10 ways to know if you’re a nerd:
1. Your room contains more CDs than pieces of paper.
2. You’ve thought about installing cooling fans in your skull.
3. You refer to your computer as ‘she’.
4. You know the difference between ‘internet’ and ‘intranet’.
5. Your graphing calculator has more programs on it than your teacher’s computer.
6. You find yourself trying to hit control+Z in real life situations.
7. Your graphics card has a name.
8. You passionately support either ATI or nVidia.
9. You know what ATI and nVidia are and do.
10. People frequently call you ‘nerd’. *wink*
(note: I can poke fun at nerds because I know I am one. For me it was #10.)
Mar 17, 2004
Mar 11, 2004
A Post on Posting
I’m feeling a need to write, so I thought I’d open up Word and just let my thoughts flow.
Ha ha ha. No, seriously, people are pressuring me to write something and post it. Therefore, because I’m a spineless wimp, I’m going to try and be funny on command. At present moment I’m on instant messenger, and I just asked someone for a topic to write about. Instead, now we’re talking about the chemistry test I took today. Fat lot of help they are.
So perhaps I can talk about the fact that some people update their online journal with every single little thing that they do. Here’s a sample:
- I’m not doing much. Just sitting here.
[posted @ 8:30:33]
- I’m still here. Now I’m scratching my head.
[posted @ 8:34:19]
- Hey, I just inhaled really deeply. Let’s see if I can do it again!
[posted @ 8:35:28]
- Wow! I did it again!
[posted @ 8:35:39]
…and so on. The only limit to how much detail they include is how fast they can click the buttons to update their journal. Someone was telling me that “it’s the little things that count”, but really, do we have to know all the little things? I’m just glad that these people don’t have laptops, or we might get way too much detail about their lives.
As long as I’m being spineless and giving in to demands, I might as well write something about missy_ly, who requested that I write something about her, though she didn’t know what. So, here goes. For some odd reason, her cell phone number was on my phone before we swapped numbers. There. Happy?
If someone asked me for all my money and clothes right now, they’d probably get them.
I still don’t have a decent topic. Now my friend and I are talking about solar flares of the sixteenth century. Not even remotely humorous.
Anyways, since my Coke’s almost done now, and I’m getting bored, I’ll leave you all with a question:
What’s a good question to end this column with?
Ha ha ha. No, seriously, people are pressuring me to write something and post it. Therefore, because I’m a spineless wimp, I’m going to try and be funny on command. At present moment I’m on instant messenger, and I just asked someone for a topic to write about. Instead, now we’re talking about the chemistry test I took today. Fat lot of help they are.
So perhaps I can talk about the fact that some people update their online journal with every single little thing that they do. Here’s a sample:
- I’m not doing much. Just sitting here.
[posted @ 8:30:33]
- I’m still here. Now I’m scratching my head.
[posted @ 8:34:19]
- Hey, I just inhaled really deeply. Let’s see if I can do it again!
[posted @ 8:35:28]
- Wow! I did it again!
[posted @ 8:35:39]
…and so on. The only limit to how much detail they include is how fast they can click the buttons to update their journal. Someone was telling me that “it’s the little things that count”, but really, do we have to know all the little things? I’m just glad that these people don’t have laptops, or we might get way too much detail about their lives.
As long as I’m being spineless and giving in to demands, I might as well write something about missy_ly, who requested that I write something about her, though she didn’t know what. So, here goes. For some odd reason, her cell phone number was on my phone before we swapped numbers. There. Happy?
If someone asked me for all my money and clothes right now, they’d probably get them.
I still don’t have a decent topic. Now my friend and I are talking about solar flares of the sixteenth century. Not even remotely humorous.
Anyways, since my Coke’s almost done now, and I’m getting bored, I’ll leave you all with a question:
What’s a good question to end this column with?
