So, it's 3:40 a.m. I woke up at midnight. The Internet doesn't do it for me anymore. I go to my favorite gaming and blog sites and I'm bored. This may be a good sign for my activity level, as much as waking up at midnight is a bad sign for my sleep chemistry.
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Apparently, it's better to get personal than intelligent, thought-provoking, or controversial.
But I don't feel like competing with Sarah Palin this news cycle, so I'll catch you guys on the flip side.
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( It's about computers, so there's some cussing, naturally... )
As an aside, there's also a new feature/post on my SRS BLOG about what I managed to grasp about the news this week.
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Street art? Local club? No. Toyota ad.
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Mark keeps saying I should use/write this stuff down that I think, that my take on things is different. See his influence in my latest blog entry: I r srs blogger. This r srs blog.
While I was working on that, I found this: "...Obama hasn’t got his math right.He claims that there is '$1 trillion worth of loopholes in the corporate tax code.' That is ridiculous. The entire corporate income tax collected only $372 billion in 2007."
Ok, the way I read that, $1 trillion worth of loopholes would indicate that there is $1 trillion that is leaving because of loopholes. If they're only collecting $372 billion when they should be collecting $1,372 billion, that's quite a loophole--an 83% deficit in corporate taxes. Imagine that.
I'm not sure the figures are right, I have not checked the quotes to see if it was actually said. This is not about the facts of this particular case. This is about the fact that I kept meaning to read Cato Institute stuff because they were supposed to be smart, but using it as a search term pulls up stupid statements like this. This makes me a sad panda.
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I get to stare at the dull beige walls of my apartment, and the ceiling is the same color. I've given up thinking I'm going to turn it into my cozy little nook, and so I stare out the window into the wide world of the lovely computer. I have watched too much network programming. Robert Sean Leonard, Tim Roth, and Emily Deschanel interest me more than I do. And someone picks out their clothes for them. I'm wearing too much black again.
It reminds me of other, worse slumps (I still have my dear ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) heofmanynames, and friends too numerous to name), when I marveled at the "brave new world." I've continued to demand that my life be nicer, richer, more entertaining, sexier than most people do. No wonder we sell so much beer and television, if this is what the proles have to do. What are all you people DOING out there? Why don't you off yourselves in droves? OMFG.
My own voyeurism nauseates me. I should have a much cooler life. I can't afford that. If I am turned off by voyeurism, I'll drive off my audience.
Or maybe it's just middle age. Or lack of sleep.
Really. Why aren't you a sheep? There's like 200 of you just on my flists. I know none of you think you are a lobotomized, sedated sheep. Why not? Indulge me.
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How did I end up here? I have NO idea. I am sure my body will disintegrate. I hope that there's something else going on. I think emotional fulfillment would be great, but I'm not sure I'll still feel things. I hope that something I've done will go on. I hope I've got the right idea. But 'eudaimonia'? I can't tell you --I've met it, but I don't know what it is. There is ineffability in the world. It gives me hope.
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That I was in a cross between Dr. Who and Lost. I was in a magic time-traveling bus with a bunch of people that kept blinking in and out of places. Pierce Brosnan was on it. He's apparently a holdover from my teenage dreamcasting, though I've stopped being consciously aware of him most of the time. More remarkably, Asprin was in and out a lot, and seemed to be outside of the timestream, showing up older, younger, with more or less hair (tho he never cut it while I knew him).
I woke up with a re-knowing that I was never going to talk to him again, and wondered if I should look for messages.
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From a movie review:
"...[R]eal estate must be incredibly cheap, because virtually everyone in the movie seems to be living in fabulous, spacious lofts, even though they have seemingly average jobs (when their jobs are defined at all). Goodwin's Gigi, Jennifer Connelly's Janine and Jennifer Aniston's Beth all have cubicles at some sort of spice or tea company. Hard to say what it is because they never, ever work. They just stand around trying to figure out men, and nobody ever emerges from an office to say, 'All right ladies, you're all tremendously attractive, but you're going to have to do SOMETHING at some point to justify those paychecks.'"
I've noticed this for years in movies and dramas and sitcoms--I'll leave the listing of favorite pet-peeve, above-their-means characters to the comment thread--but this is the first time I have ever seen someone mention it.
Sauce here.
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Just to show they can still mess with me, they submitted 3 hours of raw tape yesterday. Only three dictators. One of whom was responsible for only 20-25 minutes. So yeah, just sending them away is not sufficient to keep them from rattling on for hours.
Just to say why I'm not writing today.
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challenged
tired