heatray5d: (Default)

I had a dream last night where everyone in my d&d game used chicken fingers instead of figurines to denote their location on the map. The halfling and gnome characters were represented by chicken nuggets instead of entire fingers.

What does it mean?!

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Dec. 4th, 2013 03:54 pm

Gravity

heatray5d: (deeznutz)
Check this out.

Cute right? I love this because the innovation is not in the mechanism, but rather in the ability of the inventors to raise $400,000 on indigogo based on a simplified, less efficient version of a mechanism that has been powering clocks for 400 years.
heatray5d: (purple octo)
I have an ex who used to get mad at me for how I hug people; her issue was that, in her words, I "use my whole body."

I'm not entirely sure what that means. I think that I give good hugs. I'm pretty sure I'm not a creepy hugger. I try to limit the amount of time I embrace someone, and I don't rub my crotch on people, or sneak in a butt touch or anything. Sometimes I might squeeze a little too hard? But I like to think that my hugs are pleasant because when I hug someone I mean it. It's an expression of genuine affection, and not something I just hand out. I'm not a hug whore, but I am generous with my affection. I think everyone who still reads LJ falls into the category of people I hug, when I see them.

Regardless, ever since the end of that relationship, I've been self-conscious about my hugs. Truth be told, that relationship made me self-conscious about a number of things, and all of them are weird, but hugging has to be one of the weirdest.

So just recently I had to inform one of our regular freelancers that we were going to be reducing her hours - possibly to near zero. This is her last week of regular work for us, and she came in today to finalize the transition of her projects onto one of our in-house writers. She's worked for us for three years; she sends us pictures of her baby, and tells us stories about her wife. She's been a part of our life, and we've been a part of hers. Letting her go is a big deal, for her and me.

So when I walked her out today, we hugged. And it was the same hug that I would give to any of you. And now I'm worried that I did it wrong. Is there, like, a professional hug I should be using?
Nov. 5th, 2013 06:37 am

Miley no!

heatray5d: (Default)

Nothing Miley Cyrus has done over the last year has bugged me in the slightest, except now there are rumors she hooked up with one of the guys from Good Charlotte. That's just gross, Miley. Have some self respect!

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Oct. 23rd, 2013 10:37 am

Brekkers

heatray5d: (Default)

There's a crumpled up tissue of the type or cafeteria wraps breakfast sandwiches with in the bathroom stall. Which means someone was maybe eating a sausage egg and cheese biscuit sandwich while pooping maybe.

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Oct. 6th, 2013 01:39 pm

quack quack

heatray5d: (beavis)
Today, a duck tour pulled over and stopped to watch me do burpees.
heatray5d: (Dino Joy)
And so. . .

Thy Art is Murder is currently one of my favorite bands. If you like extreme metal, you should like them, because they are wonderful, and also because Varg Vikernes has apparently been trying to pick a fight with them on youtube.

The way I found out about Thy Art is Murder is through this video. Which, apparently, went viral when Katy Perry tweeted a link to it (which is why it has 2.5 million views). So thanks, Katy Perry, for introducing me to an awesome new band! This is just like that time Ryan Seacrest name checked Opeth during New Year's Rockin' Eve!
heatray5d: (chinese pig)
The review of this year's course that I linked earlier includes some detail on the redesign, of which there were mixed opinions.

The writer of that review spoke with more people than I did, and he did it in a variety of contexts. I only spoke to people on the course, when they were in the midst of their struggle, but the vast majority (meaning: all) of the opinions I heard were negative. People hated this course. No one I encountered was doing it for the second time, or intended to do it again next year.

This was a course designed to isolate and destroy you. It was physically, intellectually, and emotionally draining. It was the hardest physical thing I have ever done in my life. It is immensely costly, in terms of time spent training, time spent on the course, potential damage to your body, and actual financial impact.

It is not fun. Not by any normal standards.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that I saw more people crying over the course of this event than I ever have in one place. I do not recommend this event to anyone. In fact, I would actively discourage you from attempting it.

Here's the crazy thing. The Beast is somewhere near the high-middle end of the difficulty scale for these things. There's the World's Toughest Mudder, which is like the Tough Mudder but for 24-hours (there's a prize for winning, and a lesser prize for completing 100 miles. That's 100 miles on foot). There's the Death Race (organized by Peak Races, not Spartan as I previously said), which is basically a race for the insane and extraordinarily fit suicidal people. Read the article at that link for a taste of that insanity.

And there's the Ultra Beast. The Ultra occurs on the same weekend as the Vermont Beast, and shares half of its length with the course I ran. But as a more-than-marathon-distance event it veers off into the woods for as much as 17 miles. You start before sunrise, and many of the 40% of the people who actually finish it, finish after sundown.

I preregistered for next year's Ultra while writing my recap of the Beast.
heatray5d: (Dino Joy)
When we woke up on Saturday morning, it was 53 degrees. Overnight, the temperature at Killington had dropped down to 48. Fog pressed up against the windows of the hotel room, and the world outside was white white white, with a horizon mere feet away.

