Crave

I'm counting

2007-06-20T16:51:00.000-07:00

I went in for my final consultation today. I was surprised by how I felt upon leaving. I had been so excited for so long.. but today there was just a calm. There was almost a sense of sadness.. of something lost. I like to think of it as something similar to stockholm syndrome.. but hmmm.. I think there might be something more.

Is there a word for when a negative condition is labeled as a false alarm but later becomes quite true? Kinda like someone smells smoke and pulls the fire alarm- later they find it's nothing more than burnt waffles- but then as everyone is {ahaha-ing} about the waffles, the drapes catch fire.. like a false-false alarm..?

Anyway.. I have mono (EBV + spot peak @~ -2 weeks).

Remind me

2007-05-10T17:35:00.000-07:00

I saw Kenny today. I don't think he remembered me. I made sure to never get within ten yards.

So while driving home I decided to make an emergency stop at walmart. I picked up a couple necessities: strawberries, desk fan, ice cream, conditioner, speakers, and some.. mexican candy. My room is now delightfully cool and i have a bag full of fluid ice cream. My external speakers went buggy a while back and I've been using headphones since. Now this wasn't much of a problem except for when I wanted to distribute audio between more than two ears.

Yay, speakers

The new outputs sound nice but I'm having quite a time figuring out how to adjust the woofer output. There are no knobs, I swear. I think my best bet is some sort of software solution.

Name that groove

There was a man dancing in his truck over by sonic. He was in his thirties, a bit heavy set, and wore a suit (jacket off). My mind neared seizure as I was overwhelmed by joy. This has got to be my.. fourth favorite game.

Requirements:

Two individuals, audibly isolated.
One radio per person.
One with mad car dancing skills
One with mad radio tuning skills

Rules:

The individual tuning the radio has until the green light to find the song being listened to by the dancer. If the tuner finds the song within the time constraints they are rewarded with emotional / mental satisfaction. If the light turns green before the song can be found, the tuner must listen to silence for the next 30 seconds while practicing visualization techniques in vitro.

edit: I totally left out the ending

Song: Avril Lavigne - Girlfriend
Station: 99.5 fm
Final: Victory flawless

define: aporia

2007-04-19T22:13:00.000-07:00

But is it my favorite song of the day? Maybe.

Today I met Kenny. Kenny scares me. He scares me more than any other person I've ever met.

I was on my way to obtain some good / bad part count tags on some GE / AB processors when we were introduced. Kenny moved kinda slow... turtle like (his words, not mine). I'm not quite sure how tall he is... maybe seven feet? He weighs about four hundred pounds... and he's something like a level 13 grandmaster of martial arts. Hmmm, I'm not sure how old he is... maybe 50? He's also quite... round.

I like to do this thing when I see people where I run them through a series of mental evaluations. One of the tests is their capacity for physical destruction. I've never ranked anyone higher than Kenny (well actually, Michael Corvin is pretty high up there... but I haven't come to a solid conclusion about his existence).

Kenny likes telling stories. I think he likes fighting too. One time a pickup truck hit him so he beat it up. I backed up as he told the story with live reenactments. He smashed in the hood with his elbow and kicked off a rear view mirror. He had a good ending too, "The guy just waited quietly in the truck for the police to arrive. A lot changes in 20 years. I used to be... less stable."

I guess he can do the splits and kick some eight feet high. It was really hard to imagine Kenny doing the splits. I came really close to asking for a demonstration in that clean room at ICU Medical. I chickened out and, in the end, contented myself to watching his demonstrations of beating down tongans, ultimate fighters, world grandmasters, etc... He spends his evenings giving private lessons to local fighters (which sounded more like people paying him a couple hundred dollars to come to their house and beat them up for a few minutes).

just tell me that given my exposure, I am justified in my trust

I think I'm sharing this because I'm hoping for some sort of confirmation that it's ok to believe Kenny. It just seems so odd to me, that these things could actually be true. I swear I'm not a gullible person; I know how to do that rational thing. But I really believe him.

Safety pinned to his backpack

2007-04-18T13:32:00.000-07:00

So I've been needing to visit the dentist for quite some time now. It's not that I'm in any pain... it has just been a while since my last checkup. >_> So having no place to start I registered with http://1800dentist.com (hokey right? and might I recommend turning down your speakers if you so choose to visit the site... I just thought it was a little creepy... that's all) The next day I received a call from 1800dentist and was scheduled for an appointment at the office of James A. Morgan, DDS, PC. I was nervous going in for my x-ray / cleaning / checkup this morning. I didn't really know anything about the place and my parents had spent the previous day telling me of the horrors of seeing a non-recommended dentist.

mid day delusions

So after driving around for half of an hour, looking for 800 north 1300 east (Orem... turns out there is an 800 north in Orem too >_> /sigh), I dashed inside and began the paperwork. The place turned out to be quite nice and my chair was especially comfy. The paperwork involved could easily equate to a four page (double-spaced) essay tho. After divulging my medical history I was introduced to Kim (my dental hygienist).

Let me just say, Kim is a pro. I would have told her so too, except I was feeling a bit bashful after turning my mouth into a waterfall... and then her making some comment about drowning. At one point Kim pointed out that she fears going to the dentist because she might have "boogers" in her nose. I guess it can become quite visible when you lie a patient down. I'm not sure why I hadn't contemplated this before... it is a good point... and it seems fairly obvious now. I must think on this more. But honestly, I'm contemplating a thank you card... (for the pro part... not the "boogers"... maybe the "boogers" too)

glances can cripple

Anyway... I got a bit lost on my way home and ended up driving past the old neighborhood where I grew up. It was quite an odd feeling. I went from being clueless about my location to having this old sense of familiarity. I decided that driving through would be the sentimental thing to do. The giant tree is gone. The sandbox is now a pavilion. The door is still green tho. Oh, and the stop sign has been transformed into a "never stop lovin'" sign.

From there it was over to walmart to grab some supplies for the continued development of my oral hygiene. There was a massive tumbleweed in the road. I mean, this sucker was about as tall as me and it was just chilling in the far right lane I was trying to make a right turn into. The light was red and I felt kinda bad for the vehicle behind me. I imagined them becoming upset when I continued to not turn, even when there appeared to be a vacant lane from their perspective. It's just that there was a tumbleweed the size of their car and I didn't want to damage the organic and slightly creepy-looking mass of... stuff.

he cant believe that it grows

Oi. That should do.

Anyway

2007-03-08T09:02:00.000-07:00

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.
Think big anyway.

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.
Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.
Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you have anyway.
-Kent M. Keith 1968

Empowering, no?

So I stumbled upon this poem a couple of weeks ago. 1968 Kent Keith is my hero.

It is raining on the outside! I'm just a wee bit gleeful. I think a good number of outdoor activities can be enhanced by rainfall (frisbee, running, singing / yelling). It just feels like I can breathe so much deeper. ^^`

Tasted like chicken (lemon scented)

2007-03-07T10:28:00.000-07:00

Manic depressive

Which was impressive

Pretty, no? I think I wana be a DJ when I grow up. Audacity + Traktor + FL Studio and I'm set. All I need now are some Vinyls... and maybe some ANTARI HFWG Haze Fluid...

Very impressive

I have the same problem

2007-03-02T13:16:00.000-07:00

I like painting faces. There's nothing like rallying some cougar spirit by planting a paw print or "BYU" on a fan's face. And while the end result was quite enjoyable, I must say, I found it quite difficult to mask my initial anxiety.

The setup

I mean, you are applying poster paint to the cheek / forehead / nose of an individual who ranges in age from toddler to geezer (can I say geezer?). Having never attempted such artistic expressions previously, I was worried that my painting may look poorly. But I adopted the attitude that if I pretended to be competent and then complimented the canvas on their attractive adornment, I could pass off as the real deal.

First girl steps up to the booth; Age: 7; Major personality trait: Reserved;

Jules: Greetings little one. Do you want me to draw a BYU on your face?
Little one: single nod.
Jules: smears a blue-coated brush with an overly exaggerated flourish (it's all in the wrist). It looks... amaaaaazing (don't forget to smile).
Little one: slowly turn and walk away.

As she goes, I can't help but think that I've ruined her face. I hope her parents don't hunt me down and petition for my expulsion. I'll do better on the next one.

I am next approached by an outgoing female, maybe 12 years in age. She has by her side a seemingly shy friend.

Outgoing: Let's get our faces painted.
Shy: You do it.
Outgoing: Let's both do it.
Shy: ... You go first.
Outgoing: It's free right?
Jules: Yes yes, although tips are appreciated (just joking >_>).
Outgoing: I want a cougar paw.
Jules: Flourish of paint. Way cool!
Outgoing: Cool, do you want one like mine?
Shy: Whispers into Outgoing's ear and they both make a move for the restroom.

Anyway, fans came and went and my confidence continued to drop. I was on the verge of throwing in the brush when I came to a realization of sorts. This isn't about me showing off my leet paint skillz. I'm there to instill excitement. It doesn't matter that my cougar paws are indistinguishable from my "BYU" logos. It's about the expression of love on the part of the fan.

I took a deep breath and turned to the nearest volunteer, "Let me make your face my canvas." I stopped thinking and let the inspiration flow. The final product was a large "Y" with a beautiful faux finish (similar to this wall in color and texture).

I looked back out upon the encroaching crowd and made eye contact with a young man. As he approached the painting table I calmly asked, "What would you like?" There was but a moment's hesitation before he raised his arm to point at my newly discovered creation (the "Y"). I felt my breast swell with pride and began my work.

At one point during the procedure I had to move the hair from his forehead. It was at this point that he made a profound remark, "Sorry, I gotta cut my bangs."

