Why was SIX afraid of SEVEN?
Because ...
(Jill used the joke to remind me to go get the pin! :)
Because ...
(Jill used the joke to remind me to go get the pin! :)
So, last week there was that woman who came over so I could look at her dead PC, and meanwhile she asked me if I'm saved and she talked to me about church and religion.
"Your PC is dead but the drive is intact, and I have the right kind of cable to connect this drive to another PC," I told her. "I'll burn your files onto a CD for you and you can come back tomorrow and pick everything up." It was something I could easily take care of later that evening while I caught up on email. But then as she was leaving she decided she didn't want to leave her PC with me, which kind of surprised and annoyed me 'cos it meant I'd have to do the work when she returned.
Last night she came back over. While I worked, she kept up a running chatter. I hurt my foot this weekend, she said, I went to Disney for July 4th and this bitch in a wheelchair ran over my toe! She was trying to go in through the exit! What an idiot!
I gave her an astonished look. "That's not a very Christian thing to say!"
Oh, lay off with the fucking moral lesson! she smirked.
. o O o .
In the end, she decided she wanted to keep all the parts of her dead PC after all, and not let me re-use the drive or the memory.
I have decided that this was my last charity case. Too often I want to help a stranger with something that's beyond their experience but trivially easy for me, because I have the know-how and the USB-to-internal-ATA adapter cable, but then inevitably it turns into them arriving an hour after they said they would, or it ends up requiring a return visit, or the trivially easy problem turns into a cascade of complexity (like "I get an error when opening a file" becomes "the hard drive is failing and I have no backup")
Next time I get a call from somebody whose life is over unless she finds somebody to do something that would take me five minutes to do for her — I ain't helpin' unless she coughs up some cash for the effort. Never again am I falling for that "I have no money" schtick.
The next time I fall for it, please remind me I said this.
"Your PC is dead but the drive is intact, and I have the right kind of cable to connect this drive to another PC," I told her. "I'll burn your files onto a CD for you and you can come back tomorrow and pick everything up." It was something I could easily take care of later that evening while I caught up on email. But then as she was leaving she decided she didn't want to leave her PC with me, which kind of surprised and annoyed me 'cos it meant I'd have to do the work when she returned.
Last night she came back over. While I worked, she kept up a running chatter. I hurt my foot this weekend, she said, I went to Disney for July 4th and this bitch in a wheelchair ran over my toe! She was trying to go in through the exit! What an idiot!
I gave her an astonished look. "That's not a very Christian thing to say!"
Oh, lay off with the fucking moral lesson! she smirked.
In the end, she decided she wanted to keep all the parts of her dead PC after all, and not let me re-use the drive or the memory.
I have decided that this was my last charity case. Too often I want to help a stranger with something that's beyond their experience but trivially easy for me, because I have the know-how and the USB-to-internal-ATA adapter cable, but then inevitably it turns into them arriving an hour after they said they would, or it ends up requiring a return visit, or the trivially easy problem turns into a cascade of complexity (like "I get an error when opening a file" becomes "the hard drive is failing and I have no backup")
Next time I get a call from somebody whose life is over unless she finds somebody to do something that would take me five minutes to do for her — I ain't helpin' unless she coughs up some cash for the effort. Never again am I falling for that "I have no money" schtick.
The next time I fall for it, please remind me I said this.
On CNN.com: When your biggest problem is YOU!
This is so ME. When I am frustrated, I often find myself wanting to say the opposite of what I mean, to do the opposite of what I want. And I never understood why — until I read this article.
I have this odd behavior because I subconsciously want to sabotage myself, because a quick failure is easier than a long uphill effort.
It astonishes me that my (and others') subconscious could come up with this counter-intuitive defense mechanism. So when I am really feeling frustrated, as I am now at work, I've got to be really careful not to give in to the quick failure.
"One of my theories," says the evil Count in William Goldman's classic story "The Princess Bride," "is that pain involves anticipation." He then leaves the captive hero, Westley, chained next to the Machine, a torture device the Count has promised to use on Westley later.
An albino dungeon-keeper offers Westley a way out. "You deserve better than what's coming," he says in a moment of compassion. "Please let me kill you. You'll thank me, I swear." Only Westley's superhuman fortitude keeps him from accepting.
The Count's theory about anticipation is right on the money. And self-sabotage is the mind's way of accepting the albino's offer.
This is so ME. When I am frustrated, I often find myself wanting to say the opposite of what I mean, to do the opposite of what I want. And I never understood why — until I read this article.
I have this odd behavior because I subconsciously want to sabotage myself, because a quick failure is easier than a long uphill effort.
It astonishes me that my (and others') subconscious could come up with this counter-intuitive defense mechanism. So when I am really feeling frustrated, as I am now at work, I've got to be really careful not to give in to the quick failure.
THIS is a small sample of what me and my girlfriend have to put up with whenever we try to sleep at night.
That's Tooie. He has attachment issues. He sleeps on Jill's tummy when she's at her house, but here there is a strict no-cats-in-the-bedroom rule. So he sits outside the bedroom door and cries all night. We've tried ignoring him, but he doesn't give up; we've tried squirting him with a water pistol, but he just comes back; so the only solution is to lock him in the upstairs bathroom until morning.
The cats spent the holiday weekend here with Jill and me. They're getting more comfortable with the house, but this means that they're more brazen in what they try: Tooie likes to stick his head and front paws through the second-floor railing overlooking the living room (and we're worried he's going to try putting his whole body through), Blackie keeps trying to eat the dead leaves off the houseplants and the fake lichen off the fake trees, and Fenris purrs when I pet her and then suddenly sinks her claws and teeth into my hand.
I still don't know how to coexist with the housecats, but they're important to Jill, so therefore they're important to me, and so I try.
So, speaking of Jill: I've finally chosen August 26, the second anniversary of our first date, as the day for her to move in with me. (Give or take; we'll do our best, but she has a lot of stuff to move!) I say 'finally' because this has been important to her for a long time; we spend probably 50 weekends a year together and most of them at my house because it's closer to the things we enjoy, but having to divide her life between two homes — having to lug her stuff and her cats back and forth — is causing her a lot of stress. And sharing a home means we don't have to concentrate everything we want to do onto the weekends, so spreading things out should help with stress too.
