upgrade
I know you can't really see it - but last night I upgraded to the newest version of WordPress, v1.5. The upgrade went, for the most part, smoothly, with only a few stylesheet related errors I had to clear up. Scrubbing the stylesheet is good housekeeping anyway, and it even inspired me to test with Firefox and Opera to make sure everything renders kosher. So far, I'm really digging the 1.5 backend... although it may take me a while get used to where things are now. Looks like they've built-in some comment-spam moderation, which is nice... and in general there are more comment moderation features. I did a quick spot-check of most crucial blog-features, and they all seem to be intact and working, so I declare the upgrade a success. The only thing that bummed me out was how nice the Kubrick template looked compared to my same-old green... but... it's comfortable.
Tomorrow folks, tomorrow I'll be airborne. A little flying city, me included, all jetting our way to Taipei over an interminably long ~24hr travel time. I'm ready, mentally; physically, I still have to pack and haven't even started planning for the actual work I'll be doing while in town. I am excited, though, about hooking up with a buddy while in town and visiting the local custom shirt and slacks places. Tailor-made shirts and dress slacks for $20, you can't beat it. And man, I'd pay twice that to get something that fits around my childbearing thighs. The right fit can make all the difference, not binding my junk while I walk, not cutting off circulation to my legs, etc. Until I can get less fat, it's the only way to go. Plus, I'll be interested to see if the puny Taiwanese measuring tapes can encircle the girth of my legs anyway... mighty American redwoods to their toy saplings.
I saw the chief of the CIA came out and said something about North Korea having more nukes than we thought they had, or something. We gotta get these bastards people. We gotta reach out the long arm of American justice and give them a little preemptive shot off the bow. This is America; we flex you flinch. I mean, how can we be expected to stay our trigger-fingers when we're being mocked outright!? This is the USofA you commie dickheads. Remember those letters, they'll be the last thing you see on the side of the ICBM that screams into your village. Here in America we have little love for axes, and we hate evil ones with a passion. So shape up, because cowboys don't take insults lightly:
The Americans swagger like a tiger around the world, but they whimper before our Republic as the tiger does before the porcupine. That's because we have our Great Leader Kim Jong Il, who is undefeatable.
Pyongyang Radio, North Korea
OK. For real. I can remember, as far back as a few years ago, hearing members of Radiohead wax on about how underappreciated the 70s group Can was. I downloaded their two most well-regarded albums long ago, and gave them each a little listening to. Since then, they've been waiting on my hard drive as quiet ones and zeros... needing only my pointing and clicking to transform them into membrane-vibrating analog pulses of air. Today at work, I pointed and I clicked - and I was taken by surprise at how much I immediately dug what I heard. Some of the longer, more experimental, tracks are pure avant-crap... but the tiny little slice songs are really enjoyable.
And before I go, I strongly encourage everyone to go and download a copy of the excellent OpenCD project. Then, the next time your friends and relatives ask you for copies of programs (because you work at a high-tech company and you must have access to free warez copies of all the latest appz), you can instead send them this great disc of OpenSource programs to replace the payware they've been duped into thinking is superior.
Goodnight.
i’m sorry
Midweek. I've got today and tomorrow to get done with my work commitments before I take wing to Asia, I hear Vegas put the lines at 2:1, work over me. Work can't fade me though, y'all. I'm simply too effective to be caught unaware. I'll take work, hogtie it, push its face in the dirt, and kick it in the ribs. I make work work for me... and lemme just say that my paycheck better always be on time - or work's gonna have hell to pay. I can hear work quaking in the corner now, trying to hold its breath. You're right to be afraid, work, I'm a loose canon.
Since evening engagements kept me from riding my bike to work last week, I was anxious to return to my as-yet-fully-established schedule this week. However, it had been a bit overcast Sunday night, and we'd even run into some showers while out and about. So, I woke up with enough time to check wunderground for the daily forecast before making my decision. I typed in my zipcode and was pleased to see only a 5% chance of precipitation. So, despite grey skies above, I strapped on my helmet and peddled off. Around lunch, I had the chance to peek out the window and noticed it was pouring. Then, lamenting to Ben and Anthony about wunderground's sucky forecast leaving me looking forward to a wet ride home, Ben mentioned that he had heard on the Sunday news that it was supposed to rain all week. Feeling cheated, I settled for throwing my dripping bike in the back of Ben's truck for a drier trip home. Once at home, I sat down to the PC - only to find the wunderground forecast I'd called up some 8hrs prior. Turns out, I was one digit off on the zipcode... and was looking at a forecast for a party cloudy day in Benson, Arizona. I find my only solace in hoping some sucker in Benson miskeyed his zipcode this morning and didn't get to enjoy a dry ride to work because there was a 74% of precipitation.
