Great idea! It would be awesome if USPS and UPS, et al, would publish RSS feeds for their shipping information. That way, you could subscribe to the feed for your tracking number and get instant notifications whenever an update occurred in the shipping process via your favorite RSS feed reader like Google Reader.
I am waiting for a package from USPS and I don't think they're going to leave it here if I'm not here to pick it up, so it would be handy to know on the fly wherever I am that the package had been processed in the local distribution center. A text message would be nice.
That's all for this morning!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
To Whom it May Concern (And To Everybody Else, Too)
Hey, internets. What's poppin'?
I just read through all my old posts, and I feel sort of overwhelmed. Almost like I couldn't put that much effort into anything I'd write now. I miss the old days when I used to express myself to a mostly anonymous crowd (we "bloggers" were in the great minority then), and only a few of my closest friends got to read my *real* thoughts.... the little interpersonal observations that only they had any context from which to derive meaning anyway. And so we went on living by the light of day, but in the privacy of our back hallways or makeshift computer rooms or bedrooms (I was never so lucky), we took off our masks to bask in the glow of our flickering tube monitors, we bared our souls to LiveJournal (or DeadJournal or Blurty or Xanga...), and we felt suddenly legitimized, seeing these deep introspections in published print. We typed in 80-width text fields what we couldn't (or wouldn't?) say out loud, and when we really wanted our friends to step into our minds, we posted "friends only" those most personal of our soulful exposés. We trusted that our truest friends would read them, and know, and understand. Hell, many times the people that ventured the furthest into our blogs became our truest friends. And we read, and we knew, and we understood. We created an entirely new mode of communication with those blogs.... a new outlet, a new therapy. And we were better friends to each other, because we suddenly realized that we were all very much alive together. Mine wasn't the only life that had a full-bodied narration echoing through my mind at all times, inaudible to the world around me and often making me feel insane. We all have those quiet thoughts, analyses, interpretations, concerns, fears, compassions, passions, questions, answers.... many of these we hid deep within our hearts. We finally just found a place where we felt safe enough to share them. And it was good.
And I felt so much more alive.
This blog is impersonal and even, at times, dispassionate. Did I get too old to think my quiet voices mattered? Did I decide that I was content to wholly internalize that never-ending conversation? That I didn't need friends of the emotional sort? It's certainly possible that I didn't want any for a while. I probably didn't want people I cared about to hear what my voices had to say. But, by protecting my friends from the evils in my mind, I also was protecting the evils in my mind from my friends, giving them a safe, warm place to grow and prosper. Maybe I'm too ashamed to re-open those overgrown gates. Maybe the wrought-iron hinges are too rusty to budge. Maybe I'm afraid of what ghastly sights the light of a new day will reveal. But I do know this: I'm so, so, soooo ready to feel alive again. I AM a human being, complete with a heart and a brain and a soul. Cynicism and isolation are for the birds. I'm kicking open my secret garden. Do you want to come in?
I just read through all my old posts, and I feel sort of overwhelmed. Almost like I couldn't put that much effort into anything I'd write now. I miss the old days when I used to express myself to a mostly anonymous crowd (we "bloggers" were in the great minority then), and only a few of my closest friends got to read my *real* thoughts.... the little interpersonal observations that only they had any context from which to derive meaning anyway. And so we went on living by the light of day, but in the privacy of our back hallways or makeshift computer rooms or bedrooms (I was never so lucky), we took off our masks to bask in the glow of our flickering tube monitors, we bared our souls to LiveJournal (or DeadJournal or Blurty or Xanga...), and we felt suddenly legitimized, seeing these deep introspections in published print. We typed in 80-width text fields what we couldn't (or wouldn't?) say out loud, and when we really wanted our friends to step into our minds, we posted "friends only" those most personal of our soulful exposés. We trusted that our truest friends would read them, and know, and understand. Hell, many times the people that ventured the furthest into our blogs became our truest friends. And we read, and we knew, and we understood. We created an entirely new mode of communication with those blogs.... a new outlet, a new therapy. And we were better friends to each other, because we suddenly realized that we were all very much alive together. Mine wasn't the only life that had a full-bodied narration echoing through my mind at all times, inaudible to the world around me and often making me feel insane. We all have those quiet thoughts, analyses, interpretations, concerns, fears, compassions, passions, questions, answers.... many of these we hid deep within our hearts. We finally just found a place where we felt safe enough to share them. And it was good.
And I felt so much more alive.
