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August 29th, 2003

It's lame-ass friday. Morphodite day where nothing is really set in stone, and I pretty much wait for stuff to do in the DV lull.

I'm going home this weekend, and it looks like I may not be staying in the hotel next week. Kind of a toss of the coin right now. I may even get to go home a little early today and get in some dog time. Barb is gone, so the pooch will be hanging out by me all weekend, at least while I'm home.

I'm really glad that Monday is a holiday, because I have the feeling I'll need it by the time this weekend is over. I really want to sleep in my own bed again. And there is a lot of creative stuff clogging my brain that I'd like to unleash if I get the chance.

And I'm sooooo sleepy...

Oops.

"Research by Denise Donnelly of Georgia State University, who is writing a book on celibacy in marriage, shows 16 percent of couples fail to have sex at least once a month, a pattern she found predicted marital unhappiness and divorce."

(source).


1. Are you going to school this year? -- not likely. I may attend a workshop or two, and I usually learn stuff on my own when I need to.

2. If yes, where are you going (high school, college, etc.)? If no, when did you graduate? -- HS, 1980. Collij, 1990.

3. What are/were your favorite school subjects? -- Physics and engineering, psychology, human sexuality.

4. What are/were your least favorite school subjects? -- chemistry, philosophy (because of the manner in which it was taught), sadistics.

5. Have you ever had a favorite teacher? I've never "had" a teacher.

Give me the news...

The Fourth Doctor
You are the Fourth Doctor: A walking Bohemian
conundrum with a brooding personal magnetism
and a first-rate intellect concealed somewhere
beneath your charmingly goofy exterior. You are
perhaps the most terribly clever of all the
Doctors, though your occasional bouts of
childishness get you in trouble. You never go
looking for a fight, but when someone messes
with you... good heavens, are they ever sorry
they did.


Which Incarnation of the Doctor Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Teeth and curls...

detritus

I think cleaning would be easier if I really had a place to put *stuff*. Currently, all of the *places* to put *stuff* are full of *stuff*, so at some point, I have to get rid of some *stuff*.

And I am a notorious pack-rat. Or more like a pack-capybara. I need to take a weekend and devote it to just getting rid of stuff, and I need to do it harshly. And I know I need to do this. But somehow, I never seem to find the time or the energy, so I have *stuff* everywhere.

A lot of it is just junk. Some of it in the basement is actually trash that was in process from a prior cleaning binge that got usurped by a different project. There is actually a box that I can't reach in one of the rooms that I know is full of trash. I can see it, but in order to reach it, I'd have to move a bunch of *stuff*.

Sometimes I just want to get a big dumpster and toss everything and start new. And other times, I make a concerted effort, but before long I'm getting nostalig about the toy truck that was gonna be a robot project, and the empty freon tanks that were gonna be air concentrators for an automation system, or the stereo that I really should fix some day...

We should hold a garbage sale. Buit that would involve a hell of a lot of work, not to mention the sorting and moving and cleaning up and so on. And there's a lot of ebay-ready stuff, but there's still the sorting and cleaning and all. And I haven't yet managed to do that little thing.

Oh, I've done pieces here and there. Like the lavender room, where I installed shelves and actually put *stuff* on them. Or the laundry room, which I moved a bunch of crap out of when it flooded and actually threw away a bunch of old clothes that were beyond resurrection. But there's still too much *stuff*.

Barb brought up the idea of renting a storage locker. I bristle at that, because it would just become a place to put more *stuff*, and I want to get rid of *stuff*.

Like right now the studio is full of *stuff*. So full, I can't use it for anything. It became the depository for Barb when she needed to put something someplace else "temporarily". But the phrase "out of sight, out of mind" comes into play, and stuff never leaves. It just becomes *stuff*.

I need to start with one room. Probably the old coal room in the basement. It's full of *stuff* that I haven't even seen in a couple of years, and I should just cut through it with a big trash bin and start hauling. Then I could put in shelves. And it would become the catalyst: I could start sorting through the *stuff* to find the things I really wanted to keep, and get rid of the rest in some sort of sloughing frenzy. Ebay or the highway.

Of course, in a practical sense, I need the studio to be operational first. Which means that I need to shuffle things around like one of those anagram-square games where there is one empty slot and you keep sliding things around until they make a picture. And I need to throw stuff out.

Feh.

I wish I had a little disintegrator ray gun.
So I've been ranting on and off about the commoditization of engineers, and the suffering of the job market, but I've been neglecting one of the consumer areas.

As much as it makes consumers happy to be able to purchase products on the cheap (aren't you glad you don't have to pay $10,000 for winzip?), it has bridged into the field of hardware.

It used to be that consumer products were made to last for a while. I know guys that still have working stereo equipment built in the late 1960's, and I myself have some studio equipment from the '70s that is still in fine shape.

But show me a cell phone designed to last more than three years.

Or how about a kitchen mixer? My mom still has one of WWII vintage that she still uses on a regular basis. You would be hard-pressed to find something of that ilk today.

Everything is becoming temporary. The computer that I'm writing this on has become obsolete in the matter of four years. It can't be upgraded. It's gone from a couple thousand dollars to zero, and it's completely expected.

And look at buildings. Remember the Perkins on Lake Street just off of Uptown? That building was there for maybe five years before it was bulldozed so someone could put up a bigger building.

We have become eminently discardable. Even to the level of people.

I am not a piece of trash to be used up and thrown away. I don't want to make things that are thrown away after a few weeks/months/years of use.

The world is coming to an end.

The Guinness World Records Book lists Adam Sandler, 36, as the world's highest-paid actor, based on a salary of $49.5 million in 2001.

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