OR
3 Should I keep nodeing the daily history W/U's but node them separate from the daylogs in their own node to avoid the problem with the year? instead of noding 11/15 in November 15, 2000 should I create a new node for this date, and node them there, getting rid of the date issue.

Pros and Cons:
1. Pro: it's easy, and it gets read sometimes.
1. Con: I can renode the exact same info a year from now

2. Pro: Lime Green Jello
2. Con: Will result in pain, may result in death.

3. Pro: 2 write ups for the price of one.
3. Con: Some may see it as cheating, or lame.

So, anyone who has any advice, let me know. I think from this day forward I will start to node them as seprate nodes to apease the gods, but if anyone feels otherwise, let me know in a /msg.

Anyways, that's about it for today I guess.
-doug

Under skies more grey than black, I walk through Ithaca at 3 am, because I want to. As the wind howls, I can hear my heart thumping and my footsteps resonating through the steel bridge below, its shaky, sparse construction offering me no comfort or shelter from the cold night. Still further below, the water rushes through the gorge, following roughly the same path it has for followed for millennia as it rushes downhill.

Dozens of individuals, the latest making his journey about a month ago, have traversed the distance between the bridge and water with the intention of dashing their lives and heads upon the rocky earth below. What thoughts and emotions must have been coursing through those doomed souls at the time of their willful demise? What drove them, what enabled them? Was it maniacal self-loathing? The promise of release? Fear? Booze-fueled rage? Each one of these people, a product of decades of biology and environment, love and hate, wealth and poverty... Each of these complex, breathing, thinking human questions results in the same four-second answer, smashed under the shadows of an insignificant metal bridge.

Likely, they would not have been able to answer any of my inquiries. I forget that just months ago, I too walked the tightrope of suicidal fantasy, driven by a maelstrom of broken emotion and aimless hatred. The internal cyclone, at its core, offers only one justification for early exit -- the absurdity of the inverse, of going on. I was not at my breaking point when I was most depressed, but rather when I was most apathetic. The easiest way to throw away human life is to devalue it. I don't refer to demeaning the worth of a singular life, but rather the devaluing of the entire human experience. Happiness, caring, love -- these things must be rejected as delusions. Only then can an individual truly lose all hope. When a person has discarded all criteria by which to measure improvement in the quality of life, how can one ever hope to progress? And thus, over the bridge, with "this really doesn't matter" bubbling to the surface of the hateful thoughts while riding the planet's gravitation downward.

The way out? There are drugs, books, and therapies, but in the end, it will take a spiritual revelation, a tiny something to focus the long-distorted thoughts into a tight, forceful beam. A moment of clarity. This is the beginning of the journey out of the hole, away from the bridge. And the spark, the life-giving power, comes from within.

With that thought, I too walk away from this bridge, shivering in the night air. As the roars of the wind and water fade away, I hope for continued silence, and clarity.

it's snowing outside. cold, pretty, and snowing. i love michigan because of its abrupt change in weather.

bought groceries; watched dogma; drank a 40oz of mickeys; coded for three hours.

the comments inside huffmantree.cpp right before bedtime::

/*
alright.
449am, saturday morning.
the buildHuffmanTree fxn doesn't work right.
however, the algo. is correct.
deduction yields that something is wrong with the priority queue.
my guess:
inside heapify, when you see if leftchild == rightchild AND they're both smaller than index.
it goes BOOM if there's not an else catching this at the end, so this DOES happen.
what happens then, thougH??????
sleep on it, you got an exciting day ahead of you.
besides that, most of it seems to be working alright. i mean... the algos. are correct.
i suppose an advantage of having an inherent problem with the priorityqueue is that you comb over the huffmantree algorithms very finely.
however, the convertToCharacterArray function needs to be re-written. but you know that.
shouldn't be super duper hard.
alright.
454am, saturday morning.
bedtime.
*/

it's cold in here. i need to sleep.

goodnight, moon.

12:29

"Hax0rz attacked Battle.net! Due to this, there has been a performance decrease..."

Now that's the lamest excuse EVER for battle.net lag... Shame on you, Blizzard... =)

Hmm, I'm hungry...

16:18

::sigh:: Life often stinks, but I'll go onward through the fog...

