Something is seriously wrong with you, boy . . .

After years of struggling on my own, dealing with the aftermath of unmatched freedom and competing ideas, I finally did it: I bought my own MacBook Pro and joined the Dark Side. And I have to say, I love it. A trackpad that actually works? A trackpad that provides useful navigation and input? What novel ideas! A UI that is stable, and programs that don’t mysteriously crash or include text that matches the background (I’m looking at YOU, VLC on LXDE!!!)? What a novel idea! Yes, I still love my various Linux laptops, but I think I’m stuck in the beauty and simplicity of the Mac world for a while now. I’d better be, now that I have the wireless trackpad, keyboard and number pad.

Altar in the Wind

Sea Shells and Wedding Bells

Today’s invasive terror brought to you by the colour yellow.

Some day soon I need to find my way to a local library. I have not gone so far due to an unfortunate combination of circumstances: 1. I am lazy, and 2. I am too depressed when I compare the libraries here to the marvelous libraries in Kootenai County, Idaho. And I tend to procrastinate. And I am really lazy. Sigh . . .

I keep hoping for the whole Nook/Kindle/eReader lending library mess to shake out so that I can use an eLibrary, but so far, nothing seems to be happening. I guess then that it is time to go back to the Deep Thoughs and Big Questions and ask if 9:17am might not be too early to put on some pants already and step outside and enjoy the world.

Oh hey — the boy-child the book under his pillow. No need for pants or the great outdoors for now. Yay!

* Okay, probably more likely just “What’s for breakfast?”
** Okay, probably more likely just “Didn’t I already pee this morning?”

Screaming Head Laughing

This is but one of several heads mounted along the walls of my grandfather’s house. They used to scare the hell out of me when I was younger.

It did not help that my grandfather would tell a story of how the house was built by a father and son and that the heads, mounted along the wall (which appear to either be laughing or screaming, depending on my mood), are supposedly meant to look like the father, murdered by his son.

I love my grandfather, although the story he told was probably completely false. The house was most likely built by sadistic elves who liked to give small children horrible dreams.

Busted by Mutton

Poor Aaron has a love/hate relationship with sheep: He loves the way they taste, but hates the way they always want to trample him into dust. So with that in mind, here is his exciting 2006 Mutton Bustin’ ride. All 5 seconds or so of it.

[Show as slideshow]

This is not my goldfish

The goldfish is dying. He quit eating on Friday, and has been swimming sideways since Saturday. I can see him gasping, but beyond providing a quick and (hopefully) painless death, have nothing I could do for him. Poor little guy. It would be kinder to end his life now, but I hold false hope that he will suddenly start swimming around happily again.

He did so once before, after all. This is a fair prize fish, a pathetic little goldfish who should have been dead years ago. Somehow he’s held on, surviving the move, poor water conditions, aggressive tank mates (all long gone now) and having to put up with us. The water here is a toxic soup for him, loaded with chloramines and solids, prone to frequent algal blooms. I filter and detoxify it, but it doesn’t seem to help. Tonight, I fear, he visits the big toilet in the sky. Sniff!

Spastic Avenger

Okay, I’m hiding this image before it gives my viewer (viewers?) siezures.

The Spastic Avenger Strikes Again!