That NFC stands for National Football
Champions Conference makes it very frustrating to find near field communication jewelry.
That NFC stands for National Football
We suspect that one of the kitchen light fixtures burns out bulbs too quickly. Marking this post as the day we replace them, for reference. Also, getting CFLs. There is a suprisingly large amount of light bulb information available for non-home owners. I just want the most healthy light with the least ecological footprint. That should be easier.
I am about to do something really strange. I am going to rebuild this site, my personal blog, one month at a time, in chronological order.
The primary reason is because I can. I think I take it for granted that I both understand the tech well enough to know the consequences, combined with the fact that I don’t really care. I’ve been working on some other sites, and I think it is time I broke my content up in a way that I want, historical/canonical record be damned.
This site that lives at interi.org is going to become my journal. If my technical posts aren’t too personal, they will go to maiki.xyz. And for gaming/media/RPG, that is going to a new, unnamed project I am just starting up.
So if you are reading this, please excuse my mess; things are about to get radical around here. ^_^
My friend Jason took his own life around the the new year.
I’ve been staring at the first line for 15 minutes, so I suppose I ought to get on with this. It hurt a lot, and it will probably hurt a lot more, for a while longer.
I had a lot more to write, but stuff just kept coming up, and I instead thought about it a lot.
I am very angry, and sad. I normally calm down and then talk to the person, but I don’t get to do that now, and that sucks.
I am grateful for my family, and Jason was a part of that, and I’ve dealt with a lot of loss in my short time, and I feel like I can handle this in a general way, even if I am not so sure about the specific details of processing and letting others know.
Or maybe I just don’t have a lot to say because it is holding in a lot of other things. That could be a coping mechanism, letting a little bit out at a time.
I love Jason. Folks will say all kinds of things about why he did this, and about the relative respite he will have now. But I don’t like that, and since Jason isn’t here I am going to be selfish and say I wished he had stayed here for me, and Susan and Clover, and the many people I’ve contacted that knew and loved him.
But mostly for me.
Welp, I am going in for an unscheduled, urgent root canal this afternoon. Nothing quite suppresses strong emotions like intense pain the face. Or behind it. Or, whatever.
Meh, I am taking the rest of the week off.
Is there such thing as a melancholy rage? Something like a simmering, agitated depression?
I was pleasently surprised to read the following opening in the DreamHost newsletter for December:
“Spock? Everything all right? I asked for that atmospheric report
“I chose to ignore your command, Captain.”
“Captain, perhaps you should remand me to my quarters.”
“What? You’d better start explaining yourself, Mister!”
“Captain! Jim. It is…the pon farr. The Vulcan mating impulse. I am
“Again? It’s been seven years already? My god, Spock! We’re headed to
the DreamPress nebula now. Even at maximum warp we wouldn’t make it
back to Vulcan for another five or six weeks and the nearest Federation
outpost isn’t much closer! You’ll die!”
“I have considered this, Captain. There is only one logical
“Spock, why are you putting your hand on my chest?”
“Search your feelings, Jim. You know this is the only way. I have
considered you a friend since our earliest days at Starfleet. Today, to
save my life, I hope you will allow us to become more than just
“Spock, this is wrong. There are regulations against this. I’m your
“Of course, Captain. I understand.”
“I’d be lying if I said the thought had never crossed my mind.”
“As would I.”
“I’ll do it Spock. I’ll do it.”
“Jim, you don’t have…”
“I *want* to. What do we do first?”
“Very well. Thank you, Captain. I have studied your earth customs and
mating rituals. You’ll find a bottle of Saurian brandy on the table
“Saurian brandy! Spock! You shouldn’t have!”
“I believe you’ll want to drink it now, Captain.”
“Are you prepared?”
“Prepared to go where my heart has been asking me to take it for the
last fifteen years? Are you kidding me?”
**comm beeps** “Captain, you’re wanted on the bridge. Forward sensors
have detected a probe from the 20th century.”
“I’m busy, Lieutenant! Mark it in the ship’s logs and move on. Kirk
out. Now, my pointy-eared friend, let’s talk about probes of a
It is obviously not the best slash, but it is a classic pairing, and a nice holiday gift. It continues with their sign-off, which for a newsletter is always the place to unsubscribe:
P.S. – If the very serious topic of Vulcan physiology offends your
umbrageous human sensibilities, please consider making the logical
choice and unsubscribing from this newsletter.
I’d love to know the unsub stats for this one! ^_^
We picked up our membership to the Oakland Museum of California today, and in the art gallery is a kiosk with a mirror grid and tablet interface to finger draw a self-portrait. It is then added to the kiosk next to it where one can watch the stroke order of others’ portraits, as well as in rotation in digital frames sharing a wall with other art.
I am wearing my hair in a top-knot today, so I didn’t think to color it in, but I realize now I look like I may be bald… ^_^