I put on too many clothes, then stripped some off, then added some back. The predicted high for the day was 66, but that was at the base. How cold would it be at the summit? Would the fog burn off? Would the wind pick up?

I forgot my hoodie. How cold would it be when I finished? If I finished.

In the end, I went with no base layer on my legs, just shorts and dryfit running trousers to protect my knees during the crawling portions. I kept the UnderArmour on my torso to keep my core temp up in case it stayed chilly and wet, and topped that with a dryfit shirt. I had no gloves, and hoped that I wouldn't need them.

An awesome and unexpected feature of our hotel was that it was a five-minute walk from the starting line. As we made our way to the Killington base, the fog began to burn off, revealing a crisp, blue sky. The temperature began to climb into the 60's.
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heatray5d: (Dino Joy)
I want you all to check out this image. Remember it. We're going to come back to it later.
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heatray5d: (Default)

There was an earwig in my cookie sundae.

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heatray5d: (Default)

An open letter to the guy on the train this morning listening to The White Stripes with no headphones on his Galaxy SIII:

Dear Sir,
Stephen Covey, rest his soul, has a great aphorism, which starts out "Seek first to understand." If you are at all interested in being a decent human being, that's a pretty good phrase to start with. I understand it as a reminder to remember you're not the center of the universe, and to recognize that in any situation there's more going on than you can immediately see. If you strive to understand another person's perspective, you will often find that you share common ground, which can allow you to arrive at a mutually agreeable solution to almost any challenge.

Interestingly enough, one of the stories that Covey told in association with this aphorism involves an experience he had on a train. Isn't that funny?

So I'd like to apologize to you for saying you were "really fucking annoying." I had just been woken up from a fairly deep sleep by Jack White's voice, which I'm sure you'll agree is roughly equivalent to someone waking you up by sticking the tip of his semihard dick right in your ear.

Or maybe you wouldn't. I guess you probably actually like The White Stripes, which is weird, but whatever. I like a lot of weird stuff too, so I don't want to judge someone's taste.

Anyway, I feel bad about being surly right after waking up. After all, I was sleeping on the train. Maybe I'm doubly rude for swearing at you, and for sleeping in a public place near where you were going to listen to music on your phone.

Speaking of which, that's a nice phone, the Galaxy SIII. Expensive, right? You'd think a phone that expensive would come with headphones. Or that someone who could afford a phone like that could ALSO afford a ten-dollar pair of headphones from CVS.

But maybe I'm making judgments based on my own perspective. I'm assuming based on your phone (well, and your complexion, and your apparent gender, which maybe makes me an asshole because now that I'm writing this out I realize how many unfair heteronormative patriarchal assumptions are packed into the next statement) that, like me, you are a relatively wealthy white male. I have literally five pairs of headphones that work with my phone. Which was why I didn't worry about loaning you the pair I had in my bag and then going back to sleep.

I just probably could have done it without swearing at you, for which I actually do feel really bad. That was uncalled for. So, sorry.

And thanks for giving me the headphones back as you got off the train. That was actually really nice, considering I had gone back to sleep and you totally could have just walked away with them.

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Sep. 23rd, 2013 09:42 am

manliness

heatray5d: (Moose Love)
On Saturday I ran a grueling 13.6 mile obstacle course that was one of the most difficult physical challenges I have ever faced. I did damn well too! I'll tell you all about it in a later post, once I've had a chance to gather all the available media associated with the event.

Yesterday (Sunday), I installed a new graphics card in my PC with minimal difficulty, and even managed to install drivers blind when the new card wouldn't talk to my monitor. As far as things that make me feel like a man's man of the modern age, carrying a big bucket of rocks up a fucking mountain pales in comparison.
Sep. 17th, 2013 09:29 pm

Personals

heatray5d: (Default)

I'm always very proud of my Craigslist ads. I think I have a talent for them.

http://boston.craigslist.org/gbs/fuo/4074418934.html

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heatray5d: (Default)

Guys! I'm trying to use this thing more! I do read LJ, like every single day (on the potty!), but finding the time to post things is hard.

I quit Facebook a couple months ago. Actually, I quit Facebook last August, after the election-centered echo-chamber of lies reached such an incredible volume I simply couldn't stand it any more. It was like watching a vast crowd of idiots standing on the edge of a canyon, all screaming their opinions into the void, all hoping to hear them bounce back louder and stronger, and not a single one of them listening to the person next to them. Eight hundred goddam friends, and not a one interested in being thoughtful, or even in, like, basic fact checking.

Facts are important guys. They help us know what all the things is.

Anyway, FB was shocking and exhausting, because I know that most of my actual friends actually are thoughtful people who are interested in things like the truth, and not being dickheads. But Facebook (like the rest of the internet) does something stupid to the parts of people's brains that enable dignity, patience, and self-awareness.

But then I actually just up and deleted my FB account a few months ago because I realized I hadn't done anything with it other than mass-delete notifications from my email in something like 9 months, and that, as a result, I had missed literally nothing of import.

I sort of had a theory at first that I was going to be the first of many hundreds of thousands, and that Facebook would soon be going the way of pets.com, but upon reflection I'm changing my mind.