I'm still a bit nervous about the idea, because my chance to have time alone is really important to me; I am not at all good at ignoring people, and I need an empty house sometimes so that I can dig deep into the things I need or want to throw my brain into. Moving in together means the end of that. But Jill is good for me in a lot of ways, and we are always great together, so I'm willing to give this a try. She wants to move forward and I know I have a history of not moving forward. It's that whole commitment thing...
That's Tooie. He has attachment issues. He sleeps on Jill's tummy when she's at her house, but here there is a strict no-cats-in-the-bedroom rule. So he sits outside the bedroom door and cries all night. We've tried ignoring him, but he doesn't give up; we've tried squirting him with a water pistol, but he just comes back; so the only solution is to lock him in the upstairs bathroom until morning.
The cats spent the holiday weekend here with Jill and me. They're getting more comfortable with the house, but this means that they're more brazen in what they try: Tooie likes to stick his head and front paws through the second-floor railing overlooking the living room (and we're worried he's going to try putting his whole body through), Blackie keeps trying to eat the dead leaves off the houseplants and the fake lichen off the fake trees, and Fenris purrs when I pet her and then suddenly sinks her claws and teeth into my hand.
I still don't know how to coexist with the housecats, but they're important to Jill, so therefore they're important to me, and so I try.
So, speaking of Jill: I've finally chosen August 26, the second anniversary of our first date, as the day for her to move in with me. (Give or take; we'll do our best, but she has a lot of stuff to move!) I say 'finally' because this has been important to her for a long time; we spend probably 50 weekends a year together and most of them at my house because it's closer to the things we enjoy, but having to divide her life between two homes — having to lug her stuff and her cats back and forth — is causing her a lot of stress. And sharing a home means we don't have to concentrate everything we want to do onto the weekends, so spreading things out should help with stress too.
I'm still a bit nervous about the idea, because my chance to have time alone is really important to me; I am not at all good at ignoring people, and I need an empty house sometimes so that I can dig deep into the things I need or want to throw my brain into. Moving in together means the end of that. But Jill is good for me in a lot of ways, and we are always great together, so I'm willing to give this a try. She wants to move forward and I know I have a history of not moving forward. It's that whole commitment thing...
Jill and I were considering watching fireworks at the Magic Kingdom last night, but after sitting in the traffic at the Transportation and Ticket Center, we decided to do to downtown Celebration instead. Which was a mess, especially since the town has taken out parking lots to build things that need more parking — so every residential street within a mile radius was lined with cars on both sides, making traffic miserable; but the fireworks show lasted an entire half-hour and was well worth it.
It wasn't until this morning that we heard about the monorail driver who was killed last night.
We've been spending the day in shock at the news. The victim had graduated Celebration High School in 2006. Lots of people in town knew him. One of his high school teachers eulogized him on the town bulletin board, wrote about how much promise and potential he had.
It wasn't until this morning that we heard about the monorail driver who was killed last night.
We've been spending the day in shock at the news. The victim had graduated Celebration High School in 2006. Lots of people in town knew him. One of his high school teachers eulogized him on the town bulletin board, wrote about how much promise and potential he had.
I got a phonecall tonight: Hi, I'm Stephanie, you may remember me from the writers group a couple of years ago, you might not remember me but that's all right anyway because I remember you were good with computers and I'm having trouble with my monitor because it won't turn on, when I try it just says 'no signal detected' and then the green light turns to orange and nothing happens, even with this new cable I ran out and bought because this guy I work with said that might fix the problem and it didn't so I tried to remember who else I could turn to and then I remembered you.
Two minutes later, I told her to just toss the computer into her car and bring it over so I could have a look at it.
As I suspected, the problem wasn't the cable or the monitor — the PC was dead; looks like motherboard failure. Fortunately, the hard drive was intact. She has no interest (or money) to have it fixed, so next week I will recover her pictures off the drive and burn them to a CD for her, in return for her letting me have the dead PC so I can harvest it for parts.
While I worked, she suddenly asked: Are you saved?
"Excuse me?" I thought she was talking about saving a file on the computer.
Are you a Christian? she clarified. And I told her that I'm not. It's just that you seem so nice, she said, you were so quick to help me, I thought you might be saved. I explained that I'm just a happy nonbeliever and glad to be able to lend a hand. I showed her my bookshelf with my copies of the Bible, the Book of Mormon, Lewis's Mere Christianity and Stroebel's The Case for Christ (both are terrible books, but that's a discussion for later), Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the Tao Te Ching, The Tao of Pooh, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and more. She didn't quite know what to make of them.
While I worked we talked some more about religion, compared our experiences at Catholic high schools. I just rededicated my life to Christ last year, she went on, and we had a discussion about her faith. "Where do you go to church?" I asked.
Compress, she replied.
"What's that?"
Community Presbyterian. The church with the bells, in the center of town.
I never heard that nickname for it before. I think it's kind of funny. :)
Two minutes later, I told her to just toss the computer into her car and bring it over so I could have a look at it.
As I suspected, the problem wasn't the cable or the monitor — the PC was dead; looks like motherboard failure. Fortunately, the hard drive was intact. She has no interest (or money) to have it fixed, so next week I will recover her pictures off the drive and burn them to a CD for her, in return for her letting me have the dead PC so I can harvest it for parts.
While I worked, she suddenly asked: Are you saved?
"Excuse me?" I thought she was talking about saving a file on the computer.
Are you a Christian? she clarified. And I told her that I'm not. It's just that you seem so nice, she said, you were so quick to help me, I thought you might be saved. I explained that I'm just a happy nonbeliever and glad to be able to lend a hand. I showed her my bookshelf with my copies of the Bible, the Book of Mormon, Lewis's Mere Christianity and Stroebel's The Case for Christ (both are terrible books, but that's a discussion for later), Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the Tao Te Ching, The Tao of Pooh, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and more. She didn't quite know what to make of them.
While I worked we talked some more about religion, compared our experiences at Catholic high schools. I just rededicated my life to Christ last year, she went on, and we had a discussion about her faith. "Where do you go to church?" I asked.
Compress, she replied.
"What's that?"
Community Presbyterian. The church with the bells, in the center of town.
I never heard that nickname for it before. I think it's kind of funny. :)
I am sad over the passing of Michael Jackson. He was an icon of his time, as much as the Beatles were. He was an odd duck, but I think that's because he never wanted to let go of his childhood — and I can relate to that. What makes me sad is the thought that he spent a lot of his life lonely and afraid.
