Okay, so this is a joke link, but for a while I was totally taken in (against my better judgement, I should have known, but it was so well done, and so horrifying...)
Olsen Twins To Attend Carnegie Mellon
Now let's see how many of my friends and family realize it's a joke. Heh.
God that scared me.
Tuesday, January 28, 2003
Wednesday, January 22, 2003
Some people on cmu.misc.market have been discussing "John Poindexter and the Information Awareness Office (especially its Total Information Awareness project)" (answer #1: "Arghhhh!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, how do I feel about how Bush appointed a former criminal from the Iran-Contra scandal to spy on everyone? That really bothers me.") Somebody posted the logos of the Total Information Awareness project, apparently the old one was a little too... obvious.
Old one:
New one:
The first one is so obvious that it seems like a joke. The second one, though, is much more frightening to me - it's vague, but deadly serious. The first thing that comes to mind is '1984'.
I'm seriously starting to freak out. I can't believe what's happening around me. I am definitely going to the peace march on Sunday. Hopefully that will eliminate my sudden urge to run screaming into the wilderness with a Bowie knife and a large bag of salt.
Old one:
New one:
|
The first one is so obvious that it seems like a joke. The second one, though, is much more frightening to me - it's vague, but deadly serious. The first thing that comes to mind is '1984'.
I'm seriously starting to freak out. I can't believe what's happening around me. I am definitely going to the peace march on Sunday. Hopefully that will eliminate my sudden urge to run screaming into the wilderness with a Bowie knife and a large bag of salt.
So, it's been a while since I've said anything on here, mainly because I've been in San Francisco!
I had such a good time. It was SO gorgeous. Everything was emerald green and baby blue, and it was warm, and there were beautiful oceans and coastlines and sunsets on the beach, and hiking through 1,000 year old redwood forests, picnicing in Napa valley, strolling around Monterey and Sausalito, visiting my old houses in San Jose and Morgan Hill (we were richer than I remember us being, apparently), and joining tens of thousands of people in front of City Hall at the Anti-War rally. We heard Joan Baez and Bonnie Raitt perform (as well as some good local acts), heard Martin Sheen and Dharma's mom from Dharma and Greg speak, along with Congresswoman Barbara Lee and many others.
While we were in the crowd (we kept moving forward, first a block from the stage, then a few hundred feet, then 50 feet, then 30 feet, then we were dancing right in front of it - yes, Ayako, me, dancing, public, can you believe it?) I noticed this guy was standing very close to Ayako and acting strangely. I couldn't see what was going on too well because the sun was in our faces and I was wearing my sunglasses, so I took them off and tried to let him know I was watching him. He saw me, knew that I saw him, and continued reaching out to.... pet the last few inches of Ayako's hair. Aaah. AAAAH. I grabbed her and pulled her over to my other side - she was looking around thinking she was in somebody's way, and I told her quietly, 'You're being molested.' I had to repeat myself a few times because I didn't want Mr. Creepy to hear me, but I think he figured it out, and continued staring at her with his head twisted, clucking his toungue and muttering. Then he tried the ol' I'll-swing-around-back-and-try-again trick, but we um, caught onto that and she moved up ahead of me, I stayed to block, and he disappeared. Ew.
The day was filled with crazies - while Ayako was hemming and hawing over what 10 hippie bumper stickers to buy (to add to the two stickers she has - 'Be Green' and 'Carnegie Mellon'), this guy was singing and dancing, loudly and energetically, to his own version of 'War - What is it Good For?', occasionally beating on the bumper sticker table for emphasis. Then on the MUNI home this guy randomly started talking to... everyone... about what the activists should *really* be fighting against. I was pretending to doze since he was just across the aisle from me, but listening to him was incredibly interesting. The way he spoke sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and the words, phrases, and names he used were clearly from an educated background, but the way in which he put them together made no sense whatsoever. He talked constantly, pausing when new people got on. A leftover from the rally boarded the train with a handmade drum and a didjeridoo (sp?) and was unwittingly pulled into conversation, not knowing the guy was nutso. He put up with it for a while, uncomfortably, and then quietly said, 'I'm sorry, I have to go' and walked past him to the other car, which impressed Ayako.
