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Electronic Elasticity

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Work Term Finished, Week Off, Muffin


Oh, all right. Can't resist.

I am thoroughly enjoying a week off before summer school begins. I will be working part time, 3 days a week through may and june, just for some easy bank, whilst I complete mine third yeah reqwiements.

Woops, slipped a tad.

Anyhoo, tote some tea, tally ho, toodle pip, Glory to Her Majesty, wot wot.


Tuesday, April 18, 2006

As if posting your thoughts on the Internet was something novel. Yeesh.
Yes I know that, conceptually, blogging is a new phenomenon. "User generated media" and "The Contributing Public", and all that jazz.

But what many people / news articles / TV shows, pundits, trend-surfers and podcasters (hah!) tend to never mention is the obvious link between what blogs do now, and what the Internet has been doing for most of its existence.

On a conceptual level, The Internet is User Generated. This is a fundamental principle of how it works. There is no brain in a tank dictating what shall appear all across the World Wide Web tomorrow. There is no "TV Guide" to the Internet. "We" are the Internet. We make it and we each "own" a part of it, inasmuch as 1's and 0's, and ideas, can be owned.

I believe that Weblogging has gained so much public attention for two primary reasons:

1. It has made publishing one's own thoughts and finding another's thoughts online extremely easy.
2. It typifies the positive and contributive nature of the Internet that "we" (those of us interested) collectively want to emphasize and nurture.

Number 2 may need some explanation. My earlier assertion that blogging is a new method for an older purpose of the Internet may well be true, but if I was going to slap a single, capitalized word into the dictionary under "Internet", it would actually be "Communication", not contribution. The fact that this Communication is most often contributive in nature was the gist of my previous point. I am stating the obvious, I know, bear with me.

For many surfers, blogging; surely personal contributive comunication in its' most obvious form, is a flagship activity of a pos


One of the housemates will not be returning for a third lease-term this fall, instead, he is planning for the future by moving to Hull.

Regardless of how often you see someone, or how much you like each other; be ye best friends, silent enemies, or semi-caring automations, when you live with a person you do kind of get to know them. It is going to be odd not having this man in the house, not finding his socks in crazy and unrelated places, not seeing the collection of unused brewing bottles, not hearing the excellent trumpet practice, not smelling those crazy crackers.

I think I miss him already.

Which I suppose brings me to today's topic and question: Knowing People.

When do you "know" someone? When does that invisible line between casual acquaintance and friend / enemy get crossed? Can you not know someone after living with them for 3 years? Can you know a ton of stuff about a person, but nothing that really counts?

Is the reverse possible, where you really get to know someone in a single instant? Can one fact, or act, or sentence ever possibly tell you what you need to know, to really know?

Knowing someone is not a static thing. I can say that with some confidence. People are different every instant that you interact with them, every time there is something new to consider. Perhaps we forget that too often.

Meet the Me of tomorrow, and I guarantee that it will be different from the Me of today.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Some Stuff Is Coming up Lanky

Mhmmm. I finally received the money stolen from my BMO bank accounts over the weekend. It is safe and sound once more. Peanuts to some perhaps, but to this student, it was a huge worry. How the fuck was I going to survive the summer without 2 grand?

Well, I wasn't.

I worked a really manic Monday this week, managing to drive my desk faster than normal, heck, I would get a speeding ticket if it was a real car. I think I did a good job on the work too, and that usually counts for something. And here I sit, at 2:47 pm, with just under 45 minutes to go in this work day, and things seem pretty good.

My parents swung by on Sunday, up to check out a snow-mobile show in Kanata (or something). They bought me lunch and groceries!
Can't find anything wrong with that at all!

Da List:
1. Fix video-card in computer. Force ATI to release drivers that don't suck.
2. Ctrl-D this pile of self-interest I call a blog, in order to use this list.
3. Get Driver License photo thingy.
5. Learn to count.


Superstar DJs..
I am on a Chemical Brothers roller-coaster today, its fucking gorgeous outside, and I have spent a good 4 hours solid day-dreaming and using up battery power on my mp3 player. I respond so well to the sun it might as well be photosynthesis.
..Here we go!

A Heroin-Fuelled Bender!

I need one. Maybe not the heroin, but definitely the bender. A sassy, out of control romp on the town, to a hoppin joint that costs too much with a woman that looks too hot.

I am far too tame for my own good, now. My sense of what is fun and feasible has narrowed too much since first year, when it still included getting drunk on wine right out of a bottle and dancing until my body had no more water left in it. Wait... that's still fun. I just don't do it anymore! Whyyy? No one to do it with? Excuses.

I remember in first year, on Valentines my roommate and I started in early on some Tequila, and then our girlfriends showed up a bit later to help out. Then, nicely sauced, we went to cosmos in Hull and never left the floor. Best Valentines ever. Moments like that deserve to be emulated every once and a-while, and remembered whenever possible. Things acquire a glow in one's memory, yes. But memories don't get that way, get placed on the proverbial pedestal unless they were damn significant to begin with. The significance in this case was just a whole lotta fun.

Off and on I think about 1st year university, and how incredibly amazing it was. I doubt someone in first year, or going into first year will ever read this, but if somehow, such a person does: "Make your time."
Now, about that heroin-fuelled bender...