And what makes me happy is to watch the news and see throngs of people out mourning Michael Jackson's death by celebrating his life, by singing and dancing to his music. That's the best legacy anyone could hope to have.
And what makes me happy is to watch the news and see throngs of people out mourning Michael Jackson's death by celebrating his life, by singing and dancing to his music. That's the best legacy anyone could hope to have.
Edy's (or Dreyer's) MAXX Chocolate Cookies 'N Cream Collision ice cream is the bestest thing ever.
My Tivo recorded the computer-animated penguin movie Happy Feet for me, and so — not wanting to seem ungrateful to my TiVo — I watched it.
Ugh. First it's about a penguin who's ostracized because he dances instead of sings, and the penguin world is so close-minded that they cannot accept this. Even as all the other young penguins mature into sleek adult penguin-ness, we see the hero still covered in baby fuzz as he tries to dance for the love of his girlfriend; this was slightly disturbing. (Interesting also to note that the hero was the only penguin with a white face and blue eyes — all the other adult penguins had black faces.) Then the movie turns into a Finding Nemo-style adventure flick as the hero travels far across the ocean and is captured and put on display by humans. Then it becomes all about the environmental threat from the humans. And, meanwhile, it's full of modern Top 40 songs mashed together like a penguin version of Moulin Rouge.
How did this thing ever earn an Academy Award?
. o O o .
So many movies — so many tales of all kinds, in fact — involve a hero learning from a wise mentor and, eventually, growing to become a mentor himself, earning respect of his own.
Does this ever happen in real life? I would love to have a mentor, someone wiser and more experienced in the things I need to learn. Someone to look up to. Most days, I feel like I'm making this stuff up as I go. I feel like the best I can do is, on a good day, just to keep up. I don't forsee any future point in my life where I'll be respected for being good at what I do. That makes me a little sad.
The TV news anchors this morning were talking about the victims of yesterday's DC Metro train crash. What they did in life, who they left behind, and so forth. It got me thinking: if I were ever to die (and I have no intention of dying, and I've never died yet, so I have no reason to believe it would ever happen, but just for the sake of argument), how would I be remembered? With respect and fondness, for my friends to tell their children someday? Or just as some guy who worked a computer job?
It doesn't help that I'm surrounded at the office by alpha males. Show no weakness! Offer no kindness! I wish I had more day-to-day interactions with people who were genuinely interested in other people. Just once I'd like somebody to stop and look me in the eye and ask 'how are you?' and actually wait for an answer.
Ugh. First it's about a penguin who's ostracized because he dances instead of sings, and the penguin world is so close-minded that they cannot accept this. Even as all the other young penguins mature into sleek adult penguin-ness, we see the hero still covered in baby fuzz as he tries to dance for the love of his girlfriend; this was slightly disturbing. (Interesting also to note that the hero was the only penguin with a white face and blue eyes — all the other adult penguins had black faces.) Then the movie turns into a Finding Nemo-style adventure flick as the hero travels far across the ocean and is captured and put on display by humans. Then it becomes all about the environmental threat from the humans. And, meanwhile, it's full of modern Top 40 songs mashed together like a penguin version of Moulin Rouge.
How did this thing ever earn an Academy Award?
So many movies — so many tales of all kinds, in fact — involve a hero learning from a wise mentor and, eventually, growing to become a mentor himself, earning respect of his own.
Does this ever happen in real life? I would love to have a mentor, someone wiser and more experienced in the things I need to learn. Someone to look up to. Most days, I feel like I'm making this stuff up as I go. I feel like the best I can do is, on a good day, just to keep up. I don't forsee any future point in my life where I'll be respected for being good at what I do. That makes me a little sad.
The TV news anchors this morning were talking about the victims of yesterday's DC Metro train crash. What they did in life, who they left behind, and so forth. It got me thinking: if I were ever to die (and I have no intention of dying, and I've never died yet, so I have no reason to believe it would ever happen, but just for the sake of argument), how would I be remembered? With respect and fondness, for my friends to tell their children someday? Or just as some guy who worked a computer job?
It doesn't help that I'm surrounded at the office by alpha males. Show no weakness! Offer no kindness! I wish I had more day-to-day interactions with people who were genuinely interested in other people. Just once I'd like somebody to stop and look me in the eye and ask 'how are you?' and actually wait for an answer.
The Orlando radio stations are terrible, so on my daily commute I spend a lot of time surfing for something to listen to. Last night I happened across a Christian preacher named Hank Hanegraaff talking about the need for apologetics to fight "evolutionism". Evolutionism teaches our children that whales can come from cows! he preached.
Oh bother. I hate seeing any fight based on misinformation, being fought for the wrong reasons. I was this close to dialing 888-ASK-HANK and telling him that Christianity will survive evolutionary science in the same way that Galileo showed that the sun does not orbit the earth, and in the same way that Linnaeus showed that men do not have one rib fewer than women; but I decided against it.
While I'm on the topic of religion: I heard a news story recently about a recent graduation ceremony at Pace High School, a public school here in Florida. Apparently a few attempts to hold prayers at school functions attracted the attention of the ACLU, who filed a lawsuit to keep the school from endorsing religion in this way.
Let me just say that I'm in favor of keeping 'official' prayer out of schools like this. I don't like seeing folks misrepresent it as "outlawing prayer in schools", because I'm all for religious expression; if a student wants to pray (or join in a group prayer) without disrupting the school day, then I support him wholeheartedly! This is what religious expression is all about! What I'm against is any situation where religion is worked into official school business where it doesn't belong. Athletic dinner events and school awards ceremonies are not religious settings and the attendees should not be led in a moment of prayer. Not only is it inappropriate, but it's also disrespectful to anyone present who might not agree with the particular religious beliefs being expressed. Why would Christians want to offer prayer in a situation which is inappropriate and disrespectful? I have to believe it's less about supplicating to God, and more about what Roger Ebert called "horizontal prayer" — trying to intimidate and recruit people by showing them that you're part of a clique with a lot of people in it.
It still bothers me that each session of the United States Senate is opened by a prayer. It bothers me even more than on the one time a Hindu cleric was asked to give a benediction (in 2007), he was interrupted by people from the gallery praying Lord Jesus, forgive us, Father, for allowing the prayer of the wicked... until the sergeant at arms had to haul them out.
But I digress.