The point

Me too! I totally need a haircut. I think I like the longer-hair look, but my bangs are starting to impair my vision. Now this is the tricky part because I want a cut, but I'm not quite sure what to do with my hair. What I would really love is to just go to some salon and leave all discretion to the stylist. Kinda like, "Here, have a head; go to town." Anyway... where do I find such a place?

I eat time

2007-02-28T14:48:00.000-07:00

So it's has been... oh-so-long since my last post. I feel like so much has happened. How am I supposed to get caught up? I don't think it's really possible at this point. Maybe I'll just pretend that all from the past has been shared and today is a new day with a new blog.

Ugh, but then there is this pressure to say something profound. It's like... 'Jules hasn't posted for ages, I wonder what sort of emotional realization he has come to, to bring him back to the world of blogging.' There is no life altering statement so I think the next best option is just to say something trivial.

Sometimes I'm terrified. It's not that I'm worried for myself, I just want others to be happy. But does exposure to the terror bring joy? I think so.

I bought a loofah

I went shopping the other day and (thanks to the bright eyes of a friend) found a formal outfit with which I am overjoyed. I just wanted something nice I could wear to church but still casual enough to not look overly severe on campus.

After picking out the outfit it was over to Bath and Body Works. I bought a loofah and body wash. It smells like cucumber melon. It is a pain to apply. Now maybe I'm just doing this wrong, so feel free to correct any misconceptions I may have about the correct bathing process.

Place button-sized drop of wash on loofah
Work into lather
Thoroughly cover skin with lather-rich loofah
Rinse
Smell like cucumber melon

I ran into problems as soon as I got to step two. I dropped the wash on the loofah and it just kinda... disappeared. I felt like I was just running this plastic over my flesh. Where are the suds?

A jedi is >= a mutant

After months of the mundane, my fantastical dreams have returned. Last night could be considered a prime example.

I was a neutrally aligned jedi master who was facing the newest threat to the galaxy: Wyres. Wyres look like Sony robots with lots of... wires... sticking out. Anyway, I'm not sure why they were so dangerous but they were a beast to hack through with a lightsaber.

Now everyone thought that the Wyres were top contestant in the race for who will bring down the republic. As it turns out, the Wyres are weak sauce compared to the mutants. I mean, the mutants could crush the Yuuzhan Vong like roaches beneath their organic carapaces...

Anyway, things get really complex, but basically, I beat out the mutants, not with physical prowess, but social structuring. Yay for fantastical.

Feed the things that you want to grow

I was talking with my mother this past week and she made a statement that I haven't been able to remove from my mind

Feed the things that you want to grow. Apply your time towards what you want.

I'm not quite sure why I hadn't fully considered this before, but I think it wise advice. I need to use my time in such a way that I am moving towards the things I love. Silly life.

Yeah, let's put a candle in the barn

2007-01-30T21:47:00.000-07:00

I was just kinda chilling in the library, working some chem problems when a nearby friend chose to break my concentration:

Friend: My biochem book says "objectionable odor" (/giggle /giggle /hapşurmak)
Me: (/sigh, back to rate laws)

It was the next statement that really pushed me over the edge.

Friend: Did you know that soaps are made of fats and oils?

I tried to maintain my composure but sometimes people just hit their breaking points. I lashed out in violent contempt:

Me: Heck of the frikin' no you did not just say that. That has to be one of the most absurd ideas I have ever heard.

It takes a big man to admit a mistake

I dashed over to wikipedia to solidify my victory:

Soap is derived from either oils or fats. Sodium tallowate, a common ingredient in many soaps, is in fact derived from rendered beef fat. Soap can also be made of vegetable oils, such as olive oil.

A bit puzzled by the results I decided to consult an expert in the field of soap.

To: customerservice@bathandbodyworks.com
Subject: Product Questions

Name: jules

Wrote: I was wondering if it is possible to see the ingredients of the various soaps online... thanks.

Some 92 hours later I received a response:

Dear Jules,

We appreciate you taking the time to write us in regards to our policies, services and products. We value your inquiry and your interest in Bath & Body Works and The White Barn Candle Co.

Our ingredients cannot be viewed online however we invite you to visit your local store to view the ingredients which are displayed on all bottles and/or packaging.

Thanks again for contacting us. We hope you will continue to enjoy your favorites from Bath & Body Works and The White Barn Candle Co. If we can do anything else for you, please feel free to reply to this e-mail (please do not change the subject line) or call us at 1-800-395-1001.

Sincerely,
Randi Monroe

The White Barn what?

Oh. /sigh. I guess I could just go look at the bottles then... p/o Randi. Thanks for the memories.

As it turns out, modern soaps are really just these synthetic detergent things. It is rare to find commercial product that is actually made of soap. It'll be nice to get back to my old hygienic habits.

It feels fragile

2007-01-24T15:40:00.001-07:00

Today is a good day. I don't think I got more than five hours sleep but I'm just feeling a liiiiiiitle bit 'sparkly'.

It's one of those smile ones

Sometimes you think about something really really hard; to the point of absolute obsession. Then you remind yourself that such thought patterns are entirely unhealthy and unproductive. Every now and then it's nice when your unhealthy thoughts develop just as dreamed.

But it's scary because it's fragile... that's all.

Anyway... I had some free time in class and played around with math-based movement.

Deliberate Motion

Do you have to wear the headband?

2007-01-23T17:00:00.000-07:00

So I got the oddest voicemail the other day:

To save it in the archives, press 9

Next message; Sent Saturday, January 20th at 4:27pm

hello?
// six second pause
hello?
// three second pause
Shoot.
// five second pause

End of message.

While I doubt the message was meant to indicate malevolent motives, I can't help but be a a little frightened.

I can't help but feel like I won

About a week ago a bridal magazine appeared at the entrance to my apartment. Having already gone through the current edition, I decided to leave this copy at the door of my next door neighbors. I thought little of the consequences of such an action and proceeded to class.

On returning I found the same magazine, once again, carefully laid infront of my door. I nudged it back towards the adjacent apartment.

This conflicting behavior continued for the better part of a week until one day... the magazine disappeared. After a few minutes exploration, I found it deftly placed at the step of a THIRD apartment in the WQ complex. Good Game :p

You are a runner

2007-01-22T13:45:00.000-07:00

I just feel like bragging a weeeeeee bit. I don't think myself particularly impressive... but I'm just a little proud.

One of them will be me as a boy

Chemistry has always been my least favorite science. When I was in high school I took chemistry from Mr. Peterson. Mr. Peterson was kinda tall and lanky... and angry.

One time one of his bats (he kept bats... for chemistry experiments... jk, I don't know why he had the bats, but he kept them in his classroom) escaped into the hallway. We were all impressed when we heard that he captured the creature. Turns out he used a net.

Anyway, I've never enjoyed chemistry. Today that changed.

I completed my chem 107 lab in record time and received praise from the TA. I like chemistry.

One of them will be me

I didn't ace the neuro quiz but honestly, who knows the percent of cardiac output that is sent to the brain?

And I think Dr. Lephart knows Kung Fu, btw... Something about his movement is entirely stoic. Well either that or he has some artificial compound simulating the actions of GABA on his CNS... idk.

One of them will be me; watching you run

I got xp running on my macbook. Games run on xp. I installed a game. I stared really hard at a login screen for about 15 minutes. I uninstalled a game and destroyed the xp partition.

I think I've found a better game.

Watching you run
Into the high noon sun
Watching you run
Farther than guns will go
You are a runner
With a stolen voice
And you are a runner

And I am my father's son

Almost like being healthy

2007-01-17T12:11:00.000-07:00

I used to call my best friend, Tyler, on a daily basis.

Now it is important to note that as far as best friends went (chronologically), Tyler fell between Jim and Austin. Jim and Austin were both very assertive individuals. I don't think it a stretch to suggest that they had found a nice medium between mindless aggression and "doormat."

Jim shot a pigeon with a pellet gun

Jim played baseball and "Magic the Gathering" and "Doom" and "Jane's Combat Flight Sim" and he had a dog and cut a worm in half once. I liked doing what Jim did but never really offered suggestions for activities. There were two times that Jim and I encountered confrontation. One time we got angry at each other at baseball practice. This other time I deleted a school paper that was saved on his computer (it was supposed to be funny... like a joke). After we entered fifth grade, Jim became quite popular and my time spent with him grew shorter. When he moved to Washington we were friends at best.

I called him some six months later:

Jules: Hi, can I speak with Jim?
Jim: This is Jim. (see I already knew that but had quite a structure for the format of my phone calls)
Jules: Hi Jim, this is Jules. I recently bought "Jane's Combat Flight Sim" and wondered if you wanted to play with me over the internet.
Jim: Umm... well see, we are still unpacking and we haven't really set our computer up yet.
Jules: Oh... Ummm... Ok. (At this point my mother is mouthing things like "Ask him about school", "his new house", etc.)
Jim: I'm not quite sure when we are going to get it all set up.
Jules: Ok. Mmmm... bye.
Jim: ... bye.

I never talked to Jim again but soon after found Tyler. Oh wait, I need to tell you about Austin.

Yeah, I listen to John Denver

Austin was my hero. We lived a block from each other and went to the same middle school. Austin was quite possibly the most popular boy at CVMS (...go vikings). During the time we were friends Austin and I shared a love for basketball, tennis, and "The Sims." He used to call me up and we would go and play tennis together. One time, while waiting to be picked up from the tennis court I let Austin in on a little secret. He was the first person outside of my family to know and it went a little something like:

I am... not... the way you think I am.

I don't know if Austin was impressed but we laughed a lot more after that.

