Polly Want A Cuckold?
2001-04-29 - 9:41 a.m.
I�m just a little tired, is all...been thinking a little too much, you know. Archibald, please check that hole in my head again, I think it needs more superglue...Listening to Coal, Stay. Not because it�s the type of song I usually listen to, not because it�s a song I like. Just for the...�ouch� of it all.
I remember the fist time I saw a computer. The beginning of my fifth grade year...one of the big white boxes with television-type screens was placed in each classroom (there were three) of the middle school, and another in the office. Pre-386s with barely enough ram to run windows3.1, and they wouldn�t let us touch them. The following year, Step-mother got a macintosh (IIC, I think) for her work with speech therapy at her school, and I�d use it to play games when she brought it home on vacations. But when I moved to Pittsfield to start seventh grade, I was totally dumbfounded by the computer lab...a whole room of internet capable machines. There was a Tandy1000 at my dad�s house at that time, and this was the first computer I really used. I picked up what I could from what other people who talked about the machines at school, but at that point I could barely type my name on a keyboard. Just listening and memorizing whole strings of code that people would spout off so that I could go home and write qbasic strings on the Tandy. My programs almost never worked, but I could write loops and built a non-graphical (blind) maze. When I came up to MSSM, I took a programming class on scheme (used at RICE for artificial intelligence programming). And now, I�m re-learning bits of PROLOG that I picked up last summer...I doubt I�ll actually do anything productive in the way of computers, but it keeps me stimulated, and that allows me to hold onto my sanity for a little longer.
It�s the space between the words. The punctuation...that really defines, a voice. Personally, I like to do formal writing in a childish voice, because it permits me to be profound without sounding like every other corny shmuck that�s trying to get something published. When an adult says things in an adult sort of way, it sounds casual, normal, monotone. But that same monotone voice, if found in a child (speaking in a child sort of way), is appalling to the senses. Not exactly what you would expect; political commentary scratched onto the back of a baby rattle.
I guess I�m just sorta pist with myself about not getting an �A� last semester in mythic. I�ve always gotten �A�s in my English classes, and really appreciate teachers who go our of their way to tell be (in a blunt, careless tone) what I did wrong in each of my artworks.
My tail bone hurts. I spent three straight hours dancing to punk, rock, and ska with Muerl. Occasional moshing was involved in the confined area of the dorm kitchen. Hopefully I can set up another dance next month too.
Am I a victim of a boring life, or is my life a victim of a boring me?
