Certified Mail

gtfo my head

A dog with a joint

Post-Christmas pre-New Years is a part-time employee perdition. Every forty hour employee is emptying out his/her vacation time cache. I guess I could just be angry at myself asking for 'every hour possible over break', but it feels easier creating some complex and pretenious allusion that ties in with the obscured title.

Go, go, hash collision: "Most hash functions have potential collisions, but with good hash functions they occur less often than with bad ones." English: You have two sets of data, which can be completely different information, and run a simple algorithim on it, and somehow these two completely different sets of data can give out the same answer. Most of the time this isn't a good thing. But really what is it that causes them to come out to the same solution? What if we extrapolate this beyond data and talk about two people. What makes two random people have any interaction at all? Is it their personality: likes, dislikes, hobbies (data)? Maybe its a friend working as an intermidate between them (algorithim)? I suppose I allign with the solution that I just have too much time to sit and think at work.

Only about 120 more hours to go.

And as informally promised, a dog with a joint (penny-arcade):

Merry Christmas: Vers. 2.1

The ol' slag Santa treated me well this year. I did in fact receive the lusted Canon S70, though I find it much like losing one's virginity: you know what to do in theory, but in practice it seems to be much more complicated. Yet that was not the end of the loot; Santa knew of my cologne shortage as well as the tragic loss of my backpack only a few weeks ago.

Still, I received a different surprise today, on Canada's second favorite holiday Boxing day, that could be the best yet of the season: a clear head. I feel released from the anxiety I've been holding against for the last month--the surge is gone. In that I am nullified.

Because any return from this moment on, will always be nullified.

Gifts

I've been so busy in studying that I completely forgot what I asked for christmas--even that Christmas is coming. Recalling Santa should be dropping off a beautiful Canon S70, my spirits definitely peaked--then piqued.

The entire last two weeks have been like a dream sequence: between the caffeine, long hours, and subsequent malnutrition, everything and everyone is just floating along. I'm just going to open my eyes and finals will be over and I'll be sitting on a couch with a drink in my hand at my family friend's Christmas eve party, no idea how the hell I got there and why I'm so intoxicated. Maybe I'm already there--intoxicated. Intoxicated with so many questions, I can't handle the answers.

I've been using the punching bag my roommate aquired earlier this fall to see if it holds any guidance. Since, my knuckles have been bloody even with my gloves, my arms are perpetually heavy, my hands haven't held still from the muscles twitching in my arm.

I guess it just takes some time to callous.

Lucid

I'm at the golden point now between final assignments already turned in before the finals actually commence. As per my usual behavior, anything not directly involving school or sleeping becomes stagnant in time. Clothes are splitting and multiplying across my room, I continuously tip over the same empty beer bottle that has been sitting on my desk since last weekend. When does it end? I'll clean to bide my time when the inevitable hangover arrives the morning after my last final.

On the note of drinking, I haven't had more than the aformentioned beer for two weeks. A week from last Friday I was out with friends and awoke Saturday morning at 1pm with my jacket still zipped to my chin lying on my covers. After a hangover that was worse than any day at work--it lasted at least eight hours--I decided it was right time to cut back before these last few weeks of the semester.

In the end I guess I'd rather wake up with extra clothes on than none at all: I don't think I could emotionally handle actually losing a pair of boxers somewhere in the cold Minnesota night.

From Russia

I owe someone an apology. In retrospect, though I didn't intentionally incur certain actions, I definately didn't put any thought into the reprecussions of the ones I did think about. In the back of my mind I guess I knew what I was doing and didn't care. I don't know if its just looking at the situation retrospectively I place guilt on myself because the pieces have come together or because someone told me at the time, "hey, you understand this situation and what you're doing?"--its probably the latter.

Regardless of my previous lapses of judgement, I still felt strongly enough after a minute of intense study to decide I was going to rejoin the only MMO I've ever played: eve-online. The general premise is your character is in space and you try your best to ruin someone's day. Piracy and scamming are the best parts of the game and people go through great lengths (spend 2-3 months infilitrating another corperation) to accomplish the goals.


beautiful -- click for full size

2 AM

It's damn cold outside.

