Today begins the thirtieth year of Brendan. At last, my age and the amount of white hair on my head are starting to seem compatible.
Category: Landmarks
That’s no battle station
A few weeks ago, Kara and I went out to dinner at a fancy restaurant for her stepdad’s birthday, and I got to meet several members of her extended family for the first time. It was a really nice dinner and we all enjoyed ourselves. Then we walked out to the car, got in, started the engine, glanced backwards and realized that someone had smashed in the rear passenger window and stolen my bag, containing books and my laptop, and a couple hundred dollars’ worth of new clothes Kara had just had delivered by UPS. Have I mentioned that it was raining?
The waitstaff at the restaurant informed us that this was the fourth such smash-and-grab from their parking lot in three weeks. There is no camera or floodlight there. I still need to call up the building owners for a polite discussion about that.
The whole situation sucked a lot, but we got the window replaced and Kara got some of the clothes replaced by a kind friend for her birthday. My car insurance covered the window but not the contents; Kara’s home insurance would have covered them, but in neither instance did the damage meet the deductible. (I had to buy a new windshield after a rock chip incident last summer, too, so I have now replaced about 40% of the glass on my car out of pocket.) The fact is that we are very fortunate to have afforded such luxuries to begin with, and remain both fortunate and luxurious.
I replaced the laptop with a much newer, shinier, more expensive version, but then my boss took the opportunity to buy a nice new Mac Mini for my desk at work (I had been using the aforementioned four-year-old Macbook) and I returned it. The laptopless life is one plagued with tiny inconveniences, so I’ll probably buy it again in a few months when they update the hardware.
The point of this post is to eulogize my old dingy white Macbook, which, for a refurbished computer at the very low end of Apple’s lineup, did me proud for three and a half years. I used it as my only work machine for much of that time; it accompanied me to London, Innsbruck, Winston-Salem, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, London again, Paris, and Taastrup, where I dumped a glass of water into it and actually managed to grow mold on its hard drive. And then I replaced said drive and used it at the new job for another six months! No one could have asked more.
Thanks, Macbook. You were a good computer.
Geek Note: For reasons I can’t remember now, I named the laptop DEATHSTAR on our home network when I first bought it; after the hard drive resurrection (and, for the first time, the switch out of Boot Camp to native OS X), I rechristened it Fully Operational. Apparently every Death Star gets destroyed, though, so I have moved on to a new naming convention. Kara’s and my iMac is now the Batcave, the Mac Mini is the Batpod, and whenever I get the laptop again, it will be the Tumbler.
Update 2255 hrs: Kara has informed me that the iMac is named Hodge, after John Hodgman, and always will be, and HOW COULD I THINK THAT, and WHAT AM I GOING TO DO TO OUR CHILDREN, RENAME THEM EVERY TIME I READ A BOOK. (I say he’s only Hodge as long as Windows is running. He is a PC.)
I went on a shopping spree for this occasion because it turns out I was down to one pair of pants
I start a new job today! A real job in an office, where I have to commute, in pants! Well, actually I’m still contracting until the end of the year, but if all goes well I’ll be an employee after that. I understand the pants part stays the same.
I’ll be working in a little development shop with four guys, two blocks from Kara, making web sites work on your cell phone. (Not on my cell phone! My cell phone barely gets texts.) I have ranklements about the necessity of the change that I will not air here, in the interest of respect for metaphorical bridges, but it will be good to stop sitting around clicking the Twitbook and stuffing handfuls of trail mix into my mouth all day.
It’s going to be fun! I’m excited. Remind me that I said this in a month.
Puddlejump
Kara and I are going to Europe! Like, now! We’ll land in London tomorrow morning to visit Kevan and Holly et al, then fly to Denmark on the 9th to see her high-school exchange sister Britta get married, then hop down to France on the 16th for a Romantic Weekend in Paris.
I got to see very little of the continent while I lived over there, so this is very exciting. We are going to be broke kids with backpacks! I can’t wait to get peed on by a French hobo.
See you on the 21st, Internet!
My posts aren’t showing up on LJ. I don’t know why.
