ugh.

I just spent 13 hours straight writing the world's most useless c++ program.  It's a measly three classes.  No special methods, no assignment, copy, or destructor methods.  Should have taken about 2 hours, maximum.  13 hours, 11am->midnight.  And now that's yet another day late, well, why bother staying up to work on it any further.  I figured out the big bug with less than an hour into it.  I had a choice -- turn it in, close to complete, with a few errors, nothing big, for a 93 maximum, or wait another day and polish it for an 85 maximum.

Well, I couldn't bring myself to turn in a crapshoot, so tomorrow I'll make the code as clean as I possibly can, and try to submit the cleanest code I've ever written.  I feel sorta lousy about this, but know I tried my hardest.  Next time, I'll have to try my hardest before it's due.

(no subject)

So Jenna got me into this singer named Regina Spektor. Sort of a girly thing to like, but it's really quite nice. This one song got our attention last summer-

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi, le deluge, after me comes the flood

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood

Февраль. Достать чернил и плакать!
Писать о феврале навзрыд,
Пока грохочащая слякоть
Весною черною горит.

Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Apres moi le deluge, after me comes the flood

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, It's not my choice

I must go on stan-stan-ding-ding
You can't, can't break that, that
Which isn't, isn't yours, yours
I'm not, not my own, own
It's not, not my choice, choice

The Russian part, well, we weren't so sure what that meant, because we couldn't tell what language it was in. Most pathetic, since I was 4 weeks out of a year long Russian class. So this song has three languages- English, Russian, and a little French. "Apres moi le deluge" is French, and means literally the next English line sung.

The Russian part is stolen from a poem writer named Борис патернак. (Boris Paternak)

February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring.

the progression of techniques

As I rode in the backseat of Caity's car, both up and down from Maine, I had a visual interpretation of my interests progressing along with time.

There's a three level model that technology evolves through which I was taught early in my undergrad. They are born into the first phase, and then, if useful, evolve into the middle phase, and eventually retire into the final phase:

Toy
Tool
Antique

As technologies are born, they enter into a Toy phase where they are not useful. They are really fun to play with but have no apparent use. This is where a lot of the things I have learned have accumulated over the years, and I finally see them moving into the second phase, where they are not fun.

In the Tool phase, these technologies are no longer fun, but are practical and serve their master in some way. I have lots of things that I know how to do that used to be fun, but no longer are. I long for the days where I could just sit here learning how they worked, but the truth of the matter is that I no longer find any facets that need much development. Not to say that I've truely mastered them as well as many, but it's enough to claim that I can use them faithfully and on their own, they are tools and no longer toys. Boring, trusty components that can solve problems.

The Antique phase is obvious: tools that have moved beyond their usefulness as new ones replace them. I don't have too many that have fallen into this category that come to mind immediately, however I am sure I could compile some examples if I was pressed to do so.

I had a visual interpreation of this as I was riding along in the car. I saw little things I have enjoyed ahead of me in time. As I progressed through time, those items remained static and moved beside me, and then beyond. Small arrowheads were attached from me to them as they scrolled, and I could see finally that there are things I should no longer be focused upon, no longer considering as a target for my attention. To do so further is simply a waste of time.

cause i can never remember details

I went to Caity's 2008 New Year's Party. Jordan went, so did Ally. I didn't know anyone else. It was pretty laid back. Ally struck me as really intelligent. I think that's about all I remember. I brought my one-up mushroom as a pillow. None of this seems useful as information. I should start filtering what I add to this journal. I had some really amusing thoughts in the car rides, both up and back.

coffee

So here's the first thing I did in 2008:

We went to a breakfast place in Bangor (Caity, her girl Amanda, and two other kids), sitting there, and we order a carafe of coffee. So it comes out, and there's a bit button on top. Well, all the carafes I've ever used with one button meant that button means "go". So not knowing it's the latch for the lid, I dump 1.25 quarts of steaming hot coffee all over my pants. I guess that's worth remembering.

music

Music is a strange sort of thing. When you're most feeling down and out, the secret bindings music have between that which is real and that which is not allows those who listen to capture the little mistakes where the happy things of the unreal escape...

the origin of the name

This one day, I'm sitting there at my desk.  We had those nasty, maroon chairs that Bill fished out of the pizza place's dumpster long before.  Still had the coleslaw stains, 'though the smell was long gone, mostly.  Super slow Saturday at the office, with the tech crew version two point oh manning probably four of the phones.  I'd just barely made sysadmin, but was still doing phone tech too. Got good old Barry in one corner, who-knows up front, and then the other Mike and myself. 

We always did a sort of lunch run on Saturdays.  We'd pool up and one of us got the nice break to go fetch.  This one particular day, the other Mike, who was unilaterally known as a drug addict, found himself short on the greenbacks.  He gives me a pouty look across the split, and I know that I'm about to get conned into his eating free.

'Cept, that day the boy delivered.

"Dude," he said, "today is your lucky day.  Guess what dude?"

"I dunno, what?"

"Dude, I don't have any lunch money.  But I am willing to trade you something if you get my lunch."

"What could possibly be worth a free lunch?"

"Check this out dude."  The kid whips his wallet out of his back pocket and flips it open.  "In my wallet I have... a list.  A list of glorious domain names my friend and I came up with two weekends ago while we were high!"

I rolled my eyes.  "I doubt they're glorious..." I suggested to him.  Oh how wrong I was.  Third down on the list, there she was.  "Digitalsushi?!"

"Cheah dude!  You want it?  Cause I want General Tso, number three dude."

Well, the rest as they say is history.  Except that I don't appear to be famous.