I just found out that for all but six years of my life (1999-2005) I have lived outside the natural range of bobcats. And yet, this fall, I will once again enter wild cat territory, and walk that thin line betwixt the quick and the dead. I am now unsure if I will be able to adequately focus on my studies, forever looking over my shoulder, fearing death in the form of a Lynx rufus.
Yesterday I saw a woman “walking” her dog by driving after it in her car. The dog was not on a leash, so this involved driving down little side streets as it wandered about the neighborhood. And you have to wonder, at what point does being lazy end up involving more work than just getting off your duff? Because I believe this woman had passed that point.
Today I was reminded of something that I had learned in the past year or so: people in my profession are shy. This initial thought brought with it a bevy of similar thoughts, like that being shy around equally shy people makes dealings a lot harder, and that even people in management can be, god forbid, shy. As someone who is, euphemistically, taciturn, this was quite the epiphany. For one, it became painfully clear that if I wanted to interact with these people I would have initiate things. Not just in terms of water cooler banter, but with actual work. And this means operating outside, what is scientifically termed, el zona de comfort. Fortunately as I’ve aged this has become easier, or at least, less nerve wrecking. But it still isn’t something that comes naturally, and so requires a good deal of kicking myself in the keister to get me going. Yet, while I recognize this condition, and see it making life more difficult for all involved, I find it amusing to watch older people of a higher station struggle with it. Of course, that’s just what I get to look forward to by that age. Hopefully I’m better able to handle the twinge of anxiety by then. Stupid genes…
Why does Ben Fold’s “Kylie From Connecticut” remind me of a heaping bowl of staple sauce?
For some reason this looks like some bizarre chimera of the Eye of Sauron and a Shinto torii gate…
The nesia, from the Greek nesos (νῆσος), meaning island, is a unit of measure for the number of ridiculously large stone coins in a certain area. Historically, the unit was defined in relation to micronesia, which is 10^-6 nesia. One nesia is equivalent to 6.8 * 10^9 ridiculously large stone coins scattered over an area of 3.114 * 10^9 square kilometers. The symbol for nesia is n (never capital N).
SI prefixes are often employed to denote decimal multiples and submultiples of the nesia, as follows:
Along with the SI prefixes, there are a number of non-SI units expressed in nesias:
See also:
This weekend I started, in earnest, the effort to tidy up my room in preparation for a visit by the illustrious Catalina. My labors have borne some fruit, as one no longer needs to perform complex acrobatics in order to traverse the floor. And in this process I came face-to-face with a truism of putting one’s effects in order: that, invariably, one will run across something of interest, forgotten in the intervening days since its initial placement. One such item that I found today is a receipt from Paradise Bakery & Cafe, which, by the way, has the most delicious cookies. Like, orgasmically good. What strikes me most is that I purchased two cookies for $1.35, which seems like a steal in this day and age. I just wish they had locations in the Old Line State, although it does give me further incentive to visit Indy.
I got accepted into Georgia Tech! Now, if I play my cards right, I will have to change the name of this blog to “Georgia Pok Guy.” You can expect to read about my trials and tribulations as I whine about classes and tests and all the other bullshit I was freed from by working (of course, working has it’s own unique breed of bullshit, which can be a lot more frustrating). Still, I am really excited by the prospect of studying again, and not feeling like my brain is atrophying…
As the two (three?) people who read this blog know, Twitter is a micro-blogging service that limits posts to 140 characters. This character limitation encourages conciseness on the part of the writer, creating snapshots of their day-to-day life. Now, in the spirit of the idea that nothing is sacred, I want to take the beautiful idea of Twitter and explode it. I present to you Twitter Obfuscation, a game you can play where the goal is to be as verbose as possible in only 140 characters. A contestant begins with 140 points. One point is subtracted for each character under 140 used (and, no, you can’t just pad your entry with spaces). Another 40 points will be subtracted for actually making a point. Each word over eight letters long adds two points to the total, and any words over twelve letters long add five points. So break out your cellphone and dictionary, and challenge your friends to a game of Twitter Obfuscation!
Apparently Pashto is a language well suited for the Internet. Check out these smilies!
