I'm oddly hard to reach with new concepts that don't involve a compiler or networking cable. I don't know why; I just am. However, in my time on SG, a woman I never interacted with gave me one of the better concepts I've ever seen. DebraJean's profile on why she did SG used to read, "To receive the hate of the unhappy".
In other words: I'm feeling more myself today. Well, I'm not feeling myself. Well, maybe a little. Earl...god damn it, I get sidetracked so easily.
My life is going pretty well these days. The new job seems to be settling in on me. I'm helping decide the technological future of the company and most of the back-end developers are being transitioned over to me. The commute is killing me, but I have a tour of one of the more exclusive apartment buildings in South Lake Union tomorrow, so I should have my commute taken care of soon. My bank account is very flush, and the money I'm getting from consulting is just padding that more. The consulting gig is taking off. I'm now a part owner of the venture, and we've oddly attracted quite a few customers. I'm not sure how it is happening, but there it is. I'm typing this out on my new MacBook Pro 17 and streaming wirelessly to my new 802.11n Airport Extreme base station. I'm rewatching an excellent Mythbusters on my big TV. My life isn't bad.
And I'll be spending a week in a four-star hotel in Shinjuku over my birthweek (birthdays are for mere mortals [~.^]). I've also secured reservations for a late dinner seated at a window table in arguably Tokyo's finest restaurant, the New York Grill, on the actual day of my birth. You can't tell, but I haven't been this jacked since a girl first put her mou...you know, I'm just really excited.
I'm still fat. I'm still ugly as the original sin. I'm still terse. I'm still high-handed. But that all just means I have something to occupy my time.
Am I receiving the hate of the unhappy? I don't think so, but I have come to realize that hate and malice have deeper roots than I've ever imagined. Right now, I can barely get mad or hate anything for more than a few seconds--fax machines and Wil Wheaton excluded. Why?
I'm too happy to bother.
In other words: I'm feeling more myself today. Well, I'm not feeling myself. Well, maybe a little. Earl...god damn it, I get sidetracked so easily.
My life is going pretty well these days. The new job seems to be settling in on me. I'm helping decide the technological future of the company and most of the back-end developers are being transitioned over to me. The commute is killing me, but I have a tour of one of the more exclusive apartment buildings in South Lake Union tomorrow, so I should have my commute taken care of soon. My bank account is very flush, and the money I'm getting from consulting is just padding that more. The consulting gig is taking off. I'm now a part owner of the venture, and we've oddly attracted quite a few customers. I'm not sure how it is happening, but there it is. I'm typing this out on my new MacBook Pro 17 and streaming wirelessly to my new 802.11n Airport Extreme base station. I'm rewatching an excellent Mythbusters on my big TV. My life isn't bad.
And I'll be spending a week in a four-star hotel in Shinjuku over my birthweek (birthdays are for mere mortals [~.^]). I've also secured reservations for a late dinner seated at a window table in arguably Tokyo's finest restaurant, the New York Grill, on the actual day of my birth. You can't tell, but I haven't been this jacked since a girl first put her mou...you know, I'm just really excited.
I'm still fat. I'm still ugly as the original sin. I'm still terse. I'm still high-handed. But that all just means I have something to occupy my time.
Am I receiving the hate of the unhappy? I don't think so, but I have come to realize that hate and malice have deeper roots than I've ever imagined. Right now, I can barely get mad or hate anything for more than a few seconds--fax machines and Wil Wheaton excluded. Why?
I'm too happy to bother.