Well, if there's anything I could say:

MGS's sneaking bg music is great when reading news and stuff. Not intrusive or something. Perfect background music... =)

17:21

Cellphone CPR:

My Nokia 9110 boots. Kickass. (Pun unintentional, word choice intentional.)

PDA side works. Apparently no data loss.

When I put the SIM card in, however, and start the cellphone side, it seems to get Truly Nasty. Discharge battery, Recharge, boot with no SIM - works again. Screwy, huh?

About 500 kb of memory used. Should I just back it up, reformat and see if it boot - or Clean The Hell Out Of SIM Card or something? (Excorcising unintentional.)

20:33

Ahh f****.

**CRASH**

Goddammit!

I've never ever wanted to say a bad word about Nokia's phones, but 9110 works WAY too badly for its price class.

  • Some crashes every now and then for whatever silly reason.
  • No Linux synchronization/backup software (that would actually work - there's unofficial software that works somewhat, but not enough!
  • Doesn't support open formats (ie, can't export calendar data in vCalendar format or phone book as vCard...)
  • SMS message management is BOGUS with capital B and everything. Each message is stored to separate file. Max 160 characters to files (of ~512 byte clusters?) that have separate time stamp; for sent messages recipient's name or such information is not stored, and received SMS messages are named uninformatively (sender #1, sender #2, and so on).
  • The official software for Windows sucks. Transmission clogs. Plus there's no way to preserve dates; makes archiving SMS messages impossible...
  • Of course, the troubleshooting manual is not quite detailed enough.

That's the kind of bad sides I've been seeing of 9110... I've been thinking of selling this one and getting Palm and an used, "less complex" cellphone. =)


Other day logs o' mine...

Noded today by y.t.: vCalendar vCard

Updated: Stones Voodoo

I can't sleep.
I'm in the middle of several small disasters right now...none of them involve me specifically, but I'm in the middle nonetheless.
Somehow I can't stop thinking about the past. I'm lying in my friends bed (he's passed out in his recliner) thinking about things that happened almost five years ago. Things that were wonderful for me, they still are I guess. Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about them.

It was like we had our own place. We could kind of play house at the tender age of 18. We could have a beer and watch Bruce Lee movies at 2 am with no fear of retribution.

You see, his father took frequent trips. I never asked where he went, I just knew that Will had to take care of the cat, and he had a key. His mother had accepted that he prefered staying at his dad's and since they lived in relatively close proximity, he would often walk there and spend the night. Fortunately many of my friends lived in that same neighborhood, so the stage was easily set for devious ploys to spend the night together.
My friend Maragaret's house was a zoo. Six kids running and screaming and fighting all the time. Her parents were relativley unaware of her comings and goings and those of her friends. They were rarely suprised or annoyed to find her friends asleep on the floor or on couches. (they were however upset the time Lisa and I decided that it would a great idea to make chocolate chip pancakes for the family. An ill-fated plan indeed, but that's another story) It was no problem for me to tell Margaret that I was telling my mom I was there. Margaret probably wasn't going to go home that night anyway, it was just a precaution. I would then walk from her place to his father's on Bernard Street. It was a nice walk. (and I'm not really one for walking) It took me through one of the more picturesque neighborhoods in town, full of old houses and flowering garden paths. Even in the winter when everything seems washed out and grey, this place was magical.
I would climb the creaky wooden stairs of the 30's style apartment building, check on the plants that lived on the landing (no one wanted to claim them, but everyone kind of looked after them) and knock on the slightly-warped front door of his dad's place. He would let me into the living room where I was assaulted by the blistering radiator heat, which had two settings, sweltering or Artic. We'd sit for a while eating sandwiches and watching TV. Will's dad had the kind of TV that displayed an abbreviated name for each channel, Will would get a kick out of changing the names to things vaguely insulting or obscene. There was rarely anything in the fridge except for beer and condiments, his dad was a true bachelor.