Mar 3, 2004
Only 45 Pounds
http://www.cnn.com/2004/TECH/ptech/03/03/sonic.weapon.ap/index.html
This is an article on the CNN.com about new technology for our troops. That’s right; the Army’s getting new weapons. And they are…you guessed it, high school assistant principals!
No, seriously, they are apparently noisemakers. Now when you first hear this, you think of those little plastic thingies that they give out for party favors that entertain you and your parents for several days (and by entertain, I mean annoy to the point of a preference for court hearings over toothpaste tube size regulations over being in the same room as that dratted noisemaker) until the battery runs out.
Of course, our Army isn’t getting that. It would be far too effective. Instead, they get a little device called a Long Range Acoustic Device, or LRAD for short. Well, maybe not little. It weighs 45 pounds, which could lead to odd scenarios if the soldiers are outfitted with just an LRAD:
SOLDIER: Don’t move or I’ll shoot!
INSURGENT: With what?
SOLDIER (TRYING TO HEFT LRAD): With this! Just…give me a second here…
But I’m sure no one would be that stupid, except perhaps Michael Jackson, whose music can melt brain tissue anyways. Which brings me to my next point: why invest money in a device that, I quote, “blasts earsplitting noise in a directed beam”, when we’ve already got them? In fact, every teenager has them, along with ample ammunition.
CD players, loaded with modern music, can disable anyone over thirty in just a few minutes. If they were equipped with a Michael Jackson CD, of course, they could drop anyone unconscious in a matter of seconds. Thank God that Michael Jackson music is, by federal law, illegal to broadcast without proper ear protection.
A SIDE NOTE: Another system that the government is testing is the Active Denial system, which seems as if it should work like this:
A terrorist is trying to enter a maximum security U.S. Army building, perhaps a kitchen.
ACTIVE DENIAL SYSTEM: Access Denied. Please use other door.
TERRORIST: (no response)
ACTIVE DENIAL SYSTEM: I said, Access Denied, you moron. Please leave or I will be forced to pipe Michael Jackson music directly into your brain.
TERRORIST: NOOOOOO!!!!!!! (runs)
Instead, the Active Denial System is, I quote, “a painful energy beam”. I suppose it’ll zap anyone who attacks it. You’ve got to wonder, though, the usefulness of this in other walks of life. Picture a courtroom…
JUDGE: Any objections?
ATTOURNY: Your Honor, my client was brutally hurt because his nail scratched his palm on account of a smaller toothpaste tube size. This is obviously an example of faulty manufacturing on the part of the huge toothpaste tube conglomorates, which want nothing more than to corrupt our youth and rule the- ZAP *thud*
JUDGE (HOLDING SMOKING ACTIVE DENIAL SYSTEM) : Any other objections, you chatterboxes?
COURTROOM: (silence)
I just hope the government keeps a close watch on its new toys. What’s to say some rebel faction doesn’t get hold of these devices and use them to quash anyone who’s discovered their plans and are writing about them in, say, an online column. What if…hey, what’s that noise? Oh no! They’re on to me! Tell the people! They have a right to know the tr- ZAP *thud*
This is an article on the CNN.com about new technology for our troops. That’s right; the Army’s getting new weapons. And they are…you guessed it, high school assistant principals!
No, seriously, they are apparently noisemakers. Now when you first hear this, you think of those little plastic thingies that they give out for party favors that entertain you and your parents for several days (and by entertain, I mean annoy to the point of a preference for court hearings over toothpaste tube size regulations over being in the same room as that dratted noisemaker) until the battery runs out.
Of course, our Army isn’t getting that. It would be far too effective. Instead, they get a little device called a Long Range Acoustic Device, or LRAD for short. Well, maybe not little. It weighs 45 pounds, which could lead to odd scenarios if the soldiers are outfitted with just an LRAD:
SOLDIER: Don’t move or I’ll shoot!
INSURGENT: With what?
