Makers Progress

Reddit is slowly pulling me in.

It's the slowness that assures me that it is inevitable.

Back when Digg hit the scene, I seem to recall being intrigued, but couldn't get it to work the way I wanted it to. I don't recall at the moment exactly what it was I wanted to do, but I also recall that I checked out Reddit at that time as well, and somehow lumped it into the same failboat.

Maybe this means I should check out Digg again, too. For some reason, though, I sure as hell hope not.

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These sites allow me to read CONSTANTLY. But I am still resisting. I am struggling with, instead of poking through my bookmarks out of sheer boredom, just averting my gaze from the screen, napping, or sitting on the couch and meditating on why I have a backlog of MAKING projects - clothes, software, electronics hardware, plastic casting, etc. - and I don't seem to want to do them.

It's conceivable that I could be happy or satisfied with accomplishments, achievements, OR with doing nothing at all. I could go either way. The puzzle is that I have yet to commit to either permanently. Both are moods that strike, sometimes on hourly cycles, sometimes on seasonal ones. As eaither way is adopted, there is this mild, subtle background itch that is only seldom powerful enough to merit the scratching. And when it does, the switch is made, and off we go, whether into a productive hacking or coding binge, reading and researching endlessly, or going into hibernation.

The important thing is not that I make one or the other commitment and stick to it at all costs. The important thing is that I am the source of all my choices.

I still recognize that even the despair of these last 6 weeks is my own doing. These depressions are not things I escape, so much as they fade.

This post was originally about Reddit. Oh, well.

nWo roleplaying quote of the game:

"imagine being a ninja pirate, with a peg leg, one eye, and parrot on your shoulder. Whenever you try to sneak up on somebody, it pipes up: 'BRAWK! I'm a ninja! *whistle*'"

Cottage cheese and peanut butter.

Separately, you nitwits!

Moods are still swinging. Today I had ANGER! How novel. Thankfully, I was able, as usual, to get away before I blew my cool. Nobody noticed, although it's possible some are wondering.

Ashes made a good point recently about the difference between gaining satisfaction from yourself, and getting satisfaction from solitude.

Leave me alone, and I do nothing, at least recently. This is a desirable state, sometimes. Rest is good. I like being spontaneous, being in charge, taking a walk, or a trip, or a thought, without consulting anyone. And then, when someone calls, and we hang out, I am amenable to requests. I'm suggestible. I'm helpful, caring, and empathetic. It's like a split personality.

I gravitate to my hole. But I cannot and/or will not pull myself out of it.

I'm not really sure how to want, never mind what. But when you come calling, I'll be there for you.

The LORD does not work in mysterious ways - he fails in them.

I took some time to dump my voice recordings, and came across dream reports I don't even remember forgetting.

I'm not sure I should leave all this on my phone.

1 cup dry chick peas
3 leaves romaine lettuce
half head broccoli,
2 tomatoes
2 tablespoons each of olive oil, lemon juice, and vinegar.

Seal chick peas in a container of water and soak in the fridge over night. The chick peas will expand to soak up the water, so be sure to leave them at least twice the space they take up. The next day, drain them, then put them in a saucepan of water to boil for 45 minutes.

slice up veggies.

mix oil, lemon juice, and vinegar, and shake vigorously for dressing.

Drain chick peas and add to veggies. Add dressing, and mix.

My amounts are probably off, as I'm still trying to get them right.

It's not that freedom is an illusion. But your expectations for it might be a little high.

Before 4am this morning, our cable went out. The TV also appears not to work. It's not in my name, so I'm SOL for the second time.

I am, however, connected using my Fido phone via USB modem. It was IMPRESSIVELY easy to connect using the Network Manager stack on Ubuntu Karmic Koala, unlike on previous releases.

I plugged in the phone. An item to set up a new mobile broadband connection magically appeared on the Network Manager widget's menu, taking me through the connection setup wizard. Fido was in the list, and all the default settings worked fine. Unlike before, I did not need to even install the blueman bluetooth connection manager, since I was usign the USB connection instead. All I had to do was turn off my wired LAN connection, and I was online.

Needless to say, it's not as fast as cable, but it's a damn sight better than dialup. It's more than adequate for the web and ssh sessions, if not for streaming media or Youtube.

Nice work.

Last night was pretty heavy. "Anxiety attack" might be a fair summary of what happened. Low-intensity dread. Some vitamin D, some 5htp, and two hours of sleep later, I'm awake in bed, recording a dream log, and feeling calmer and much better. If this keeps happening, I may well have a chance to experimentally isolate what actually brings me out of it.

