Alex's Alliterative Adventures

My new mercurial repositories bumped into some file limits I didn’t know I had. Images are back, and everything is well again.

While writing a midterm this evening, someone’s phone went off. I instantly recognized the ringtone as a soundclip from the old SNES RPG, Chrono Trigger.

Sometimes I just can’t deny that some part of this school suits me.

Or maybe it’s a chipmunk. Whatever it is, I’m glad it grabbed my makeshift lifesaver.

Keep fighting the good fight, little guy.

It’s been a long time since I’ve used the word “bored” to describe myself. I’m in the middle of rebuilding my server, Fable sits 90% beaten, and I’m desperately trying to walk the treacherous path that leads to graduation. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the authors of my 60 unanswered emails are starting to get annoyed at my unintentional silent treatment. I often wish that the days were 5 times longer so that I could get more done. In the mean time, just know that I’ll return your emails eventually. Probably.

I like winter way better than I do summer. Snowmen, tobogganing, and hot cocoa all bring a smile to my face. While beaches, shorts, and sunlight are all very nice, the summer heat can be totally unbearable. Winter’s chill can always be forgotten by throwing on another sweater and sliding a bit closer to the fire, but when you’ve already taken 3 icy showers and it’s not even 10am, September just can’t come soon enough.

My weekend in Windsor with Wes reminded me of the downsides of winter. I spent most of the poker game (with Captain Bee) whining about how I forgot to pack a sweater while wearing a winter jacket. Everyone made sure to bundle up tightly before leaving to ensure that they survived the trip home. Although it was only -15°C outside (for the yanks: 3°F), the windchill was down to -30°C (-22°F). I guess we were lucky, though. Tonight Thunder Bay has a windchill warning of -47°C (FUCKING COLD). Our winds were only blowing at around 50km/h, whereas some cities in Northern Ontario had to hold fast against gusts of 110km/h. The cold provided some comfort, though: I was more numb to the pain of my poker loses.

I also had my first glimpse of Vista this weekend. While the translucent borders were cool and the spotli– er, Instant Search seemed snappy, I can only review the one feature I spent enough time with to make my comments valid: the games. Inkball is a hybrid of jezzball, pool, and (for the mac fans) breakout. It could be cool if playing the game didn’t amount to an experience similar to playing mspaint. I can only presume that Purble Place is Microsoft’s attempt at offering family-friendly fun, but if I had a 4-year old that found amusement in baking cakes, they wouldn’t be getting a Vista upgrade, they’d be getting a quick lesson in operating an oven, a little praise, and a book full of recipes for daddy’s favourite pastries.

I just spent the past 15 minutes blogging, only to have my efforts thwarted by the sand-solid palm operating system. Stable, my ass-mar. The post I had started to write was about the writer’s block my presently awesome life was giving me, but now the words are just flowing, aren’t they, palm treo. AREN’T THEY. I’M NOT MAKING A SCENE, YOU’RE MAKING A SCENE. I’m sorry, honey, you’re right. I’m taking my anger at realplayer out on you.

A buddy of mine sent his laptop in for repairs today. Since this is effectively the only computer he owns, the repair estimate of 3-5 days is understandably causing him a bit of stress. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain he must be going through right now. They might as well have told him to hold his breath until he gets it back. It would take the pain away sooner. His suffering made me think: I would be totally unable to live productively in the real world without touching a computer of any kind. Between PCs, laptops, cell phones, and miscellaneouses, a vast majority of my life hinges on these powerful toys. If I want to socialize or plan, I turn to msn. TV and movies, selected from various avi files, are watched with VLC or the xbox. My day job involves sitting in front of a computer to write code. I keep people updated with my blog, which I write on my cell more and more often. Need a doctor? Better google map it first. Low on groceries? Online delivery adds less than $10, which is nice considering my lack of wheels. Wikipedia always scratches the itch of random questions. Transportation is planned, checked, and booked with a few clicks of the interblag.

I’ve read a few articles touting the dangers of internet addiction, stating horrifying statistics about people that find it difficult to go for more than a few days without plugging in. I definitely fall into that category. Then again, I also find it difficult to go more than a few days without opening my eyes. I hope I don’t read about the dangers of vision addiction any time soon. One self-diagnosed crippling addiction is all I need right now.

Observation of the day: eating while running is surprisingly hard, considering the deceptive ease of walking while chewing gum.

Also, this is spectacular.

From what I’ve seen so far, London is the friendliest town in Ontario. People exchange smiles when they pass each other on the street. Conversation flows easily between strangers who are passing time. A couple of weeks ago, I had a chat with a hotdog vendor while eating his delicious meat (no brokeback) that was followed up by a random dude asking me how the hotdog was. Today a random in shopper’s asked me if I was a drummer, at which point I noticed that I had been busting out a flurry of funky finger beats on my legs. The random then invited me to play drums in his church’s band. I’ve also swapped stories with bus randoms, one of whom invited to the bar that he owns so, of all reasons, I could join the staff in a game of D&D. This town might be a flashback to a time when the people that surrounded you were your neighbours and friends instead of thieves and rapists. If not, it’s full of a bunch of fucking psychos who are startlingly charismatic in their attempts to kidnap, rape, and kill me.

Random note: a laundromats are surprisingly conducive for blogging.

Sometimes I wish for my own personal camera crew to follow me wherever I go. I mean, it would be awesome. My alzheimeric memory would be a thing of the past. I would finally be justified in randomly bursting out in song and the occasional smattering of loosely choreographed breakdancing. If I got tired, I would carry a whip and make them carry me while fanning me with palm leaves. But best of all, when I wipe out for the second time on the icey-slick death trap that is my front steps and end a fabulous display of futile tap-dancing by helping a week’s worth of dirt laundry the exhilerating feeling of being airborne, I could finally achieve my dream of having America’s funniest home video.

I also wish for a rocket-powered ninja pirate. With lasers. That is also a robot. But I’m not picky.

Contrary to popular belief, I’m not dead, I’ve just been going non-stop since I’ve been renationalized. I’ve moved into my new room in London (Ontario [Canada {Earth}]), and I’m living with an awesome new roomie. Why is he awesome? Well, he has kittens:

No, dammit, I said kittens:

Not only that, but he’s a man of character. Any man who starts watching 24 before I go to bed and is still watching it when I leave for work in the morning earns my respect. He also gets points for telling me about ask a ninja.

Work is also unimaginably awesome. I spend every day breaking my brain in the most satisfying way imaginable. I’m surrounded by people who are giants in their field, and I’m trying to soak up as much knowledge as my little brain can handle. Plus, they feed me tacos.

I’ve locked myself in my room for the past two weeks, and I’ve done almost no unpacking to show for it. To reward myself, I spent the weekend crashing in the loo. I definitely think that talking to good friends until the sun rises is my favourite thing ever. The only thing that makes it better is if a guitar somehow becomes involved.

I can’t imagine how people lived before the internet. I mean, where else would you get to witness the great bee genocide of 2006?