Anyhoot, it was really painful coming back here to the freezing cold weather, about which I have to rant for a second. Okay, I know I'm a weather-spoiled California/Carolina girl, but really people, it's like 15 degrees outside. Why do you not look like the Stay-Puft marshmellow man, like me? When its this frickin cold, you don't wear your thin little fleece jacket, no hat, no scarf, no gloves- what the fuck, people, I KNOW you're cold. I'm twice my normal size due to my down jacket, and *I'm* cold. BUNDLE THE FUCK UP. Nobody should be able to recognize anyone, except me, because I don't think anyone else looks like a walking grenade. (My bubble coat is olive-army green - which reminds me, we were in this second-hand store that sold all these uniform shirts, with name tags and local business names on the back, like security guards and hairdressers and mechanics - it was awesome - Aardvarks in Haight-Ashbury. There was this nice thick army jacket with camoflauge on the sleeves, and the name tag said 'Rodriguez'. I wanted it so fucking bad, it reminded me of Rodriguez from Aliens 2, who boots the alien in the face before she blows its head off. So fucking cool. But I'm broke and I couldn't bring myself to spend money on a jacket that wasn't for work. Sob.)
Yeah, so, I should be looking for a job soon. I'll work on my stupid portfolio for a while (so sick of it) and then maybe head up to Squill to join the Amnesty write-a-thon. Not like I have anything better to do.
Being an adult (as in, non-student) has its pros and cons - pro: I took a nap today. Why? BECAUSE I COULD. con: I have no money, and I need to look for a job, and a cheaper place to live, and clothing for work, and a new coat, and a good printer to make my portfolio, and research where I should apply, and go for interviews, and get my hair cut, and possibly look for a job that pays in the meantime, like Pamela's. Jeff says I should go work at a burger joint and throw out all the meat in protest, or put little notes on them that say 'contains 100% mutilated and diseased carcass of tortured living creature', like PETA does in supermarkets. Just cuz I could. Yeah, meat would be the downside of food service - okay, one of the MANY downsides of food service. The cheezy uniforms, bad pay, painful and sometimes dangerous working conditions, etc., would be the others. Ugh. UGH.
Yeah. Time to work on a portfolio. Save me, Design! Save me from a fate of splattering grease and sweaty customers! PLEASE!
I had such a good time. It was SO gorgeous. Everything was emerald green and baby blue, and it was warm, and there were beautiful oceans and coastlines and sunsets on the beach, and hiking through 1,000 year old redwood forests, picnicing in Napa valley, strolling around Monterey and Sausalito, visiting my old houses in San Jose and Morgan Hill (we were richer than I remember us being, apparently), and joining tens of thousands of people in front of City Hall at the Anti-War rally. We heard Joan Baez and Bonnie Raitt perform (as well as some good local acts), heard Martin Sheen and Dharma's mom from Dharma and Greg speak, along with Congresswoman Barbara Lee and many others.
While we were in the crowd (we kept moving forward, first a block from the stage, then a few hundred feet, then 50 feet, then 30 feet, then we were dancing right in front of it - yes, Ayako, me, dancing, public, can you believe it?) I noticed this guy was standing very close to Ayako and acting strangely. I couldn't see what was going on too well because the sun was in our faces and I was wearing my sunglasses, so I took them off and tried to let him know I was watching him. He saw me, knew that I saw him, and continued reaching out to.... pet the last few inches of Ayako's hair. Aaah. AAAAH. I grabbed her and pulled her over to my other side - she was looking around thinking she was in somebody's way, and I told her quietly, 'You're being molested.' I had to repeat myself a few times because I didn't want Mr. Creepy to hear me, but I think he figured it out, and continued staring at her with his head twisted, clucking his toungue and muttering. Then he tried the ol' I'll-swing-around-back-and-try-again trick, but we um, caught onto that and she moved up ahead of me, I stayed to block, and he disappeared. Ew.
The day was filled with crazies - while Ayako was hemming and hawing over what 10 hippie bumper stickers to buy (to add to the two stickers she has - 'Be Green' and 'Carnegie Mellon'), this guy was singing and dancing, loudly and energetically, to his own version of 'War - What is it Good For?', occasionally beating on the bumper sticker table for emphasis. Then on the MUNI home this guy randomly started talking to... everyone... about what the activists should *really* be fighting against. I was pretending to doze since he was just across the aisle from me, but listening to him was incredibly interesting. The way he spoke sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and the words, phrases, and names he used were clearly from an educated background, but the way in which he put them together made no sense whatsoever. He talked constantly, pausing when new people got on. A leftover from the rally boarded the train with a handmade drum and a didjeridoo (sp?) and was unwittingly pulled into conversation, not knowing the guy was nutso. He put up with it for a while, uncomfortably, and then quietly said, 'I'm sorry, I have to go' and walked past him to the other car, which impressed Ayako.
