Since I "work with computers" for a living -- a phrase that I truly hate, but that's another story -- I'm entitled to a professional opinion regarding them. In my professional opinion, computers blow. It's interesting that the top search results from Google regarding "working with computers" have something to do with "pain".

Feeling very sick today -- went into work anyway and it sucked. I decided that feeling like shit and loosing your voice makes for a poor work experience. My throat feels like I was gargling mineral spirits and a ragged hole was burned in the back of it. There may be small tentrils of acrid smoke still spiraling down there. So I bailed out around 1pm and went home. I used my few brief moments of lucidity between antihistamines at home to curse clearcase's obstinacy. The basic cycle: prepare -m LATEST Wait 15 minutes... your fucked because I don't like you, try again! Rinse and Repeat.

I finished construction of the hallway table that I've been working on. Now I have to finish sanding and staining it. The difference in quality is amazing when you have the correct tools for the job. It took me 4 days (coming home after work) to build it and the result is quite impressive, at least to me. The thing with woodworking is that you don't build your own furniture to save time. It is at times a painfully slow process. Waiting for glue to dry, accurately measuring that "last cut", properly sanding and finishing. It's a good hobby for me because it makes me plan carefully and take my time, two things that I don't always do. Not only that, but the furniture I build by hand is customized for my house, and everyday I see it reminds me of when I was in the garage building (and waiting for) it.

Anthropomorphizing...

I took a knockoff of the Myers-Briggs personality test and now know that I'm an "ESTJ", otherwise know as a conservationist. I found the test mentioned on another blog named Gigglechick.

Is it embarassing that a man such as myself reads a blog named Gigglechick? The test results were not clear on that issue.

I love words. I love knowing their meanings, their usage, and their connotation. Agrarian, bucolic, pastoral, countrified -- I can't use these in conversation but it's somehow comforting that I know them. Solace, as in I find solace in my somewhat pedantic vocabulary which must be used parsimoniously in casual conversation. I don't sound like or emulate Mike Tyson with a, "I gonna get cathartic on his ass!" It's funny when you use a word that people don't understand. They'll either ask you what the word means, feign comprehension, or act like you didn't say anything. "That's such a sophomoric argument!" Pause. Continue discussion as if the last statement was not heard. It's ironic that in some cases, when you become more proficient in a language, the less effective you become in communicating. Unfortunately, my writing ability leaves much to be desired, and my usage of proper grammar is, umm, somewhat lacking. You can't win them all.

I've got a new hobby in wordworking. Since I bought my first house several months ago, I've been on a major rennovation kick. What started with some basic trim carpentry has grown into making custom furniture. Kicking it up a notch, my wife purchased a table saw for me.

This is the most terrifying machine I've ever used. Over ten thousand fingers are amputated on tables saws each year. When the power switch is flipped, you can't talk because the noise is so overwhelming. You have to stand to the side of table in case "kickback" occurs, wherein you might be impaled from a piece of wood being shot off the table at you. Use of a "push stick" is recommended, since it's not safe to use your hands most of the time. All in all, it's pretty cool.

I read an article about a lost cache of usenet postings that was found and added to Google Groups. With some trepidation I searched for my username and found a variety of mildly embarassing posts. The first post I ever made brought back some old rowing memories; it is strange how imporant some things seemed back then.

I identify myself as a "manic-hibernator". Time will pass and I'm not interested in anything. Then, in a sudden flurry of activity, I'll do enough of whatever I'm doing to more then make for the dormant period of time I was in. I was talking with Vienna about this; I think she is the same as me in this respect. What happens is you're in a manic period where you're compulsively overachieving. Then, when you go dormant, your boss calls you in and gives you a promotion citing all of your hard work. This blows your mind since you're expecting a reprimand for for surfing blogs for the past 4 days in a row. Joel Sposky had an article that I somewhat relate to this concept.