First things first, let's dedicate a moment to look upon Ninja with love absolute love, for how awesome she is... Oh yes, love.
Now I'd like to talk about how much I love Google Buzz. Seriously, I'm all a twitter with glee for it. I just configured my profile [which can be found here for all you other early adopters...] And it's really cool. I love the way I can get updates from two of my favorite tech blogs right from my Buzz page. I also really like the way my Buzz profile has a single bar that shows my flickr page, without being to jarring or 'LOOK AT ME' ish, you know?
But in other, slightly less tech related news [it's time to put my geek away]... I lost my atm card two weeks ago. And lucky me, the day before I lost it I realized that I needed to pay my cellphone bill. So... I've equally been without a cell phone for the past two weeks. For the most part, it's not been that bad. After all, it gives me a legitimate excuse not to call home. [I know what you're thinking. 'For SHAME!' and 'Call your poor grandmother, right NOW!' Or possibly even, 'I don't know how you SLEEP at night!'] ....Actually all of that, may just be the voice my family had implanted in my head at birth so I always have a healthy dose of guilt on hand. However, it can't be helped! I don't have anything to say.
By and by... I ordered a replacement card immediately, because I still needed to buy a compilation book that my teacher put together online. After calling I was told that my card would be in my hands within 4 days. Meaning, it should have been in my hands last Wed at the latest. Thursday...Friday... And realization hit.
My atm card was sent to my grandmothers house... In LA. So I had 3 options.
- Call home and have an awkward 'I know I haven't called in 2 weeks now, but I think my atm card got sent there can you overnight it?' Conversation
- Call my credit union and have THAT card canceled and a new one sent to my current address. Which would mean another week or more without my card. Or
- Email my Aunt at work, explain everything and hopefully have my atm card by Monday.
I was just reading a story where a tried and true sickly sweet argument was occurring.
"I love you."
"I love you, more"
"I love you most"
I love you, times infinity.
And then finally....
"I love you, times infinity +1!"
And the argument is won. But I just had to laugh. Because what is it about the +1 that is such a game changer? What's more it's an accepted game changer among children. One does not simply say, "Well I love you, infinity +2!" It's just not done. For some reason, as a collective we have decided that the already infinite number can have a single +1, anything more then that is just being ridiculous.
But when you think about it, the +1 is already ridiculous. How can you add 1 to a limitless number? If we're going to deal in the impossible why is it not ok to simply continue the argument all the way up to infinity times infinity?
Maybe because even as children we understand the mess we'd be getting ourselves into. Much like, "The Song That Doesn't End..." Once you start there's an innate knowledge that it would be quite difficult to stop.
So we stop at +1. And feel smug about tricking our partner into saying, "... times infinity."
That's 'I Hate Facebook' for those not up on their internet speak.
Which beg's the question, 'Why?' Or perhaps, "How?"
To put it plainly, I don't know. I'll lay back and start at the beginning, which I'm fairly certain, starts with Senior year. [Ha! You thought I was going to go with the cliche, 'It starts when I was born, Doctor...']
By and by, senior year in high school happened and I, with my one class, eagerly looked forward to graduating and never seeing anyone I went to school with again. After all, this had been promised to me by pop culture. It's the way things work.
You make shallow friends that you put up with simply because it would be to troublesome to stop hanging out with them | You graduate | You don't hear from or of them until the 10 year high school reunion. At which point you either gloat about being the CEO at the company that they are in fact, merely a peon... Or you proclaim with conviction to have invented the Post-It.
And despite the fact that by 2015, no one in their right mind would believe I invented the Post-it, it would be my lie of choice. Well, that or I'd show up with a group of super dyke lesbians that I'd met in a bar specializing in bondage, hours before the reunion.... But unlike the main character of Sister Safety Pin, I doubt I could pull that off.
So anyway back to my point, or subpoint, I'd expected to never hear from these people again until the reunion. A 10 year reprieve if you will. But instead, Myspace happens. Which in the beginning was really of no concern to me, I was content with my LiveJournal. Then Facebook happens. And "OMGOSH!!11! We all got into college!! We can totally join!" Because five years ago, Facebook was still something of a novelty.
But alas, still no real concern to me. I had zero plans of getting either. So what happened you ask? How did I go from happily abstaining from both, to unhappily having a profile on each by the end of my first semester in college?
Peer Pressure. The two P's that never cease to ruin lives. And I know what you're thinking. Or rather, I know what I would be thinking if I read such a ridiculous post. "Why not delete them then?"
Truthfully? I don't delete my myspace account, because Myspace has written itself out of relevancy. There's no point even working up the minimal energy required to delete it. However, Facebook has managed to situate itself so firmly into the psyche of not only my age group and below... But as the news anchor that came to speak to my Women in Mass Media class today said, "Having a Facebook account used to be an optional thing. These days, in the 24/7 instant news era, a Facebook and a Twitter account are mandatory."
Twitter, I understand. It's the quickest way to get the pulse on major invents as well as the quickest way to get information out. Facebook? Not so much.
However, I'm fairly certain that has more to do with me being a cantankerous old man when it comes to certain things. Truly at times I feel like bending over into the shape of an L, grabbing a nobly cane or broken root and shaking it in the air as I yell... "Get of my lawn!" Or more appropriately... "GO AWAY!" Who I'm yelling that to I'm not exactly sure, because I'm half blind from squinting at my computer screen all day.
However, while I sit back and grumble while my imaginary wife wipes the spittle from my mouth... I'm fairly certain the sounds of my mumbling... "God Damn Facebook..."** Can be heard.
**Courage the Cowardly Dog is a cartoon that used to [may still] come on Cartoon Network. The old man from that cartoon is the old man I envision my disagreeable self as. He's also known to mumble, "God damn dog...." Funny stuff.
To the fro. Or rather: Ode to my fro that so fly you'd be JIVE not to recognize!
After years [read: 2] of being natural I have finally got my hair to look ridiculously awesome in a perfectly shaped afro. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little smug about that.
Following my success I felt the need to take my hair on the town and strut it a little bit, i.e: John Travolta style circa the end of Staying Alive. That or my need to break up the monotony that has been dinner for the past few days, out-weighed my need to stay warm in the house.
Most likely a bit of both. [A bit of the chill has left the air here and I feel the need to be out in it as much as possible.]
However, speaking of John Travolta I've been thinking. Why don't more men wear beards? I feel like it's an under-appreciated style on men. I often think I'd probably have a beard if I were a guy. It'd be nice though, groomed and maintained. Not a little chinster either, but a beard. [Did I just make up a word? What do you call those little bits of fluff on the chin guys wear?]
I'm unsure what my fascination with beards are. My dad used to say, I was drawn to them as a baby as well. I don't know. It's not some secret and rather tame form of penis envy manifesting through some deep seeded secret desire to have a beard. No, no.
I just think it could be made to look rather spiffy.
Yes. I just used the word, spiffy.
In other more music related news, I've been listening to a lot of: Trip-hop, lo-fi, and downtempo, lately. I've no idea why, but I have managed to discover a few bands in the process so you know..
It's all good.
And it rained all night | Thom Yorke