At Pace High School's graduation ceremony, when the principal asked everyone to be seated, the graduating class — in a show of defiance towards the ACLU lawsuit — remained standing and loudly recited the Lord's Prayer.
What was the point? If these people really are Christians, then aren't they familiar with Matthew 6:5-6 which admonishes against being a hypocrite? I can't believe that the behavior of these kids was motivated by their faith; I think they were trying to prove that they feel justified in wielding their religion any time they choose, with no thought given to how disruptive or insensitive it might be. I hope they all get punished for it.
Oh bother. I hate seeing any fight based on misinformation, being fought for the wrong reasons. I was this close to dialing 888-ASK-HANK and telling him that Christianity will survive evolutionary science in the same way that Galileo showed that the sun does not orbit the earth, and in the same way that Linnaeus showed that men do not have one rib fewer than women; but I decided against it.
While I'm on the topic of religion: I heard a news story recently about a recent graduation ceremony at Pace High School, a public school here in Florida. Apparently a few attempts to hold prayers at school functions attracted the attention of the ACLU, who filed a lawsuit to keep the school from endorsing religion in this way.
Let me just say that I'm in favor of keeping 'official' prayer out of schools like this. I don't like seeing folks misrepresent it as "outlawing prayer in schools", because I'm all for religious expression; if a student wants to pray (or join in a group prayer) without disrupting the school day, then I support him wholeheartedly! This is what religious expression is all about! What I'm against is any situation where religion is worked into official school business where it doesn't belong. Athletic dinner events and school awards ceremonies are not religious settings and the attendees should not be led in a moment of prayer. Not only is it inappropriate, but it's also disrespectful to anyone present who might not agree with the particular religious beliefs being expressed. Why would Christians want to offer prayer in a situation which is inappropriate and disrespectful? I have to believe it's less about supplicating to God, and more about what Roger Ebert called "horizontal prayer" — trying to intimidate and recruit people by showing them that you're part of a clique with a lot of people in it.
It still bothers me that each session of the United States Senate is opened by a prayer. It bothers me even more than on the one time a Hindu cleric was asked to give a benediction (in 2007), he was interrupted by people from the gallery praying Lord Jesus, forgive us, Father, for allowing the prayer of the wicked... until the sergeant at arms had to haul them out.
But I digress.
At Pace High School's graduation ceremony, when the principal asked everyone to be seated, the graduating class — in a show of defiance towards the ACLU lawsuit — remained standing and loudly recited the Lord's Prayer.
What was the point? If these people really are Christians, then aren't they familiar with Matthew 6:5-6 which admonishes against being a hypocrite? I can't believe that the behavior of these kids was motivated by their faith; I think they were trying to prove that they feel justified in wielding their religion any time they choose, with no thought given to how disruptive or insensitive it might be. I hope they all get punished for it.
Jill and I are power users, and she works from my house sometimes (I wish I could too!), so we need my home Internet access to be solid. She acquired a $600 firewall from work and we've been using that for about a year, but a thunderstorm recently took it out. She obtained another unit and I set it up, but then we discovered that this one is limited (by its license) to only allow eight devices online through it. We kept hitting this limit, so we took stock of what we had at the house that was trying to use my home network:
Two users, eleven devices, and this was with all the other computers in the house shut down!
I managed to find a way to hide all of these from the firewall to get around its license requirement. In the meantime, I'm going to experiment with an old Linksys router of Jill's — apparently Linksys runs their routers on a variant of Linux, and when the open-source community demanded Linksys release the code publicly, they complied and the community then developed new custom firmware (called DD-WRT) that can give a $60 Linksys the power and capabilities of a $600 firewall. I'm going to play with this and see what I can get working!
Meanwhile, last night I found someone in town who was selling a Guitar Hero PS3 wireless guitar, new in box, for $15. Sold! She will bring it by the house today — fortunately Jill is working from my house today. So now I will have two guitars that work, plus the one with the broken whammy bar.
And I got tired of having nothing to do at work, so today I brought my MacBook Pro and I've been working through iPhone SDK tutorials.
Life is good.
- My web/email server
- Our laptops
- Our cell phones
- Our iPods
- Two TiVos
- The PS3 and the Wii
Two users, eleven devices, and this was with all the other computers in the house shut down!
I managed to find a way to hide all of these from the firewall to get around its license requirement. In the meantime, I'm going to experiment with an old Linksys router of Jill's — apparently Linksys runs their routers on a variant of Linux, and when the open-source community demanded Linksys release the code publicly, they complied and the community then developed new custom firmware (called DD-WRT) that can give a $60 Linksys the power and capabilities of a $600 firewall. I'm going to play with this and see what I can get working!
Meanwhile, last night I found someone in town who was selling a Guitar Hero PS3 wireless guitar, new in box, for $15. Sold! She will bring it by the house today — fortunately Jill is working from my house today. So now I will have two guitars that work, plus the one with the broken whammy bar.
And I got tired of having nothing to do at work, so today I brought my MacBook Pro and I've been working through iPhone SDK tutorials.
Life is good.
Jill and I are both stressed out by our jobs. The weekends are our time to relax and recharge.
This weekend, on my PS3, I bought the Big Surf Island update for Burnout Paradise. We've been having a lot of fun with it. Already (without the use of cheat guides!) we've found all fifteen Mega Jumps, figured out how to smash all 45 Island Billboards, and gotten most (but not all, yet!) of the 75 Island Smashes. The dune buggy is a whole lot of fun to drive, and we've unlocked the mini toy DeLorean and General Lee, which are just cute. (The toy General Lee even has a high-pitched version of the Dixie honk.)
I also splurged on myself, a little. I've been kind of wanting Rock Band 2 for a while — not the original Rock Band because the original drum hardware is noisy and prone to breaking (we have Rock Band at the office to play after work, and we've already broken two drum pedals), so even though the original Rock Band can be found for $99 with the drums, one guitar, and a microphone, I've been holding out. But Rock Band 2 is $189 right now, and even the drums alone are $89. Too expensive for me to justify!
But the other day, I posted to the town bulletin board and asked if anyone had Rock Band 2 for PS3 that they maybe don't play any more and would want to sell. I got a response right away from a mom whose son doesn't play it any more and would like to sell it to me, and they also have a second guitar to throw in. I offered $125. They accepted! I went over there last night to pick it up from them.