I am now going to tell a story, one that I've held off on telling because I was observing a self-imposed moratorium. I felt this silence was necessary because this particular story is about a practical joke that went a little too far, resulting in some embarrassment on the part of the victim. The story involves Pat, myself, and our mark, Ben. It all started innocently enough, and ended with that sinking feeling you get when you know you've done wrong. Let's begin.
Of late, Ben has been looking to become a homeowner. This means going through the emotional rollercoaster that all prospective homeowners go through. The financial assessment, the learning curve, defining and redefining your standards, the ups and downs of bidding and losing, etc. I know, because I went through it. I bit the nails waiting for an offer to be accepted, did the balance-sheets to see what I could afford, etc. The day our story takes place, Ben has just put an offer on a house that he really likes. It's the first offer he's ever made. Pat and I decide the day's lunch will consist of trying out the new Indian buffet. During lunch, we trade jabs at Ben about his nervousness. We say things like, "Dude, did your phone just ring?" just to watch him jump from the ready-position and grab for his phone. This activity is highly entertaining to us, being that we've both been through it before and know how on-edge the whole business can make a body.
Ben endured an hour of good-spirited ribbing, at which point Pat and I dropped him off at a post-lunch meeting in a different building. Even without Ben, Pat and I continued to joke about the whole house-buying process as we drove to our building and parked. As we walked up the stairs, I made a crack about how funny it would be to fabricate a phony fax from Ben's agent - and leave it on his desk. More of a fleeting suggestion on my part, Pat immediately bit on the idea - urging me by chanting, "Dude, we have to do it. We have to. Come on, it will be so easy. We have to do it." Eventually, talk turned to just how easy the prank would be to pull off: Word comes with fax templates; I knew the street the property was on; we could look up the rest of the details online; we could print the Word document and then fax it from one machine in the building to another, giving it the official header and footer data of a real fax. Before we knew it, we were holding the faux-fax in our hands, still warm off the machine...
The gist of the prank involved a faux-fax purportedly coming from the selling agent, telling Ben that the seller had accepted his offer but had a few minor additional conditions before the deal would be final. We made sure these details were trivial, but we also made sure that the faux-fax included a deadline - a deadline chosen purposely for its un-meetability. If Ben didn't call the selling agent before a certain time (a time we knew he'd still be tied up in the meeting we'd just dropped him off at), the seller would accept the next-highest offer. We left the fax on his chair (not an uncommon thing for someone at work to do when they see a fax for someone they know). Pat and I went our separate ways, pleased with ourselves for our creativity. The deadline came and went, and I got absorbed with work... all but forgetting about the prank. Until...
Ben showed up at my desk in a huff, our faux-fax clutched in his right hand. "Did you leave this for me?," he asked. "Did I leave it for you?," I said, rhetorically. "Yeah, I left it for you," I said, answering my own question while holding up the yellow transmittal report that proved I in fact sent the fax in question. I think I noticed the confusion first, then the realization, then the fear. "Is this fake?," he asked. "Uh-ha, yeah," I chuckled nervously. "Dude, I called my agent. She's calling the selling agent now. Is this fake?" "Shut up," I say, worried. "I'm serious. Dave, do I need to go call my agent right now?" I hang my head, "Go call your agent." As the horror I saw on his face begins to settle over me, I watch him rush off to try and remedy the situation. My heart immediately sinks, and I turn to my co-conspirator. What follows is the log of our chat as the situation unfolds, saved for this very purpose (long, but good):
Eventually, I made my way over to Ben's cube to express my apologies. Expectedly, he was not in the best of moods. I honestly thought we may have lost the deal for him, and wanted nothing more than to run away and hide. So, that's what I did. Sent out a "Dave feeling ill, going home" e-mail around 3pm and headed for the hills. I didn't talk to Ben at all the next day... wanted to give him some cooling-off time. In the end, everything worked out OK. Ben lost the house for legitimate reasons, and Pat and I soon regained his friendship. Now, if this retelling would just reopen old wounds, it would all be worth it.
