We get today off at our school, which is pretty damn cool seeing as it’s our first week of class.
Unfortunately, it turns out that GIS never sleeps. Here I am, waiting for someone to come in and ask me anything about anything really. What was funny was that I arrived at the Library like I was supposed to, around 9 30, only to find the doors locked until 10. I was scheduled to work when my workplace was closed. Great.
For the first hour, however, I pretty much had the whole library, or at least my room, to myself. Imagine a field of rolly chairs and giant flat screens. All I needed was some popcorn and a good movie and I could have had a hell of a time.
But then a challanger approached. And decided to sit in the computer group right next to me. And eat a sandwich VERY loudly. Those of you that know me know I do not take kindly to mouth noises, so this was a special form of hell.
Good news: I’ve been working on some CRP stuff for a while now, and I’ve made some pretty solid document designs.
Bad news: Agent orange currently sleeps peacefully in my bed, and it’s taking all my will power not to dash home and jump in with her. I honestly would trade fair sums of money, power, hell, a lot of things, to be able to wake up next to her.
I’ve realized I haven’t posted with the frequency and intensity of past months. Honestly, it’s because I have little to write about. And that has it’s ups and downs. On one hand, writing is usually inspired by conflict, by any misplaced emotion, by the tears in long stretched threads or by hatred and envy (human status: confirmed). The absence of these things has gutted the creative mind and taught it how to sing for required courses; namely for my major. On the other hand, however, due to a lack of inspiration, I have nothing to show. I feel good, I post less and vice versa.
Really, it’s because I’m damn tired. School has been less forgiving when it comes to free time. Where once I had a situation that encouraged me to write, to think, to define myself, I now have survival amongst the insipid masses.
Lately I’ve been realizing that maybe I’m not all that I’ve cracked myself up to be. Strangely enough, this thought seems to line up with my new philosophy class. I haven’t sat down and listened to a good song in a while. I haven’t followed the path of ink and graphite on their haphazard trail through blue lines recently. I haven’t read Vonnegut in too damn long.
So here’s a little decree, to make this seem official: I’m going to have a good time fulfilling the small creative wants of the mind and cushioning the lustful desires of the senses while balancing the push and pull of responsibility. Vague enough to shade the lonely wanderer that is creativity and specific enough to manage passing grades.
Sleep is something I have to hunt, to capture, to attack and to kill in order to bask in its benefits. Sleep is a wild animal, calming, and seductive, that can kill you without a moment’s hesitation. Tonight, I’m going to kill this beast, without a single remorse. No regret, no doubt.
While they may be damn good for sitting, there is no way you can sleep in them. No matter how much you contort your body, your spine presses and refuses comfort.
As an added bonus, they recline about 5* and even have a legrest. That puts you in the perfect position to give blood.
Giving blood != sleeping.
You can put yourself in a comfortable haze though. You can feel your eye lids gets heavy as they refuse to open, but inside, inside, your mind is flying while the nets of sleep launch. Unfortunately, they all miss, or at least they did last night.
It was a little enjoyable, that state of haze, but I would have much rather spent it with the soft touch of lips and the whispy coverings of hushed voices.
Take a whole bunch of pictures. Like, a lot. Well into the 50’s. And not just ordinary pictures, although some of those too, but you need crazy pictures. Pictures of absolutely nothing. Cool pictures, weird pictures, everything.
Print out these pictures in all shapes and sizes, hell, if you can get a huge print, go for it.
Then, infiltrate your nearest Michaels and replace all the stock photos in the frames with your pictures.
Spent the better half of today in a bus or on a train. Most of that time was spent trying to find the most comfortable in a multitude of uncomfortable sleeping spots. The other half? Reading like there was no tomorrow.
I picked up this book, or rather, put it on my kindle, called “A Short History of Nearly Everything” by Bill Bryson.
It’s one hell of a read (huge too!). The author is humorous, in a sophisticated way, and the content is extremely engaging. So far, he’s covered all of the sciences and how they came to be, including important discoveries, people, and especially missed opportunities, and I’m only about 20% in. You learn an incredible amount about nearly everything, and the book acts almost like a refresher for your high school history lessons. I really recommend it.
Something I’m really disappointed about is the weather. It seems the farther north I go, drearier it gets. Nothing wrong with some heavy rain clouds, but this weather is just gloomy. +1 for central california.
I’m also not a big fan of travel headaches. No matter what, it seems if the distance is greater than 100 miles, I’m getting a headache. Maybe it’s some sort of new evolutionary advancement to keep humans in place, but for now it’s just a literally pain in the head.
But keep positive right? Exactly! I’ve had a whole damn day to blow enjoying reading and travelling, so I have nothing to complain about. Also, homemade food in about an hour. And then a comfy bed and some uninterrupted sleep.
It funny that this is spring break. I don’t know how it’s happening, but the quarters seem to be advancing exponentially. Next thing I know, I’ll be on my way home for the summer, the lake on mind, some sun on my skin, and a damn goofy grin to top it all off.
Another positive: Hunger Games.
Also: Agent Orange.
Hopefully, she’ll receive the documents in time.
For now, home is getting closer and closer. I can’t decide if I should play skyrim all week, or give the whole socializing thing a shot, tough choice.
My new singlespeed, handlebars, and rims came today!
Good: Extremely excited to throw them on the bike. After about a half hour of wrapping and figeting, the brakes, levers, tape, and handlebars were on the bike!
Bad: After throwing the old tube and tire from my original wheelset onto my new rims, I realized the rims themselves were too deep for the tube valve to reach through. So basically, I had everything set and ready, except I couldn’t inflate the tire. The real kicker? This all happened around 15 minutes after all the bike stores had closed. Damn.
Tomorrow, I plan on waking up, leasurly eating breakfast and taking a shower, and then high tailing it to my nearest LBS to buy some extra long valved tubes.
He was just now washing his hands. The cold, slippery water sputtered and fell from the faucet, clinging to his hands, as if that was their only purpose. The water clung, and clung, as if that was their only experience, before death and the drain took them. But very quickly, the clinging water was pushed away by more droplets, as they too wanted their chance to live.
The worlds lightest bike weighs in around 6lbs. 6 fucking pounds. That’s 2lbs less than a galllon of milk.
Of course the whole thing is made out of carbon fiber, from the crankset to the brake calipers, and even the hubs. The whole bike in total is estimated to cost around $45,000, as most of the parts are prototypes and even then some of the carbon fiber is unavailable through normal means.
It’s a beautiful bike, and here’s the article describing it.
Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
Start as close to the end as possible.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
- Vonnegut, Kurt Vonnegut, Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons 1999), 9-10.