Anyway, I think I'm getting sidetracked. I used to call Tyler on a daily basis. Unlike Jim and Austin, Tyler was a bit more like me... a bit less decisive. Our conversations varied little from day to day:

Jules: Hi Tyler, do you wana play?
Tyler: Sure.
Jules: What do you want to do?
Tyler: Mmm, I don't know, whatever.
Jules: Well, I don't care.
Tyler: But, I mean, what do you want to do?
Jules: ... Whatever you want to do.

We would carry on in such a way for a good hour before finally coming to a conclusion. The end activity was always Nintendo64 or basketball. Now, I was secretly addicted to the N64. My parents wouldn't allow me to spend more than 1.5 hours each day playing video games or watching TV. It was always grand to slip over to Tyler's and indulge in a four hour gaming session.

Parents: Remember your time limit.
Jules: OK.

*four hours later*

Parents: How was Tyler's?
Jules: Gooood... we played with his dog... and birds...

But I'm getting sidetracked again. I always hoped that we would end up playing Nintendo but was too afraid to say so. Plus I guess a little variety makes it more enjoyable...

The point

Anyway, I've since come to find pleasure in making decisions. There is something very satisfying about getting your way. And even if I happen to be indifferent on a topic, knowing that I can control the outcome is very empowering. Therefore, in an attempt to find greater self worth and play with a new toy, may I present:

Decision Maker

It's a layout

2006-12-21T14:31:00.000-07:00

New layout. I'm going to let it sit overnight. Edits + details tommorow. p/o >:) http://julesferreira.blogspot.com/

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Nunc id massa ornare mi molestie scelerisque. Donec iaculis purus sit amet magna. Maecenas accumsan eleifend eros. Cras elementum sapien a mi. Curabitur leo. In mauris libero, gravida quis, facilisis sed, luctus accumsan, enim. Praesent lobortis adipiscing mi. Etiam nec ipsum eget sem nonummy mattis. Ut eleifend. Nunc vel risus quis orci dignissim vulputate. (Line wraps marked » —Ed.)

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Cras tempor diam eu diam

Oh. Does anyone here read latin?

Illustration by Kevin Cornell

Because then you don't have to go to school

2006-12-05T15:29:00.000-07:00

I would not be opposed to a mild case of mono. My health has really been bouncing around for the past couple weeks and now I'm starting to wonder.

sore throat... check.

headaches... check.

white patches on the back of your throat... unknown (will someone look at my throat? I'm serious. Really.).

swollen glands in your neck... check.

feeling tired... check.

not feeling hungry... check.

fever... negative.

I'm also nauseous / vomiting... not that such symptoms fall under mono but I'm just saying...

Mike has mono. (Insert traditional, same-sex, mono-kissing joke here. Clever clever clever.). I am not nearly as sick as Mike tho.

The other day I was walking through the cannon center with Melissa and was surprised by an aerial assault in the form of a baseball cap. It took a good three seconds before I noticed the prostrate form of Mike on a nearby bench.

Jules: Mike! You look... sick.
Mike: I'm a coconut (or something equally coherent).
Melissa: Might I recommend acetaminophen or naproxen.
Mike: I've never flushed a goldfish down the toilet.
(Melissa makes some notes in the margins of her Physicians' Desk Reference.)

Mike looked and sounded really sick. Like a whole lot worse than I'm feeling. But I can still hope, right? I think that I may actually be running a bit of a fever right now. I need to get a thermometer. Where does one purchase such things?

I wonder if they have any old ones for sale in the health center... joking... just joking... ahem.

I just wanted something to point at

2006-12-04T13:11:00.000-07:00

I am absolutely infatuated with Regina Spektor. There is such a simple, yet deep understanding in her perfect voice. R-bird, you have one day before I redact my intention to wed. I should make mention that this offer also applies to Norah Jones.

In fifth grade I took a small candy cane and put it in a really big box. The box was impressive to look at. The candy cane tasted like cotton candy. The person that opened it was surprised by the contents. Not that they didn't like it... it was just a little unexpected... that's all. Anyway, I like cotton candy.

Did you say something?

2006-11-29T18:38:00.000-07:00

Well, that was fun. Hmmm, hmm, hmmmmmmmmmmmm...

So... I made this script...

I thought it was going to be easy but then things started getting complicated. Everything worked out in the end but now I'm not quite sure what to say.

Hmmm... well... everytime you go here: http://julesferreira.blogspot.com/

Two Jack Handy quotes are submitted by anonymous(muhaha) individuals here: http://julesferreira.blogspot.com/2006/11/did-you-say-something.html#comments

If anyone is actually curious, I'm calling a remote PHP script through a Javascript inclusion on this page. The PHP script selects two random Jack Handy quotes and then opens up socket connections to the blogger comment script. Required information is passed to the blogger software as POST variables (grrr, that was the hard part) and then stored as a comment on the blogger system.

//edit

lol, ten minutes later and I'm at about 50. Yay for email notification of new comments >_<

I'm not qute sure how many comments blogger allows per post but I'm in a mood to find out...)

Brand new hole

2006-11-28T15:19:00.000-07:00

Now, I don't normally think of myself as a whiner, but allow me to indulge my pity-seeking side for just a moment.

1. I am sick. Bleh. What the heck?! Last week I was throwing up and now I have an incessant cold. Colds typically aren't that bad but this one is quite "sinusy" and is making my teeth and eyes ache. I rarely got moderately sick as a child. It was either healthy or hospital for me.

I have a couple of theories as to why I am now getting sick. The first is that my diet has decayed to the consumption of cereal bars and bananas only. Another possibility may be that I am sleeping... poorly. But my most promising hypothesis is that I have a deep subconscious desire to be sick.

When one is sick, it gives them a reason / excuse for the way they are. While I was growing within my mother I found comfort in developing a cleft palate. After some time I grew tired of the cleft and began repairs. The only remaining sign of it's existence is a deviated septum.

Deviated septum ~ sinus congestion.

~ = is like
= = =
= != ~

Anyway, I've been just a little self conscious of my nasally voice recently and am considering the possibility that my psyche is sabotaging my immune system in order to cover my embarrassment. The game is up... you... psyche...

2. Ahem, I do believe I just got a little carried away with that last one. My other gripe is that I have lost my lone belt. I know I had it before I left for Thanksgiving break but spent a good half an hour looking for it this morning.

I fantasized for a few minutes about somebody stealing it, but I'm not quite sure about the likelihood of such an occurrence. I mean, it's the only thing I seem to be missing. If someone were to break into my room, there are much more interesting things to take:

Computer
Gola sneakers
SSN
Sledge hoody
Vanilla yogurt bars
Passport
Ear plugs
Etc, etc... (was this a bad move, btw? is anyone going to try and take these items now that they know they are there? um... you know, I made most of them up anyway... and besides, they are guarded by machine gun cyborgs toting heat sensors...)

So I wore no belt to work today. I feel quite foolish because I always think bad things about boys who don't wear belts with their slacks. No one seems to have noticed yet but the office was pretty empty when I slipped in. In mere minutes I will attempt an escape.

Zero: Now remember Snake, this is a stealth mission. You must rescue Sokolov without leaving any evidence to your existence in Russia.

J-dog... I'm sorry

2006-11-27T16:10:00.000-07:00

Ah yes, I remember now. How quickly it all fades when pressed against the failing anthem of reality. I'm sorry.

Listen, j-dog, I feel like a dork. It was supposed to be honest, clever, and friendly. I have the sinking feeling that it turned out overly intense and odd. I was happy with my new found motivation but might need to reevaluate my methods. I knew I should have just gone with a 'hello' ;)

And holy smokes! Fred is just off and running. How embarrassing, I have some catching up to do. Trendy? Why yes, trendy indeed.

Oh, remember that one box thing? I think I'll indulge it's existence one final time before throwing it out the window. I somehow remember it being bigger... and more red for that matter. A bittersweet realization, no doubt. There always seems to be an inherent interest in the unknown.

Watch how I attack

2006-11-14T13:54:00.000-07:00

It was 7:40pm. I was booking it down the long {pedestrians-on-one-side-cyclists-on-the-other} ramp on the southwest corner of campus.

Don't tell anyone but sometimes I walk on the bike-only side just to feel powerful. I imagine what I would do if a villain were to attack me on a bike. I would probably sidestep at the last minute and use the cyclists momentum to throw him from the bike to the pavement. I would then swing my backpack as a flail. You see, the key when fighting someone with a technological advantage is to take an all out offensive position. Bring the fight to them. Don't relent and run. Take whatever measures necessary to keep them off balance.

Say there is a crazed individual trying to run you down with an Astro van. Only an inexperienced fighter would retreat. Again, sidestep and flail the backpack like the medieval weapon it is reminiscent of (did someone want to know why I always carry a backpack?). Bring the windshield down upon your assailant. Get in close. They will be so focused on using their advantage that you can destroy them while they fumble for an easy success.

Anyway... I was moving at a rapid pace because my new addiction (Heroes) was going to start in mere minutes. I had to quickly pick up a friend (Jenny) and then drive back to my place, all in 20 minutes. I was quite pressed for time and determined to slow for no man. When I reached the three-way intersection at the bottom of that massive set of stairs I was forced to pause in joyful recollection.

"Clear!" was all I heard. I lifted my eyes to wittiness a man, on a rickety-red-plastic sled, riding down three flights of steps. He picked up enough speed to slide across the flat break in stairs and then continue down the next flight. This continued down three(3) sets of stairs and ended with him bailing before sliding into oncoming traffic.

I cheered with my fellow onlookers and reflected on my own sledding adventures. One such adventure had happened the previous night.

I was dreaming (OK, so it wasn't a real adventure, but I didn't know it at the time)... I was carrying this big-red-plastic sled through my neighborhood in Draper, UT. JT (Justin Timberlake and I are on an initial-name basis) had the back of the sled, and I was holding onto the front. JT was totally pumped because he had never been sledding before and I was like, "OK, you ready?" and he was all, "I'm bringing sexy back!"