Dang, a long, complicated entry; full of deprecated tags and dreaded inline styles. If I'm the king of anything, it's non-compliant HTML/CSS coding. I don't care what I have to use as long as it looks right in the end. And, this is the end. Before I go, check out Anthony's new tattoo:
After all the work I put in on this thing, reading it back makes me feel self-absorbed or something. I guess that's what happens sometimes when you write about stuff you do instead of stuff you feel. Owell, it's done now and there's no way I'm trashing it and writing another entry to take its place. Goodnight.
i could so live there
It's going to be a strained week for blogging. I already missed yesterday, but not to fear, it was a planned non-writing day. Friday's entry may or may not materialize, as I'm leaving early for the nightmarish 24hrs of travel that is the flight to Taipei. Between then, I've got only three days of my normal five-day workweek to get a normal five-day workload done. Then, next week's entries will cease to follow any schedule, being posted when I can, and on Taiwan time to boot. So look for 'em any time. I'm hoping I can keep up the writing, I've done it on past trips. And with that, we're off.
What an awesome extended weekend. Three days in Big Sur, neither of us had ever been. Nevermind that I spent ~30min on the phone Sunday, just down from a short hike to a waterfall, talking to a customer in Texas with an urgent issue... luckily though, Sharaun was understanding and it all played to make the weekend unique. The northern California coast is a real meeting of worlds; salty waves crashing right up against rugged mountains. Kelp washed up into freshwater streams emptying themselves into the sea. We walked barefoot on beaches, trudged up streams, ate too-expensive food and slept in too-expensive rooms. And, since the only bad part about getting away from it all is having to come back to it all - I'm gonna sit here with this laptop on my knees and flex my fingers through another entry.
One of my travel-habits is to constantly scan my surroundings for "places I would live" should I become a bum or fugitive from the law. Ben has oft made fun of me for this habit, sometimes calling out "Hey Dave, you could totally live there," in regards to some ramshackle shelter passed along the way. I don't know what it is, but I'm always seeing places in terms of their inhabitability. I swear, ever since seeing My Side of the Mountain in 5th grade, I've imagined running away from the world and living in a tree. Foraging for my own food, building my own fireplace, perhaps even befriending the local librarian, taking up falconing, having a pet raccoon, and falling in with a bearded minstrel named "Bando."
Back to what I was talking about, I'm always pointing out prospective hovels: broken-down utility shacks along the river, weathered metal switching stations along the rail lines, hollow spots on mountain ledges, if you can give me a semi-enclosed spot I can dream up a shelter that I'd transform into a comfy living space. This vacation to the coast was no different, I saw "places I would live" all over the place. Only this time, I decided to snap some pictures of my imagined digs. Check it:
 The first of many hollow-tree houses, kinda cramped. |
 Tall but roomy, and had another opening for fireplace exhaust. |
 How freakin' perfect is this? Secluded, even looks like a door. |
 This tree was begging me: "Live in me, live in me!" |
 The most perfect hollow-tree house, I almost ditched Sharaun and started nesting. |
 A big one, possibly a good upgrade if I decide to start a hollow-tree family. |
 Breaking the tree pattern, a seaside cave... I can't even begin to describe the attraction. |
|
Aside from spotting potential hideouts, we had a lot of time to relax. Sit on the sand, read books in bed, talk over coffee, and sing along to songs in the car. Unfortunately, I did succumb to my one free-time hangup. That for-no-reason sensation of being unnecessarily harried, frustrated; wanting to "get somewhere" when I have nowhere to be, wanting to "finish" something when I never started anything. I think I inherit this from my dad, who, when we're out and about, always seems to get a random itch to leave for no reason. It's a terrible thing, really... all of the sudden I'll feel like we have to leave and "get back." Since I'm pretty anal to begin with, the feeling pokes at the back of my brain like the pea in the princess' bed - making me feel "uncomfortable" until we've got to wherever I've imagined as the "finish line." I admit, it's an odd thing - but thankfully Sharaun has learned to recognize it, and can say to me, "There's no hurry, let's just take it easy and relax." It's a good thing I have her to counteract my faulty genetics. Thanks dad.
