The Butterfly Effect

The idea behind this title is to bring into mind the concept that one little variable can have a profound effect on an environment and it's resultant tangents. I mean this in an ironic sense.

One of my biggest peeves is people. One of the things I hate about people, are the ones who find it totally irresistible to talk about themselves. The ones who can't stand to have any one's ears not tuned to his or her own story. Be it their source of emotional pain, or a string of events that details their personal grandeur, I cannot tolerate it. A note to those like that: You aren't that important. Your variable is negligible at best.

I remember having the displeasure of enduring extended, repeated contact with one such individual. He was an emo, and half of his act was to find some way to make his "emotional pain" apparent or at least come to attention in almost every situation. He also always found a way to make every conversation involve him somehow. His opinions were never far from hand either. "I think that...", "When I do that, I...", "My heart was broken when..." He couldn't keep from talking and smearing himself all over everything.

Now some of this may stem from jealousy, at his ability to capture people's attention. After all, we all want to talk about ourselves, and I started a damn weblog just to talk about my thoughts. After all, I'm being a hypocrite just sitting here and ranting. But in reality, this is why I try not to speak about myself in any situation. This poster tries to avoid words like "I" and Me" in conversation. Ask about the other person in the dialogue. Let them be the center of the attention, the chief of the limelight. Let's be whistleblowers on horn-tooting!

If you can only do one thing, just shut the fuck up.

I'm sorry. I'll be quiet now.

-The0

History...history...history...history

So in the middle of healing up a self-inflicted wound, I was invited out to a psychobilly show. Psychobilly is a genre which really isn't in my current vein, but for the night that I had on the 19th, it very well could earn a slot. What follows is a short story.

I limp to my vehicle after visiting a friend, and make my way over to the corner of Cardinal and Locust, which was not a familiar route. I wound up parking about 5 blocks away, and started hobbling over to the club. As I tottered on, I was thinking, "Do I really know this person well enough to go through all this effort? I'm not even a big fan of the style of music." I met the boyo in the midst of a chase that wound out being nothing more than the basis for my manifesto. His friendship is arguably the best thing I got out of the experience.

I'm halfway to the destination when a little sprinkle begins. I've spent enough time in the great outdoors to know when weather is going to go from bad to worse. I run as fast as I can get my busted ass to run to the nearest shelter, which turned out to be the steeple doorway of the St. Francis Xavier College Church. As the drizzle turned to deluge, I found myself thankful for religion again, if only for environmental purposes. I haven't felt that way in a while. Funny the way things work.

While I have spent enough time outdoors to recognize when weather will get bad, I have not, apparently, spent enough time to know when the weather has actually come to the end of it's yarn. The monsoon slowed, and whereas the show was about to start, I had to get moving. I ventured out, and no sooner had 30 seconds passed than it started to pour again. So, here I am, drenched in a matter of seconds, broke, and pretty well lost. But! Detirmined still to reach my goal. (On a side note, if you ever find yourself walking home in the rain, and have nothing else to do with your day, just let it soak you. It feels wonderful.)

I stopped for a quick breather from the rain in a parking garage not far from the bar to which I was heading. I recognized it a few minutes later. It was the garage I had parked in the LAST time I saw this particalur friend. After wringing out my shirt, I asked directions to the bar. The rain stopped. Had I waited 5 more minutes at the church, I would have been perfectly dry. I shouted out, as was my wont, and trudged on.

I did finally make it to the venue, and even talked my way out of the cover. I met my friend, who loaded me down with free swag, to include a dry shirt. I met his friends, and I got to brag about my wound a little. While this meant no moshing during the show, I was still able to enjoy it.

The title of this rant comes from a strange occurance that happened in college. I went to go see Flogging Molly for the first time ever, and was actually pulled up on stage by one of their opening acts, Throw Rag. I was made to play washboard in front of a packed Blue Note. Back to the present. Near the end of the show, my friend (whom I have neglected to mention was now a part of the band,) pulled me up on stage and shoved a washboard in my hands. A packed bar, all moshing to part of my rhythm. It was exhilarating. I didn't pop any stitches, I had a fun time, and I became a little famous again.

I guess the point of this little story is that if you feel like you're going through a harrowing time for next to nothing, stick to it. You might end up having a lot of fun, or at least be a harder person for it. Have fun with life, and try new things.