Anyhoot, it was really painful coming back here to the freezing cold weather, about which I have to rant for a second. Okay, I know I'm a weather-spoiled California/Carolina girl, but really people, it's like 15 degrees outside. Why do you not look like the Stay-Puft marshmellow man, like me? When its this frickin cold, you don't wear your thin little fleece jacket, no hat, no scarf, no gloves- what the fuck, people, I KNOW you're cold. I'm twice my normal size due to my down jacket, and *I'm* cold. BUNDLE THE FUCK UP. Nobody should be able to recognize anyone, except me, because I don't think anyone else looks like a walking grenade. (My bubble coat is olive-army green - which reminds me, we were in this second-hand store that sold all these uniform shirts, with name tags and local business names on the back, like security guards and hairdressers and mechanics - it was awesome - Aardvarks in Haight-Ashbury. There was this nice thick army jacket with camoflauge on the sleeves, and the name tag said 'Rodriguez'. I wanted it so fucking bad, it reminded me of Rodriguez from Aliens 2, who boots the alien in the face before she blows its head off. So fucking cool. But I'm broke and I couldn't bring myself to spend money on a jacket that wasn't for work. Sob.)
Yeah, so, I should be looking for a job soon. I'll work on my stupid portfolio for a while (so sick of it) and then maybe head up to Squill to join the Amnesty write-a-thon. Not like I have anything better to do.
Being an adult (as in, non-student) has its pros and cons - pro: I took a nap today. Why? BECAUSE I COULD. con: I have no money, and I need to look for a job, and a cheaper place to live, and clothing for work, and a new coat, and a good printer to make my portfolio, and research where I should apply, and go for interviews, and get my hair cut, and possibly look for a job that pays in the meantime, like Pamela's. Jeff says I should go work at a burger joint and throw out all the meat in protest, or put little notes on them that say 'contains 100% mutilated and diseased carcass of tortured living creature', like PETA does in supermarkets. Just cuz I could. Yeah, meat would be the downside of food service - okay, one of the MANY downsides of food service. The cheezy uniforms, bad pay, painful and sometimes dangerous working conditions, etc., would be the others. Ugh. UGH.
Yeah. Time to work on a portfolio. Save me, Design! Save me from a fate of splattering grease and sweaty customers! PLEASE!
Saturday, January 11, 2003
First of all, I love the computers in the clusters. They're so nice and clean (virtually, that is), and work quickly, and have cool stuff like CD burners. I'm making some copies of.. stuff... for Ayako.
Secondly, walking to campus today almost froze my cheekbones solid. I mean seriously, I couldn't feel them by the time I got to Forbes.
Thirdly, I am leaving tomorrow morning for San Francisco, where it is currently 55 degrees.
That is all.
Secondly, walking to campus today almost froze my cheekbones solid. I mean seriously, I couldn't feel them by the time I got to Forbes.
Thirdly, I am leaving tomorrow morning for San Francisco, where it is currently 55 degrees.
That is all.
Monday, January 06, 2003
Sigh... once again, my hopes are dashed. The files are saved in a future format, which of course is not backwards-compatible.
Goddamit, everything should be backwards compatible. Fuckin software. Fuckin computers. Fuckin windows. I hate it all. ALL of it, I tell you!
On a completely unrelated note - or perhaps not? - I watched 'M' last night, Fritz Lang's black and white profiling a psychotic serial killer (Peter Lorre) - in German, with English subtitles. Which were good, but not perfect. Of course, the dialogue was just a slight bit richer than how they translated it. I guess that's the curse of partial language knowledge- you know enough to recognize omissions or mistakes, but you're still dependent on the subtitles just like everyone else. Bah. Anyway, excellent movie.
And there are people in my house, now. Sylvia and her friend Sam(uel), who's sleeping in Darga's room. Now I'm not so paranoid at night. Well, I guess tomorrow will be another fruitless day of searching for a copy of S________s that will actually open my files (ooh, how society pages of me). Ugh. Well, good night to all, anyhoo.