Speaking of my dad, his dad is currently my only living grandparent. I don't know what about this weekend got me thinking about my grandfather, but something did. I had the thought that I just don't talk to him much, and don't even really know him that well. The sad part is, the only time I really ever think about my grandfather is to wonder how he's doing... and how long he'll be around. It just struck me that the majority of my thoughts about my grandfather revolve around whether or not he's going to be alive next week. I talked to Sharaun about it over pancakes, and we both agreed to try and renew regular communications with our only surviving grandparents. It's just too easy to take for granted the further-removed generations of your lineage... when in reality they are some of the utmost crucial links to your past and discovering why you are who you are.
And, as midnight draws close... I'll end this entry. But before that, we weren't the only ones to have a busy weekend. Congrats to Ben and Suze on the house. Congrats to Kristi and Erik on the engagement. Congrats to Anthony on the ink. Goodnight.
top 500
As the sun slips out of sight on my Thursday night, I'm sitting at the computer listening to tunes with a full belly. When I got home, the fridge beckoned - Sharaun's famous cornbread - leftover from the days of cornbread past. And even though I'm supposed to be at Pat's in less than an hour for a BBQ - I'm full-up. Owell, such is the life of a shameless glutton. Today went fine, once again not terribly taxing - which I rather like. It was another mild sunny day in Northern CA, and my drive home was particularly liberating to my work-shackled mind. I put on the Black Keys' "When the Lights Go Out," which is about as good a driving song as there ever was, cracked the window and slipped on my shades - y'know, start the end of my day in style.
Remember my paragraph yesterday about my writing process? I mentioned something about how I wish people could actually see me type an entry in real time, so they could get some idea what a labor of love sounds familiar really is to me. Well, the more I thought about it, the more I thought it might actually be a cool idea. So, I did it. Click here to watch me "type" (more like bang out) the preceding paragraph - technology is so cool, right? (Oh, and if you can figure it out, just hit the somewhat camouflaged "play" button near the top of your screen.)
But, enough with the novelty... to the cream filling.
I'm not much of a doomsayer. I've never proclaimed the nighness of the end or paraded on the street wearing a sandwich board and handing out "repent now" pamphlets; but you'd have to be blind and deaf to not have noticed the foreboding undertones in recent world media. Rice, Cheney, Ashcroft, all currently beating around the war chest with Iran, who may or may not have nukes; Korea's got nukes and doesn't want to play in the global non-proliferation sandbox with everyone else. While it's not a full-on proclamation of impending calamity - it is disconcerting to me.
Over the small time I've labored in my chosen career, I've gained more confidence with each passing year. An interesting side-effect, however, of me becoming more confident at work - is the fact that I've also become more confident about what I don't know, and letting people know it. I mean, when I was starting, I always wanted to tell someone that I thought I could do whatever they were asking - regardless of whether or not I really thought I could, I could always learn later. I felt I should always tell people I "got it," when a lot of times I was nowhere near "getting it." As I've grown more confident about what I do know, and and what I do get - I've lost a lot of that fear of looking stupid, and replaced it with honesty about not knowing. I knew all along that admitting ignorance is the easiest way to fix ignorance, but I was too eager to impress.
I don't think I've mentioned it before, but way back when, Rolling Stone magazine released an issue that summed up their idea of the "Top 500 Albums of All Time." I remember when it came out, because Kyle told me about. I can remember him talking about flipping out over the fact that no matter which album he got from the list - he liked it. Specifically, I remember him getting into some Roxy Music and Talking Heads albums (and, if I'm remembering right, a Big Star album too). I had always admired his tastes in music, they were much more flexible than mine (my mind would often get "closed" onto a certain sound/genre, blinding me to new stuff). I thought his idea to use the list as a diving board into new music was brilliant. Since then, Rolling Stone has made the list available online - and I stop by from time to time to see where I stand. Y'know, how many of the albums I've given a proper listen, how many I agree or disagree about, that kinda thing.