We walked around for a while but couldn't find any snow. Later we met up at the Jedi temple (from Jedi Knight II: Jedi Outcast; kick it Kyle!) and JT took me aside.

"Listen JF, I appreciate your taking me sledding and I want to make it up to you. What do you say about my teaching you some dance moves?"

I was down, and so begun my training. Is it any coincidence that JT's dance moves were taught in tandem with padawan lightsaber techniques? I think not. So anyway, the last two evenings, I have received instruction from my main man on how to get groovy. I'm feeling more confidant in my movement and am thinking about getting some practice "in vitro".

If only I had a cream-collared polo with red accents... I would be the envy of the club...

Methods of mimicry

2006-11-13T16:47:00.000-07:00

Passive-Aggressive. That's me. I'm that passive aggressive personality type. Well I was, three months ago. Now I fall within the minimally-anxious-assertive range. Today I role-played some encounters and appeared "confidant" and even "carried" the conversation. What up now, fool? What, you want me to confront you about your unfair demands? You don't think I can freely express my opposing opinion. Playa, you liein' to youself. And don't you dare think yourself free from my imposition of conversation when waiting in line in the bookstore. Bleh, I feel kinda assertive right now. It is better than I expected. There was something really empowering about quietly manipulating others to your will. It is a real confidence booster to easily speak your mind while respecting others.

I wana be Peter Petrelli. And it's not just the bangs and choice of profession. Peter has the power I want. What about the power of flight, that do anything for ya? That's levitation holmes! How 'bout the power to kill a yak, from two hundred yards! With mind bullets! That's telekinesis Kyle! But no, these are not the powers bestowed upon precious Pete. How about the power... to move you? Yes, I feel moved when Peter uses his power. Peter has the potential to impersonate people, as well as passive precognition.

Anyway, yesterday I watched the first seven episodes of "Heroes." I'm totally addicted. The eighth episode airs tonight at eight and I may or may not watch it (Potential prior plans >_>).

I see the bulge of the knife within her sleeve before she makes a move. I casually sidestep and lean my head from the blade now impaled in the wall behind me. We race to the cupboard seeking to restock our weapon supplies. I reach the drawer first.

I grab a blade in each hand. And lash out at her. She ducks under my twin slashes and kicks the drawer into the air. She reaches up into the falling utensils and picks out her choice shiv.

She moves quick and I try to keep her from pressing too close. Reach is my advantage in this fight. Reach and an overly developed cerebellum (>_>).

One block turns bad and her knife slices deep into my index finger. I scream out and she recoils, unprepared for my verbal assault. I take advantage of her lost balance and place a careful roundhouse to her temple. Wounded, I choose retreat. Another day then.

Or maybe... today (dun dun dun...).

I return after she has fallen asleep to exact some form of revenge. I find two objects quite dear to her and displace them. No one steals my blood without some form of collateral. I don't smell any mint, hmm....

Is that one dizzy too?

2006-11-10T14:21:00.000-07:00

Gone are the days where I would spend hours checking for updates on the blogs of my peers. Check it:

my blogline feeds

All the information I desire on one, web-based, self-updating page. So I've been looking around at different newsreaders, trying to find one that sticks out. Bloglines seems to work well for me since I can check it from any terminal and it has most features I need. Has anyone played around much with atom or rss feeds?

There is a warehouse in the building I work in. I've never driven a forklift but I think it would be fun. I used to want to be a garbage man so that I could work the mechanical garbage-can-lifting arm. I'm getting sidetracked. Wana take a guess at what song was playing over the radio? Nope. It was "Feliz Navidad." Oh happy day, It's almost Christmas.

I navigated my radio to kosy 106.5 and was delighted to find that they had switched to their Christmas music. I love Christmas music. It reminds me of... Christmas. Anyway, kosy has just replaced 105.7 on my presets.

Last night, there were a few cars stopped the intersection between Wendy's and the RB. I was about 4 minutes and 30 seconds into My love (stop the video, forward the top song to 4:30). I forgot myself and got my groove on. When I made eye contact with the girl in the car next to me, she laughed. I felt all warm and happy on the inside.

"You got it?"

"Yeah." As I slip the mini-CD into her outstretched palm I take another cautionary glance around the stairwell.

We are alone but the sounds of muted speech can be heard around the corner.

"Listen, it's not perfect but it's the best I could do given the time constraints. It's practically unidentifiable."

She turns to walk away and I hurry to her side.

"I know it's not as good as a new one, but believe me, it looks fine. And what does it really matter what it looks like as long as it's function is realized?"

Her cold glare communicates nothing but impatience. She moves to an empty work station and boots up the CD. She assesses the modifications and feigns interest. It's nothing more than a game to her.

"It will do." We stand as she finalizes her changes. "My time is up."

Now this is worth a smile. She seems to think that placing a label to her time will free her from its grasp. Can she really believe she is in control?

"You mock me," she replies with a smile of her own.

"No, not at all. I just had an odd thought."

She slips her left hand awkwardly into her pocket. I tilt my head in question.

Her right hand flies towards my face at an inhuman speed. As her fist forms I side step and slow the blow with my own arm. We are now at each others side. She continues with her swing and throws her balled hand at my back. I catch it easily in my palm.

So she does remember.

"This has only just begun," she says, "They will pay for their unfulfilled promises."

I can't help but smile as she walks away. She remembers, but she does not understand.

So go the games of the dead.

To be... continued(upward intonation)? Dun dun dun(downward intonation)...

You don't kick your sensei in a kata

2006-11-09T14:34:00.000-07:00

Mister, you're on fire, Mister

Dunder Mifflin Stamford Branch: Takin' shots at the trashcan

(note the glorious double meaning of that statement)

Jen, you are a pro. Shot glass? Call of Duty? Help me out here. Mc. Frikin'. Office party.

Yesterday I interviewed a three year old for my language development class. It was fun. I mean, it was really fun. We spent half an hour just talking and playing with toys. G- is my young playmate. K- and M- are his sisters. The numbered lines are his comments. My commentary appears in parenthesis.

I was recording the conversation with my mp3 player. Halfway through I handed him the device. I showed him where the mic was located and told him how to turn on the back light.

14. My sister is up there.
Oh ok. Is that kind of heavy or is it kind of light? (referring to the voice recorder he was holding)
15. It's kind of white. (good call, it is kinda white)
Kind of light? White? Oh, I see.
16. K-, where is it? Oh.
What are you looking for G-?
17. This. K-'s wallyball. (wallyball is teh r0xor game)
Oh, I see.
18. This is what turns the back light back on. (at this point he begins explaining how the mp3 player works to his sister)
What button did you push G-? Oh nice, that's the right button, good job.
19. K-, this is a hole that goes my voice goes in. And it goes in the hole. (hehe, his voice goes in the microphone hole)

//

Do you want to play a game G-?
20. Mmhmm
What game should we play?
21. Wallball.
You wana do wallball?
22. Mmhmm. K- where's? Oh, here's the ball. You go. And catch it. It's almost gunna turn off. (the back light is about to turn off on the voice recorder)
How long do you think it takes to turn the light off on that one?
23. Mmm, this many. (he shows me the dark screen of the player)
G-, show him how old you are.
24. Mmm
How old is that?
25. Three.
You're three?
26. Mmhmm.
Oh wow.
27. Oh, it's turning off again. (silly back light)
Uh oh, uh oh
28. I'm gunna tell M- about. (hah, more instruction)

//
(so as I'm reading over this I realize that I sound a bit harsh. I just want to say that I'm having a giggle fit at this point in the conversation and said this in a very kind and gentle manner. Anyway, he was experimenting with different buttons on the mp3 player and had just stopped the recording and almost deleted it :D)
G-, don't push that one ok?
29. Ok.
That's like the secret button. We can only push that one a couple times.
30. Just one time?
Well, we can push it like one more time but, here I'll tell you when we can push it. We have to be careful when we push that one.
31. When can we push it?
Um, I'll tell you when. In maybe like five minutes, is that ok?
32. Mmhmm.
Ok.
33. 1-2-3-4-5 (clever G-)

The interview took place close to my parents home and I stopped by for dinner (mmmm, food).

Bradley: I can lift 240 lbs. with my left calf.
Mom: No cows in the house.
Dad: Bradley attributes his muscular physique to his 'one minute workout'.
Jules: Why do I ever turn my voice recorder off?

// Brad gets up from the table and struts into the family room like a pro.

Bradley: Gimme one minute on the timer, mother.
Mother: (gives one minute on the timer) Mark.

// Brad goes berserk flailing all his muscles at once. Harry moves in for the kill (I guess you don't need THOSE ankles any more) and Mom fakes a broken arm.

Bradley: The key (spasm) is to strain (spasm) all your muscles at the same time. (spasm) (spasm) The workout is a killer (spasm) but it builds muscle (spasm) like a double dose of whey.

// 60 seconds later;

Dad: Time.
Brad: (doubled over in pain) 'The One Minute Workout.' Keep an eye out for it in stores. Kids ask for it by name.

I have explored the sixth floor of the library. The locked doors may be enough of a deterrent for most BYU students but I was not routed. I used some secrit sheare skills to force my way through the blockade. I always pictured a large room behind the doors but was surprised to find, instead, a long corridor. I went into stealth mode and quietly moved down the hallway.

I had just come to some interesting looking restrooms when I heard a door open behind me. I made a dash to get out of sight, but too slow! I turned to find two female civilians looking misplaced and confused. They had followed me in with no knowledge of the terror beyond.

"Turn back!" I whispered, "It's a secret corridor."

