Tonight the sky was dark, clear, and spackled.
A friend of mine returned from another trip to that other hemisphere. He was, once again, warning the skies with his weapons of war.
Oh, Orion, how I missed you!
And since I promised dialogue…
Me: I’m tired and want to get to bed.
You: Go to bed! I’m tired of reading your mindless banter.
Me: ::shrugs:: Fair enough.
Orion: I have mad bow hunting skills.
I value intellectual features in the novel characters I read of. Fiction, non-fiction, it doesn’t matter - if a narrator or character has the ability to notice things, details, or motifs I find that fascinating. Perhaps this is somewhat dull to say, however, because most narrators are omniscient, but when ordinary characters have a strong perception and discernment, WOAH, I think that is great.
Why my incredible response? Oh, it’s very simple. Because most people don’t train that side of their brain. Many leave details to the wind and allow every other epiphany to be passed off as nonchalantly as the local evening news. It’s a shame, though; amazing one-time events are happening all around us. Sometimes it takes a fictional being to throw us a bone about our real-time wonders. Take, for instance, the advent of Spring.
Life is a miracle, there’s no doubt about that. It’s not an absolute, but life absolutely attempts to continue itself; trees grow toward sunlight when it is blocked, animals protect each other in the pack when distressed, and humans fight great wars when push comes to shove. Life has more motivation to live than some people who have acquired that gift. And this is something to see, not to ignore.
Spring captures that essence of life. Now more than ever, you will see an abundance of macro-shots of flowers and blooms pasted across internet websites, mine notwithstanding (see Photos). Spring brings to life all that we wish we had never lost in the bitter months, the melancholy months. And not only does this happen, and life rejuvenates itself, and people again grasp their boldness and passion, but this happens every single year, all over the world!
While, it’s fun to think about these things (hey, I have fun thinking about them), I go wild when a literary character starts on some tangent about the “little things” that most people ignore as useless monologue.
Maybe I monologue. Hmm.
Next time, I’ll dialogue.
Yes, Ryan, next time you’ll dialogue.
Looks like the crowd has spoken.
Today, I took back that piece of my soul that had previously been conquered by coffeehouses the great nation over. What took a good while to ::sip:: dwell over, I decided to get an espresso machine. Next, followed the weeks of Amazon.com reviews I read (this step has become a fashion of mine lately; I am generally aided in these reviews and have begun to offer my own advice because they have been so helpful).
Beth, a friend from JF, BRCC, and also the new LiveWire, bought an espresso machine right after Christmas and she bragged about it one night. I had to see it, being the curious me, and from that point on I was convinced it was easier than it seemed. Even now, I never watch a barrista as they make my lattes or cappucinos - I’ve always thought it to be rude to stare down a person as they prepare your food (what if it makes them intimidated or angered or wrathful? …. I mean, they could easily shoot a few prescription pills into the drink out of sight ::shiver::).
::sip::
So, I found a good bet for a low-cost machine and found the check-out line. The first-time cleaning process was a breeze and then I left it alone.
In some manner, I was afraid of getting near it. Was this going to be my mutiny against my myriad friendships I had forged with local barristas? Would they be sending out hit-men to my doorstep, armed with ::gasp:: coupons for their drinks? I suppose they must already be on their way, because ::sip:: I did the unthinkable and made my first latte.
No, it is not Bollo’s quality. It’s not Joe Bean’s quality. It’s not Starbuck’s quality. But I made it, and for some reason… it just makes it taste great. Experience with this little device will help, clearly, but this was a fantastic first try; honestly, this drink is rather nice.
Here is where, though, I need your advice. Advice on espresso-making procedures, advice on extras to get, advice on anything related to this world of brewing which I have insignificant experience with. And I pre-thank you for your help.
But I am very excited. After ::sip:: sipping my first latte, my head coulda ’sploded from the consummate joy that was bubbling up. This is one of those entries that ends in a 
What you are about to read is entirely the fault, consequence, and flagrant err of Adam’s recent linklog entry to Urinal.net.
I was waiting on my order of Hibachi shrimp & zuchinni when I took a brief trip to the restroom. It was captivating and alarming, intrinsically wonderful. Never have I ever seen such a clean restroom, and not just that! it was adorned in pink! Few other colors are as difficult to maintain as pink, referring to the paint on the walls. And in a bathroom of all places! Plus, everything was spotless; and this restaurant was far from famished of customers.
There were simply no words to describe how amazing this pink, Japanese restaurant’s restroom was. I suggest everyone support your local “Tokyo Japanese Express Restaurant” and demand that they supply the chopsticks as advertised on their business card.
Also, I suggest that no one EVER visit Urinal.net - this, too, may happen to you.
Seriously, what would I do without harsh criticism of my work and opinions? I love to have someone beat up on me (generally, verbally) over something I voice or create; I truly take to heart their view and constructively adjust myself for further trials.
I will now celebrate my critics (that being such a harsh word, I’d like to preferentially entitle them “deliberate scrutinizers”).
Adam has helped me with designs and graphics and code far more than any other human alive. And his advice is always impeccable, precise and dead-on. I had been working on the new graphic look (see that new header thing?) and asked him to be brutally honest with me. He was and I could not have thanked him enough. He even offered to help take me from a “good idea” to a fabulously redesigned look. As if I had been thrown into TLC’s What Not To Wear, I came out on the other end feeling fabulous and, in the site’s case, looking my best. Thank You, Adam!
And Rianna, oh, Rianna, she who melts my pride and pokes fuming cattle brands into my side to make sure I never overwhelm myself. We chatted tonight over a meal, bringing up very random topics and analyzing how we felt of them. This is the type of conversation I love! - taking personal experiences and opinions, addressing them, listening to the other, and learning from the other. Conversation is not a battle, not a war, NOT a right and wrong; conversation is a way of meshing new ideas into your existing beliefs and then gaining new direction for the future. Brilliance! Such a good time tonight with her as well. Thank You, Rianna!
This is one of those two-thumbs-up nights. Not literally, my thumbs are currently being enslaved into the correspondence of thought-to-keypad, but an evening that could have been delightfully mediocre was transformed into a social apparatus of excellence.
Excellence, I say!
The co-op with Parker, Powertrain Div., is going very well. I am pleased that I accepted the offer and am finding myself satisfied on many levels - no homework, great experience, and invaluable team-work meshing.
Lately, though, I’ve been given thorough responsibilities to see several assignments to conclusions. I won’t complain about the responsibilities, in fact I enjoy having more things to get my hands dirty with; however, I’m dealing with newfound time constraint issues (i.e. get Task-A done ASAP, but make absolute sure that Task-B is completed before X-’o-clock). The basics really, the same type of time management that I’ve garnered from my day-long homework stretches at VT.
But today was rough. Rough like… rough like a porcupine’s scratching post.
During the afternoon hours, I was counting up some pieces of test material, but was continually miscounting them. Thirty-six and five added up to forty. Nine times four equalled forty-five. Over and over again, my brain was joyously on a holiday.
Not long after, I was doing further testing when I started smelling pancakes. Warm, delicious pancakes with fresh maple syrup - the most tempting smells ever to capture my nostrils in a while. But where were these airborne traces of pancake batter coming from? Where were those pancakes?! Absolutely nowehere, is the answer. The smells went away but returned frequently for the next hour or so.
Going mad is one thing, but smelling foodstuffs where there are no foodstuffs to be smelled is on a different plane of insanity.
Regardless, I still like my co-op a lot and hope someone’s making waffles tomorrow.