7-Year Coders
25 September 1998
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7-Year Coders
25 September 1998
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Have you ever found yourself feeling really annoyed, but without any clear idea of what it is that you're annoyed about? I've been like that all day. I can't think of anything to complain about, not particularly. I just feel ticked off. Strange.
Maybe it's just my deep-seated resentment of the unnatural reshaping of the rhythms of our lives by our capitalist overlords. Well it could be.
Dumb Cubs, lost again. So did dumb Mets. If they end up both losing to the Giants, I don't know what. It'll be pretty damn sad, that's what. I don't think I'm annoyed at the Cubs, though. Or, rather, it started way before they even began play today, so there's something else at root. Root root.
La. Headache. Oddness compound, I almost never get headaches. Yes, sometimes my head hurts in the morning, but that's just one of a flurry of symptoms that make mornings a part of the day best avoided. Funny, though, almost every girl I've ever gone out with has gotten headaches. It's as if there was a correlation with something there.
Maybe I should just go buy Bag of Bones and hibernate for the weekend. Heh. The other day I was talking about sexist stereotypes in email, and made the sweeping generalization that "women might ruin my life, but only men might kill me." Later that day what should I run into but this interview with King on Salon. The text of the link to this page is "Is there a killer inside every man?" See, I am not making this shit up.
Oh, bother. Part of what I'm doing now, you see, is converting some articles from a print format to a Web format. I just now see that this particular one is about 75% 4-color full-page charts. And I'm not talking bars and dots either. Work like this makes it all too clear how much less information a given web "page" can convey than a given printed page. Especially when you're trying to sell ads on the top and bottom of the web "page", so nobody is too concerned about information as much as making sure the user will see both ads without traveling very far. (Of course, said user might just travel right out of the whole site, but hey, am I rich? No. So do I know sales? No. So shut up. OK.)
But it might be a good cue to take my little crabby self home for the evening. Hey, maybe it's the change of life. Change into what though, good Lord. Antennae or something, likely. Hope there's no burrowing in dirt involved.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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