They laughed, unaware of the danger they were in. When they turned back the way they had come, I pressed on. This is where my memory gets kinda fuzzy but I started to panic a bit. Next thing I know, I'm running as fast as I can, desperately looking for an exit. I run through some double doors, half a flight of stairs, and then drop down a high speed elevator.

I exit the elevator and find myself on the first floor. As I run up the stairs I can hear the sounds of an opera growing in strength. I dash for the main doors and steal a glance at the library guard. Fortunately, he is occupied with his computer. Only one obstacle stands between me and the sweet night air: The security sensors.

I quiet my mind and give full attention to the burial of my criminal actions. I near the machine. My ears buzz as its telekinetic waves seek to discern my fear. The sensor knows that something is wrong... but what? I hold strong against the mental onslaught. A high piercing whine fills my ears as I pass through the plastic arms, but I am free. Oh beautiful night.

Sometimes it's nothing more than nonsense

2006-11-08T14:45:00.000-07:00

Ethics aside (little miss devil's advocate), where does honesty err? Muhahaha! Oh, the treachery inherent in this post. I hope that it decays; may it decay; I hope that it decomposes; may it decompose; I hope that it festers; may it fester; I hope that it rots; may it rot. I slept five hours last night. /cheer. The past few days I've been having difficulty sleeping. I would sleep for about four hours and awake fully conscious and unable to drift back. Last night I had a breakthrough, of sorts, in that I slept for almost exactly five hours. The other day I ate five chicken nuggets. Wendy's gave me one packet of BBQ sauce. I don't like the taste of chicken nuggets submerged in BBQ sauce. I dipped my chicken nuggets in BBQ sauce. I didn't like the taste but it was a good expenditure of my time. They fortify it so that you will grow up to be big and strong and ricket-free.

Fortified foods are the major dietary sources of vitamin D. Prior to the fortification of milk products in the 1930s, rickets (a bone disease seen in children) was a major public health problem in the US. Milk in the United States is fortified with 10 micrograms (400 IU) of vitamin D per quart, and rickets is now uncommon in the US.

This is the part where I go home. Today I will print out one(1) 8.5" x 11" paper. Scream really loud. Lie on the grass. Interview a four year old. Eat with my family. Write up a transcript. Read my PSYCH textbook. Wana play?

No mc... No.

2006-11-02T14:35:00.000-07:00

jello your stapler snipe your buddy kick a trashcan egg the enemy yeah. sounds about right.

And may I add, support your local Diwali festival. But sad day. Sad day. Why so sad, you ask? Ahem.

1. My vehicle failed its safety inspection (break problems). 2. Fixing the brakes cost $500. 3. While fixing my brakes, NAPA rolled my window down. It won't roll back up. 4. My cell phone no longer works. 5. My hands are shaking uncontrollably. 6. It's 80 degrees in the LRC. 7. And most tragic of all - I will be unable to watch "The Office" this evening.

In other news, I ate some raspberries and muffins. Do they sell Verizon at the bookstore?

Do you have any idea what you just agreed to?

2006-11-01T12:34:00.000-07:00

Say Anything is a real boy now, Mr. Geppetto. My phone has been off since Monday. For a few days I noticed that when I would try to charge the device, the results were variable. Sometimes it would charge fine, other times it would not charge at all. More and more often it would refuse to charge when plugged in. Saturday was the last day that it charged at all. The phone died at about 3:30pm on Monday afternoon. I thought that the problem was with the charger. $14 and a broken wall (rage-fill roundhouse kick to the outlet) later I realize that it is the phone, not the charger that is having problems. A hehehehe. I feel happy suddenly. I always thought mean thoughts about people who would say things like "sometimes it's nice to not be able to be contacted." But now I just want to say that... it's a good feeling. It's like one less thing to worry about. It doesn't matter if I leave it on vibrate and miss a call... I'm missing the call anyway. Anyway, I don't even know where to go to get a new phone. I think I'll just try and find a Verizon dealer (can you say that? a Verizon dealer?) around Provo and grab a new one. I'm pretty clueless about this so if anyone has some info on the phone replacement process, I would love to hear. I've always disliked scary movies. I would get way into them and terrify myself for weeks. The ring freaked me out. I saw it in theaters with some friends and about died. I averted my eyes for a good portion of the movie and tried to divert my attention by playing paper, rock, scissors. After the movie I was too scared to return home and had to sleep over at a friend's house. Last night I was in a rare mood and decided I wanted to be scared (happy freakin' Halloween). I watched two 'scary' movies while sucking on whoppers (Now correct me if I'm wrong but whoppers are the best candy to eat while watching movies. You just suck on them till the chocolate coating comes off, then if you create a vacuum in your mouth, the crunchy balls will dissolve / crush.). I really had a hard time getting frightened. Maybe the movies were to blame but I just wasn't scared. I mean, I really wanted to scream, and scream I did... But I don't feel traumatized (/sigh). The first real scream I gave was forced at the beginning. I wanted to scream and saw that I would have an opportunity. As a started screaming tho, the scene became more frightening than expected and my scream took on a maniacal quality. It was exhilarating. While trying to fall asleep I was still feeling unconcerned and tried in vain to frighten myself. It just wasn't happening. Vroom vroom (go speed racer). I thought I was getting over it, but I realize now that I'm falling backwards. How it eats away, that edge of desperation. It's so very hard to turn. Yes or no?

Raise your hand if you see

2006-10-26T17:28:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I have a confession to make. I have not dreamed in a lucid style for over a month. No wait, please come back. I have other worthwhile qualities, I promise. It's just that the last time I stopped lucid dreaming for such an extended period of time was when I stopped sleeping. But not to worry, I believe I've discovered the problem.

Dimethyltryptamine (DMT). DMT is a psychedelic tryptamine that is created in small amounts by the human body during normal metabolism. It is also similar in structure to the neurotransmitter serotonin. Did you just /gasp with me?

It is speculated that DMT plays a role in dreaming. It appears that during sleep, brain DMT levels are periodically elevated to induce visual dreaming. Now get this, the effects of DMT are amplified when combined with an MAOI. Can you see it yet? Ok one more.

The consumption of both an MAOI and SSRI is highly dangerous as the resulting interactions can be potentially fatal.

:D

Ok, now is where I say that my above realization is in no way scientifically founded. It's just a poor attempt at placing blame for an undesired situation. Oh, and never take an SSRI and MAOI at the same time.

My front door is covered with flyers. My ward does an excellent job of keeping all the inhabitants well informed of every social activity within a two mile radius. About a week ago an oversized flyer caught my attention.

We love you and want you to live in a clean and healthy environment.
-Aspen Ridge Management

For some reason I had thought that moving off campus would mean an end of mandatory cleaning checks. While I was somewhat bothered to find the announcement, I had no idea of the evil invested in its delivery.

As it turns out, my apartment was the only one given a cleaning check. Management did not love me and want me to be healthy, they were out for revenge. One month earlier a roommate of mine had called the complex offices demanding the apartment be cleaned. It was in a filthy state and he had just moved in (paying a cleaning deposit). Professionals were brought in and the apartment was thoroughly cleaned. I moved in a couple of days later.

Do you see dear reader? They were out to get their money back, holding threats of cleaning fines high above their heads. I washed a bathtub.

We passed your little test Patti (Ms. Management). The party favors don't make up for your novel attempt at punishment (They were just leftovers from move-in day anyway).

Being attractive is the most important thing there is. If you wanna catch the biggest fish in your pond, you have to be as attractive as possible. Make sure to keep your hair spotless and clean. Wash it at least every two weeks. Once every two weeks. And if you see Johnny football hero in the hall, tell him he played a great game; tell him you liked his article in the newspaper.

It's tired in here

2006-10-20T13:25:00.000-07:00

Soooo... I updated my template. After receiving some comments on it, I made alterations and am happy with its current state. Whatcha think? I finished the second season of Arrested Development. This show makes me giggle like a little school girl. I think Tony Hale does a masterful job playing Buster. He appears so fragile and... doughy. I am now conditioned to laugh at his appearance. Funny funny funny. Ok, let me run a quick check through my voice memos, see what I have for this entry. Last night I heard a knock outside my door. I decided not to answer. I revisited my decision several seconds later and decided maybe it wouldn't be so bad to acknowledge the visitor. I opened the front door and found that the person was not actually knocking on my door, but the door of an adjacent apartment. She was speaking with a guy in the doorway. The girl turned, saying, oh, hey Jules. As she returned her attention to her previous conversation, I quietly mumbled a hello and closed the door. I have no idea who she is. It makes me feel bad. Ok, this memo deserves an exact quote:

AaaaAAHHHghHHHAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! (aka, scream of despair) What am I supposed to do... huh?

First off, lets use our inside voices. Yelling never solved anything (>_>). What's wrong? What do you mean, what am I supposed to do? ? Do whatever you want to do. Just pick it and do it. What do you mean, I don't know what I want. ? Are you joking? You know exactly what you want. It's the same thing everyone else wants. But how to do it? Just start choosing... I have a feeling things will work themselves out. It's a whole lot easier now... I just wish I wasn't so tired.

Get away from me

2006-10-17T17:16:00.000-07:00

I wear my stunna glasses at night.

Last night I had a fever. I lied in bed, shivering in a pool of sweat. I had the most bizarre thoughts and dreams. The oddest ideas made perfect sense. It hurt my head and I was afraid I was killing my brain. It's order full. Full of order.

One dream was entitled Hunters and Trackers.

I was hunted. I was running from something that was much stronger and faster than me. The only advantage I had was that I was in an environment familiar to me. The location was my lucid home that I had created in my mind many years ago. I knew that while there was one creature (which looked like a man) that was hunting me, there was also another, friendly to me, who was tracking my hunter.