This particular time was strange and beautiful. Even in retrospect, I still cherish every minute of it. When I knocked he answered almost immediately, pulling me to him and kissing me. We made out in the living room for a while, in a halting sort of way. Even knowing that his father was in another country could not allay the fear that I would hear his keys in the door and we would be caught. We decided to move it into his father's room as per usual. We never went to the room Will kept at this apartment. Always to his father's bed. It was bigger, sure. That wasn't it, though. I think it was because we were doing an adult thing (even in our untried and ignorant way) and it felt better to do it in adult surroundings. No glassy-eyed band posters watching you. No sketchbooks strewn across the floor or piles of dirty clothes in front of the closet door. This room had sheets that matched the bedspread that matched the curtains. It had original paintings his father had done, not the post (but not by much) adolescent drawings of an aspiring, if often uninspired, artist. It had huge windows that let in the stark winter sunlight. We made love in the afternoon, defying the idea that we should do our dirty deeds in the dark, in the dead of night. We were young and strong and defiant and I loved him. More than anything I loved feeling of his arms around me, better than anything he could do to make me writhe or bite my lip, it was his arms that sent me reeling. Just to feel posessed, wanted, comforted and protected, something that I severely lack in my life right now, was wonderful beyond words. He told me that I was beautiful and there with him, I was. He held me for a long time afterward, something he was not prone to do. I lay with my back to the wall, my head resting on his shoulder. I watchted the last few leaves clinging desperately to the tree outside and realized that the sky is bluer in the winter. So much more crisp and dazzling. I stared at his face for an eternity after that. His hawkish nose, high cheekbones and soft brown eyes were more beautiful in that moment than they had ever been or were since. I knew he didn't love me, not like I loved him, but it was okay. I was okay, something I couldn't generally say about myself. We had made everything alright in that afternoon.

I can take comfort in that memory now.

back | days | forth

Clouds of dust and little piles of paper

My bedroom is in a state; it reflects my previous life in an ironic way. Everything piled up, never truly sorted out, little bundles of paper and mess hiding issues that I've been too lazy to tackle. Little and Often is such a good maxim to live by, yet I cannot be that proactive. I found the glow in the dark stars that belong on my ceiling; they were living in the back of a drawer, denied the light that makes them light up my night sky. It sucks living in a place where there is so much cloud, and when the skies do clear, then the light pollution obscures all but the brightest stars. I can only just make out Orion and The Big Dipper on a normal night, other constellations like Cassiopea are never visible.

Mental Note: Get back to Greece, climb the hill again and see the Milky Way.

Being ruthless, throwing away floppy disks and old receipts feels like I'm shedding a skin, a snake sloughing off the old layers to emerge glistening and new. I don't feel like a butterfly; the change is not that drastic. I am not changing completely, just moving onto better things, feelings that are new are pushing away the old phobias and anxieties. Throwing away this is like my agoraphobia falling away, discarding that is like my negative body image withering and dropping off... Finding books under piles of bills and paper is like rediscovering an old photograph and remembering the happy times from long ago. I have so many books, some still unread like the line of classics gathering dust, some overread, like Lord of the Rings and Snow Crash. The bedroom slowly but surely gets to a state where things are in order, where I can see the floor again, where the clothes are in the dirty linen basket again. It looks like a new room, just my bed as the point of reference telling me I am still at home. I cannot even begin to imagine how different the room will feel once she is here; another presence in my little space. Strange that such a small house can feel empty, but it feels so right that she will complete my small home.

Question to Self: What began first, the tidying, or the introspection?

The rambling white rose at the back of the garden has somehow put another couple of dirty white flowers onto my trellis; I should pick them, or at least go and appreciate what nature has given me today. The Jasmine has lost it's vivid yellow, the leaves are fading and beginning to fall on the alpines below. At least the saxifrage is still green, but it seems to be able to handle anything.

Like my roses, I am rambling... Laters, peeps...

Fucking modems suck!!!! I’ve now been spoiled with the network we have at CSU. It’s great, I’m always online and I never have to listen to that damn screeching noise that your modem makes as it connects. I’m home now for Thanksgiving break and I have to revert back to the ol’ 56k modem. AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! It’s soooooo slooooowwwwwww.

I am home now though, and I get to see Becky a ton during the next week. Tomorrow is “officially4 months but since it’s a Sunday night and we already have plans to eat with my grandparents, we’re going to go out tonight. I also have a few surprises for her; first dinner at the place where we had out first date, then to the hotel where my friends work the pool for a swim. I’m excited and I hope she likes it. I also made her a cd with all the songs on it that either make me think of her, or that have meaning to both of us.

