Friday 27th January 2006

oh the luck

so i had this usb flash memory stick. yup, had, dig? ist kaput.

the only really important stuff on it was about (fifty? a hundred?) hours' work on that pesky webcomic that continually occupies my quiet-time thoughts. every once in a while, i'd get a fantastic idea for thus-and-such, plug it into whatever workstation i was currently employing, jot it down, unplug it. and sadly the last time i copied anything from it was, roughly, summer.

balls; i'm not generally good at dealing with my own stupidity, especially when it could have been so easily avoided.

anyone know someone who knows someone?


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Wednesday 18th January 2006

who are these people?

thanks and curses to my beautiful sister for this one.

i am the medium-sized person dressed in foolish garb



the 80s only had about an 83% survival rate. just forget that weird head thing three posts ago; think about that.


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Monday 16th January 2006

the final question

the words next to the telephone number read 'call for questions.' so i call it.

'how can i help you?' the voice says.

'hi, yes, i'd like some questions, please,' i say.

'beg your pardon?'

'questions. i'd like some questions. is this the right number for questions?'

'yes, sir. what is your question?'

'oh no no, i think you misunderstand me. i don't have any questions; all i have is answers.'

silence, then: 'how can i help you, sir?'

'what i really want is a good question. i miss the days of uncertainty, of puzzlement, of flummoxation. where i am in life now, i've figured everything out.'

'perhaps you should instead speak with—'

'what i really miss is the thrill of the chase. that exquisite moment of valuing all variables, fleshing out all details and being able to say, "yes, here it is, the truth i have sought." i haven't had that experience in years. decades.'

'sir, i don't—'

'look, at this point i could settle for just explaining something to someone. do you want to hear about evolution? gravity? tolkien? existentialism? antimatter? RAID levels? mathematical uncertainty? ask me something, anything. honestly, i'm dying for a conversation, you have no idea.'

'clearly not. look—'

'oh, not when you're on the clock. i see. absolutely. surely though, you can understand my situation. kindergarten was fantastic—the colors! the shapes! the celery and peanut butter! the new faces! a million new connections every minute! but by grade school i had already mastered things my teachers hadn't even heard of. high school and college had nothing for me except going through the motions and jumping through the hoops. what homework there was i did in my sleep; i solved all the real problems in my enormous allotment of spare time and the ridiculously large number of vacation days. my career has been a long string of stopgaps whilst trying to maintain that tenuous balance between sanity and physical survival, but insulting in its lack of new questions. that's the pattern, don't you see? all answers, no questions. no prodding. no problems. it's alarmingly dystopian. i'm a round peg in a square hole and i'm near tears here.'

a very long pause. some typing, some breathing.

'all right, sir, that is the correct password. please hold; God will be with you shortly.'

some elevator music.


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Friday 13th January 2006

phriday night physics

consider a falling body. human body.

let it be given the body falls for 7.0×10¹s. approximate the acceleration due to gravity (at g = 9.8 m/s²) to ignore air resistance until reaching terminal velocity of 195 km/h, or equivalently 54.16_m/s. from v = gt, we have 5.52 s of freefall in this manner. from d=(gt²)/2 this yields d = 149.7 m.

we have 64.48 s left. from d = vt, where v is terminal velocity defined above, d = 3492.6_. this gives us a total distance fallen in 70 seconds of 3642 m, or (for the non-metrically minded) 2.263 miles. we report two significant digits.

so gandalf fell 2.3 miles.


this is what i get for working in a place where the jokes involve redundant light bulbs and hot-swappable trash cans. i get freaking awesome, that's what i get.


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Wednesday 11th January 2006

this could be you (me)
a kitten

on donald

rumsfeld's

head

think about it.


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Sunday 8th January 2006

snippet

a: everything in moderation.

b: except moderation itself.

a: would that be meta-moderation?


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