Goddamit, everything should be backwards compatible. Fuckin software. Fuckin computers. Fuckin windows. I hate it all. ALL of it, I tell you!
On a completely unrelated note - or perhaps not? - I watched 'M' last night, Fritz Lang's black and white profiling a psychotic serial killer (Peter Lorre) - in German, with English subtitles. Which were good, but not perfect. Of course, the dialogue was just a slight bit richer than how they translated it. I guess that's the curse of partial language knowledge- you know enough to recognize omissions or mistakes, but you're still dependent on the subtitles just like everyone else. Bah. Anyway, excellent movie.
And there are people in my house, now. Sylvia and her friend Sam(uel), who's sleeping in Darga's room. Now I'm not so paranoid at night. Well, I guess tomorrow will be another fruitless day of searching for a copy of S________s that will actually open my files (ooh, how society pages of me). Ugh. Well, good night to all, anyhoo.
Saturday, January 04, 2003
Well, I got an interesting welcome back to Pittsburgh. I returned to discover that there are 3 seperate climate zones in my house.
The first floor is Pittsburgh, at 41 degrees. The furnace for that level apparently bit the dust.
The second floor is Charlotte, at around 60 degrees.
The third floor is somewhere in the tropics, at 82 degrees. I slept in my sleeveless pajamas with no covers on last night. It feels like summer, but without the humidity.
Also, there is some sort of alarm going off in Sylvia's room, a high-pitched stacatto beeping noise that started around 10 o'clock last night and hasn't stopped yet.
Why don't I turn it off, you say? Why, because Sylvia padlocked her door! Neat!
Also, I am totally without food of any kind. I poured myself a breakfast of cranapple juice and vanilla slim-fast this morning. Yum. I'll drive up to G'eagle or.. oooh, Whole Foods, when the snow stops this afternoon.
I'm flying to San Francisco in a week! I have so much to do! I'm simultaneously excited and panicking.
Happy Belated New Year!
The first floor is Pittsburgh, at 41 degrees. The furnace for that level apparently bit the dust.
The second floor is Charlotte, at around 60 degrees.
The third floor is somewhere in the tropics, at 82 degrees. I slept in my sleeveless pajamas with no covers on last night. It feels like summer, but without the humidity.
Also, there is some sort of alarm going off in Sylvia's room, a high-pitched stacatto beeping noise that started around 10 o'clock last night and hasn't stopped yet.
Why don't I turn it off, you say? Why, because Sylvia padlocked her door! Neat!
Also, I am totally without food of any kind. I poured myself a breakfast of cranapple juice and vanilla slim-fast this morning. Yum. I'll drive up to G'eagle or.. oooh, Whole Foods, when the snow stops this afternoon.
I'm flying to San Francisco in a week! I have so much to do! I'm simultaneously excited and panicking.
Happy Belated New Year!
Friday, January 03, 2003
Pets are so disgusting. Today has been about nothing except vomit and poo.
First, I'm awoken this morning around 8 am to the sound of my cat throwing up on the rug right next to my bed. Twice.
Then I get up and my mom informs me that the cat shat on the bathroom rug again. Guess who's been cleaning up cat shit every day they've been home.
Then the puppy poo from downstairs gets tracked upstairs on my mom's shoe and ends up under the computer chair, where my bare foot finds it later (there are poo prints all down the hall on the white carpet).
Then I go into my room to call Ayako and notice another stain on the rug caused by cat vomit, plus a little poo-track from a feline who shall remain nameless wiping his nasty ass all over my room.
Why am I trying to bring my cat to Pittsburgh again?
First, I'm awoken this morning around 8 am to the sound of my cat throwing up on the rug right next to my bed. Twice.
Then I get up and my mom informs me that the cat shat on the bathroom rug again. Guess who's been cleaning up cat shit every day they've been home.
Then the puppy poo from downstairs gets tracked upstairs on my mom's shoe and ends up under the computer chair, where my bare foot finds it later (there are poo prints all down the hall on the white carpet).
Then I go into my room to call Ayako and notice another stain on the rug caused by cat vomit, plus a little poo-track from a feline who shall remain nameless wiping his nasty ass all over my room.
Why am I trying to bring my cat to Pittsburgh again?
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