bytex64.net/blog

Ok, let's face it. 99% of blogs suck. You know which ones I'm talking about. The "Every shallow detail of my life" blog, or the "Oh, look how many web quizzes I took today" blog. Yes. Blogging is, for most people, a waste of internet resources. Of course, I can't really claim to be any better, since my blog falls squarely in the genre of "Everything sucks".

I'll break it down for you. Nobody cares what you did today. If you're using your blog as a means to explain to everyone that you arrived to history class 10 minutes late, and the teacher stared you down as you took the only empty seat, which just happened to be in the front, and you were so totally embarassed in front of the hot guy that you've been crushing on but not really since the beginning of the semester, don't. If anybody cared, I'm sure that you've already told them personally. Worse are the blogs that have posts that are entirely little GIFs that explain that you're "Toad from Super Mario Bros. 3", "Ross from Friends", and "Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer". Despite what they say, these say nothing about you, except that you have way too much time on your hands.

Interesting blogs are those that yield insight into how you see the world around you. I don't care that you talked to that girl you've had a crush on for a week, I want to know how you did it. Did you stutter out of nervousness? Did she give you the smile that sets your heart aflame? Did you practice what you were going to say in front of the mirror, and then decide to wing it with disastrous results when the plan fell apart?

I think that a lot of people get blogs out of the desire to be heard. Everyone wants someone to listen to what they have to say. Unfortunately, this means nothing if you don't say anything. If I can replace your posts with the output of a three line perl script, then you've wasted your chance to express yourself.

Of course, it's entirely possible that in any case, nobody cares.

So I'm talking to my friend, and he's explaining how the ravings of Fyodor Dostoevski are very similar to the ravings of his blog, given that a) He lived in russia, b) he lived a hundred years ago, and c) had no friends. Sounds like a stretch to me. But he does already look kinda like a strange cross between Shaggy and Lenin. "Gee, Scoob, all that crushing the capitalist pigs sure works up an appetite."

Also: for anyone who cares, you can get a RSS feed of my blog. Just click on the RSS link on the left, and it'll explain everything.

*sigh*. She finally emailed me back. She has someone. Oddly, I feel better, now. It wasn't me, it wasn't her. Just awful timing. Nothing that could be helped. Who knows, maybe she's got a cute single friend. :)

Point me to the sky above.
I can't get there on my own.
Walk me to the graveyard.
Dig up her bones.

I really don't know why I'm explaining this on my blog. It's as though telling the whole world about my life is somehow cleansing. I don't know.

I just finished watching Grosse Pointe Blank. Imagine this monologue in a terse John Cusack style.

So, at foal watch saturday, I met this girl. We hit it off immediately. I like her, she's great. For the parts of the shift that she wasn't doing her homework, we talked about our cars and hometowns, we played cards, groomed horses, and got along great. I felt comfortable around her. This rarely happens.

So at the end of the night Chrissy has to go to LAICU, and she takes me back to my apartment. I ask her if she wants to come in and hang out some more, and she says, "Sure." Over the course of watching FLCL, laughing at Mike's drunkenness, and her acquainting me with RedvsBlue, I find out lots of interesting things about her. She pointed out the difference between the Phantom of the Opera theme, and Tocatta and Fugue (which is from Dracula). She likes organic chem. She's been dumpster diving. At that point, I almost asked her to marry me. Wow.

So, of course, the night wears on, and she leaves. I, of course, in my absent-minded fashion, completely forget to ask for any information on how to get in touch with her. No, that's not entirely correct. I realized this, as she left, and did nothing, in my self-sabotaging way. I oughta kick my own ass.

So, last night, at about three A.M., I write her the email. (Her listed phone number was long distance. This too, is a cop-out; I could have used Chrissy's phone). Don't ever do this. It's a fact that men's testosterone levels spike at night. It makes you incoherent and stupid. I explained to her that I had a great time, that I couldn't stop thinking about her, and that I wanted to see her again. Now, all of this is true, but these words are completely wrong in an email. You sound weak, non-confrontational, and desperate.

Currently, I've been making myself sick, wondering how many of the classic blunders I've made this time. If only it were just a land war in Asia. And no, she hasn't emailed me back, yet. What could she possibly say? "Yes, I'd love to go out with you. Creep." Do I deserve that? I don't know. I really don't think I do, but sometimes I wonder.

Last night I had a dream that I went to Brittney's wedding. (Psychic disclaimer: I haven't talked to Brittney in about two years. I have no idea if she's getting married or not.) For some reason, I was helping her get to the church; she was late, I think. (If you watch enough movies, this will seem to be a common problem) She looked older, more mature. Somehow we got inside of an electronics store, and in order to get out, I had to reassemble the lock. I remember running down the street after that, and then watching the ceremony. (Was she late? Probably.) The guy she was marrying was, I think, the best man from Dana's wedding, which is cool, because he seemed like a really nice guy.

When people say "I had a dream last night," what they really should say is, "I had a dream this morning." People don't have dreams right after they fall asleep, they have them right before they wake up. For me, at least, those are the only ones I can remember.

So it's saturday, and I decided to take the laptop to the quad, sit, and relax. All my arguments against going outside have come rushing back.

• It's like 62° outside, which is warm enough to go outside, but not warm enough to go outside and sit still.
• It's windy. Which makes it more like 50°
• The wind kicks up any debris on the ground, and transports it at 20MPH straight into my face.
• It's sunny. Which is good for the creation of vitamin D. It's bad for LCD screen visibility.
• The quad ... *crap, something in my eye* ... is full of people. I'm not such a big fan of large groups of people.

So, I think I'm going to go inside. The outside sucks.

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addendum:

As it turns out, right after I wrote this, I found Phil on the quad, and hung out with him and his friends. *shrug*.

Well, it seems as though I've finally gotten the blog system working. MySQL has made getting data in and out a lot easier. (And, I'm hoping, a lot faster.) The journals now support comments, deletion, and all the goodies I've been working on the main log with. I think I'm going to phase out the main log in favor of something more pseudo-random. Like a random snippet out of a user's blog. *shrug*. I've got to go, Chrissy wants a massage.