So I'm invited to dinner on Friday night by my TA from last semester. It's going to be all Bangladeshi students.
The problem? I'm nervous about going. Aside from being relatively alone – I wouldn't say that me and my TA are chummy ‘let's hang out’ friends – I'm afraid they'll chitchat in Bangla and I'll be the only one answering in english because I suck.
Mostly, I don't want to be thrown into strangers by myself. Sigh.
On the night of October 23, 2000, in the Dwarven stronghold of Kaladim on the continent of Faydwer, Diovan Valsartan came into the world of Norrath. He was a paladin, loyal to Brell Serillis, Duke of the Underfoot.
He left his home early on and wandered the well travelled roads, crossing into the continents of Antonica and Kunark. Over time, he amassed strength and, through some chance encounters, choice booty.
He was slow to level, though, lacking the eliteness and addiction of others, and often tried to solo. Because of this, he made few friendships, save for Hopperr Tallfellow (a Halfling druid), Gimlli (a Dwarf warrior), and Honi (an Erudite wizard).
He enjoyed fletching, swimming, sensing directions, and casting evocation spells on the undead.
Diovan took little into the afterlife except for several sewing and fletching kits, a Sarnak Emblazened Tabard, many stacks of food and water, and other junk. He left his prize processions (a Mithril Two-Handed Sword and Deepwater Helm among them) to a Dark Elf necromancer.
He perished yesterday at around 1:30 PM in Upper Guk.
He regrets not being able to use his Deepwater Helm, and the paladin's general (and useless) handicaps while he was still active.
(Yes, 17 days, 17 hours, and 33 minutes of playing time have finally come to an end. Bye bye, EverQuest.)
The sun pours in like an early summer morning, and the birds talk amongst themselves. And all is well.
Another [growing] addiction, if only a handful of songs, is George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic. Download ‘Mothership Connection’ and ‘One Nation Under a Groove’. It's also good for the soul.
It took some two and a half weeks, but I've finally finished The Lord of the Rings. Great times, happy and sad. Sucks that it had to end somewhere.
Those loud voices in the living room ruined the ending somewhat. Bastards. Halfhung.
Imagine, if you will, a 3-way signal splitter for coaxial cable. Connected to the two outputs are a short cable to the cable box, and a 100 ft cable to my computer. For several weeks the signal on my computer had been unbearably distorted, and I was left to wonder: what in hell is going on?
My first attempt to determine a cause was over the weekend: perhaps the electromagnetic field generated by the electrical cords interfered with the 60-or-so feet of cable coiled behind the TV? I moved that unwieldly pile away from the center of electrical activity and still the signal was marred.
It then occurred to me that maybe the cable itself was damaged in some way, but connecting it directly to the main outlet proved this false: the signal was strong and clear.
My last effort was to connect my cable from the splitter to the cable box. I forget what I meant to accomplish, but I found something astonishing.
I found that the cable from the main outlet was connected to the output of the splitter, and that the cable to the cable box was connected to the input. It was a transmission enema, and my cable got the end results. How the cable box functioned properly, I'm not so sure.
It was at that realization that a little light flickered in my head.
So it was that The Detachment Kit played last night, at the Courtyard Cafe. And they mentioned Kam's frequently, how one should hit a sorority girl, and other stuff. I thought they were funny guys. They played a good set, but the vocals were a bit too low.
And Ryan forcibly dragged me into moshing, which was fun, but I felt a little silly and so I stepped out of the way when I could. My discman was trampled many times but it's still breathing.
There are many indy rock artsy punk other thing kids lurking about. They only come out to see their kind en masse, apparently, in the seclusion of a house.
See me wither away.
I have an insane amount of food. And variety at that. If I can just eat it all without having things spoil in the end…
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But when did I make ninjakitten.net?
Some folks may still remember my cs296 fiasco, in which I never quite turned in my honors assignment to receive a grade for that class. (Initially, the instructor assigned it so late that he allowed us to complete it over winter break.)