When I saw what they had, I was a little disappointed. Their drum set was the flaky original version — we bought all the components separately, the boy explained politely. And they hadn't bought the microphone (but that's okay, because I already have a USB mike, and it's not like people are clamoring to sing anyways). And one of the guitars was missing its whammy bar. I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided to go ahead and buy it from him anyway, for the agreed-upon price. Maybe I could have said I'd only give him five or ten bucks less for it, but I decided not to be cheap — it was still a really good deal I was getting.
Brought it home, set it up, played it with Jill. Everything works great! We had a lot of fun with it. :)
This weekend, on my PS3, I bought the Big Surf Island update for Burnout Paradise. We've been having a lot of fun with it. Already (without the use of cheat guides!) we've found all fifteen Mega Jumps, figured out how to smash all 45 Island Billboards, and gotten most (but not all, yet!) of the 75 Island Smashes. The dune buggy is a whole lot of fun to drive, and we've unlocked the mini toy DeLorean and General Lee, which are just cute. (The toy General Lee even has a high-pitched version of the Dixie honk.)
I also splurged on myself, a little. I've been kind of wanting Rock Band 2 for a while — not the original Rock Band because the original drum hardware is noisy and prone to breaking (we have Rock Band at the office to play after work, and we've already broken two drum pedals), so even though the original Rock Band can be found for $99 with the drums, one guitar, and a microphone, I've been holding out. But Rock Band 2 is $189 right now, and even the drums alone are $89. Too expensive for me to justify!
But the other day, I posted to the town bulletin board and asked if anyone had Rock Band 2 for PS3 that they maybe don't play any more and would want to sell. I got a response right away from a mom whose son doesn't play it any more and would like to sell it to me, and they also have a second guitar to throw in. I offered $125. They accepted! I went over there last night to pick it up from them.
When I saw what they had, I was a little disappointed. Their drum set was the flaky original version — we bought all the components separately, the boy explained politely. And they hadn't bought the microphone (but that's okay, because I already have a USB mike, and it's not like people are clamoring to sing anyways). And one of the guitars was missing its whammy bar. I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided to go ahead and buy it from him anyway, for the agreed-upon price. Maybe I could have said I'd only give him five or ten bucks less for it, but I decided not to be cheap — it was still a really good deal I was getting.
Brought it home, set it up, played it with Jill. Everything works great! We had a lot of fun with it. :)
One of the project managers came by my desk today with a message. I just got a call for you from somebody who said he's from Princeton and needs to talk with you about a reference, he said. That's all he said. I screened the guy, but I couldn't find him online, so he's probably not a recruiter.
Several recruiters have used the office phone to try to reach people here. Rather brazen of them, I think. Sean has dealt with them aggressively.
I stepped out back and returned the call. It sounded like an older gentleman, and he immediately started rambling about something. I am very glad you called back, it's been a busy day today, I wasn't sure whether I could catch you in, I didn't have any other way of contacting you ...
I cut him off. "What can I do for you?"
I'd like a large pepperoni pizza, he replied.
"Excuse me?"
Sorry, I just like to say that. You are among my 10.4 million closest friends on LinkedIn, which is where I found your name, and that's where I saw that you went to Princeton. Your credentials seem impeccable. I have a colleague who went to Princeton and is now part of a team in Tampa. They're very bright people. Very creative, as I imagine you to be. You see, I'm in the business of putting people together, of making contacts.
"And are you looking for someone to fill a position there?"
No, no, this has nothing to do with a job! There isn't a position there yet for you! They're still at least two to six months away from opening their doors.
"Did the guy from Princeton give you my name?"
He doesn't know you! This has nothing to do with Princeton! That was just the story I gave to your colleague, so that he would give you my contact information. I'm a recruiter, and companies usually don't like it if I tell them that. I'm not a very GOOD recruiter, though, I'd say I only place one out of every two people who comes my way. A little more than one out of every two, maybe.
"So ... you're looking to introduce me to these people?"
No! You're trying to set up a wedding when we haven't even had a first date yet! Look, these are people who accomplish things. People who are passionate about things. People who you point in the right direction and then everybody had better get out of their way. People for whom the scariest question would be if the CEO were to ask them, 'Tell me about your greatest disaster and how you handled it.'
"I admit I'm not clear on why you called me."
This is just the acorn of what will be several oaks. The group calls themselves the Ultimate Medical Academy, but that's going to change. Here, let me give you my number. Give it some thought. If you have any questions, call me.
"You're not answering any of my questions!"
Just keep an open mind, all right? Let me know what you decide.
"I have to get back to work," I told him. We exchanged pleasantries and hung up.
I went straight to the project manager, and told him that a recruiter had gotten past him. We discovered that the guy had intentionally spelled his name wrong so that we wouldn't be able to find him online right away. Then I shared the story of the odd phonecall, we all shared a good laugh, and we went back to what we were doing.
Near as I can figure, this guy maybe was looking for something more than a typical worker - maybe he was looking for an upper-management type, the kind who sets out to make millions of dollars not by doing the end work but by moving people and money around. Maybe he was looking for the kind of person who'd say, "Oh, a group of people without clearly-defined goals but lots of smarts and plenty of opportunity to think of great things? Sign me up!" But that's not me.
Several recruiters have used the office phone to try to reach people here. Rather brazen of them, I think. Sean has dealt with them aggressively.
I stepped out back and returned the call. It sounded like an older gentleman, and he immediately started rambling about something. I am very glad you called back, it's been a busy day today, I wasn't sure whether I could catch you in, I didn't have any other way of contacting you ...
I cut him off. "What can I do for you?"
I'd like a large pepperoni pizza, he replied.
"Excuse me?"
Sorry, I just like to say that. You are among my 10.4 million closest friends on LinkedIn, which is where I found your name, and that's where I saw that you went to Princeton. Your credentials seem impeccable. I have a colleague who went to Princeton and is now part of a team in Tampa. They're very bright people. Very creative, as I imagine you to be. You see, I'm in the business of putting people together, of making contacts.
"And are you looking for someone to fill a position there?"
No, no, this has nothing to do with a job! There isn't a position there yet for you! They're still at least two to six months away from opening their doors.
"Did the guy from Princeton give you my name?"
He doesn't know you! This has nothing to do with Princeton! That was just the story I gave to your colleague, so that he would give you my contact information. I'm a recruiter, and companies usually don't like it if I tell them that. I'm not a very GOOD recruiter, though, I'd say I only place one out of every two people who comes my way. A little more than one out of every two, maybe.
