The Rest of the Incredibly Busy

There are some really bad reasons for staying up late. You're waiting for the cops to come talk to that guy prowling around your house, or you're riveted to that late-night infomercial. Or you're busy installing software on your computer so you can get your shiny new digital camera to send its pictures on their merry way. (One of these happened to me last night, and as a hint, it has something to do with my shiny new camera. I didn't buy it off an infomercial.)

Then again, there are some good reasons for staying up late. Like that late-night infomercial that's certain to help you lose a bazillion pounds in the next ten minutes! Or a nice computer game (just /one/ more turn...) The feeling of accomplishment you have the next morning is amazing and well worth the loss of seven of your scheduled-eight hours of sleep (and the loss of two hours of your workday).

Or the really good reasons to be missing some sleep, such as the project that you've been preparing for months and is due in ten hours, but still has just a few minor 'finishing touches' before you have to show it off. Or perhaps you've made a bet and are going to win a billion dollars if you can just stay up (and semi-coherent) for eight more hours.

But no matter how good the reason is, they're never good enough. I used to try to not sleep, because I had so much /stuff/ I wanted to do. But in doing so much, I ended up missing out on even more. For better than all those 'good' reasons to miss sleep, there are a couple of even better ones to get some. Like, well, that whole sleep thing. What could be better? Unless it's that whole sleep thing..with dreams!

Last night I was the emperor of Quilanstiafoo. Tonight I plan on saving the world. And then tomorrow, I'm going to dream about sleeping.

With all that ruling and saving and everything, by then I'm sure I'll be exhausted.

Lonely Little Rainbow

Animal Bands

The things I see on my way to work. I'm frequently glad that I drive, otherwise I probably wouldn't notice the cop chasing down speeding cars, or the one blocking traffic on the freeway by attempting to take up all 4 south-bound lanes. But for the most recent incedent, I was sad that I didn't yet have my shiny new camera.

And this one had nothing at all to do with the police!

Some kids dress up in all-black clothing and apply enough hairspray to flood a small country in the hopes of getting their oddly colorful hair to defy gravity, some kids think that the term 'punk' is a term of endearment or affection. Personally, I think they're insane, but I've seen them around. Apparently humans aren't the only ones whose youth follow this practice.

Walking down the street, doing my yearly "please don't step on the snails, because that crunching sound is horribly depressing" dance, I stumbled and almost squashed the first punk snail I'd ever seen. It wasn't using massive amounts of hair spray, but it had spray-painted its shell hot pink.

I just hope that next time I pass by, I don't have to hear its garage band. "The Snails" have to be at least as good as "The Beatles", though, right?

Like Christmas, 1999

It's that time again. Time for my semi-un-not-really-regularly "I'm here and alive, honest!" post to my blog to make sure the two mice that haven't yet figured out how to jump on the keyboard to get back to surfing the web don't give up on me. It's time to post something, whether or not I have anything to say. And it's not that I have nothing to say! That's not really the reason that I'm never posting! It's just that I can't seem to remember what it was that I was going to talk about.

That's one of the downsides of walking to work, all by myself. I have these nice half-hour conversations with myself (interspersed, of course, with comments like "WATCH OUT!" and "Um, that car's on fire"), in which I solve the mysteries of the universe and learn how to make more money. You want to too, right? Sure, we all do!

But then by the time I've managed to finish my walk, I realize that although I had had some incredibly deep and profound thoughts, I was suddenly distracted by that snail crawling across the sidewalk, and can't remember how to solve Fermat's Last Theorem.

Thankfully, I can simply look that one up.

But the myriad of other things I mean to post get forgotten. And then while I still have them fresh enough in my brain, I get sidetracked by that bane of existance known as "email".

Not of the personal variety.

No, that I'm way behind the times on too. I'll make myself take the time out to take care of all of this stuff, and start posting on my blog again. But first, I really need to get these "Merry Christmas" emails out. Finally done with '98, time to start sending for 1999.