This blog is impersonal and even, at times, dispassionate. Did I get too old to think my quiet voices mattered? Did I decide that I was content to wholly internalize that never-ending conversation? That I didn't need friends of the emotional sort? It's certainly possible that I didn't want any for a while. I probably didn't want people I cared about to hear what my voices had to say. But, by protecting my friends from the evils in my mind, I also was protecting the evils in my mind from my friends, giving them a safe, warm place to grow and prosper. Maybe I'm too ashamed to re-open those overgrown gates. Maybe the wrought-iron hinges are too rusty to budge. Maybe I'm afraid of what ghastly sights the light of a new day will reveal. But I do know this: I'm so, so, soooo ready to feel alive again. I AM a human being, complete with a heart and a brain and a soul. Cynicism and isolation are for the birds. I'm kicking open my secret garden. Do you want to come in?
"United with his fellow-men by the strongest of all ties, the tie of a common doom, the free man finds that a new vision is with him always, shedding over every daily task the light of love. The life of Man is a long march through the night, surrounded by invisible foes, tortured by weariness and pain, towards a goal that few can hope to reach, and where none may tarry long. One by one, as they march, our comrades vanish from our sight, seized by the silent orders of omnipotent Death. Very brief is the time in which we can help them, in which their happiness or misery is decided. Be it ours to shed sunshine on their path, to lighten their sorrows by the balm of sympathy, to give them the pure joy of a never-tiring affection, to strengthen failing courage, to instil faith in hours of despair." - Bertrand Russell, Mysticism and Logic
Monday, July 02, 2007
Swim Toward the Surface!
I know... just when you thought I was all blogged out.... I'm surprised myself, really. Oh, well.... Run with it, I always say.
I'm stuck in a decent routine, workin' that nine to five (thirty..... six..... thirty.... ok... nine to five just sounds better than eight to six thirty.) I'm pretty well immobilized by these shins/ankles/calves/feet/you tell me, so I haven't been kickin' up nearly enough dirt to keep me sane, but I'm trying to make up the distance in the pool, and I'm on the market for a decent bike. I've finally decided to go see an orthopedic surgeon in hopes that I'm not a 23-year-old invalid, so keep your fingers crossed, please.
Let's see.... I'm doing software development (and playin' foozball, naturally) at Strictly Biz, the place I interned in high school. It's the most enjoyable work I've ever done.... Excellent sign.
Basically, I'm working on getting my head cleared out and trying to pick up momentum in life. It's kind of hard to do with all the distractions of the old stompin' ground scattered about, but I'm holding my own. It'll be nice to get back to Purdue and press on the grind a little bit on my own. Everything I do feels better when I do it on my own.
I can't breath. I miss you.
Fuck.
Yeah, I said it.
This is getting harder by the second.
It's like figuring out which way's up deep under water, blind-folded, and completely disoriented. And I'm running out of air. Time's moving too fast.
I'm stuck in a decent routine, workin' that nine to five (thirty..... six..... thirty.... ok... nine to five just sounds better than eight to six thirty.) I'm pretty well immobilized by these shins/ankles/calves/feet/you tell me, so I haven't been kickin' up nearly enough dirt to keep me sane, but I'm trying to make up the distance in the pool, and I'm on the market for a decent bike. I've finally decided to go see an orthopedic surgeon in hopes that I'm not a 23-year-old invalid, so keep your fingers crossed, please.
Let's see.... I'm doing software development (and playin' foozball, naturally) at Strictly Biz, the place I interned in high school. It's the most enjoyable work I've ever done.... Excellent sign.
Basically, I'm working on getting my head cleared out and trying to pick up momentum in life. It's kind of hard to do with all the distractions of the old stompin' ground scattered about, but I'm holding my own. It'll be nice to get back to Purdue and press on the grind a little bit on my own. Everything I do feels better when I do it on my own.
I can't breath. I miss you.
Fuck.
Yeah, I said it.
This is getting harder by the second.
It's like figuring out which way's up deep under water, blind-folded, and completely disoriented. And I'm running out of air. Time's moving too fast.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Like the Cavalry at Dawn
For all the things I don't know, there's at least one thing I do -- My sleep "schedule" is out of control. It's too cold to sleep in my bedroom most of the time, so I find myself on the couch or in the office, and that puts me less than 5 feet away from something better to do than sleep. Of course there's also the overwhelming influx of homework I'm strapped with this semester (my sincerest gratitude to Old Man Winter for sending the Math and Italian departments into a "catch up from the blizzard" frenzy) I seriously spent the better part of two straight days doing Calculus homework last week, and that was because I missed 2 days. Rock on.