I think one thing I'm taking out of the love I got Sunday was proof positive that, yes, I've definitely still got plenty of buttons to push to bring me out of this self and solitude jag I'm on in my life. I've known that, whenever a new mate comes along, it would feel so good that I know I'd want it when it did, even though I've been forming my life around being single. It's like fatherhood; like a murder pill - the stimulus triggers a change in your motivations without asking you if you want to adopt them. They're latent instincts, buried just under the psyche, kings of olde, invisible until called to arms in their kingdoms' hour of need. I now know how right I was; how prudent it is to leave myself an out when that love calls. This contact wasn't the complete fall into the sea, but it was enough to make me remember. It was a worthy drill.

Another, newer, thing, is that I am indeed less attached to solitude than I was. I got to live a little on the other side of the blossoming of new motivations, to cherish and appreciate how they can sweep me along, and maybe, just maybe, to relinquish some of the bitterness that has secretly characterized some of my journey in recent years. The discerning human conscience knows how to tell the difference between being valued by a facade of constructed persona, an other simulation, and a truly external sovereign. Few things redeem like a gift of touch.

Something is happening to me, upstairs.

I don't know how it's going to turn out. My perspectives and motivations are shifting. The Earth has moved. (The opposite of) the murder pill was dissolved in my drink.

There was an earthquake in a dream last night, at an outdoor summer trance party.

It's all been the result of some friends I was with Sunday.

And I remember seeing pink buds on a tree on View street. The guilded trap is sprung. The guilded trap is spring. Out my window, the silver lining is threatening to consume the cloud.

Once more unto the beach, my friends.
Once more unto my friends, the beach.

I'm debating reconnection. There's no fork in the road of solitude. Either you keep going, or you turn back, and everyone who makes the journey fades into invisibility as they go. I suspect, however, that it ends at a the top of a cliff. Either you go over the falls, losing even the self you cherish as the last thing you ever had, or return to the company of others. Somehow I don't think setting up a kissing booth there would bring in much business.

Nirvana is death. The cessation of suffering is not a terminal value; it is instrumental to the cultivation of joy.

Suddenly, I feel uncertain, though, dependent and anxious. In a day, I have gone from God Creator of my universe to a babe in arms. The comfort of the love and acceptance of foreign sovereigns has suddenly glittered and shown like I never remembered, and out-tantalyzed the bedrock of my solitary tower.

Here's to the rebels who stroll the paths
of this sordid zoo of mine,
and feed my heart with kindness
despite the clearly posted sign.

Here's an Apple rumor worth repeating:

On Google: We did not enter the search business, Jobs said. They entered the phone business. Make no mistake they want to kill the iPhone. We won’t let them, he says. Someone else asks something on a different topic, but there’s no getting Jobs off this rant. I want to go back to that other question first and say one more thing, he says. This don’t be evil mantra: “It’s bullshit.”

In summary: Jobs (allegedly) thinks Google really is evil, because they decided to compete with Apple (the gumption!), in a market space Apple itself isn't exactly an old hand in.

Stay classy, Steve.

You people feed my heart.

Thank you.

Some give a little more,
Some a little less.
That is their duty
to their own conscience.
But all give freely.
That is yours.

I'd been having a bad day. A nap was not going well. I feel like I couldn't figure out how to stretch my hips & legs right to relieve some mysterious tension. The anxiety is back; I feel like something unknown and subtle is wrong. It's not the world, this time; it's me.

Then, a friend came over, spontaneously, and I got some facetime input chit chat in, to satisfy the monkey in me.

It's strange to be obsessed with inadequate depth in relationships when basic, idle conversation can brighten me up so much.

Cocoa Crawl tomorrow. I don't think I'll have any money, but I'll follow the procession about.

"My book of matches says 'keep away from children.' Why, are they contagious or something?"

The dream logs are appearing. I have not been listening to the binaural beats before sleeping, but I've had quite a few dream report recordings the last two nights.

Swindles was last night's theme.

I'm sitting here in shorts and a tshirt with my balcony door wide open. I feel like a Norwegian, or something.

I have an iguana behind me. He periodically attempts to escape by climbing up an acrylic window in his enclosure. He always fails, and he never quits. His clumsiness, his hope, and the futility of his persistence creeps me out.

Pets make me uneasy, ethically. I have a hard time justifying them.