Super University Trip

  • 06:55. Leave school.
  • 10:00. Arrive in city of Waterloo. Choice of Tour Waterloo or Laurier University.
  • 13:00. Leave city of Waterloo.
  • 13:40. Arrive in city of Guelph. Tour of Guelph University.
  • 15:00. Leave city of Guelph.
  • 17:00. Arrive at school.

My alarm started blaring at five thirty-two in the morning. The sun had not yet cast its rays upon the still black sky. I pressed the snooze button. Remembering my purpose, I rose from the bed with strong intent. I had a shower the night before, and so I radiated of a subtle cleanliness. My hair, having dried in bed, took upon itself to curl in various places and irritate me throughout the day. I gathered a clean sweater and a probably-clean pair of jeans from the mountain on my floor.

I hobbled out to the kitchen, shaking off my stupor, and stood in the middle for some time and decided to make lunch before breakfast. I quickly made myself a lopsided sandwich of cold cuts and whole wheat bread, and no butter. For breakfast, I mixed cottage cheese and sliced up a banana in a bowl. I got the idea from chancel.

Driving to school, the windows were fogged up most of the way. I came to the empty school parking lot and put the car near the back of the school. All the doors except the front were locked at this hour. Too bad, so sad. I ran around to the front in an effort to get my blood running.

In the building, I went to Mr. I's room and slipped my one-day-late biology assignment under his door, then went upstairs to Ms. C's room and taped a note on her door stating I would be gone. The lights were off upstairs and when I flicked on my keychain light, all the lights snapped on themselves. It was the janitor at the end of the hallway.

I came down to the cafeteria to wait for the bus to arrive, and greeted my friends E and V. The bus was about five minutes late, and at six fifty we quickly left with its arrival.

The windows of the bus had an archaic mechanism for opening and closing. My window and the one E and V shared would not stay shut. Behind our backs the windows consistently wanted to open to the one centimetre mark. The bus was hardly half full, with many empty seats.

We took highway 401 westward from school, and spent two hours on the road. During the trip, the three of us conversed, and napped sporadically. If you live in Toronto, every city is adjacent to the next and you never see typical highway stretches unless you go really far out. Today was one of those days, which reminded me of my trip to Cleveland.

Twenty minutes before our arrival, the teacher, Ms. Co, stood up and alerted us that we could vist Wilfrid Laurier University or Waterloo University, but not both. I chose Laurier for its music program, E. chose it for history, and V. chose it for the humanities and social sciences. So that worked out for us.

Sir Wilfrid Laurier University has a relatively small campus, with a strong community environment. It is down the street from Waterloo University, which is convenient. We were greeted by two tour guides who attended WLU. They gave our group a fitting tour of the place, and at lunch they seamlessly blended in to the pedestrian mass of students in the lunch area. E, V, and I ate our lunch and left, and headed for the strip mall between the two universities, wherever that was. Supposedly the bus was parked there.

Over the hill, the strip mall revealed itself, inconveniently right beside Waterloo. That's not very fair to us, is it? We walked at least a kilometre. What really annoyed us was the bus; it wasn't there. Two school buses passed, and many other regional buses in the span of almost an hour before our bus came. Boarding the bus, we headed on a forty minute trip to Guelph University.

Guelph is out in the middle of nowhere somewhere in central ontario, surrounded by vast stretches of farmland. The campus of Guelph University is midsized. Bigger than Laurier, yet smaller than U of T. Because of the bus driver, we were almost an hour late for our tour, and the tourguides had become impatient, and rushed us to get the tour finished by three. It was just as well, as I had grown tired and unattentive to the things around me. The cloudy weather of the day had produced a low-pressure headache in me, and I was extremely hungry, in the cursed way that human males often find themselves. In our tour group, K asked a legitimate question and the guide insulted him with a pompous slap-in-the-face.

K: Is this a party type school? Because I'm a really social type.
G: I don't know. I'm not really into that sort of thing because I have higher goals in life, and so I am devoted to my studies.

He carried on about this on the bus, to my amusement. Maybe it's because I don't get out enough. On this bus ride home, I had many sporadic naps while ignoring the state of my pounding head. When we finally arrived at school and stepped off the bus, I walked to the parking lot, got in my car, closed the door, and screamed.