One album that always bugged me, mostly because of the incredible praise it always seemed to garner, was the Kinks' The Village Green Preservation Society. As I studied my rock music history, I read countless fawning reviews of the LP, and noticed it had the received re-release treatment ("deluxe," "extended," and "remastered") several times - the canonical release clocking in at 3 CDs worth of material. Despite its acclaim, I'd never really been able to "get" the album. Recently though, I managed to score the 3 disc set I mentioned above. And, after several listens, I'm ready to agree that this is a great effort. If you're period-piece-phobic, this is not for you - it absolutely bleeds 60s. You may get a kick out of recognizing the track "Picture Book" from a recent HP commercial (the cool one with all the frame/photo effects). I won't heap any praise on top of the precariously large mound already bestowed on the album - but I will say that I can finally see what everyone's on about. And, if you're interested in hearing the 255th best album of all time, and getting a healthy dose of late-60s musicana at the same time - check it out.
Enough cream filling, back to the novelty.
A narcissistic look back over some sounds familiar hard data and personal favorites.
One of my all-time favorites, the "you can't fake your way" entry.
The satanic flier.
Like the commentary on Papa's passing, and the McRib.
The last paragraph makes this one.
Hammertime.
Rock in the ear.
The most visited post (by far) is my account of the Pac Man underlay artwork (linked from my Pac Man pages). The second most visited is the poop story (which makes sense according to some search analysis I've mentioned before). And the bronze (surprisingly) goes to my religion-statistics rant. There are 329 posts total. 181 posts contain the word "anyway." 157 posts contain the word "Sharaun." 141 posts contain the word "hate." 140 posts contain the word "love." 60 posts contain the word "god." 19 posts contain the word "sex."
Well, that should about do it for the week. It's 11pm, I just pulled the garbage to the curb, and I'm about ready to settle in for a good night's rest. Sharaun and I decided that when we wake up Saturday morning, we'll just fill the truck with gas and strike out into the Sierras looking for a nice place to Valentine (used here as a verb). The element of the unknown makes it sound kinda fun, I'm sure we'll be around Tahoe... but where we end up I have no idea.
And with that ask your leave and wish you a good weekend. 'Night.
cussing in church
Several paragraphs, some well thought-out and written with care, some written fast without much style - every single one about something different. Taken together though, I think it stands as one of the better entries I've done in a while. You be the judge.
A much better day, a return to normalcy: meetings, e-mails, phone calls; no clenched teeth or fevered concentration. Instead bracing myself against the stormy seas of imagined deadlines, I was able to loose myself from the mast and enjoy the slow rollers of a normal workday. I like it that way, actually. With a little spare time to refresh CNN in between meetings and keep up with what's going on outside the cubicle. Speaking of the cubicle, I had the chance last night to chat with a guy who does electrical work for new construction - wiring, etc. We hadn't yet got around to what I do for a living when he mentioned that he "...couldn't stand to be inside all day, stuck in front of a computer." There's something to that, y'know, although I'm not entirely sure I'd like to be inside walls or crawling on rafters all day either. For the job-satisfaction to money ratio, I like what I'm doing better than anything else that's immediately available to me. And, to me, that's enough to keep me happy. And everyone knows, happiness is what counts.
Taiwan is looming. I'll be doing a return appearance as a speaker at a conference I actually attended last year. Funny thing is, I presented twice at the conference last year - my first appearance being what I remember as my worst public appearance ever (you can read about my post-presentation shame in my entry that day). I can recall the feeling like it was yesterday, and I've made it a point to not get myself into the same situation this year. This year, I am a master of the material... and I have enough "extra" info to expound if necessary or answer tough questions. If pre-conference confidence is an indicator of pending success, I'll do 100 times better this year than last. Honestly, I don't think I've ever given such a stinker as that single hour last year... it pains me to recall it.
I think it would be cool to build a simple plugin for Winamp that keeps track of the songs you play, and can then analyze time-defined chunks of the logs to see what mood you are/were in. AMG has all of its music organized into "mood" categories, and although I've never really used that information, if the classification is decent it'd be interesting to use their data to see what "mood" my last-week's or last-month's playlist said I was in. For instance, today I got a blues-itch, and started at Muddy Waters' Fathers and Sons, after which I moved onto the guitar-god-rife White Boy Blues, and am currently listening to the Allman Brothers' Brothers and Sisters. Using album-level for mood granularity, AMG's mood-classifications tell me that I'm feeling both "earthy" and "passionate." I like that, actually. I'm feeling rather passionate today, I mean... look at the figuratives I used in that opening paragraph... if that ain't passion...