---
4°F
Feels Like
-19°
---

The streets were empty as I drove home from the hospital. I think I like them better that way. There's almost a sadness and longing for the day that passed but an acceptance of its demise. Pick your favorite trig funtion--just a series of ups and downs. I don't know which I should be more concerned: comparing something as illogical as emotions to mathematics or the way it seems to fit so well.

A letter

Rrrr Rrrrrrrr,
R rrrr rrrr rrrr rrrrrrrr rrrrr rr, rrr rrr rrrr rr rrrr rrrrr rrrr r rrrrrrr rrrrr. Rrr rrrrrr rrr rrrr rr rrrrrrr rr rrrrrr rrrr rrrrrr rrrr rrrr rrrr rrrr. Rrr rrr rrrr rrrr rrrrrrrr rrrr rrrrr rr rrrr? Rrrrr rrrrrrr rrr rrrrrr? Rrrrrrrr, rrrrrrrr. Rrrrrr rrr rrr rrrrrrrr 'RRRR RRR' rr rrrr. R rrrr rrrrrr rr rrrrrrr rrrr rrr rrrr rr rrrrr rrrrrrr rrrrrrr rrrr rrr rrrrr rrrr rr rrrr rrrrr rrr.

Rrrrrr rrr rrrrrr rr $RRR rr rrrr. Rrrrr rrr r rrrrrr R rrr rrrrrrr rr rrrr rr rrr rrr rrrrrr--rrr rrr rrr rrrr. Rrrrr rrrr R rrrrrr rrr rrr r rrrrrr rrr rrrr.

Rrrrr, rrr rrrrrrr rrrr.

Rrrr rrrrrr,
Rrrr

Petrarch

Finals are drawing near and I'm doing all I can not to tank the last few weeks. Looking ahead I'm going to try to stick around the house and work on homework Saturday night to prep my final study guides. I don't know if I'll be able to deviate from my usual aberrent behavior. I can't shake the feeling that I could be missing some crazy drunken debauchery that I'll never have the chance to make up. It's almost an unrequited love.

The American Heritage Dictionary offers only one explaination: "unrequited. adj. not reciprocated or returned in kind". I think it a fair assuption that in colloquial context it can also serve the lovee not aware the true intentions of the lover, or any knowledge the lover's existance.

I can hardly recall the last time I truely felt it. Sometimes looking at old pictures of friends in high school recall that feeling, but it still feels like a story from a book instead of the current reality. It is a haphazardous emotion regardless, a future relationship built in perfect mental blueprints but lacking any form of implementation. The thoughts are purged during the day by simply being too busy. But the design returns to you nightly, sipping your coffee and having a smoke your mind drifts back to it again. It always comes down to a simple dichotomy of whether you really want to know. When you flip the first card, hoping for a "1" or
"2 and draw again" to get out of your base, you're accepting the fact that your opponent will eventually get a Sorry! and in step remove you. Even if you play right the game it is still chance.

Christmas preperations

I'm normally not an impulse buyer and though I had tentively planned on getting one, I bought an 8 ft Christmas tree this weekend. After assembling and lighting I have to admit my house felt a lot more like home, if you drive on 8th in Dinkytown regularly you can see it in our window between 13th and 14th. Right now there are only lights and candy canes hanging from the tree. We're going to be getting red bulbs and an angel to finish it sometime this week.

Revelling in the smell of Christmas, I thought it only right to take a picture in front of it with a thick knitted Christmas sweater. Better yet, all of the guys in the house should take their grandma gifted sweaters and send out it out on cards "Happy Holidays from 1323". I'm sure it would be well received by my parents and relatives, the thought I'm sending out my own Christmas card has some mixed feelings. The one I want to send out now is more of a joke than anything else, but when will it stop being a joke and have an letter accompanying it?

It sometimes feels like you stay the same age and kids just keep getting younger. When are you actually an 'adult'? Most people suggest after college, but most people are only 23. I thought it could be when you get an dog or cat but I have at three friends who are younger than I am with animals--four if you include a hedgehog. Same story with getting married or having a serious job, I can't fathom someone fresh out of school at 23 having any serious responsiblity that I normally attribute to adults. Maybe you have the same fears, problems, and worries at 30 that you do at 20.

The only real way to tell when you've crossed the line is when you legitimately send out your first Christmas card.