One Sweet World

Last night I had a dream about the Iraq war. A lot of people I love were shot. The US government was in serious trouble. I woke up to one of my neighbors blasting Dave Matthews Band louder than any one should ever blast jam bands at 3 in the morning. It was a very strange juxtaposition. Both made me very unhappy.

Fun with Homonyms!

My lap top (welcome back to Apple in the year 2000) makes strange noises if you ask too much of it. Twice now, when my iPod has crashed, it's made little laser noises as it tries to process whatever it is I'm demanding of it. American Cheese? I bet American Cheese makes a lot of noise when you process it.

But I'm not going to be like either of these Apple products, or like cheese. I'm going to process all of these things I think are wrong in the quietest way possible. I'm shutting up. I'm giving up on the whining. Except of course to you, little box in which words go. You get to contain all my noise.

If there were crackers, I basically would have just thrown the internet a little party, complete with a cheese and apple platter, and plenty of wine.

(Fun, I suppose, is a relative term here)

Feliz Cumpleanos

Today I wake up to kottke telling me it's the universe's birthday. Then things that weren't going well flipped around. Then I'm standing eye-level with a sign that said "Want to learn to speak Spanish?" And then things flipped back around to the way they were before.

We are back to square one. This square will involve me with short hair. It will not involve you telling me things happen for a reason.

Multi-faceted

I was going to start off by talking about ignoring my little corner of the internet, but then I couldn't really decide if that was the appropriate description. If this is any kind of corner, it is a very very very tiny one in a building with billions and billions of other corners. Why would it possibly be a corner? Is this in any way comparable to where two lines or two walls meet? I don't think so. It would have been a very bad way to make my triumphant return. This is undoubtedly a better one.

When things get weird I write them down. Things have gotten weird. The universe and I are not getting along. I am concerned about my future. I am whiny and hurt. I have a very distorted perception of reality and I'm afraid I'm slipping back into habits that never needed to exist in the first place. I am probably going chop a lot of my hair off.

Because of these thing I have decided I want to learn HTML and I want to learn Spanish so I can go to Peru. Maybe I should just learn to code in Spanish, so then when I get to Peru and decide not to come back because maybe the universe is more agreeable south of the equator, I can get a job making websites for Peruvians. This is a very brilliant plan. I am a very brilliant human being.

Someday maybe eventually I will no longer be writing in this non-corner of the internet because I will have made my own little Spanish weblog that I can coddle lovingly in my arms and raise as my own child, not just one more of Google's children that has grown up with a father too busy with all the other Google Jrs that he's never gotten to actually know any of them in the gentle and caring way a father should. Children without fathers often end up in therapy. You could use a little therapy, couldn't you, non-corner of the internet? Perhaps it would help you escape this little Sting obsession you have going on here. It's unhealthy. Sting cannot take the place of your father, not matter how much you would like him to.

Hello positivity. Let's you and I be friends again, okay?