SOLDIER (TRYING TO HEFT LRAD): With this! Just…give me a second here…
But I’m sure no one would be that stupid, except perhaps Michael Jackson, whose music can melt brain tissue anyways. Which brings me to my next point: why invest money in a device that, I quote, “blasts earsplitting noise in a directed beam”, when we’ve already got them? In fact, every teenager has them, along with ample ammunition.
CD players, loaded with modern music, can disable anyone over thirty in just a few minutes. If they were equipped with a Michael Jackson CD, of course, they could drop anyone unconscious in a matter of seconds. Thank God that Michael Jackson music is, by federal law, illegal to broadcast without proper ear protection.
A SIDE NOTE: Another system that the government is testing is the Active Denial system, which seems as if it should work like this:
A terrorist is trying to enter a maximum security U.S. Army building, perhaps a kitchen.
ACTIVE DENIAL SYSTEM: Access Denied. Please use other door.
TERRORIST: (no response)
ACTIVE DENIAL SYSTEM: I said, Access Denied, you moron. Please leave or I will be forced to pipe Michael Jackson music directly into your brain.
TERRORIST: NOOOOOO!!!!!!! (runs)
Instead, the Active Denial System is, I quote, “a painful energy beam”. I suppose it’ll zap anyone who attacks it. You’ve got to wonder, though, the usefulness of this in other walks of life. Picture a courtroom…
JUDGE: Any objections?
ATTOURNY: Your Honor, my client was brutally hurt because his nail scratched his palm on account of a smaller toothpaste tube size. This is obviously an example of faulty manufacturing on the part of the huge toothpaste tube conglomorates, which want nothing more than to corrupt our youth and rule the- ZAP *thud*
JUDGE (HOLDING SMOKING ACTIVE DENIAL SYSTEM) : Any other objections, you chatterboxes?
COURTROOM: (silence)
I just hope the government keeps a close watch on its new toys. What’s to say some rebel faction doesn’t get hold of these devices and use them to quash anyone who’s discovered their plans and are writing about them in, say, an online column. What if…hey, what’s that noise? Oh no! They’re on to me! Tell the people! They have a right to know the tr- ZAP *thud*
The First "10" List!
10 ways to know if you play too many computer RPGs:
1. When you buy clothes, you check the tag for the armor bonus.
2. When you pass a test, you think you’ve gained a level and feel a need to distribute those hard-earned stat points.
3. You talk to random people just to see how much interactivity your life was programmed with.
4. You always overburden yourself with stuff because you thought that your inventory was bigger than it actually is.
5. You get annoyed when people don't "join your party" just because you asked them to.
6. Instead of asking your teacher if you can retake a test, you ask them if you can retry the quest.
7. Every time you do anything for anyone, you expect money as a quest reward.
8. You sign your name as “[deathclan]sLAy3R_299”.
9. You use the word “emoted” frequently in place of “did”.
10. Instead of saying to people that you’re tired, you claim that you don’t have enough mana.
1. When you buy clothes, you check the tag for the armor bonus.
2. When you pass a test, you think you’ve gained a level and feel a need to distribute those hard-earned stat points.
3. You talk to random people just to see how much interactivity your life was programmed with.
4. You always overburden yourself with stuff because you thought that your inventory was bigger than it actually is.
5. You get annoyed when people don't "join your party" just because you asked them to.
6. Instead of asking your teacher if you can retake a test, you ask them if you can retry the quest.
7. Every time you do anything for anyone, you expect money as a quest reward.
8. You sign your name as “[deathclan]sLAy3R_299”.
9. You use the word “emoted” frequently in place of “did”.
10. Instead of saying to people that you’re tired, you claim that you don’t have enough mana.
Mar 1, 2004
A Night of Horror! (actually, I just didn't get much sleep)
NOTE: This was written sometime in January, after a particularly harrowing experience with someone’s science fair project. I added a note at the end about the aftermath.
