I Wish You Did

You can't make a heart love somebody

You can tell it what to do

But it won't listen t all

You can't make a heart love somebody

You can lead a heart to love

But you can't make it fall

Oh why why why. I thought I was going to get over Maddie easily, but god damn. I miss her. More than Katie, because I deeply resent Katie. I don;t with her though, I just miss her company.

Happy Birthday

Mine, actually. I'm eighteen now, totally legal. I got a briefcase and some ties from my family. I got a book and stickers and pens and jams and a lighter and a card and candles and cupcakes and chips and soda and a bunch of lovely notes, and all the stuff I missed, from someone else (I think you read this still, if you do let me know).

Storms

Oh I love a rainy night I love a rainy night

I love to hear the thunder

watch the lightning as it lights up the sky

You know it makes me feel good

That song was one of the last good memories I had with Maddie. Cheers, wherever you are, whatever you're doing. If I drank at all I'd toast you a dozen times tonight and hope to forget.

Fuck storms.

Cowboys and Programmers

If you think about it, and not too hard, the two aren't that different. You spend hours a day trying to just keep a few things moving along in the general direction you want them to, even though your route could be entirely pre-mapped, you can't see the way there unless you get beyond yourself and look at the big picture. You're lonely, frustrated, and even those you count as peers don't ever really feel that close.

Also you take most meals on the job.

Var Window = This

I feel dumb, but yes, I spent a full day wondering why a scrolling "Return To Top" button wasn't working. I had unthinkingly followed the advice of a commentator on Stack Overflow and apparently he was a dick. I spent all day wondering why, when in reality my coe looked like this var window= this; which, inside of a lovely $(document).ready(); meant that when I wrote $(window).scroll(); it was actually $(document).scroll(); which doesn't work in IE8. So we learn two things: I'm an idiot, and IE8 sucks.

They Grow Up

So I'm out to lunch with my coworkers, enjoying the roller-rink smell and country music. There are eight of us, and spread along a table, so that pockets of small combination form. It's not personal thing, it's just easier to talk to someone over your left and right shoulders than across the room. And suddenly I hear my dear colleague- let's call her Mary- discussing the Naked Mile.

Now, let me paint you a word picture. Remember your first grade teacher? She was old and fat and looked like she enjoyed making meatloaf. This is Mary.

Then she gracefully segues into her story about Hash Bash in Ann Arbor when she was a youngun'. And just hearing her talk about it, I realized something.

That kid that sits in the back of the bus who uses the same twenty-four words for his conversation, the girl who's always talking about her last weekend in the club, the one guy that always wears jeans and t-shirts and smells a bit like cheap beer.... they don't kill them after graduation. These kids grow up and become normal people, with jobs and hobbies....

And somehow these memories, of being these kids. I don't know how that works....

I honestly wonder what I'll think of myself when the time comes.

Days One and Two at Wod

Let's just be clear, the company I work for isn't actually called Wod, but I've spent the past two days reading legal mumbo jumbo and it scared me, so from now on, yes they are. Or they'll find me. I know it.

Day one, I couldn't work, so that was nice. I got there bright eyed and bushy tailed, in a blue shirt and khakis, because certain cliches must be met, and I went for my security badge. The first thing the mustachioed man behind the security counter asks me is for my Driver's License. Well howdy-doody-roo, I don't have that with today, sheriff. In fact, I won't for another two weeks. He asks how old I am. This is one of those times it would have been great to lie my arse off. I should have said 18, but I said 17, and he's all like *hippy voice* well we got a problem maaaaaan (I might have added that out of spite.)

So I do my sitting and waiting, and very nearly turned the age they wanted me to be when the human resources lady sent someone for me.

So I get in, and since I can't work I spend the day watching training videos.

I get home years later at the end of the day and I get to work getting my Work Permit/Certificate of Age, as is customary for my people. I saw that I didn't need one, because I graduated high school, because I'm not a degenerate.

Some part of me knew it wasn't going to be good. Regardless, I printed off the relevant documentation, and two copies of my diploma (one for HR, one for the security prick) and went to sleep at 8PM like all good boys and girls.

Arriving the next day- yes, driven by my mom- I went to the security office, and threatened to burn the families of those inside if they would not give up my badge. They made a big fuss because I didn't have the document I said I'd need and the documentation looked sort of fake (that's just because Michigan bites) and I waited there for half an hour.

Still, when I start working, it should be interesting.

Summation

So I stumbled across a blog post today whilst doing some "research" for "work". To save you the trouble of guessing, no, it's not anyone you've ever heard of, and no, it's not my own. Here Blog Post. Go ahead and read it, I'll wait.

Did you? Good.

For a while I've been interested in math, and now I'm going to take Mr. Yegge's advice and spending some time finding out the bare traces I can about math. To sort them out, I'll probably be posting them.

That brings us to Summation.

I started with summation because in a lot of my Wikipedia-browsing I'd find it, and I'd get scared.

So bring it you Sigma bitch.

Gibberish

I hear tell, you're doing well

Your days are never blue

I wish I had your happiness

And you had to do wacka do wacka do


I see you rollin' down the street

In Your Big Cadillac

You got girls in the front

Girls in the back

Way in the back, you got money in the sack

Both hands on the wheel

And your shoulders reared back


I wish I had your good luck charm

And you had to do wacka do wacka do wacka do

Bad-Ass

My dog was mauled by a pit-bull ajd is up walking around. There are sixth graders that don't get up after that shit.

Gmail:Yahoo! Mail = Google+:Facebook

There were once two companies. One did a thing adaquately and took over the internet. Then a second company came and did the same thing better, but only geeks wanted to use it. Both services lived.

This parable is the story of Gmail and Yahoo! Mail, (Yahoo! being the first company) and possibly the future of Google+ and Facebook

Wyoming Sucks

I don't know shit about cars.

America

This upsets me, because every songle nation in the world is built on conquest. The French and English were Romans who viciously conquered the native Celts and Goths, Persians and Mongols had Empires that spanned a dozen tribes and conquered peoples, but we laud those countries while villfying America.

The Cute Oatmeal

or at least the fixings. And my sister taking a picture of the cute oat meal