"So ... you're looking to introduce me to these people?"
No! You're trying to set up a wedding when we haven't even had a first date yet! Look, these are people who accomplish things. People who are passionate about things. People who you point in the right direction and then everybody had better get out of their way. People for whom the scariest question would be if the CEO were to ask them, 'Tell me about your greatest disaster and how you handled it.'
"I admit I'm not clear on why you called me."
This is just the acorn of what will be several oaks. The group calls themselves the Ultimate Medical Academy, but that's going to change. Here, let me give you my number. Give it some thought. If you have any questions, call me.
"You're not answering any of my questions!"
Just keep an open mind, all right? Let me know what you decide.
"I have to get back to work," I told him. We exchanged pleasantries and hung up.
I went straight to the project manager, and told him that a recruiter had gotten past him. We discovered that the guy had intentionally spelled his name wrong so that we wouldn't be able to find him online right away. Then I shared the story of the odd phonecall, we all shared a good laugh, and we went back to what we were doing.
Near as I can figure, this guy maybe was looking for something more than a typical worker - maybe he was looking for an upper-management type, the kind who sets out to make millions of dollars not by doing the end work but by moving people and money around. Maybe he was looking for the kind of person who'd say, "Oh, a group of people without clearly-defined goals but lots of smarts and plenty of opportunity to think of great things? Sign me up!" But that's not me.
The crash of Air France 447 was all over the news last week, but now it's been five days since CNN last mentioned it.
It's rare for news to remain silent on a human-interest news story, even when there's no news to report.
(I don't have a lot of respect for the modern news media. It's too easy for them to be distracted by the sensation of the day, and for yesterday's headlines to be quickly forgotten. Unless there's a little girl of European descent who's missing or found dead — that'll dominate the news for months!)
It's rare for news to remain silent on a human-interest news story, even when there's no news to report.
(I don't have a lot of respect for the modern news media. It's too easy for them to be distracted by the sensation of the day, and for yesterday's headlines to be quickly forgotten. Unless there's a little girl of European descent who's missing or found dead — that'll dominate the news for months!)
By the way: I'll post it here, since I haven't gotten around to sending out a proper invite yet:
Jill and I are thinking about inviting friends over on Saturday, June 27 (the weekend after next). I figure folks can drop by in the afternoon and hang out, nom on munchies, play games (video, board, and/or strategy), and just catch up on life.
So if you're local, and especially if I haven't caught up with you in a while, I'd love to see ya. (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
jordangreywolf, legomydani, ladyperegrine, marilla82, I'm looking at you!)
A more personalized invite will be forthcoming, but for now, save the date etc. etc.!
Jill and I are thinking about inviting friends over on Saturday, June 27 (the weekend after next). I figure folks can drop by in the afternoon and hang out, nom on munchies, play games (video, board, and/or strategy), and just catch up on life.
So if you're local, and especially if I haven't caught up with you in a while, I'd love to see ya. (
jordangreywolf, legomydani, ladyperegrine, marilla82, I'm looking at you!)A more personalized invite will be forthcoming, but for now, save the date etc. etc.!
This past weekend, I went to Jill's house and she rented a truck and we filled it up with a pile of stuff from her garage and her bedroom and brought it to Goodwill.
It always feels good to shed stuff. Jill was somewhat nervous about it, but we'd gone through her garage last year and made a big pile of stuff to donate (mostly books!) and then she couldn't find any charity to come pick it up, and it finally came time to do something about it. She rented a 10' truck from Budget; they gave her a 16' at the same cost (it was the only truck they had on their lot!), and she was nervous about driving it, but I think she did fine!
And now this opens up more space in her garage and her house. This means fewer places for spiders to hide (a very important benefit!), but it also means that it'll be easier to go through more stuff and figure out what to keep and what to pitch. I'm doing the same. We're planning on combining households at some point, to save money and give us more opportunities to play video games and go to Disney parks together. (She is pressing me to give her a household-merge date to aim for. I won't commit yet, nyaah!)
Having lots of time to play video games and go to Disney parks together is really our goal in life. She's stressed out by her job, and mine's no picnic either. The movie Up gave us a lot to think about. We daydream often about a major change in our lives: sharing a small home together, or maybe being nomads and spending our lives roaming the country in an RV. And having low-stress jobs that give us just enough to meet the bills. All we need — really — is a good net connection, Disney annual passes, and space for her kittycats, and we can be happy.
But I'm not ready to give up my house just yet, it being my dream home and all. And it has plenty of room for guests to stay, and I want to start having more guests come visit again. I still think we can make my house work for us — if Jill moves in and helps with the mortgage and rents out her own house, and especially if I can fix my mortgage. Still no news on that front, by the way. IndyMac says that they're going to implement Obama's Homeowner Affordability Refinance Program "Real Soon Now" but they haven't yet, and now they're telling me that this might not even help me, that I need to get something called a Fannie Mae Streamlined Mortgage instead (since my mortgage is Fannie Mae-insured), and they don't offer this yet either. (Any advice from any of my friends "in the know" would be greatly appreciated. I've done a lot of research on the options, but I'm still at square one.)
Jill and I went to Downtown Disney last night, had dinner at Wolfgang Puck's Express, bought the children's book "My Name Is Dug". This weekend we're going to play more Lego Indiana Jones together, and then I'm going to set up a new firewall (to replace the one that died last week) while she's going to paint some pictureframes we got from Ikea so we can hang some Rescuers Down Under and Aristocats presskit pictures we got from a Disney liquidation sale. We'll call Epcot on Saturday morning and Sunday morning to see if Marie is out so we can run over there and get her picture taken with the kittycat. And, as soon as there's another shuttle launch at a time when we can go see it, we're going to go see a shuttle launch together.
This is the recipe for being happy.
It always feels good to shed stuff. Jill was somewhat nervous about it, but we'd gone through her garage last year and made a big pile of stuff to donate (mostly books!) and then she couldn't find any charity to come pick it up, and it finally came time to do something about it. She rented a 10' truck from Budget; they gave her a 16' at the same cost (it was the only truck they had on their lot!), and she was nervous about driving it, but I think she did fine!