In was in this confusion of not being able to get my program work correctly that I started talking to Tom – a CS/math major – online. He also had problems completing the work, and we thought that between us we could arrive at solution to turn in.
That was two years ago, and we still haven't progressed. Well, we haven't been trying either. But we have kept in touch through instant messenger.
Anyhow, we met in cs338 today for the first time in two years. Craziness, no?
And then the professor sucked the attention span out of me and I put my head down and half-napped, leaving during the mid-class break.
There's regular strawberries, strawberry Yoplait, and strawberry Pop-Tarts.
Well, not everything.
So I was walking to typography this morning, with Dave's green scarf shielding my mouth and nose from the cruel cold, when I noticed things forming on my eyebrow.
I tried as best I could to focus on these things, but to the best of my abilities I could only guess that they were icicles. How they could have formed, I know not.
Once I was within several yards of the art building, I removed my scarf and gloves and passed my hand across my brow. A wetness had been transferred from my brow to the back of my right hand. How the wetness formed, I also know not, though I suspect it was either sweat – unlikely – or precipitation that had built up from the focused stacks of steam through the scarf after each exhale.
All that's certain is this: cold weather sucks. Tomorrow will be colder yet.
Just when I find that the drawing class I want to get into is listed as being open, U of I Direct tells me the system is closed until 7:00 AM tomorrow. But what can be done?
First day was a first day. Much walking, much cold. Two classes with different uncertainties, tea with honey and chocolate Oreos to dip, American Idol.
Ian – my freshman supervisor at work, had ye forgotten – said that he's ‘greatly impressed’ with my programming abilities. I'll skip the modesty and admit that I do have skill with syntax and organization and all when I get into programming mode. If I could find a project that greatly interested me in programming, I'd do it.
Yes, yes, it's ironic and maybe a bit hypocritical when I whine about not wanting to be a programmer and all that crap. I don't want to be an assembly line programmer. I want to donate my logical sperm – as a manner of speaking – in creating a binary child. My name needs to be attached to the product as a subheading, not a footnote.
But I digress. Our phoneline is disconnected because the bill is slightly overdue by almost two months. Time to play an accountant.
A new semester is just hours away from starting. It's already off to a somewhat bad start in the work-I-should've-been-doing-but-haven't-because-of-Lord-of-the-Rings-and-whatnot kind of way. But let the good times unravel:
Good luck, all. Don't follow me to the ocean bottom.
I had a half-awake dream before getting out of bed in which I saw an enormous Monopoly game set, something like five or six feet high when folded. The price label said
‘Draft $12,042’, I believe (draft being the type of payment). My friends at the toy store were shocked.
There was another dream earlier in the night with all the Saved by the Bell characters. Kelly shocked herself accidentally, and Slater and Jessie were raving about a new variety of Frito Lays chips, a new cousin of the sour cream variety.
How did Kelly get shocked, you're wondering. Well, she was running her hands over an electrical switchboard, or something like it. Tens of thousands of volts went through her, and she was sent to the hospital. People were sad.
I don't remember if I had a part on the show or not, but I asked someone if it was because she wasn't negatively charged that she got shocked, and his reply was yes.
More specifically, if I'd written Lord of the Rings, I would have put in a character based on Toby. Toby might even replace Sam Gamgee.
His character would be named Tobias Halfhung, son of Little Richard Halfhung.
From an article on The Morning News:
Note: The person who told you Evian is na�ve spelled backwards will undoubtedly insist on calling Target tar-zhay. Nod politely. This is a very lonely human being.
The first thing that came to mind while reading that was: Ryan. Totally.
I watched Catch Me if You Can with Becky and Andrew last night. Good, entertaining movie. DiCaprio is a good actor.
If only I was so clever with my fraudulent dealings…I'd be in jail. Scratch that.
And then it snowed.