I was hiding in a ceiling vent and watched a man walk in the hallway underneath me. He stopped when he had passed my place of hiding and gave a short, harsh laugh. The vent dropped out from underneath me and I fell ten feet to the ground. It really hurt.

The man turned slowly and flashed a quick smile. The moment I saw his teeth his whole appearance was transformed for a moment. His teeth became pointed and sharp, his eyes narrowed to slits, and his nails became foot-long claws. Each of these items (teeth, eyes, and claws) was a deep blue color. There was also a static scream so loud that it made my head feel like it was about to explode. This transformation and sound lasted only an instant while he smiled, then he returned to his normal form.

I realized that my ears were bleeding and I started to cry. I was terrified of this man. I was on my stomach and strained my neck to see the man above me. He took another step towards me and at that moment I saw a female figure silently drop to the ground behind him. She was 20 feet back and I saw her smile at me through the legs of this man.

When she smiled she underwent a similar transformation as my hunter. Her color was a bright pink. The areas that turned this color were different but much more abundant. Her smile was accompanied by an impossibly pleasant and comforting sound.

The man jerked rigid and his face contorted in disgust. My tracker, the female, pulled a scalpel from behind her back and threw it hard against the floor towards me. The hunter screamed and phased to his blue form, bringing his claws high above his head, about to kill me. The tracker phased pink and then said my name. The moment my name was called, she collapsed to the floor and the scalpel erupted in that same pink color. I caught the blade and it pulled me off the ground and thrust itself through the sternum of my attacker just as he was bringing his claws down. I held tightly onto the knife and it traveled clear through the body of the hunter, separating him in two at the chest.

A line of his blue color appeared at the sight of his wound and was quickly chased to the extremities of his body by a line of blood-red. The same blood-red appeared at my fingertips and quickly replaced the pink in the scalpel. Both the body and blade then turned to ash. All that was left of the hunter were two blue pieces of cloth that resembled his claws.

The tracker pushed herself off the floor and stood with difficulty. As she stumbled in my direction I realized that she was the most attractive woman I had ever seen. I was left standing, having been pulled off the ground by the knife. No longer having anything to hold to, I swayed and fell backwards, landing on my butt.

The woman gave another smile, phasing weakly for a moment, and then spoke.

"Take one," she said, gesturing to the blue gloves.

I reached forward and touched the one closest to me. Blood-red color appeared at my touch and slowly spread, replacing the original blue. The cloth also started to change shape. It was shrinking and splitting into two separate pieces. Tracker reached the other glove and picked it up. It rapidly transformed into her pink scalpel and she moved to return it to its holder, behind her back.

"Wait." I said. "What if I had chosen the other glove?" I looked to my cloth which now resembled two blood-red fingernails.

She handed me the blade and picked up the nails. The moment we exchanged objects, they began to morph. I again held two red fingernails and she returned her knife to her back. "The object doesn't matter. It's form is tuned to your needs. Put them on."

I placed one nail on each of my smallest fingers. I stood and carefully examined the nails which were now forming to fit. When they reached their perfect form, my fingers started shaking. I felt an electric shock run through my arm starting at the nail. The shock came again and again, growing more powerful and painful. With one final shock, I felt my body snap and then watched myself fall to the floor and black out. The last thing I saw was the smile of Tracker. She had phased again. This time she was completely covered with pink and sparkled with brightness so beautiful that it bordered on pain.

So... how do you do a raised eye smiley? The dream continued with my awakening as a tracker. I was given an assignment to build a "transporter" (the trademark object of a tracker). To do this I had to allow myself to be killed by a hunter and then roll out again and kill him. I found two hunters and they decapitated me. Since they both took part in my death I had to kill them at the same time. The remainder of the dream was devoted to my obtaining other objects to increase my power and my attempts to make both of the hunters die at the exact same moment. Ahem.

Anyway, while I had incredibly entertaining and vivid dreams, I feel like I got next to no sleep. Don't touch me. S'not worth it. Don't touch me. Look I'm alright, don't touch me.

Honestly, it happens every night

2006-10-12T12:31:00.000-07:00

I knew it was coming. All week I waited in angst anticipation for the subtle reminder of that Thursday tradition. You must imagine my excitement when I discovered said reminder; that is, said reminder on crack! Woohooo! So if you please, read along with me in your best movie announcer voice:

Take four. Sometimes three strikes [just] aren't enough. (aka, office mc office party 7:30pm wq#5)

I recently started making voice memos of random thoughts / words / actions I encounter while moving about campus. This morning I recorded a fascinating statement and have been trying to decipher the meaning. Maybe I could get some opinions. I was heading north past the science center and the Kimball tower was just coming up on my left. There was a guy about my age walking the opposite direction. He wore a brown, wool-lined jacket and overly faded jeans. He had a serious look on his face and said the following just as he passed me:

He has found his way into Dad's closet on more than one occasion.

Is anyone else intrigued? All we know is that some creature, distinctly masculine, has managed to obtain access to father's closet multiple times. And based on the speaker's tone, I would assume unpermitted access. Upon hearing this statement, Harry was the first thing to pop into my head. (ooooh! It'sa my puuuuupyyyy frieeend! Cooooome, 'ere; coooome 'ere, you! He's an adorable creature but make no mistake, when it comes to non-family, he's inclined to kill on sight.) Harry is not allowed in bedrooms. I could just picture his guilty expression on being found an intruder into this forbidden space. Hmmm. I think there may be something more to this closet story... Yesterday I came across some forgotten Cat Stevens. My parents were fans of his music and I remember listening to it before bed years ago. I used to share a room with my brother and we would sing along to these songs at night. As I played through the music, I was happy to find I still remembered most of the lyrics. I do believe this is my favorite song today: Father and Son

Pink monkeys?

2006-10-11T13:03:00.000-07:00

I painted them black. I actually did a pretty good job. Now I'm no expert at nail painting but I was quite pleased with the results. Life is not a competition. Some people are just a bit better at some things than others. That's perfectly OK. I guess all I'm trying to say is that my punk-rocker nails were so much more attractive than the air-filled nails of another... So the following day I wore a black shirt and black zip-up hoodie to class. I thought the outfit well complemented the nails and was excited to view the reactions of my classmates. Class had started a few minutes before I arrived and I had to take an open seat at the front of a class of about 30 people. I swung my arms and kept my hands open to highlight the polish. It was funny! Really funny! It seemed like everyone's eyes kept darting to my fingers. I kept my hands in a visible location and was rewarded with glances throughout the class period. While I enjoyed the extra attention and curious looks, I realized that the polish was noticeable. Like really, super stand out, noticeable. As I left class I decided that I would not be able to get away with black at work, where I have a business dress code. I placed a call to my 'air-bubbly-black-polish-not-quite-as-cool-as-jules' friend, looking for some polish remover. I began to panic a bit when I couldn't make contact. I didn't want to have to pick it all off before work. Eventually I was able to talk to this individual and they agreed to supply the needed chemicals. And while I was pleased to find a solution to my problem, I was a bit concerned about the potential impact on my friendship, due to the fact that I had awoken this person from a deep slumber. When I arrived at their apartment, they refused to greet me at the door and spoke in a deep, harsh voice (a testament to their anger). I tried to apologize for my rude imposition but was only met with threats of exposure to decaying skin. The removal of polish is a fascinating thing to watch. The liquid totally eats away at the color like nobody's business. Anyway, I am excited to try the black again. This weekend may provide another opportunity.

Eugoogly

2006-10-05T15:19:00.000-07:00

I was recently pleased to find that my good friend, Nich, had started a blog. I'd like to take a minute to introduce my friend and push some thru traffic over in his direction. I sent him an email detailing some problems with his blog layout and asked if he had anything he would like me to relate to my readers. He hasn't responded yet, but I can hear his unspoken sentiment, "remember, blogging comes from the heart." I thought the best way to introduce Nich might be to share a recent email correspondence we shared. This touching transaction took place after I informed him of my box project.

Nich: yo, send me an invite. Me: invite sent .. yo. Me: let me know if it works or no Nich: hmm... don't work Me: ack, ok, let me sent another