The Goddamn Gallows Myspace.

-The0

A Study in Hypocrisy

This is a long-ago post that I have decided is just barely worth fleshing out. It is more fully explored in a later post, but honestly, I'm sick of hearing people tell their own life story. Seriously, I don't want to hear it, I want interest expressed in me. That's why I started a damn weblog.

This entire post looks to have been drafted at a time where I was just coming to terms with who I have to work with. I was angry and jealous of the ability of another new hire, and we were both vying for the same job. Turns out we both got hired, and we have since become good, friendly co-workers. As of this out-fleshing, he is farther advanced in the career, but to be fair, he is better at what he does than I am at what I do.

All in all, anger at the time subsided, and this draft is fucking done with. Finished 08/30/2010.

-The0

Occupational Safety Hazards.

I am an Idiot. Through lack of foresight, ignorance of good rules, and a general air of supposed invincibility, I got a personal "first" out of the way.

I got stabbed in the hip. 1.5 inches deep, 1 inch long. 6 stitches. I was dismissed early from work, and they foot the medical bill. After a jocular time with my nurses and doctors, I went home to suffer the aftermath of destroyed subcutaneous tissue and light muscle damage. 6 on the 1 to 10 pain scale.

I have been stabbed. There are hazards to every job, and I think I encountered the biggest hazard of my job.

Myself.

-The0

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Well, due to the recent improvements in my job situation, I was finally able to afford something have wanted for a while now. Readers of this weblog will recall a post about how I somehow managed to resurrect a 9 year old laptop. Unfortunately, its little hard drive was just about as old. It has since crashed, and left me without mobile word processing again. Thus, I was in the position to purchase a new laptop. The Asus Eee PC 901 XP (because I still like Windows.)

A small review. The 901 has more than enough power to multitask. I can run Steam, Trillian, Chrome and voicechat and still not start to lag overly much. It has a pretty nice webcam, so if I ever get around to trying out Skype, that will be fun. If you're considering, get a RAM upgrade. It helps with that. Half-Life runs at a comfortable 70 fps, and that makes it easy to LAN a Sven co-op, and enjoy other moderate gaming applications. I haven't tried HL2 yet, but that seems well off in the distance anyway. I may even attempt that Eee PC hamsterball robot idea. Thank you, Randall Munroe. At 1.6 ghz, it runs all that I need it to, and again, I'm finally typing outdoors and in comfortable places again.

On that key-note, typing is actually a little difficult on this little powerhouse. The keyboard is very small, and my massive hands are having something of a tough time getting used to how minute these keys are. Still, for just under $300 all told, having an ultraportable latptop is very nice. Chic and sleek, and I finally have something to throw at the TV everytime that ridiculous Verizon/HP commercial comes on.

Bricks.

-The0

What Kind of Facebook user are You?

Your Result Is: Infuriated.

Seriously, I have had enough of all these little "What Disney princess are you?" or "What is your Inner self type?" quizzes on Facebook. These quiz results get sent to my "Recent Activity" page from people that are on my friends list. I have no idea whether these come from some stupid app on Facebook, or are just spam, but either way, they have GOT to fucking stop.

I remember a little application craze a couple of years back. They'd let you have a little fun or play a little game, and then it asked you to pass on an invite to 20 of your friends. I stopped there, except for Jedi vs. Sith (On a side note: join our quest to rule the galaxy! The Jedi shall be crushed!) I think we're getting into something much worse now. You can't just ignore quizzes en masse, they will plague you continually, because each new quiz is it's own blockable entity.

Now granted, I'm primarily using Facebook as a replacement for any social life, living vicariously through my friends photos and events, but I also use it to advertise for the band and keep track of my friends birthdays, so that I look like that sweet guy that had the presence of heart to keep track of one buddy's birthday. Anytime I have a notification, I feel as loved as I do when I get a text message. But Facebook is, for all intents and purposes, a social NETWORKING site. Not a fucking slumber party. I've asked friends nicely to please quit with the quizzes. It hasn't worked. I'm thinking I may need to do the next big Facebook trend. Trimming down my friends list. Jerks.

Computer Culture Note: Miscrosoft's Bing launched. I like Google better. Still.

-The0