…and I have proof. Tamar, my neighbor across Ellis St., knowing that I am a particular fan of the sweet pea for its color and fragrance, cut the first two sweet pea blooms of the year and gifted me with them. They are sitting in a small water glass next to me now as I type, perfuming my air and giving me a marvelous case of the sniffles.
In other news, I am now a (mostly unwilling) member of Facebook. Humph. You can only drag me into the 21st century kicking and screaming… but I do appear to have arrived. What next? Twitter?
winter hit kitsap
but summer came to whatcom
cured the destroyer
The (pseudo)haiku is a lousy form of poetry. This is just a codification of events — the death of Barry and Heather Bryant’s youngest back in my home town, under tragic circumstances, the balmy air that has finally found us in late June, and the overwhelmingly good news that Ron is cancer free.
This post is a homage to Lauren’s friday haikus… if you read her most recent post, you’ll note that she drops an f-bomb below the fold. I take this as a sign of my influence on her.
And on that note, the week is over.
Most reasonably computer literate folks will recall the brilliant visual rhetoric of the “I’m a Mac, I’m a PC” ad campaign (which has continued expanding since the last time I looked, and which trashes incisively on Vista’s lamentable stability and usability concerns).
Some bright young person extended the iconography to include Unix and Windows Vista (thanks to Poem for the reference and, err, the nod):
At first reading, this still looks awfully pro-Macintosh, with Vista (as usual) the butt of the joke. However, consider this re-reading:
The Mac: a trendy but shallow generation Y narcissist, this character’s style conceals a inner emptiness. Regular infusions of therapy and constant acts of conspicuous consumption are required to maintain this delicate facade. In fair weather, the Mac is good for his friends’ social status, but his emotional sterility becomes apparent at the first sign of difficulty.
UNIX: a power hungry utilitarian with technocratic instincts and the aesthetic sensibilities of Attila the Hun. While interested in the sciences and philanthropy, these secondary pursuits run parallel to the pursuit of control. The appearance of friendship is maintained for those initiated in the technocratic brotherhood; however, anyone deviating from these core ideological conceits is treated as cyber vermin. And, according to this image, such offenders may be shot at.
Vista: flawed? Yes. Flagrantly violating conventional notions of decency and correctness? Certainly. Sometimes annoying? Perhaps, but only when he’s been up too long and hasn’t had enough caffeine. But look how comfortable Vista is with himself and his own flaws; look how bold he is in expressing himself. Trendiness is discarded as a sham; power is ignored as an intrinsically aristocratic conceit.
Now ask yourself — which of these three characters is happiest?
Today was a brisk, chilly, bracing sort of day. During my lunchtime walk I felt peppy enough to do a cartwheel when I thought no one was looking. Bad idea. My shoulders have not yet forgiven me.
And my knees crackle and pop when I hacky sack.
And my back aches. And so do my hours after a full day of monitor strain. They didn’t do this five years ago!
And, dear lord, I cannot hold my sugar or my caffeine anymore. Sugar does, oo — nasty things to my metabolism. And the things coffee does to my bowels are positively indecent. I’m sorry, I had to go there; it would be a real post if I didn’t wander into the TMI fold and roll in the mud a bit.
And, furthermore — I can no longer go without sleep as blithely and energetically as I once did. I remember moments from my headstrong youth when I felt a vague sense that, if I really put my mind to it, I could accomplish *anything* — that energy wasn’t a material obstacle if I focused hard enough. Ah, what a pleasant delusion that was.
Perhaps I can restore it by overdosing on coffee and candy tomorrow…
I totally need this stamp: http://www.flickr.com/photos/8326992@N08/2363227391/
Although, in retrospect it would probably actually be a really bad idea to get one of these for me. I would certainly end up with permanent ink stars marring both of my monitors, and I suspect my colleagues’ spouses would eventually object to the damage I would surely do to their clothing. Still — the idea is brilliant. Brilliant!
My eighth grade english touch, Mr. Driscoll, had a “Garbage” stamp that he saved for really bad essays — I only got it once, but it was quite memorable. I should get one of these for Cathy — more than a few of her students deserve to see this stamp on their papers.