Right.... sleep.... I don't know. I tried it for a few hours tonight, but coughing and worrying about all that homework got the better of me, so here I am at 5am getting ready to read about women's rights for my 8:30 class so I can spend the hour after that prepping for my Italian exam at 10:30. Then, of course, I'll have an hour to finish up my Calc homework before class at 12:30, and then I'll have about 45 minutes to eat something before I have to trudge across campus to go to my CS lecture. At about 3:30 I'll probably head back home for some food, and if I'm not too tired, I'll work out for an hour. Then I'll head back down to campus so I can finish my CS project and hopefully try to take the reigns on this whole homework fiasco so the rest of the week isn't quite so high-paced.
I need to read something that wasn't assigned to me, and I need to run on a riverbank with nothing but my iPod in tow. I need a balmy evening where no shirt feels good, and I need a bourbon, two ice cubes in a heavy glass, and my guitar. I need a haircut. I need my health. I need to wake up at sunrise and feel refreshed. I need to see God on the ground and in the sky, and in the eyes of everyone I meet. I need to treasure the blessings I have, but these things I need to seek out for myself. I need my best friend.
Thanks. I needed that.
And now, I need the golden sun to charge the midnight sky like the cavalry at dawn.
I got this. It's a beautiful day.
Right.... sleep.... I don't know. I tried it for a few hours tonight, but coughing and worrying about all that homework got the better of me, so here I am at 5am getting ready to read about women's rights for my 8:30 class so I can spend the hour after that prepping for my Italian exam at 10:30. Then, of course, I'll have an hour to finish up my Calc homework before class at 12:30, and then I'll have about 45 minutes to eat something before I have to trudge across campus to go to my CS lecture. At about 3:30 I'll probably head back home for some food, and if I'm not too tired, I'll work out for an hour. Then I'll head back down to campus so I can finish my CS project and hopefully try to take the reigns on this whole homework fiasco so the rest of the week isn't quite so high-paced.
I need to read something that wasn't assigned to me, and I need to run on a riverbank with nothing but my iPod in tow. I need a balmy evening where no shirt feels good, and I need a bourbon, two ice cubes in a heavy glass, and my guitar. I need a haircut. I need my health. I need to wake up at sunrise and feel refreshed. I need to see God on the ground and in the sky, and in the eyes of everyone I meet. I need to treasure the blessings I have, but these things I need to seek out for myself. I need my best friend.
Thanks. I needed that.
And now, I need the golden sun to charge the midnight sky like the cavalry at dawn.
I got this. It's a beautiful day.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Is HHS the #1 Prep Team in the Country?
Thursday, the top 2 boys basketball teams in the country, according to ESPN, both lost. #1 Oak Hill Academy lost to Chicago Simeon and #2 Artesia lost to another team from California.
Huntington High was ranked third in the latest poll. When the poll is updated next week, it's likely HHS will be on top.
These rankings are a little different than the USA Today standings which showed Artesia below HHS already.
PS - I know.... I know....... Give it time.
Monday, January 01, 2007
A Toast, A Promise, and Some Fireworks
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Staying Afloat
Tonight the whirlpool touched the ocean floor. I'm cascading with the current... splashing around helplessly... thrashed by debris.... desperate gasps for sweet, sweet air chopped into desolate pieces as I sputter in the salty water. The ocean's falling faster now, its belly gliding smoothly down the shores, and down, and down, and splash! back up again! And down, and down, sculpting the sand, naked and wet, to the figure of the receding tide. And now, as wildly as the clouds roared in so many months ago, as violently as the torrents poured down on me and swept me away, the ocean lays me down, breathless and beaten (but alive and oh, so well) on the soft, soggy mattress that will soon become dry land again. And lying, back pressed firmly against my beloved terra, my chest heaving up and down like my turbulent captor, the sea, the corners of my lips turn up ever so slightly. I'm gazing so far out into the universe, my eyes reflect the glow of moonlight and stars I can't even see, and tonight, right now, I own this moment.
I haven't written in so long. It feels incredible. If you can't tell, this is an allegory; and no, it's not about sex :P. Believe it or not, I was just talking about this semester ;-) Hope you didn't hate it too much! :P (Gah! Must use less emoticons in blog....)
I'll be back. I can see it in the moon, reflected with the midnight sky onto the icy pond behind me.
I haven't written in so long. It feels incredible. If you can't tell, this is an allegory; and no, it's not about sex :P. Believe it or not, I was just talking about this semester ;-) Hope you didn't hate it too much! :P (Gah! Must use less emoticons in blog....)
I'll be back. I can see it in the moon, reflected with the midnight sky onto the icy pond behind me.
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