Tonight I witnessed the death of life in an animated body. A being primed with the explosive energy of one thousand nuclear explosion coursing through his veins. Reigned in by a social and financial contract. Bolted to the iron slab that requisites the slavery of self to another. A man, a broken sum of humane parts; zest, humor, curiosity, vigor, and freedom – all thrown into an acidic vat of banality and curtain patterns. I can’t do it. The tenants of marriage prevent me from eking out a feeble existence of servitude, checks and the bonds constricting an entity to another.

Marriage can work. If not for the dramatic change that solidifies both parties into concrete creatures of miscommunication and unfulfilled desiresmarriage would work. Yet the vigor of youth stares blankly into my eyes as it bangs its fragile skull into the impenetrable slab of indentured service. An amalgamation of sperm and egg, the potential for being, a human beyond the grip of social constraints…wandering in the maze of broken dreams.

I love my friends. I, for the most part, I respect the decisions they make. Tonight though, the shrouded light of what can only be described as longing, frustration and anger, were thrown aside to reveal the two radically different wants of conjoined individuals. When a man has to ask a women, or another man for that matter, IF he can go out or IF he can leave to pursue his wants, his desires, if he can follow the DNA engraved pulses in his heart; then all is lost.

I believe men have four basic instincts that, if unfulfilled, leave them empty and castrated. Those instincts are the burning desire to create, to destroy, to fuck, and to explore. Committing oneself to the sexual needs of another is possible. Committing the freedom of self to petty oversights mortally wounds the soul of men. I would comment on what women’s instincts are but I am not a woman.

OK, so I think marriage is, in some ways, bullshit. I admit that. I admit that I think that marriage is just a social contract that binds two people together under the misconceptions of the society around them. Is there a better way? Are you just blowing off smoke KVJ? Are you so incapable of imagination that you spew this garbage in daylogs? Maybe.

Beside tax reasons, who really needs a marriage contract? If you can’t keep the person around you, through scrupulous means, do you really deserve them? If another becomes bored of your selfish view of the world do they not have the right to leave you if their view is incongruent with yours? Do they have the right to leave without the financial and moral burden placed upon them through marriage?

I feel like my views are narrow and ignorant. They might be, but I have yet to see them disproved.

***Adult themes, and disgusting images discussed, you have been warned***

My reasons for never drinking alcohol just got reinforced.

Today, at approximately 3 AM, the morning after Halloween, I walked into the mens room on my floor of the dorm. There are three urinals in the bathroom, 2 out in the open with no little dividers or anything, and one in a stall with a normal toilet and door. I used one of the open urinals, and was just about finished with my business when someone who lives on the floor walked in. He swung open the door to the stalled urinal, said a name, said "Oh Shit!" and went running out of the bathroom. Low and behold this person was curled up, on the floor, covered in feces. He apparently tried to do that into the urinal as opposed to the toilet which was also in the stall. I, not wishing to etch the image into my brain (tough luck there!) barely glanced into the stall, knowing what I would probably see, and then rushed out of the bathroom. The person who had rushed out quickly returned with one of the resident "people who likely drink" and apparently easily woke the unconscious guy up. So he's fine. I guess. If being trashed, curled up on a (not necessarily clean) semi-public bathroom floor, and covered in your own feces is considered 'fine'.

All I know is, I'll never drink. I'll never let myself get hammered. I dont care what the drinkers say, no amount of fun and relaxation is worth the pointless indignity of that situation.

And now, it's 20 minutes later and I feel better for having written this. Goodnight.

Oh, and Halloween was great, I hung out with a couple who dressed up as people from Cabaret. The women was dead sexy and the man gave himself a wedgie with suspenders, hehe. Both were wearing barely there outfits. Finished the night by playing several hours of Halo before heading to bed, and witnessing what I already described. Hopefully I can forget about it...

Tomorrow I animate a character! Dont worry, I wont post here about it.


Helping people is a joy. But sometimes people get flustered, and when they get flustered, I swiftly get impatient. A problem because when I get impatient I get less helpful. Impatience works contrary to my stated goals and weighs heavily on my later thoughts. So how about we try this again?

...Internet turned off..."worm-virus"...wrong name...patch CD...

Alright, I can't give you a certain answer because I don't have access to that information, but I'll tell you what I can. It's a little complicated. Do you remember when you registered your computer at the beginning of the semester?


Yes, the dynamic IP thing. When you filled out that form, it asked your computer for a number that uniquely identified it. The form took your name, phone number, and that number and stored them together. When we detect a machine sending infectious packets, we turn off the port connected to that machine. We then call the person who registered the machine with that unique number. We apologize for this, but we do it to protect other people from getting infected.