The other day, Pat and I were talking about how we write. The nature of the discussion was work-related, as we were saying what perfectionists/revisionists we both are when it comes to writing. It's true, before I send an e-mail (especially if it's an "important" one), I read and re-read and then re-re-read it again. I often decide to change the structure of my sentences as I type, reorganizing or rewording to better communicate what I want to say. Finally, when I'm satisfied with my missive, I fire it off and immediately click over to my "Sent" box and re-read the thing again. It's a habit, or perhaps an OCD manifestation, I dunno. For me, it's not limited to e-mail, it's writing in general. And that's what Pat was saying, he was wondering how I manage to write every day when I'm so picky about how things sound, how they come out. I just do it; and believe me, it takes time. I can tell you though, that I think everyone would get a good laugh if they could watch one of my entries be typed in real time... with all the backspacing, word-looking-up, organizing and re-organizing, etc. It's a messy process.
I remember when I first started going to church with Sharaun. Coming from an established history as a drinker, drugger, and all-around foul-mouth... I was the antithesis of a good young Christian lad. People who honestly believed that swearing one swear or beering one beer might keep them from their God amazed me. During that part of my life, Sharaun and I were pretty involved with the church, and I had many occasion to be alone in the building... setting up this or working on that. And sometimes, when I was all alone in some dark storeroom, where my only companions were Sunday School supplies and Bible-times stage-props, I would give God my own little test. I'd say a big, fat, sinful word; think a big, fat, sinful thought; purposely entertain big, fat, sinful doubts I had. I'd "sin," in the house of God, I'd deliberately do the things that I couldn't believe people thought would incur the wrath of God. Just words, out loud and willful. And who would have known - the didn't bring the Lord sweeping down to cleanse his temple of the scourge that was my open defiance.
If you couldn't tell, I wasn't able to think of a graceful exit from my "cussing in church" piece - so I just stopped writing. So, to change subjects... Because the quote seemed important, and also to test my new "quoted text" style, here's a rather ominous-sounding one from Dr. Rice herself:
I believe that everybody is telling the Iranians that they are going to have to live up to their international obligations or next steps are in the offing. Everybody understands what next steps means.
Yeah, now that looks good. There's probably a far simpler way to implement it using CSS, font colors and sizes, but I chose to go the old-fashioned route and used transparent GIFs and html "align" tags. I may not be the most cutting edge web developer, but I get the look I'm after most of the time. It probably renders as complete nonsense in anything other than IE, who knows.
And I'll leave you with that. Goodnight.
a quick one
I debated on even writing tonight. I had a tense day... and the prospect of having to meet another "commitment," writing the blog, seemed like something I'd be better off skipping. Then, I figured maybe I'd write about feeling stretched, and before I knew it I had enough for a decent entry. Here we go.
Ever had a day where you feel like perpetually racing the clock, trying to come in under some non-existent deadline? That was my day yesterday. I sat at my desk, transfixed on my work, nearly sweating with determination. Laboring under some imagined race condition, I finally stopped to take a breath around 3pm and realized I'd been clenching my teeth the entire time. I did get a lot done though, even if it was at the expense of my frazzled mind. It just felt like I had to dedicate so much of my mind to my task, every little interruption threatened to bump the table where I was absorbed building my mental house-of-cards. The whole day just felt frantic... although I wasn't really up against the wall on anything in particular. I'm glad it's over, and I'm hoping for a less stressful day today.
After making the final changes to my stattraq referrer-spam blocking, I wanted to e-mail my hack to the author in case he might be able to use it in future releases. Turns out, he'd posted that same day about working on the next release, and had even called for any hacks that people had done. Since he mentioned referrer spam directly, I went ahead and posted a description of my mods as a comment to his announcement, with a link back here. To be honest, I didn't think my hack through completely; I very well may have missed instances where a "good" referrer may not get logged based on my rules - but my quick spot-testing seemed to show it was doing OK. While I'm not sure using WP's own discussion moderation keys is the best implementation, it's working fine for me as a stopgap for the time being.