You see, Nich and I go way back. We met many years ago and found an immediate connection in our shared love of wildlife conservation and ballet. Actually, it might be better to say that this connection developed over time, but actually began with basketball. We used to play basketball on a regular basis. Once, after we were done playing, we headed outside and made a dash for the vehicle. It was my turn for shotgun but Nich stood in the way. I got furious and ripped his shirt. He deferred to me saying, "Jules, you better me with your strength and intellect." My high school years revolved around minimally competitive basketball and Utah Jazz games. We once went to a Jazz game and sat in seats as far from the action as possible. We started looking for openings closer to the floor and slowly worked our way down. Nich made it to the front row. I was about 30 rows up when my ploy was discovered and I, evicted. Nich appeared in a magazine later, featured while sitting on that same front row. The guy who told me to leave had a nice jacket, spiky hair, and a confidant smirk. I first opened up to Nich during an instant message conversation in which I spoke in ridiculously generic and incoherent musings. He understood my false attempt at intellectual discussion and was OK with it. I was happy to find that although I had utterly exposed myself, lies and all, Nich would still be my friend. Once, me and Nich lived together. He decided to stop sleeping at night and drew cartoons on the quote board instead. I awoke one cool winter morning before heading to class and found Nich, eyes wide, lying on the kitchen couch. I questioned his frightened expression and he replied that he had seen some spirits just hours before. I took pause to reflect on this statement. As I left the apartment, Nich called after me quietly, "Sometimes they talk to me..." Spirits were not the only medium through which Nich could communicate. At one point he became fascinated with the aquatic calls of whales. He spent hours and hours downloading the communications of the massive mammals. It still brings tears to my eyes when I contemplate his poetic prayer: "Oh great humpback, sing to me and heal my psychological wounds." But our time together was not only spent on the sentimental. The hardest I can remember ever laughing happened while sitting next to Nich. He was having difficulties with something and toeing the edge of sanity. Nich's brother entered the apartment, coming from class. Nich, already worked to a frenzy, yelled, "Somebody slap me!" Zach calmly closed the distance to his brother and full out smacked him. Not a word was said as Zach departed, and Nich sat awkwardly straight on the couch with a confused look on his face. I couldn't stop laughing. Eventually, my rib separated from the cartilage that connected it to the sternum. I couldn't breathe for a month and had a splotchy yellow bruise for the better part of a year. The part I missed most about Nich's leaving was the end of our trips to the Morris center. The Morris center just has an atmosphere conducive to the sharing of secrets. I told Nich about the girl I intended to marry over chicken fried steak and waffles in a Morris center booth. Her name was Amy and I loved her enough to propose, but not to speak. Nich gave me good advice but I never followed it. A few months ago, Nich told me a secret. It really scared me and I was afraid we wouldn't be friends anymore. It turns out we are still friends but we just don't talk about that anymore. A week ago, while watching the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air marathon, I told Nich all my secrets and then he told me how much he weighed. I was horrified to find, that for the first time, for as long as I've known him, he had more pounds than me. It was kinda sad to realize that he was capable of physically beating me up. I have more respect for him now. This is kinda odd. I had a long list of things I wanted to say today. Things like my hair is clumpy, I think my shampoo has watermelon rinds in it, I ate 13 donuts in just over 24 hours, I destroyed my core trying to amend my binging, and my place of work has hundreds of signs warning of no hot water today, yet I was still able to burn my hands under the scalding liquid. Instead, I seem to have written a memorial of sorts. No worries, no one has died yet (tho that is an interesting thought). Anyway, I just wanted to holla back to a friend. Why am I crying? Oh, hah... I'm free. Oh, and yes, in response to office mc office party take three? all I can say is, "Amen Jenny... amen."

We are gone geese

2006-10-02T13:44:00.000-07:00

My headphones be kaput. They just don't work anymore. I don't know what else to say. I plug them into my computer / mp3 device and no sound comes out the earbud ender. Now, if I start twisting the wire and jack I can massage some audible tones out, but it requires delicate care and immense concentration. So... right now I am going to try and get some music going to accompany my typing. Hahaha, no Andy, you are the star. Congratulations! And remember we all love you very very very very much, Andy. Happy Birthday! Ok, so I got the music flowing to my left ear but it took me a good five minutes to find that perfect orientation of the wires. If I move left or right, touch the player, or breathe too deep my music cuts out completely. Somewhat aggravating. I just ripped up a newspaper with my teeth. I was ferocious. Like a werewolf. I bet you wish you were a werewolf. I wish I was a vampire. Then I would run around very very fast (talking to you, Andy) with people on my back and make them motion sick. I would wear cool, white-rimmed sunglasses, and hunt people who were evil. Life would be oh so exciting... worth far more than a soul. Here Bella, have a vampire body. It's yours, free of charge. Let me just make you bleed a little and then I'll poison you a little, and for three days you will scream in agony, but then you will be all happy and strong and souless. But see, I have this theory. Bella is like the anti-vamp(ire). Not like werewolf anti-vamp, but like, heroine to save the day anti-vamp. Like, "oh, you wana know why it was easy to suck out the poison? It's because my body was rejecting it. Practically spitting it back out at you." You see, she is the vampire cure. It's all clear now, she will not end a vampire. He will end a human. Bella will change him. Mark. My. Words.

Get your own . garbled+

2006-09-28T10:21:00.000-07:00

Oh, the neglected one, how it moans in self-absorbed sorrow. I'm tempted to just kill it. I'm going to be good. At this school stuff, I'm gunna do well. Starting.. now. No I'm serious. Guess how many classes I'm going to miss from now on? Haha, nope, only CS. I'm changing the scholastic attitude. I'm at the point, right now, where I've missed more class than I've attended and unless I change things, I will end up with poor grades. So, two things have just been altered in my educational mentality.

I will no longer purposely miss my COMD and NERUO class. I will attend the majority of my PSYCH sessions, although there is no guaranty of my presence when my attendance will not be graded.
I will prepare for each class by at least skimming the reading material (although actual reading is encouraged).
And just to confuse everyone by the third item (which you are now being totally blind-sided by), each Sunday, I will look over the tests / quizzes of the upcoming week.

I have put it in writing and now must obey. It's kinda sad looking at it now, all the time that could be wasted, now put to better use... /sigh. I don't expect to receive any social pressure to conform to my new standard, but knowing that others are aware of it solidifies my actions that much more. Oh my goodness, I've got a . garbled+ Hmmm, office anyone?

We call them pirates out here

2006-09-25T09:25:00.000-07:00

So so soooooo... so. Today I attended my first full period of my Neuro class. It was fascinating, no joke! For the first time this semester I had adequately prepared and then made an effort to participate in class. I think that the reason I found it interesting was twofold. First, today we discussed the means and method of communication between neurons. A large part of this discussion was focused on the chemical transactions at the synaptic cleft. Lately I have become quite fascinated with the introduction of certain chemicals (medications) into the nervous system. We talked about many drugs I have grown familiar with and then discovered their actual mechanisms (as far as we can tell). Am I making sense? Bleh.. It was fun because I was able to contribute information on the drug / neuron interaction, and also learn some really interesting things. The second cause for interest in class is an idea I just recently took to calling the outward-in principle. I'm told that in Europe, the most popular way for actors to get into character, is to adopt the outward appearances and mannerisms of the role they are to portray. The idea is that if they change is made on the outside, the actual being will change, on the inside. Applied to my life: act the way you want to be and your being will change. I perched myself on the edge of my seat and devoted my full attention to Dr. Brown. I told myself that I was so enthralled with the topic of discussion that I couldn't peel my attention away. After a few minutes I was genuinely excited to be in class. I wonder how many other people use this technique to triumph through undesired situations... If you can fake it at first, true action will follow. Yesterday I watched a home movie from my brother's fourth birthday party. It was hilarious. I (age nine) had dressed as a clown and was something of an entertainer at the party. I was watching the video with my family and we couldn't stop laughing. I had never seen this video before but it was so funny to see myself acting in such a way, and then remembering my thoughts. There was one point during the party where my mom lined up a row of buckets, in increasing distance, and the children had to toss a ball into them. All the children were able to make the ball into the closest bucket.. but then I gave it a go and awkwardly hurled the ball against the side of the container. Now I was like five years older than all these other kids and pride myself on my fine motor control.. but how embarrassing. I'm about to disclose dark family secrets.. but I'm not going to think about it and just type. Bradley (brother) used to dance when he had to go to the bathroom. It's true. At the beginning of the party he was swaying just a little bit. As things moved on his shuffles from foot to foot became more and more frantic. By the time he began opening presents he was up on tippy toes really prancing. During the watching I made considerable reference to this fact and was happy to shift the embarrassment to another after my poor display of ball chuckin' skills. /sigh, I feel all sentimental all of a sudden. Silly life.

A public apology

2006-09-22T08:45:00.000-07:00

Last night I heard you... talking in your sleep. Yeah Yeah. On my flight to Japan I found this digital rock artist that I'm really liking right now. Space Cowboy describes their sound as Hyphy / Glam / Western Swing ... >_> And while they're no SexyBack, Running away, and Talking in you sleep are pretty good. I'm sorry! Really, I'm oh so sorry. How embarrassing! Honestly, what kind of fan am I? I knew I should have checked.. or even thought about time zone conversion. How long did I wait for the premiere only to miss it due to overconfidence and lack of planning? Anyway.. I'm off to watch it now ;)

Do I look like a cryptographer to you

2006-09-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

Oh hi. Not much. What? What box? Oh, that box. Ya, nothing is in the box. No I'm serious. It's a pretty red color tho, isn't it? C'mon, why can't I have a nice red box just sitting around if I want? Why does there always have to be an explanation? Maybe I just like the color red... and the object box... You know, you may find it amusing the endlessly probe for... God knows what, but I don't always have to be thinking something... Sometimes it's just nice to empty your mind. And, I don't know, maybe look at some furniture... So I got a cryptic message early this morning:

office mc office party?

I'm not entirely sure as to what this puzzle refers to but I could take some guesses. Right off the bat... there are two copies of the word office. Office must have some deeper meaning, obviously referring to the most prominent office object: the stapler. I wana come back to this in a minute but lets investigate mc and party right now. Mc: master of ceremonies... or possibly mc(pronounced: mick), like McDonald or McJagger. And party... that's like a fiesta... with pinatas and candy and games and dundys. But let us not forget the stapler. Where does a stapler find it's natural home? Why yes, inside a block of jello. Ohhhhh, boy, it's the season premiere of The Office tonight. It airs at ~~8:30pm~~ 7:30pm(/cry) on NBC and I can't wait. Tonight we will finally discover the outcome of the Jim / Pam situation. Now I have my well qualified suspicions but don't want to ruin the surprise for anyone... And while I am oh so excited to see the premiere, I have no good place to watch. I know a couple of nearby complexes that have large screen televisions in the lobbies, but I'm not sure if I can just walk in and turn on my desired programming. I may have to arrive early. I guess I'll scope it out a bit after work. If anyone wants to watch or has suggestions on where, let me know!