I understand that seems conflicting. This is just how I've been told it works. I can't tell you why it would be like that. But, if your port is turned off, your machine is probably infected. If we called her, her name was on the registration for the computer whose port was turned off. Maybe the database is messed up. It's also possible that both of your computers are infected.


Uh huh. Well, if you're running Windows XP or Windows 2000 and aren't patched, you'll likely get infected eventually either way. So it'd be best if you can check out a CD, you both can use it, and then we'll be sure neither of you are infected nor will get infected. Anyway, our network staff has left for the day, so no one's port is going to be turned on or off till Monday.


I'm sorry I can't do more for you. We are open our regular hours this weekend if you need access to a computer.

My frustration with existing network policies only contributes to my impatience whereas it should only contribute to my empathy.

If I understand things properly, and I often don't, the switches we have could be made to simply filter any UDP traffic and any TCP traffic destined for port 135 originating from an infected machine. After all, we do this sort of filtering to them before they're registered. The only logic against this that I've heard is that these machines are fundamentally broken, and therefore need patching to become fixed. But if they don't hurt anyone with excessive traffic, I don't see what harm they could do. Should we care if they're broken if we can't tell from outward behavior? Once more, all of the recent infections have been from Welchia which patches the vulnerability it exploits to become installed. Blaster is dead and was minimally harmful to the host machines at that.

Of course, I don't know what good writing this up has done until I have to deal with another irate person. They're few and far between.

Magic At Midnight

I lie down on the soft, wet grass and look at the clear, star-studded sky. The ground falls away below me and soon I am floating in this magical space illuminated by millions of sparkling lights. The planet below me suddenly feels small and inconsequential. The sheer beauty of this endless vista steals any word that comes to my lips. No longer a mortal, i become one with the cosmos. A meteor streaks across the sky and i automatically close my eyes and make a wish. I open my eyes and look at the stars. One winks at me. I smile and wink back. The stars whisper deep secrets to me. Tales lost in time. And they hold me in thier gentle embrace and rock me to sleep. And as i slowly drift off, a light smile lingers on my face and i realize i'ld live forever among these immortal celestial beings.

The crap produced by a culture (think pet rock, tamagotchi, bass-fishing simulators and Jerry Bruckheimer movies) is bound to be the true test of that culture's worth. Once we begin to interact with alien cultures in outer space I've no doubt that this will hold true. Among the gifts retrieved in our first mission of goodwill to the aliens' home planet will be their culture's version of Chia Pets and the like.

And there's one place that's teeming with crap. Just as we do when we feel the urge to search out cliff's notes, pornography, or embarassing information about people we hate, when we're looking for crap we can turn to the internet.

Among other things, the internet is a cultral library. I'm not talking about its educational value. I'm talking, simply, about the crap. The internet is full of it, and I know you've wasted at least as much time sitting in front of your computer viewing total crap as I have.

And the conglomeration of crap here is amazing. With a click of the button, you too can view such phenomena and works of genius as Star Wars Kid, Wheelbarrow Freestyle, Mario Twins, Hatt-baby...and the list goes on.

And I say something needs to be done to immortalize this crap for posterity. I imagine that those of us in generation-y will, several years from now, be describing Emotion Eric to their (immensly bored) children with the same excitement and enthusiasm as my dad exhibits when he tells me about radio dramas like Gunsmoke.

But in order to engage in this form of torture with our children, we need to immortalize the crap available to us through the internet. I propose a box set of DVDs, complete with every last ounce of crap we can squeeze out of the world wide web. Also included on the DVDs should be behind-the-scenes footage such as 'interviews with the creators', who would answer such questions as "How dismal was your life such that making this was your only escape?"

Who's with me? I think this project would be a great investment, since there are a lot of morons out there who would actually pay for this (I'm one of them).

First, I would like to give a shout-out to everyone who has been keeping on top of their commitments for E2 Secret Santa 2003. It is a lot of work for all concerned, but when I have people who are keeping me updated, and actually sending their gifts, it makes life just so much easier.

There have been a lot of changes going on in my life. Within 8 weeks I will be married, have moved my fiancee\wife to North Carolina, and will be either looking for or starting a new job up there as well. Everything here I will leave behind and begin again.

Oddly enough, I have a good feeling about this. I've always wanted to be in the mountains, and this is a great opportunity. Though leaving a *very* secure job to find another one in today's IT market is a little scary.

Luckily nothing will be changing here for me - if anything perhaps I will have more time to write some more.

Happy Halloween everyone!

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