It’s now two hours and counting till she gets here for us to go out, and honestly, I’m trying to find a way to pass the time. A little pathetic I know, but since in don’t see her that often I look forward to the time I get to see her.

But now It’s off to do my 100 daily push-ups and waste a little time.

Saturday - a day of revelation.

Maybe it's just the amount of alcohol from Friday that lead to self-analysis - who knows - who cares.

I was listening to 10,000 maniacs, "These Are Days", not a norm on my play list. Thought taking a trip down memory lane to highschool graduation might be inspirational. Not really, but I did think of this:

Have you ever noticed how so many memories exist from highschool - trivial memories really. How is it that those are the memories we cherish most? Is it the fear of growing old, or is it the fear of no longer making memories that are worth a durn?

I find myself, as I creep into older age, purposely trying to make worthy memories. Is this wrong? Doesn't it seem that as an adult that your actions are so much more worthy of memories - being that they are more real? Hell, maybe this is a memory right now . . . the again - maybe not.

I find myself doing crazy stuff just so I can talk about it later. Running down to a main road w/ no shirt on - accompanied by two other females. Getting a tattoo. Getting my heart broken. Living in the drama - just to have something to talk about the next day.

I never did this is in highschool. The memories just happened. Throwing teachers into a pool in the middle of December. Streaking through an apartment complex. The first time I got drunk. The first time I partook of festive foliage. The first kiss. The time I lost my virginity. Maybe that's it . . . all the firsts. What haven't I done that I can do NOW! Life shouldn't be dull as an adult.

After all - These Are Days - we'll remember.

20:49 GMT

I went to the gym this morning for my first physical training session. I have never been so exhausted in my life. After finishing, I felt so tired that I was actually sick. I had to sit down for about 10 minutes just to get my balance back and reduce my nausea. It was fun :) I don't feel much pain now, but I'm sure I'll be feeling it tomorrow. I did 10 minutes of walking and then about 20 minutes of weights and finally 15 minutes of stretches. I look forward to when I am able to do that without getting so tired.

After the gym I went back home and laid down on the couch to watch some TV for an hour. It was difficult to even drive home after that workout.

I went to the movie theatre perhaps to go watch Charlie's Angels, but the line was very long, so I decided to go walk around the local mall and then drive around for a bit just to be out of my apartment for a while. I guess I'm feeling bored but I don't really know what interesting things there are to do around here.


02:26 GMT

My arm muscles are really starting to hurt now. Moving my arms at all is painful. I probably won't be writing much here tonight :) I might just go back tomorrow to do some walking and that's probably it. Anyone have any recommendations for what to do to relieve sore muscle pain?

Hmm. It looks like I'm down to -1 now. That sucks. I've never had a negative daylog before.


02:59 GMT

I'm watching E.T. on TBS. I haven't seen this movie in a very long time. I think this is one of the movies that somehow inspired me to become a computer geek, strangely enough. When I was about 8 years old, I tried to build my own computer out of a speak-n-math and a bunch of other electronic equipment, and managed to short something out and catch the carpet on fire. My parents decided that it would be much safer to get me a computer than for me to try to build one, and I've been into computers ever since then. I think the movie E.T. was somehow the seed in all of this, so I could say that this movie had a huge effect on my life. And I haven't even seen it in years. I should probably at least buy it. :) I wonder if it's out on DVD.


04:12 GMT

I need a social hobby. I'm not sure what, but I need to be around more people. I don't chat with people online much, so I need to do something to help develop my social skills. I don't drink, so night clubs and bars are not my place to be. I figure that's where most people my age spend their weekends, but I'm not sure since I don't know too many people my age. I thought about looking around for a user group for something I'm interested in (like computers or astronomy). Maybe I should do that.

I guess my problem is that I'm not good at small talk. I avoid it because it always feels condecending to talk to people about simplistic things like the weather. I'm not much into sports so that major topic of conversation is always difficult for me to join in on. I don't really like talking about politics much, since I'm not good at debating. I'm not witty, so using a one-liner to edge my way into a conversation is out of the question.