It was around 11:00 p.m., and I'd finally finished all my homework. I climbed in bed, looking forward to a restful night, (followed by more hell the next day, of course, but that's a different story).
But it's a weird thing with me. The longer I just lie in bed, thinking, the more things I think of that I'm convinced can't wait until the morning. I have to completely wake myself up, turn on the lights and get my planner. Next is the usual frantic search for a pencil; I usually end up writing with a stunted piece of lead that's so short I can't even hold it.
Finally, having written whatever it was down, I get back in bed. Then I think of something else. In this case, the mandatory 2 liter Coke bottle for the Math & Science tournament that Saturday.
I resisted, I really did. I tried to tell myself that it could wait until the morning. Of course, it didn't work. Then the real trouble started. When I got out my planner again, I was looking at the dates and I knew that I had forgotten something.
Something about Friday…Grace’s Science Fair project! NOTE: Grace is not her real name, but I really don’t want Benita to hit me with her obscenely thick Stephen King book, so I’m changing her name for this column.
Muttering a steady stream of curses all the way, I stumbled down the dark hallway to the other room, where the CD player was. Actually, it's a boom box, and actually, it's quite heavy. I must have dented the walls three or four times on the return trip.
I fished out her science fair project packet from my backpack, ripped out the staples of the sealed packet, and dumped the contents out on the floor. The project involved having people (mostly those that Grace didn’t like) listen to vocabulary words every night for a few days in a row, and then when they woke up, take a test to find out how much they’ve learned.
Keep in mind that it was around 12:30 a.m. by this time.
I put the CD for the words into my CD player:
"This is a test to see if you can memorize vocabulary words in sleep…" and so on. Then it started with music. Loud music. Of course, in the middle of the night, everything is loud. But there was nothing else to do. I turned the volume down to the level where it was just barely audible, covered the green, glowing screen of the CD player with Grace’s tests, and went to sleep.
Or rather, I tried. When there's nothing going on but music, and you're trying to go to sleep: it's extremely hard. One thing was obvious. The music was still too loud. After about ten minutes it sounded like it was right in my ears, even though the CD player was across the room. I turned the volume down again, to the point that an extremely sensitive dog would have a hard time hearing it, and went back to bed.
The next thirty minutes (or so it seemed) had me wondering when the actual words were going to start. Maybe Grace had mixed up the CDs.
To make things worse, the music was not sleepy music. It was some sort of allegro, or something; it was fast. Scales going up and down tens of thousands of times, huge finales, dynamic contrast, it was all there. By now I was entertaining glorious visions of taking my bedside lamp and sending it flying in a perfect arc across the room to smash the CD player to bits.
I'm not sure how, but I finally managed to get to sleep. Or maybe it was more along the lines of losing consciousness.
Around 4 or 5, I think, I woke up again. It was still playing music. It had probably just gone around the CD a couple of times, but if listening to music had me lying awake, then listening to a person reading vocabulary words would be torture. I lurched out of bed, trailing sheets that were tangled around me, and lunged for the power button. The green screen faded, the red power light extinguished itself.
I went back to sleep. I had to catch up for all the rest I had missed. Of course, by then I only had about an hour before I had to wake up. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do about this. I came up with many solutions to my problem while listening to the melodies of Mozart at 1 in the morning, starting with claiming that I had lost the CDs going through simply pretending I had listened to the CDs and just taking the tests anyways, all the way to setting one of those plug timers on my CD player and having it turn on in a couple of hours when I would probably be asleep. (By the way, the last didn't work because the CD player doesn't turn on automatically when it is plugged in or receives power.)
Wish me luck and sound sleep. I’m going to need it.
ADDED: I eventually decided to not listen to the CDs, but instead to fake the entire test. On a few of the answers, just to make it seem authentic, I purposefully messed up. Just don’t tell Grace. It’ll be hard to explain the blood and brain particles on her book when she has to return it to the library.