It's all I've got folks, really. See ya.
you take the hookers
Nothing very cohesive today I'm afraid. You'll just have to read as far as you can before getting bored and distracted. I had a lot to write, just not very much of it ended up being terribly interesting. And now it's going on 11pm and I'm being driven to my pillow by the drowse-demons. So, with much fanfare, is today's entry.
For some reason I've been thinking that my upcoming trip to Taiwan is perpetually "a ways off." Then, when I realize I leave in just a week and a half, I start not wanting to go. I always have a good time when I'm there, and I'm always excited when I book the trip, but I always get a case of the I-don't-wanna-goes just before the actual trip. I like traveling, I get a kick out of visiting customers, and I like Taipei itself - I guess it boils down to being bummed to be away from Sharaun. Not like one or two weeks is all that long, but it's long enough to give me that moment of hesitation... wishing she could come with me or that I could stay home. It doesn't matter really, since I'll be going... and I'm sure I'll have an OK time. I guess I'm just one of the old-fashioned types who feels more melancholy in leaving his wife than anticipation over cheap hookers. And believe me, a lot of people I work with who love "Taiwan" really just love Taipei's redlight district. I enjoy the city's more prudish offerings, like food, people, royal treatment at swank hotels, and standing in the spotlight up in front of a roomful of folks.
When my cellphone chirped and rumbled me awake this morning at 6:30am, I rolled over to prepare for the day. I wake up a little earlier of late so I have time for my peddle-powered ride into work. However, 6:30am this morning came with the sound of rain the downspout - which means reprogramming the cellphone to chirp and rumble again at 7am, and rolling back over for another half hour of rest. I didn't mind really, I had gone to bed before 11pm Sunday night and hadn't even heard Sharaun waking and readying - I was really out. I don't usually sleep that hard, but for some reason I ate up my 8hrs that night without so much as a stirring. Even when 7am rolled around, I was hesitant to get moving. For a brief instant nearly every morning, a thought flashes across my mind, "I could just stay home 'sick,' take a 'mental health' day and relax." Then I realize there's no point, and go about my routine.
Just figured out some details about the comment spam blast I had on Superbowl Sunday. By looking at the mails WP generates to tell me of new comments, I noticed that the spam robot was just going through my entire post database. Starting with my first post, and walking sequentially through the posts until my most recent - trying to post a different piece of comment spam on each entry I've made (although all linking back to the same online poker website). I mentioned I'd got ~300 comment spams, which is just about right considering I've got 326 posts in the database. I'm happy to say, however, that every single one was blocked before hitting the main page, and none of the entries were logged in my stats database. I know, you're tired of hearing about blog spam - but it just bugs me so much.
And while I'm on the subject: Tonight I did something I've never really done before, I went back and modified an old entry. It wasn't in an effort of censorship though, it was for the best. See, I vastly improved my comment and referrer spam blocking script - and I went back and modified my previously-posted code excerpts and explanatory text. Instead of having some manual-entry list of spammer IPs and referrers, my code now checks against WordPress' own "moderation keys" list (which get smarter with each spam comment, thanks to Kitten's plugin). Anyway, it's not that exciting to explain, but it sure is cool to see it work. Since wannabrowser seems to be down, I had to use a little referrer-spoofer app instead when testing the script. Good news is, it's now successfully blocking on spammer IP, spammer keyword, and comment keywords; and my logs have never been cleaner.
I've sort of setup a new pattern for entries, with good stuff somewhere in the middle, expositionary fluff-intros, and link-offering denouements. Since we're now in the link-offering denouement portion, I will use this place to offer some links (go figure). Metafilter linked this yesterday, and man... it disturbed me. The guy's apparently been keeping a blog online for the past 11 years, way ahead of the curve. I guess it was extremely personal, and the link above is a video of him freaking out in front of a webcam. It freaked me out to see it; I feel for the guy, who has, by his own admission, something "wrong with him." While I personally don't get much catharsis from my own writing, I can see how someone might get so wrapped up in writing about things that they actually detach themselves from everything personal and real. Thankfully, for me, writing isn't a crutch. It's a pastime that I enjoy, not a necessity for sanity. Anyway, the video is interesting as a window into someone's hangups, and I wish the guy the best on getting sorted. But y'know, human nature makes us want to observe others' sufferings... so download QuickTime Alternative and have at it.
Goodnight.
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