Which means that a bunch of you haven’t seen the last Proserpina story, or at least the last within the context of Anacrusis. (And indeed won’t see this, since the NFD feed isn’t working either.) At 65 entries over 29 months, it’s the longest continuous series I’ve written, and at 6565 words, one of my longer stories.
It needs to be longer yet–I haven’t come close to answering several of the questions posed in the very first one, much less figured out what happens to Radiane and Elijah. Also the next part is basically Proserpina Down Under, which will be difficult to write until I manage to get to Australia. But none of these things will be going in 101-word boxes.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the story so far, and that you’ll find its next incarnation an improvement.
Thanks to everybody who commented on the project management software entry, by the way
A few weeks ago I attended my second Go Play Northwest, and as before, it was one of the best weekends of my year. I played a lot of games, and wrote up reports on some of them, including Attack of the Crimson Apes (with Danger Patrol), Steam Tank versus Marble Army (with Principia), and Saga of the Goblin Headbag (with Lady Blackbird). I also ran a game of Rubble (discussed), and played my second game of Mythender (discussed, although it may not make any sense). I played just enough of a game of Anima Prime to make me want more.
Finally, I played in a game of The Shab-al-Hiri Roach adapted to take place on Wall Street in 1986, which was very funny and which we will never discuss again.
I did manage to go the entire weekend without playing a single game with Jackson Tegu or Joe McDonald, which, I mean, what the hell guys. They were (along with John Aegard and the Richmond-Smiths) two of my most potent catalysts in getting involved with the Pacific Northwest gaming scene, and now they’ve retreated back to their frozen Canadia. This will be rectified, gentlemen!
GPNW alone is enough to make me reconsider moving to Seattle every year. Then I try to get anywhere in its blighted hellscape of streets and quickly discard that notion.
Nebuchadnezzar
I still haven’t posted about this, have I?
I was supposed to be in this picture. Last September, I got my acceptance letter to Clarion South 2009, which I’d resolved to attend way back when I was still in London. I leapt about with glee, of course, and then set out saving enough money to defray the cost.
I failed, and in December I withdrew my application.
So there’s that story! Maybe in 2010 I’ll be in a position to reapply; maybe not. I am quite sure that whoever got my spot made good use of it, and I hope the short fiction economy survives long enough for me to read the results.
I’m back from Mexico!
No, I did not tan. I did almost fall off a pyramid, though.
And I’m going to be on The Erika Moen Show in a couple hours, along with its host, Erika Moen! And Matt! I’m gonna be the big time!
Emblematism
“Two staffers had just passed this site and done two pull-ups. Not to be outdone, Obama did three with ease, dropped and walked out to make a speech.”
–Callie Shell
In August of 2005 I added two keywords to my personalized Google News page: “creative commons” and “obama.” It had been a year since his convention address, and it had become clear that the man simply wasn’t fading. I also wrote a journal entry, never posted, about the fact that plans to assassinate his character had already begun. “Opposition research” has a long lead time; there are folders stuffed with scandal about people who never even receive nominations, but we saw every last scrap from the file on Obama, real and imaginary.
I woke up this morning with sarcastic headlines at the ready: “Relieved Obama dons headscarf, ululates, brandishes AK-47.” “Secret Service orders pre-emptive strike against Atlanta.” “Iraq declares victory.” Cynicism is playing catchup with the unrepentant joy of last night (though even that was tempered by disappointment at Mitch McConnell and Prop 8). But at least, for once, it’s not the other way around.
In April, I drove almost literally from coast to coast across the United States–from Winston-Salem, North Carolina to San Francisco, California–in nine days and a tiny car, packed up to my eyes. I was alone for most of each day, between eight and fourteen hours on the road. I listened to podcasts for company, and music when I wanted to sing, but in between I listened to Dreams from my Father.
That kind of trip would be a transformative experience for anyone. I’d only even been a licensed driver for six months. I’m sure I’m displaying any number of issues here that tie into my own lost father, my long-delayed exit from adolescence, and the way we approach elections as the process of choosing new parents. But if nothing else, I can at last say that I chose this President, and he is a writer who does voices when he reads aloud.
I wonder what that will be like?