Monthly Report 3

Another month end! Hooray! Another couple of paychecks, another couple hours of gaming, and some steps on the Zombie Walk have been taken. All in all, some accomplishments, some lackings, but a good enough month.

The coming posts are going to be short and sweet. Again. As the more astute of you have no doubt noticed, I draft these things way up in advance, and then crank them when I have (read: force myself to have) time to complete them. My best post recently is the one before this, please cram your eyes at that.

Procrastination is quite the strange bird, indeed. You finally get all the way up to a deadline, and then when you finally catch yourself almost completely up, you take a small break, and then life gets in the fucking way. This month, I will finally catch up from the holidays.

Not afraid of run-on sentences,

-The0

The "Roll" part of Rock

As previously mentioned, I have obsessions which come to the forefront of my skull, become all I can talk or think about for about 2 months, and then, though still a part of my repertoire of interests, fade away. Usually, it's because such projects or obsessions are very very costly, require loads of free time (in very short supply, as readers have no doubt inferred,) or a vast sum of technical knowledge in order to get them to even come close to fruition. The results however, can astound anyone. That disclaimed, I give you the current honey of my th0ught process, The 1957 Chevrolet.

My god, I know I bend to obsession at times, but I hope this one remains part of my person for as long as I am coherent. I'm losing hope on it officially, in a depressed bout where I've decided I will never have the available cash to get my latest dream car, which in all rights, is my original dream car. I've loved this vehicle off and on since I was 8, I think. The 1957 Chevrolet 150, 210 or Bel Air. A beautiful mix of subdued styling; classy, and aggressive, like a spy with a sassy haircut, an ironworker in a tuxedo, a rock star in high society, or a nerd in a hawaiian shirt (not sure about that last simile). This thing is such a mishmash of personality and actual sass that most people, even not knowing the year, have to bend to its class, history, styling, and interestingly enough, progressiveness.

The avant-garde shape of the headlights, the generous helping of chrome on the bumper, the futuristic bombsight hood ornaments give the car a character straight from the front view. Moving over the lovingly angled windshield, we come to the beginning of the fins, curving down slightly to let you know they're beginning. Echoing the wheel wells, they play small hint at what's to come. The forerunner to muscle car styling gives straight back to a pair of elegant fins. Sort of a raised eyebrow at the massive airfoils that were beginning to adorn cars at that time. The interior, simplistic of the now, was modern at it's era. Smooth, sleek, yet busy. Not really deco, but I have no idea how else to describe it. Beautiful. The whitewall tires do no small favor in the fast-paced look that go straight from the blacktop to the ballroom.

However, design is not the only property this vehicle has to show for itself. Available options for it included air conditioning (a rare amenity back then), a razor for some reason (maybe to shave on the way to work?), a dashboard prism that allowed you to see traffic lights changing (so that you don't have to lean forward to watch them), and a couple of other things. It even had something called an "Autotronic Eye", which automatically dimmed your headlights when it sensed oncoming light sources. Internally, we had the options for power steering, power brakes, an automatic transmission, and the first-ever production fuel-injected engine. It made for the second engine to ever produce one horsepower per cubic inch of displacement off the line. Technology and engineering all coming together for a grand, beautiful triumph of form and function.

This car calls back to a whitewashed past. In a din of civil rights disputes, scandal, and the awesome birth of rock and roll, we can still look back at the faded posters and rust spots on our post-war glory, and remember how it used to be. If it becomes the death of me, I will own one of these.

-The0

Lunacy

I have many interests, varied and numerous as the fucking stars. They are all very cool, very worthwhile, very appealing interests. The main issue is that I have ADD. These interests wax ridiculous and then, sadly, slowly wane to the periphery. These interests don't cease to be interesting, though. I simply get distracted by another shiny new awesome. Recall my devout interest in robots just over a year ago? I'm able to identify rotor type and purpose, a couple of technical terms, and I can appreciate the effort put into those things. That is all that has come of those hours perusing and researching. It's been happening for a while now, and I'm making certain to recognize it.