It was around 11:00 p.m., and I'd finally finished all my homework. I climbed in bed, looking forward to a restful night, (followed by more hell the next day, of course, but that's a different story).
But it's a weird thing with me. The longer I just lie in bed, thinking, the more things I think of that I'm convinced can't wait until the morning. I have to completely wake myself up, turn on the lights and get my planner. Next is the usual frantic search for a pencil; I usually end up writing with a stunted piece of lead that's so short I can't even hold it.
Finally, having written whatever it was down, I get back in bed. Then I think of something else. In this case, the mandatory 2 liter Coke bottle for the Math & Science tournament that Saturday.
I resisted, I really did. I tried to tell myself that it could wait until the morning. Of course, it didn't work. Then the real trouble started. When I got out my planner again, I was looking at the dates and I knew that I had forgotten something.
Something about Friday…Grace’s Science Fair project! NOTE: Grace is not her real name, but I really don’t want Benita to hit me with her obscenely thick Stephen King book, so I’m changing her name for this column.
Muttering a steady stream of curses all the way, I stumbled down the dark hallway to the other room, where the CD player was. Actually, it's a boom box, and actually, it's quite heavy. I must have dented the walls three or four times on the return trip.
I fished out her science fair project packet from my backpack, ripped out the staples of the sealed packet, and dumped the contents out on the floor. The project involved having people (mostly those that Grace didn’t like) listen to vocabulary words every night for a few days in a row, and then when they woke up, take a test to find out how much they’ve learned.
Keep in mind that it was around 12:30 a.m. by this time.
I put the CD for the words into my CD player:
"This is a test to see if you can memorize vocabulary words in sleep…" and so on. Then it started with music. Loud music. Of course, in the middle of the night, everything is loud. But there was nothing else to do. I turned the volume down to the level where it was just barely audible, covered the green, glowing screen of the CD player with Grace’s tests, and went to sleep.
Or rather, I tried. When there's nothing going on but music, and you're trying to go to sleep: it's extremely hard. One thing was obvious. The music was still too loud. After about ten minutes it sounded like it was right in my ears, even though the CD player was across the room. I turned the volume down again, to the point that an extremely sensitive dog would have a hard time hearing it, and went back to bed.
The next thirty minutes (or so it seemed) had me wondering when the actual words were going to start. Maybe Grace had mixed up the CDs.
To make things worse, the music was not sleepy music. It was some sort of allegro, or something; it was fast. Scales going up and down tens of thousands of times, huge finales, dynamic contrast, it was all there. By now I was entertaining glorious visions of taking my bedside lamp and sending it flying in a perfect arc across the room to smash the CD player to bits.
I'm not sure how, but I finally managed to get to sleep. Or maybe it was more along the lines of losing consciousness.
Around 4 or 5, I think, I woke up again. It was still playing music. It had probably just gone around the CD a couple of times, but if listening to music had me lying awake, then listening to a person reading vocabulary words would be torture. I lurched out of bed, trailing sheets that were tangled around me, and lunged for the power button. The green screen faded, the red power light extinguished itself.
I went back to sleep. I had to catch up for all the rest I had missed. Of course, by then I only had about an hour before I had to wake up. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do about this. I came up with many solutions to my problem while listening to the melodies of Mozart at 1 in the morning, starting with claiming that I had lost the CDs going through simply pretending I had listened to the CDs and just taking the tests anyways, all the way to setting one of those plug timers on my CD player and having it turn on in a couple of hours when I would probably be asleep. (By the way, the last didn't work because the CD player doesn't turn on automatically when it is plugged in or receives power.)
Wish me luck and sound sleep. I’m going to need it.
ADDED: I eventually decided to not listen to the CDs, but instead to fake the entire test. On a few of the answers, just to make it seem authentic, I purposefully messed up. Just don’t tell Grace. It’ll be hard to explain the blood and brain particles on her book when she has to return it to the library.
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