November 6th, 2003

In my natural element

Random thoughts which might be less random and more thoughtful if written at a more reasonable hour

I am nearing my stupidity threshold. I wonder sometimes often why I stay in Boston where there is a façade of enlightenment masquerading the fact that the population is by and large imbecilic, boorish, intolerant, rude, or any combination of the above. I wonder this especially after having spent the last weekend in a city[1] which is beautiful, where the roads are in good repair, the architecture is something to marvel at, the landscaping is phenomenal, and the people are friendly, down to earth, cosmopolitan, and sophisticated all at once, defying any contradiction inherent in those terms.

I wanted to print something out on the hallway copier/printer (henceforth known simply as the root of all office evils, or RoAoE for short) quickly before I left for the day. When I approached RoAoE to collect my printout, I noticed that the door was ajar. Someone had jammed the door shut without lifting the lever inside that must be lifted in order for the door to be shut. Of course, they had done this to conceal the mother of all paperjams inside RoAoE. I, a veteran of some of the bloodiest paperjam wars known to man, had never seen so thorough a jam as this one. Others have it beat for quantity of materials, but this one accomplished the unaccomplishable. Under a single roller in RoAoE's interior were two transparencies, folded up really tightly and melted into a rod-like shape, and two pieces of paper, compressed into tight accordion folds and baked yellow. Words do not do this jam justice. It was obvious to me, as I fought RoAoE to release its unnatural hold on these former print surfaces, that someone incorrectly fed transparencies into the machine and then fled the scene, without asking for help, when he (I'm fairly certain it was a he) saw how hopelessly he had jammed the machine.

I ran an errand tonight. In the rain. On streets that are poorly lit and even more poorly identified. Looking for a certain street name, I rolled down my window to try to get a better look at the tiny, hidden street sign. An ambulance drove by and deposited the watery contents of a dip in the road inside my truck. Appropriate, eh? From one dip to another?

I bought some books at Barnes and Noble tonight. I bought a book on Howard Dean which caught my attention. Having missed tonight's Meet Up, it was the least I could do. I also bought my book club's latest selection, To Reign in Hell by Steven Brust. [2] And I bought a third book, whose identity must remain a secret. [3] I plan to begin reading the first two right away, bringing my list of current active reading to 5: Arabian Nights II, translated by Husain Haddawy; A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers; Dr. Atkins' New Diet Revolution, by -- you guessed it! -- Dr. Robert C. Atkins; and the two aforementioned books. I will also, in the next few days, be adding Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian, which I would like to read before watching the movie.

I have nothing to wear for this weekend. I will have to buy something, either tomorrow night on the South Shore or Friday night in Maryland. I have a shirt and jacket I could wear, just no slacks.

My breakfast almost every day for the past 2-3 years? Plain fat-free yogurt, organic whole-grain high-fiber cereal, and a fruit, usually a banana. My breakfast tomorrow? Bacon and eggs.

If you can think of anything else I can put in this post to delay the inevitable onset of recuperative loss of consciousness, be sure to call and wake me to let me know.

[1] More on that in a separate post, when I have a few uninterrupted hours to devote to a post, perhaps at work.
[2] We next meet on December 6. If you want to read the book and join us discussing it, let me know.
[3] More on that in a friends-only locked post later.
Attack of the Killer Chihuahua!

(no subject)

I hate carb cravings. I ate a large enough breakfast and a large enough lunch. I can't wait till the carb craving period is will is not as strong as it used to be.