The real trouble in all of this is that I think it keeps me from getting farther ahead in life. I get an interest, a will to make something cool happen, and then either interest fades or something new comes up. It's a hell to be able to recognize this kind of pattern, and be next to powerless to stop it. Like someone who has no apparent willpower.

I am going to start working against this. I'm making permanent logs of things I want to do. They call these things "Goals" apparently. A goal that is not written down is but a dream, apparently. So, with my work cut out for me, I need to prioritize, and make daily efforts towards my goals.

I didn't mean to get all preachy just then. It would seem my current goal is to start making goals, to the end of getting my life together.

...Again.

-The0

Ridiculously Behind

Have you ever noticed how time seems to go faster when it's the last thing you want/need it to do? For example, you have 12 years worth of work to do, and 15 minutes in which to do it. You sneeze, and then you're late, running behind and doing everything on the fly. I feel like that lately. My weblog is sadly suffering for the time being because of this fact.

They say if you're early to bed, early to rise, it'll make you healthy, wealthy, and wise. Late to sleep, late to wake, makes a man hard to break I think. Harder circumstances has tried to bring me down, and the fact of the matter is I just won't freaking let it. I have too much work to do.

I'm not to proud to turn down help on anything when it's offered. Not anymore. I have very little experience soliciting help though. That stated, well, I'll just follow my usual form and blurt it out.

Following is a small list of projects which with I could use some assistance:

• Zombie Walk, scheduled for October 23rd.
• Reclamation of my living area, sooner than later.
• Destruction of my alcohol collection, as soon as possible.
• Undisclosed dream car project, before oil runs out.
• Instrument practice, whenever possible.
• Video gameage, whenever possible.
• Work tomorrow, Too soon.

Yeah, I may be biting off more than I can chew.

-The0

New Shoes!

I was never really able to get in on popular things while I was young. I was late to great music, I was behind the curve to good movies, and spending all my physical adolescence in a military school, I was certainly never on top of fashions. But, having lived on my own, socialized a bit more, and learned of the real ways of rock, I came across an affinity for something I love wearing. 20 years late, but still kickin'.

My Converse Chuck Taylors. Black and white, athletic, classy, and they can go nearly everywhere. The quintessential rock and roll shoe, retro in it's looks, and hip to this day. Granted, I'm rambling at this point, but I seriously love the look and feel of these shoes. I'm getting married in them (or a new pair at that point, probably), and if I can find the right tuxedo, I can pull it off.

All-Stars. They're like whitewall tires, for your feet.

-The0

Can't get it from Radishes, either.

A couple of weeks ago I had my debit card number stolen. I was woken up early on a day off to a call from my bank, asking about several large purchases. I had just gotten paid the night before, but I had not yet deposited the money. Some one, through one of my online transactions, I must assume, had gotten a hold of my card number and tried to make a bunch of, get this, Apple related purchases. I of course denied all of these charges, had the card cancelled, and began a very broke fortnight.

Seriously though, it's clear that these guys have no idea who the people from whom they steal are. This thing got nipped in the bud faster than I can pour a drink after my work day. Sadly, he (assumed gender) had already drained my bank account with purchases related to overpriced electronics. That's where all this beauty lies.

1. You're not going to get blood from a turnip. I had next to nothing to give, and your stupid ass tried to steal everything I had at the bottom on my fiscal cycle. Moron.
2. Really? Apple? REALLY? The only online purchases I made in the first place, from which you could have stolen my card number were were for purchases diametrically OPPOSED to Apple. Someone's got a little problem recognizing patterns, huh? This is risky information, I know, but I don't think you're stupid enough to try this twice.
3. By cancelling the card, refuting the purchases, and sifting through enough tape to get through it, I have completely voided your fraudulent purchases. It takes more effort to overwrite yours, but guess what? Your effort was actually for naught now. You've been cancelled out. How's that feel, weakling?

I'm much more careful with my (well-protected) card now, and all in all, I'm wiser and safer for this experience. Suck and fuck it, slacker!

-The0