Archive for September, 2009
Saturday is getting really, really busy.
There are three things I want to get done Saturday between 5:00 and 11:00: there’s a Rosh Hashanah dinner, a Jonathan Coulton concert, as well as the public debut of the ride a light-cycle project I’ve been working on (at the Atomic Cowboy. Should be fun!). I don’t see how it’s all going to fit together, time wise.
Still, having too much choice beats the alternative, right?
September 17th, 2009
Borlaug Fantasies: The belief that, if properly motivated, each and every human has the potential to become the kind of scientist that keeps hundreds of millions of people from starving to death due to resource scarcity.
September 14th, 2009
I’m having a particularly graceless week. I feel stressed, overextended, my allergies are kicking in, and I’m not sleeping well. My sleep is restless and shallow.
The practical upshot of this is that I’m having lots of vivid, semi-lucid dreams that I remember when I wake up.
For example: I’m dreaming about a sniper team lying in wait for a high value target. I’m not a member of the team; I’m an observer. Specifically, I’m the cameraman for the COPS: Marine Sniper show, who is giving away their position by meandering around with a shoulder mounted camera, attempting to interview people who are doing their best to look like bushes. “Is it normal for them to run away from your position like that?”
Another example: I’m stuck in a musical, and I’m the only one who is aware of the fact that everyone around me periodically launches into song. Everyone else enters into a trance state while they sing, and they pop back out of song with no awareness of the fact that they launched into choreography. During the song, I seem to be the only one left with critical faculties. This wouldn’t be so bad, except they sing about the stupidest shit. “I want” songs about washing your hands after using an airport restroom[0]. So, my role in the dream is to attempt to stop the songs by physically disabling the lead singers before the choreography kicks in.
On the one hand, I’m worried that I’m going insane. On the other hand, maybe being insane is fun.
[0]: Man starts to sing in front of sink, in airport restroom. Music swells, stall doors open in unison, people shuffle out with pants around ankles, and toilet paper streamers in their hands. Dance routine involves a lot of shuffling, due to lowered pants.
September 10th, 2009
Ack. Thirteen days until I’m 30.
I’m not handling this gracefully; the number is scary. It symbolizes old age, decline, etc. Should I throw a party, or celebrate by writing a will?
In my discomfort, I’ve retreated into Batman fantasies. Oh, Batman. Your arms are so… strong. But why must you brood?
“Batman Fantasies” is how I refer to the pervasive male meme that states: if properly motivated, each and every man could train really hard and become an amazing badass. It’s not too late; you can do it too! You just need something to motivate you, like the death of everyone you ever loved.
Last time I started thinking along these lines, I started rock climbing. However, that didn’t turn me into a badass.
This time, I’m a bit lazier, and I’m just playing through “Batman: Arkham Asylum”. Which is a great game, and kind of cathartic. The characters are good, the plot is good, the gameplay is good, and it doesn’t slave itself to any particular movie or comic continuity, giving it the freedom to be its own beast. Plus, I get to sit on the couch in the dark while playing. Every five minutes I find myself growling, “I’m Batman.”
Rhiannon likes watching it, which adds an extra layer of complexity to the experience, as I’m not allowed to unlock any plot points when she’s not around. Yes, my escapist fantasies about being a complete badass are slaved to my fiancée’s free time. I sure am hardcore.
September 2nd, 2009