Almost like a first breath

2006-09-20T07:38:00.000-07:00

0022 by sam brown What a beautiful day for change. I woke up several hours early this morning and just lied in bed thinking. Today is going to be so much better than yesterday. I mean, it's like, "No contest." Yesterday I felt like my mind was rejecting my physical being but today things are going to be good. It was lightly raining when I left my apartment, but as I moved on campus it began to pick up a bit. By the time I reached the library I was quite soaked and loving it. Sometimes, when it rains, I try and breathe it in. Sometimes it makes me feel alive... sometimes I have to cough up droplets of water. Today was a “feel alive” day. I sat down at a computer and realized that water was running down my face. I violently shook my head which sent this nice spray of liquid over my keyboard and monitor. A quick glance backwards… and I don’t think anyone noticed… I guess I’ll just let it drip. Hmmmm, hmm hm hmmmmmm... Well, in exactly one hour’s time I will be on my way to an event which will ultimately lead to greater happiness. I'm convinced of this now. I will cry as I recount the negative one last time. When I reach the end, the tears will ebb and a smile will develop. Never again will I look back on this with regret. "But where are you going? What exactly are you doing?" you may ask. I’ll reply, “Oh, no where of any importance. And just who do you suppose yourself to be that I must share with you all my secrets.” I’ll pretend like it’s all quite personal and have no desire to share with others… but really, thanks for asking, it makes me happy to think that someone might be interested. Like smiley happy… Anyway, if you really want to know, ask a second time. I’ll start to give in a little and give an uncertain sigh, like… “Oh, I so badly want to tell them… but I have this deep inner conflict that prevents me from being honest with those that mean something to me.” It won’t take more than three sincere, yet adequately pressured, attempts before I spill everything.

I skipped class and wrote a story

2006-09-18T09:43:00.000-07:00

perseverance by sam brown Her barrier is like my own. Simple statements are shared to test the other's resolve. Oblivious, she plays the perfect role. I, knowingly chained, am the expected child. I press the phone firmly to my ear to keep the wind out. The meaningless words are shared. I walk slow circles around the balcony. The false pretense for contact is concluded and the silence allows for our individual arming. Long have I prepared. All the played out exchanges resurface and I find my familiar ground. "What have you decided?" She knows the answer but follows protocol. "You first." I know her thoughts but still find peace in unvoiced opinion. "The same as always. Limited research, self-effacing argument." As she speaks, my mind twists in disgust. I can't believe this anymore... She must see the other view. "Like before... But stronger; more dangerous." I respond with no attempts at smoothing. I feel raw... I want her to know. She's so afraid. Her silence reeks of uncertainty. Maybe I shouldn't go so far, so fast. "It's the path of others," I continue, "Others so much like me; it’s the path I want." It's the path she fears above all others. It's the one that takes from her, control. And not just control of me, but of herself. How she so hopes that she is right. Her being literally exists on this belief. I care so much, and it hurts so bad. How can I lie? With a single truth, I hold power to break life. How many years has she existed in this exact state... So convinced, she saw no other path. What is her life if there was another way? But not now, there is an alternative. "I know, I understand, but things change." She knows the connection to me. She views it as her own. I criticize myself in hopes she'll see. I can see her curl with discomfort at the expected. It's so cold outside. The wind cuts at my fingers. I run my nails against my lips trying to find the soft comfort of the expected. There is an itch in my brain. Do you feel it just like that? I try to relax but I’m slipping. "Things change." I shake my hand. My head feels like it's twisted wrong. There is no middle ground for balance. I try to balance the scale but it won’t even out. Just move it to the right... and then the left. Back and forth a little... Just make it even. And my hand! I grab onto my jacket in desperation, but it's too late now. My hand has joined the show, dancing the pattern of balance... searching for release. "Always they change and here I stand." I am pacing too fast now. My body jerks and I don't know why. I'm losing control and I can't seem to remember how to breathe. I'm panting but I remember the words to say. "Oh God, it hurts so bad." Now come the tears. How the face contorts to wring them from my eyes. What a spectacle. What a show. I throw the phone to the other ear. Shake the other hand now. All things must follow the laws of balance. Senseless… Irate… I just want her to finally understand. I screw my face in ugly accusation. "I see them, do you see them? Look at them! Look how they smile. They're in the prime of their life!" I scream as I lose hold. My rogue body convulses, desperately trying to remember how to exact control. Just make it right! Make it the way it's supposed to be! They all stand there, so happy and free. What am I? I try so hard but they look away, embarrassed. I can't even smooth my face. How sorry they feel. They thank their god for blessings unshared. They pray for strength in the presence of the freak. Each tear is a new reason to loathe; a reason justify. Frantic now, I search for air. Scarcely found, it brings no relief. The bitter words are hardly heard between the sobs. "Where is my life? Where is my prime?" She's crying now. I don't want it. God, what did I expect? She feels responsible, should she? Her pain is mine. It feeds my own. What a sick cycle. The misery spreads through my body. Each drop witnesses the progression of pain. I feel no connection to this thing which houses my soul. I just want to be free from it all. But… that’s not right either. Is it? What a beautiful thing given… And so much promised… Where is the resolution? She's talking again. "You are strong. You are progress. Don't let it steal you now. All life has been preparation. The inadequacy has made you so much. Don't stop now. Don't stop.” The tears anew but they feel different now. I take a slow gaze across the inner expanse and realize there is no more struggle for control. And while there is no battle for power, I am not alone. Is this what they tell me about? Is this how it’s supposed to feel? I am so alone and yet there is that love. It is so cold but I rejoice in the warmth. Understanding brings guilt. It was never meant to keep others out. It was a gift. While heavy and awkward… it is strong… and it is big. Why did I ever think to shield myself against the thoughts of others? I see now that there is enough room inside for many. How often have I seen and felt their fears but refused to share? I tried to protect myself against the pain that they felt… the pain that sourced from within. I think I understand now. But does it honestly make a difference? When does understanding translate into action? A thousand promises made and broken and here… here I stand. I have a plan but I can be patient. All my life I’ve waited, what are days? I can delay the slow process for hopes of correct and intelligent progression. Why dive into uncertain waters? Right?

I'm really happy, I promise

2006-09-13T19:58:00.000-07:00

Oh it's recording. Wow, never mind... Yeah, I was waiting for the tone but I didn't hear a tone. So... you know what I thought today? I was looking out the window at the clouds, and I was like how many other people can see those exact clouds? 'Cause I feel partial... like they're supposed to be my clouds. But I mean, what if half of the united states can see those clouds... they're not mine. Or maybe even a quarter, or maybe even an eighth. And then you look around and you look at the sky... 54%. I am at 54%. My computer is dying.. Any attempt to apply power causes a blue-screen crash. I just bought a gig of ram for my dying computer. 52% My trash can is full of valuables.. I keep the garbage next to my bed. My computer would take off if it could.. It so desperately wants to fly.. Round and round the rotors go.. Doesn't it notice the damage it causes? Sit still small one. Oh yes, the memory returns again. I've never tried marijuana but am intrigued by the dependence process. Rarely, is an addiction developed which is physical in nature. The desire almost always comes from the psychological aspect of the drug's use. Many who try the drug are surprised by the lack of high that was imagined for first use. A general consensus of recreational pot smokers reveals that attempt number three generally produces the most enjoyable experience. All I'm trying to say is: I'M ADDICTED! AHHHHHHHH! No, I'm serious, I feel like I've just found a new dependence. The remembrance permeates my mind, casting a maelstrom of confusion over each dreadfully tangled thought. Oh wow, it's almost dramatic. Anyway.. yay for school and life and being happy and being strong when it all just stops working. 34% On another note, tragedy has two t's.

'F' is for faster

2006-08-03T13:32:00.000-07:00

Last night I decided to create a blogger account. Man, the social pressure has been immense! It's like.. being in a giant-plastic-cubic-.. box. With water! Like the water is all around and I'm just trying to figure out when I get to breathe again, but look -> Here comes the mechanical arms.. let's see just how much pressure we can place on the poor soul before he splits. Right down the middle he splits. And how gross it has become now that we find it here. What exactly are we supposed to do with it? And who is responsible.. who is to blame. I don't think we should tell anyone.. let them find it for themselves.. but you need an alibi of sorts.. someone who can back you up when those prosecutors are breathing down your neck. I want my lawyer. And don't give me this crap about helping me! I know very well who you are. But why did I lie? It all clears up. The sky.. it's clear.

Whew (is that how you spell it? I'm trying to make a sound similar to few. Like "Few, one more inch to the left and I'd be the one with flippers.." or "Few, I thought I had been discovered, but it looks like I will be allowed to continue in this.. activity.") , I was in a panic there a minute ago. I've come to the conclusion that during this blogging exercise, never will I allow myself more than a moment's rest while typing. No serious contemplating, no time for that personal thought.. now is when I choose consciousness - now is when I am writing.

So... ahem.. Last night I found my way to http://blogger.com and decided I would create my account. I had no intention of beginning my actual blog, but wanted to grab a user name and blog name before someone else took them from me (you'd be surprised, jules goes like hotcakes on these captain of my own content sites).

So I start checking the availability of various names and am quickly disappointed. Jules is used, of course. I go for the next best thing: julesf.. again no luck. I finally give up hope in finding a name that others can actually spell, and go with julesferreira. To my horror I receive the following message:

/gasp. Are you /gasping with me? The name julesferreira was already taken!

I began typing like mad as I searched for the evil that had stolen my name. Long story short.. The perpetrator was discovered.. and dealt with.. I am once again the only Jules Ferreira on this planet (well actually, it turns out I had signed up for a blogger account some months back and had forgotten doing so. A quick test of some old passwords gained me entrance to the stolen account).

Having achieved the means to blog, I set up a quick post promising content to any who could manage to discover http://julesferreira.blogspot.com/. Yes, I know the name is quite logical, but I don't intent to alert anyone to its existence. To find this place, one must take a blind step in a direction only rumored to exist.

So I'm off to make some comments and hopefully incite some curiosity.

Discovery yields content

2006-08-02T22:43:00.000-07:00

Will you find me?