And now this opens up more space in her garage and her house. This means fewer places for spiders to hide (a very important benefit!), but it also means that it'll be easier to go through more stuff and figure out what to keep and what to pitch. I'm doing the same. We're planning on combining households at some point, to save money and give us more opportunities to play video games and go to Disney parks together. (She is pressing me to give her a household-merge date to aim for. I won't commit yet, nyaah!)
Having lots of time to play video games and go to Disney parks together is really our goal in life. She's stressed out by her job, and mine's no picnic either. The movie Up gave us a lot to think about. We daydream often about a major change in our lives: sharing a small home together, or maybe being nomads and spending our lives roaming the country in an RV. And having low-stress jobs that give us just enough to meet the bills. All we need — really — is a good net connection, Disney annual passes, and space for her kittycats, and we can be happy.
But I'm not ready to give up my house just yet, it being my dream home and all. And it has plenty of room for guests to stay, and I want to start having more guests come visit again. I still think we can make my house work for us — if Jill moves in and helps with the mortgage and rents out her own house, and especially if I can fix my mortgage. Still no news on that front, by the way. IndyMac says that they're going to implement Obama's Homeowner Affordability Refinance Program "Real Soon Now" but they haven't yet, and now they're telling me that this might not even help me, that I need to get something called a Fannie Mae Streamlined Mortgage instead (since my mortgage is Fannie Mae-insured), and they don't offer this yet either. (Any advice from any of my friends "in the know" would be greatly appreciated. I've done a lot of research on the options, but I'm still at square one.)
Jill and I went to Downtown Disney last night, had dinner at Wolfgang Puck's Express, bought the children's book "My Name Is Dug". This weekend we're going to play more Lego Indiana Jones together, and then I'm going to set up a new firewall (to replace the one that died last week) while she's going to paint some pictureframes we got from Ikea so we can hang some Rescuers Down Under and Aristocats presskit pictures we got from a Disney liquidation sale. We'll call Epcot on Saturday morning and Sunday morning to see if Marie is out so we can run over there and get her picture taken with the kittycat. And, as soon as there's another shuttle launch at a time when we can go see it, we're going to go see a shuttle launch together.
This is the recipe for being happy.
Jill and I woke up at 3:45 this morning and were all ready to get in the car and go brave the crowds to watch the 7:17am shuttle launch — right before we left I tuned in to NASA TV to see what was going on, and I caught the Launch Postponement Briefing.
D'oh.
We were all ready to go see it!
D'oh.
We were all ready to go see it!
I'm not going to Star Wars Weekends this year. Lucas has finally done it: he's killed any fandom I once had for the Star Wars universe. I'd say that the Clone Wars television series was the last nail in the coffin, but that coffin was dumped into the ocean a long, long time ago. I'd say that the little girl Jedi Ahsoka Tano escaping from General Grievous in one-on-one combat was the moment that series jumped the shark, but that series is nothing but sharks and motorcycles.
So, this past Saturday morning, I took Jill instead to the new Night at the Museum movie. A lot of fun! Hank Azaria is great in it!
I felt a little bad that we'd missed out on the chance to walk around the park together, so on Monday evening, I took Jill to dinner at the Studios, and then she got to take some beautiful dusk photos before the stormclouds chased us out. Before we left we stopped by Sid Cahuenga's movie memorabilia shop, and the trivia board had Star Wars questions on it, so I answered the questions for the shopkeeper and he gave me a certificate for it. But I have even more trivia questions! he said, and asked me the entire list, and the only ones I got wrong were the ones where the question itself wasn't written well. (Like, "What ship destroyed the Executor star destroyer?" The answer he wanted: an A-Wing. Well, the A-Wing didn't exactly destroy it; it just gave the people on the bridge a very bad day...)
I had a quick look around the shop before we left, and I was puzzled to see some old books on a shelf. Then I noticed the sign: Books from the estate of Mary Pickford, signed by the authors, $125 ea.
The books themselves weren't remarkable, not in the minute or two I looked over them. But, inside the front cover of each was the signature of its author (each book written by someone different) along with a few words of dedication.
The feeling that washed over me was intense. Here, in the middle of a theme park, I was holding a book that had been personally given to the beautiful silent-film star Mary Pickford. And — if I had my dates right — these books must have spent time on the shelves of Pickfair, the lavish estate where Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks reigned as the Queen and King of Hollywood and hosted many notable figures of the 1920s! Why, these very books might have been leafed through by Amelia Earhart or F. Scott Fitzgerald or Albert Einstein!
I didn't buy any of the books, but I've been thinking about them ever since, and what they represent, and about Mary Pickford and how she always regretted having grown apart from Douglas Fairbanks and divorcing him, and how she never got over his death. Hers was not a happy life.
I'm glad that stories like hers aren't being forgotten. In today's high-intensity-media short-attention-span fifteen-minutes-of-fame world, it would be tragic if people forgot who she was.
. o O o .
Today at work I was bored and easily distracted. Out of nowhere I began thinking about Forumnet, a chat program I used back in college, and through which I got to know a really eclectic, intelligent, and interesting bunch of people — all of whom I've lost touch with over the years.
I looked online to find out what ever happened to Forumnet. Looks like it turned into something called the Internet Citizen's Band, and still continues in some fashion. I'm glad to see that.
I found a list of the people involved with Forumnet. I remember them well. In particular I remember Jessica Koeppel; I'd like to get back in touch with her someday. She was the one who taught me how to enjoy Kate Bush. And she was the one who brought me to Rutgers for a night of riding on (not in) the elevators, and showed me around the Rutgers computer lab, where I saw something written on a whiteboard that changed my life — but that's a story I've told before, and probably will again someday.
I remember when Jessica got married. I also remember when she got divorced. Long afterwards she told me that her husband would ask every evening if he could go out with the guys and she always let him, and she secretly wished he'd want to stay home sometimes, and he secretly wished she'd ask him to stay home sometimes.
. o O o .
My search also turned up some hits regarding Forumnet being used for communication after the terrible Loma Prieta earthquake, twenty years ago this October. I found an email log in which one of the Forumnet members writes:
And of course I couldn't not know how this story turned out. I didn't have a lot to go on, so it took quite a bit of web searching, but eventually I learned the rest of the story...
The woman's name was Robin Ortiz, 22 years old. She died in the quake.
So, this past Saturday morning, I took Jill instead to the new Night at the Museum movie. A lot of fun! Hank Azaria is great in it!
