Monthly Archives: July 2003

One Day To The Next

I feel burned out.

A show­er makes every­thing go away. I for­get every­thing I’ve learned and gath­er my thoughts.

It’s rare that I live my life with­out form or struc­ture, but the cur­rent week has been just that. Sleeping, eat­ing, and sleep­ing some more when­ev­er I feel like it has made the days jum­bled and indis­tin­guish­able. I don’t think I could live like this for long; I’ve always need­ed some sort of struc­ture in my life. I need to know what time my din­ner is at. I need to know when to wake up. I guess I’ve become a crea­ture of habit, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing yet.

It Was The Gentle Waves

Access to my con­trol pan­el, my data­base, and my scripts has been tem­porar­i­ly dis­abled. Apparently, a rep­re­sen­ta­tive of a musi­cal group has con­tact­ed my host in regards to an mp3 I have stored. Instead of con­tact­ing me first, the rep­re­sen­ta­tive decid­ed to bring the issue up with my host. I would have been fine with remov­ing the mp3 from my site if I was sim­ply asked. I real­ized that it was a vio­la­tion of my terms of ser­vice, but I did­n’t think that any­one ever vis­it­ed this site, so I had the song for archival pur­pos­es. Now, I have no way of updat­ing my con­tent, in what has become my main heal­ing medi­um. I can­not be slowed by this, and even though it feels as though I have no means of expres­sion or com­mu­ni­ca­tion, I still feel the need to write.

The Fly Vacuum

I have a fly vac­u­um named Dolores.

For some rea­son, flies have been com­ing into the apart­ment through some mag­i­cal ple­copter­an gate­way, the loca­tion of which I haven’t been able to deter­mine yet. Since Dolly is an indoor cat, the flies have been the only live thing that she’s even pounced on, aside from my toes under the cov­ers.

She’s quite an effi­cient fly hunter, able to swat one with­out much trou­ble, although she con­sis­tent­ly lets them get away when she takes an inspec­tion under her paw by lift­ing it up. Once she actu­al­ly catch­es one and is able to get her tongue on it, she’ll gob­ble it hap­pi­ly, and then look as if she had­n’t eat­en her play­mate. Sometimes the fly will soar to my ceil­ing, and she’ll meow at me with frus­tra­tion, nev­er look­ing away from the buzzing black dot.

Getting Into TFC Again

I’ve decid­ed to take a break from The Frozen Throne because the game has become no fun for me. The only thing that I could real­ly sit down and play for hours with­out sleep or rest was TFC for Half-Life. I woke up rest­less some­time this morn­ing and decid­ed to give TFC anoth­er shot, from a two year hia­tus. After join­ing a ran­dom 2Fort serv­er, I sniped for about an hour, and every­thing felt so com­fort­able. Sniping was the only thing from any game that I was ever actu­al­ly good at, and although I was pret­ty rusty, I still man­aged a decent kill/death ratio. All the the­o­ry behind good snip­ing has become sec­ond nature to me, but my untrained hand-eye co-ordi­na­tion lim­it­ed my skills con­sid­er­ably. Someone did accuse me of cheat­ing though, so my expe­ri­ence has­n’t com­plete­ly left me.

I might con­sid­er set­ting up a ded­i­cat­ed serv­er run­ning 24/7, so that I can join some­thing quick­ly with a low ping, although such a thing would be a vio­la­tion of the con­tract of my ISP. Running a serv­er would allow me to con­trol exact­ly what maps I want to play and who I can kick or ban. I also would­n’t be scared of being kicked myself by peo­ple who think I’m cheat­ing.