I haven't figured this guy out yet, not completely. He seems confident at first, but scratch a tiny bit beneath and you uncover his insecurities. I find it peculiar when someone responds to me as though I am the cool person. They get all nervous and want to impress me and apologize all the time and I'm like, "dude, I'm like you, honest!"The nervousness shows up in the apologies, but also with a lot of yawning. He talks around things, scooting up to the topic, and yawns as he goes. I don't need a project, though.
At what point in our history did holidays turn into primarily an excuse to indulge in excess and get drunk? Was it always thus?People who have no knowledge of Mexican history, who don't really know why someone might celebrate the fifth of May are celebrating, stuffing themselves with spicy-meaty-cheesy foods that bear little resemblence to the foods actual Mexicans eat, guzzling alcohol, listening to mariachi music, dancing like fools. They do the same to "honor" an obscure Irish-born bishop, and a pitiable Italian explorer who couldn't find his way across the globe.What good, history?
Capture the moments as they pass in one hundred slivers. Record in words the sound of the one cup brewer in the late afternoon, the addiction anticipating, the desire fed. Move the brain forward a beat and what takes place? A small crinkling sound, then a snap, then chewing, followed by a small crinkling sound and a snap. Sunflower seeds. Another force of habit.Close your eyes and hear. The whirring changes pitch, scooping up to a fevered sound, then down again. The crinkle and snap fill in a beat. The clatter of keys.Office life.
He walks past, and glances in casually. I pretend not to notice, but in the corner of my eye I see him, mark his progress, note the glance.Next time I'll smile. The time following that, I'll say hello. Or nod? Perhaps I should nod. That seems more adult, to nod.He walks past again and I miss my opportunity.He's walking past. Does that mean he likes me? Is the glance in really casual? Does it have meaning?Tomorrow I'll smile. I'll say hello. Or nod. Tomorrow. I hope he walks by again.
Is Justin Beiber really just Davey Jones and Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy? And who came between Cassidy and Beiber? What did I miss during my long nap? A quick google search on "pop stars of the 90s", for example, gives us Nirvana -- nothing Beiberish there, and Jane's Addiction. It brings us Pearl Jam. Cobain. I see Cobain as a variation on Jim Morrison, as far as image and personal style go.Wait! The Hansons and the Backstreet Boys! Yes!The eighties had Michael Jackson and he was no Beiber, in spite of his popularity.The seventies?
It was politics, right? Can management really be so stupid? Yes, they can.So next time around, calculate a dollar amount -- a high dollar amount -- that it will cost them if they fail to make a decision by a certain date. Show them the data that proves the really really high dollar amount. Shove that in their faces. Make them make a decision.I just don't understand how they let politics drive their inability to perform. I don't get it. How did such brainless people get so high in the organization?Oh, Steve! I miss you!
1 cup butter, softened1 cup white sugar1 cup packed brown sugar2 eggs2 teaspoons vanilla 3 cups flour1 teaspoon baking soda2 teaspoons hot waterhalf teaspoon salt2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F 2. Cream together the butter and both sugars until smooth. 3. Beat in the eggs one at a time, stir in the vanilla. Dissolve baking soda in hot water. Add to batter along with salt. Stir in flour, chocolate chips. Drop by large spoonfuls onto ungreased pans. 4. Bake for about 10 minutes in the preheated oven5. Eat by the fist-full
The man wants to touch me. I do not know how deep is his need. I do not know how enduring. I know simply that he wants to touch me. Something in me calls to something in him, beyond just sex."Just about perfect," were his words. I fear those words, a bit, because they imply that a fetus of strong feeling exists, grows. I am too cautious. I will not tell myself the feeling is reciprocated.The words should charm me. They should make my heart swell. Why can't men and women just enjoy one another, without heaviness?
Stoop, stretch out your hand, grasp the handle, there. Rise, pulling your arm, the shovel with it, up. Grip the shaft with your left hand, and place your left hand higher, near the handle. Hold it steady.Look at the end -- the broad, flat plate, the "spade". That is the working end. Use the muscles of your stomach, your back, your biceps, your forearms and thrust the spade end deep into the pile. Watch the material spill onto the curved surface of the spade. Gently, pull away, and the stuff rides the spade.Toss it. Repeat.
From my perspective, persistent bugs and software stability would be a good primary focus. Instead let's limit it to geometric modeling problems -- not just run-of-the mill "fix this bug" stuff, but the true serious problems.
A chief technology and technical fellow working at Siemens PLM Software wrote an interesting paper for an academic conference, where he talked about what he saw as the big geometric modeling problems in enterprise database software.
He makes me wonder what it does for him, this spewing of words. What are they? They are connected by rhyme, but not context. They are connected in seeming random strings of nouns, articles, verbs, and threaded with passive voice. Pace voce. I picture him sitting at his computer, his fingers poised above the keyboard. He takes several deep breaths. He closes his eyes. He lowers his fingers, and wills the gods to turn the spigot.Then he types. He does not care what comes out. He does not pause, nor read it. He simply types. Then stops.
Summer is a hair's breadth away and what have I accomplished in this year? From summer to winter is but a moment. Will the world exist after that? The answer will have to be yes, mystics and fools notwithstanding. We'll still be paying our taxes come next April.Remember when we looked forward to summer? The end of school, the start of a long stretch of vacations and fun for so many of us. I'd like to have nothing I was required to do, but could choose from a myriad of possibilities. Should I fly to Orlando tomorrow?