I felt a little bad that we'd missed out on the chance to walk around the park together, so on Monday evening, I took Jill to dinner at the Studios, and then she got to take some beautiful dusk photos before the stormclouds chased us out. Before we left we stopped by Sid Cahuenga's movie memorabilia shop, and the trivia board had Star Wars questions on it, so I answered the questions for the shopkeeper and he gave me a certificate for it. But I have even more trivia questions! he said, and asked me the entire list, and the only ones I got wrong were the ones where the question itself wasn't written well. (Like, "What ship destroyed the Executor star destroyer?" The answer he wanted: an A-Wing. Well, the A-Wing didn't exactly destroy it; it just gave the people on the bridge a very bad day...)
I had a quick look around the shop before we left, and I was puzzled to see some old books on a shelf. Then I noticed the sign: Books from the estate of Mary Pickford, signed by the authors, $125 ea.
The books themselves weren't remarkable, not in the minute or two I looked over them. But, inside the front cover of each was the signature of its author (each book written by someone different) along with a few words of dedication.
The feeling that washed over me was intense. Here, in the middle of a theme park, I was holding a book that had been personally given to the beautiful silent-film star Mary Pickford. And — if I had my dates right — these books must have spent time on the shelves of Pickfair, the lavish estate where Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks reigned as the Queen and King of Hollywood and hosted many notable figures of the 1920s! Why, these very books might have been leafed through by Amelia Earhart or F. Scott Fitzgerald or Albert Einstein!
I didn't buy any of the books, but I've been thinking about them ever since, and what they represent, and about Mary Pickford and how she always regretted having grown apart from Douglas Fairbanks and divorcing him, and how she never got over his death. Hers was not a happy life.
I'm glad that stories like hers aren't being forgotten. In today's high-intensity-media short-attention-span fifteen-minutes-of-fame world, it would be tragic if people forgot who she was.
Today at work I was bored and easily distracted. Out of nowhere I began thinking about Forumnet, a chat program I used back in college, and through which I got to know a really eclectic, intelligent, and interesting bunch of people — all of whom I've lost touch with over the years.
I looked online to find out what ever happened to Forumnet. Looks like it turned into something called the Internet Citizen's Band, and still continues in some fashion. I'm glad to see that.
I found a list of the people involved with Forumnet. I remember them well. In particular I remember Jessica Koeppel; I'd like to get back in touch with her someday. She was the one who taught me how to enjoy Kate Bush. And she was the one who brought me to Rutgers for a night of riding on (not in) the elevators, and showed me around the Rutgers computer lab, where I saw something written on a whiteboard that changed my life — but that's a story I've told before, and probably will again someday.
I remember when Jessica got married. I also remember when she got divorced. Long afterwards she told me that her husband would ask every evening if he could go out with the guys and she always let him, and she secretly wished he'd want to stay home sometimes, and he secretly wished she'd ask him to stay home sometimes.
My search also turned up some hits regarding Forumnet being used for communication after the terrible Loma Prieta earthquake, twenty years ago this October. I found an email log in which one of the Forumnet members writes:
I just finished trying to pull my friend Robin out of the wreckage of the S.C. Coffee Roasting Company. The city building officials called off the search because of the aftershocks, and thirty feet of cracked brick wall surrounding the people trying to dig her out. ...
I don't know how she can be alive in there. I was pulling bricks off of a pile ten feet high, over her desk.
But somehow, I don't know how she can be dead, either.
And of course I couldn't not know how this story turned out. I didn't have a lot to go on, so it took quite a bit of web searching, but eventually I learned the rest of the story...
The woman's name was Robin Ortiz, 22 years old. She died in the quake.
Three weeks ago, my mortgage lender told me to call back on June 1 to apply for Obama's new mortgage plan.
I called back first thing this morning, waited on hold for 45 minutes, and finally got through to a nice woman named Sherry. Sherry told me that the program is named the "Home Affordability Refinance Program" (aka "HARP"), and that it's not available for me yet, but should be real soon now, and I should call back in a week. She told me that I might qualify for it, but she's not sure, because it's really supposed to be for people who are underwater on their home value.
I am beyond frustrated. My home equity is excellent, my credit score is excellent, my current mortgage is guaranteed by Fannie Mae, but I'm still not allowed to get help on my mortgage because I'm just screwed enough to be in a lot of debt but not yet screwed enough to have fallen behind on my mortgage and ruined my credit rating.
Meanwhile work is frustrating me. And they've cut off access to Facebook without explanation, which doesn't really bother me 'cos I don't use Facebook all that much, but kind of still bothers me because I feel like I'm in a kindergarten class that is being punished because one kid misbehaved.
My goal in life is to be free of responsibilities, to never again have someone else in control of my web site access or my financial future, and to live somewhere with my girlfriend and my laptop where we won't be bothered by anybody.
I am this close -| |- to tying balloons to my roof and flying the house to South America.
I called back first thing this morning, waited on hold for 45 minutes, and finally got through to a nice woman named Sherry. Sherry told me that the program is named the "Home Affordability Refinance Program" (aka "HARP"), and that it's not available for me yet, but should be real soon now, and I should call back in a week. She told me that I might qualify for it, but she's not sure, because it's really supposed to be for people who are underwater on their home value.
I am beyond frustrated. My home equity is excellent, my credit score is excellent, my current mortgage is guaranteed by Fannie Mae, but I'm still not allowed to get help on my mortgage because I'm just screwed enough to be in a lot of debt but not yet screwed enough to have fallen behind on my mortgage and ruined my credit rating.
Meanwhile work is frustrating me. And they've cut off access to Facebook without explanation, which doesn't really bother me 'cos I don't use Facebook all that much, but kind of still bothers me because I feel like I'm in a kindergarten class that is being punished because one kid misbehaved.
My goal in life is to be free of responsibilities, to never again have someone else in control of my web site access or my financial future, and to live somewhere with my girlfriend and my laptop where we won't be bothered by anybody.
I am this close -| |- to tying balloons to my roof and flying the house to South America.
As a very young kidling I remember watching Tony Orlando and Dawn on TV with my parents. I remember singing along to 'Tie A Yellow Ribbon', the opening number of every show.
Tonight, at Epcot, I got to sing along as a much older (but still sprightly!) Tony Orlando performed this song live.
The more things stay the same!
Tonight, at Epcot, I got to sing along as a much older (but still sprightly!) Tony Orlando performed this song live.
The more things stay the same!