I thought that pretty soon, everyone would be sick of the enforced "hey everybody look at me" superficiality of the Facebook format, and would retreat to more curated communities (like Livejournal, and, oh my god, email lists) where smaller networks engage in actual discussion.

Facebook is like a nightclub, where everyone you know goes. Some of those people you really love, some you like, and some you just tolerate. But you greet everyone the same way – "Like!" – and while you might have the occasional interesting exchange with someone, it's just too fucking noisy to actually have a conversation, and even making plans to get together outside of the club is hampered by the format.

Nightclubs are fun! But eventually most people reach a point where they just want to get drunk with three or four close friends in their own kitchen, and maybe not even put on shoes. Or maybe, just maybe, they want to do something by themselves.

And that metaphor is actually what made me realize I was wrong. The reason people quit going to nightclubs for their social interactions is, by and large, a function of maturity. Which is not to say that people who continue clubbing into middle age are immature – only that maturity manifests for many people in a way that leads them to value fewer, more significant interactions.

The people for whom FB was originally created – college students – are at the perfect level of maturity for it. College is all about noisy, superficial, highly populated social networks. Maintaining a friendship with someone who lives in the same building as you and takes the same classes is a zero-effort proposition. It's awesome! If you're a college student.

So now here's my new theory. Facebook is popular because we're a civilization if lazy goddamn children. People are going to continue flocking to Facebook, despite the fact that I've never heard anyone express any feeling about it other than frustration and a vague sense of obligation. It's probably the only high-value brand that actually subtracts value directly from its users lives.

But no one wants to give up the sense of belonging they get from being "surrounded" by people. No one wants to give up the idea that they're "keeping in touch with their friends" by getting semi-regular updates on the parking situation and what they had for lunch. And it's certain that most people aren't going to give up their soapbox on the edge of the canyon.

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heatray5d: (Dino Joy)
I'm taking this online course, and the. . .facilitator I guess, looks like Phillip Seymour Hoffman. So I'm expecting this course to get really sad at some point.
Jun. 19th, 2013 10:28 pm

Gabe

heatray5d: (Default)

Navy Seal Gabriel Gomez thinks it's disgusting that Obama politicizes his military accomplishments. That's not something a Navy Seal like Gabriel Gomez would ever do. It's just not the Navy Seal way, and since Gabriel Gomez was a Navy Seal he would totally know. So vote for Navy Seal Gabriel Gomez.

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heatray5d: (Default)

Kotaku has a teaser video for the PS4 at that link there. What it tells us is that the machine will be. . . black. And maybe squarish? But that's not what I want to talk about.

Watch the video with sound on. What's that fleshy clapping noise during the first ten seconds. Is that. . . Is it someone masturbating just off screen?

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May. 2nd, 2013 03:16 pm

cat people

heatray5d: (Dino Joy)
Here is a link you should see.

It's worksafe, if modernist yuppie ostentation is safe at your place of work. For those who worry, this is a $600 walnut box you can put a litter box in so that it fits in with your other incredibly overpriced brown furniture.

To be clear. This is not a litterbox. It is a box that you put a litterbox in.

I just got a huge raise. Huge. Like some people make less annually than the raise I just got. So I make a pretty decent living now. I could maybe even afford this thing. So I just want to make one thing understood: If I ever spend $600 on a box to put another slightly uglier box inside, I want you to find me and beat me to death with a shovel. If you buy something like this, you are an asshole.
Mar. 13th, 2012 10:11 am

Time

heatray5d: (fukkin' head!)
Time, certainly, has weight. You can see it in the sag of a staircase, or the channels rain leaves down stone walls over hundreds of years. You can hear it in the creak of an ancient floorboard, feel it in the dips and rises of an aging carpet, see it in the ripples of a century-old windowpane. And if time has weight, why not spirit as well?

We like to imagine that some essential quality of ours seeps into the wood and stone of the places we call home; that the stroke of a finger or a rap of a knuckle leaves a lasting impression that can be felt by others years or decades later. Every ghost story contains, unspoken, the hope that something of us stays behind in the places that have contained our tragedies and our triumphs. Our pain and our laughter feel like they are bigger than us; they must ripple through our surroundings, settle in, outlast us, because anything that feels so huge must last, or it’s meaningless.

I’ve been to a lot of old places (though, sadly, no ancient places). They all have ghosts. A man remains behind in the frame of the house he builds for himself. His wife lingers in the comfort she created within. Their children drift across floors that used to be strewn with their toys. Soldiers haunt the bullet wounds they’ve left across old stone walls, or arrowheads trampled into some anonymous field. Whenever you touch something old enough, created with enough care, or saddled with enough meaning, you can feel the weight of time in the palm of your hand, the warmth of all the hands before yours that held it.

So I’m not surprised when otherwise reasonable people speak to me with absolute conviction about the spirits they feel lingering nearby while they sleep, or struggle to understand the meaning behind the noises any old building makes when it’s quiet. I don’t believe in ghosts, but that doesn’t mean I don’t sense the same presence as those who do.
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