It's not genetics. My dad can literally talk to *anyone* for hours. He can make a quick stop into a convenience store and strike up a conversation with the clerk at the counter for a half an hour, even though he never met the person before. He can even have a good conversation with someone who has totally different ideas and opinions from him (this includes one of his best friends). I don't know how he does it, but I know that I didn't inherit (genetically or environmentally) any social abilities from him. I wish I did, becuase sometimes it just sucks to want to say something to someone, but I just cant think of anything to say.


04:58 GMT

My primary computer has been up for 338 hours now, and since it's a Windows OS it's starting to crap out. My linux box currently says it's up 125 days. I accidently changed my desktop background, and now when I try to change it back it doesn't show any images. This is probably the longest uptime I have had, as I observed from my ADSL dial-up (PPPoE) connection statistics:

  • Connected at 1,024,000 bps (it's actually 1.5Mbit)
  • Duration: 338:09:23
  • Bytes received: 1,507,717,824
  • Bytes sent: 815,477,930

Ok, it's really starting to act strange now. Time to reboot. Bah.


07:38 GMT

Ok, now my arms are seriously starting to hurt from my workout this morning. This is really going to suck tomorrow.

Oh well, I sleep now.

I started to feel sick to my stomach, as if I had drank too much and I was about to puke, but I drink that much every week. Everything began to move really slow, and all I could hear was the beating of my heart loud in my ears. It beated slowly, much too slowly.

Suddenly I'm in a tunnel and I'm going down the tunnel rapidly, so fast I can feel the queasiness in my stomach. It resembled the tunnel from Being John Malcovich, tight and dark and I remember feeling someone was beside me, but I couldn't be sure. I was having a dream that I can't remember now, but it seemed to go on for hours and hours, and all I can associate it with is a strange, vague remembrance of Dragonball Z.

I open my eyes and I'm on my knees and Scott is holding me up. "Did I fall asleep?" I ask stupidly, and he tells me I've only been out for about 5 or 10 seconds. I've never fainted before, or blacked out or anything. Scary.

On November 18, 1999 12 Texas Aggies were killed when the bonfire stack they were building collapsed. At 2:42 this morning, one year to the minute after the bonfire stack collapsed, the entire student body gathered on the bonfire field for a
memorial service. Where there should have been a nearly finished tower of
wood, there was only a single torch. The Parsons mounted cavalry fired 12
shots from their cannon, and the names of the 12 Aggies who died were read
aloud. Then, one by one, the candles appeared. Forty thousand students lit
forty thousand candles, passing the flame from one to the next, until the
whole field was covered in a sea of tiny lights. Those candles are like the
Aggie spirit. Just as the wind and the rain last night couldn't put out
those candles, no storm can extinuish the Aggie spirit because we all have a
little bit of it with us. We will remember. We will rebuild.

A day in the life

Ever since I met Anthony I rise early and jump online in sweet anticipation of contact. An email, a day log, perchance a chat, or a phone call. Today I got all four. Waxing nostalgic over first words. All a twitter over dusty logs freshly unearthed. Counting the days until I return to his arms. I'll be home for Christmas.

I finished my work project, and was treating myself to a hearty round of masturbatory bliss when Camille called. My Canadian-American lesbian friend from the days of yore rode into town and requested a meeting. I knew there would be much feasting, and merriment. To my chagrin, she is still dating this Korean girl appropriately named Ellen. I am not unhappy with her union per se, just that I would have to hang out with her as well. Camille has yet to bequeath to me a decoder ring. The few words of hers I do understand are uninteresting to say the least. We binged at a kitsch Chinese Buffet beyond maximum capacity. I don't have a weak stomach, however, the mere thought of Camille eating chocolate ice cream with potato salad and pineapples on top induced a bile laden technicolour yawn that no stomach of steel could suppress. We decided to finish off the cliché with a holiday movie.

Much like the modernized DiCrapio version of Romeo and Juliet, I feared Jim Carrey's version of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" was going to be a virtual nightmare. Both surprised me delightfully. Sure the saccharine Cindy Lou Who made me choke back some celery and ice cream vomit, but Carrey's Grinch was positively hysterical. I couldn't have casted a better Seussian character myself. Try as I might, I can't resist Jim's meglomaniacal brand of zany humour. I also can't stop spelling colour and humour with the British ou. Who the hell says jacket potato? There are no buttons! Daffy english people.

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.