So, now what?

So now I have this public forum in which to express myself, and I find myself at an impasse... it's not that I have too little to write, but instead too much. "Too much?" says you, "Does this guy think anyone cares to listen?" Probably not. I'm well aware of that. I just have this other writing gig on the burner right now that's rather important.

I'm a dissertation student in computer science at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. (whew) As such, I run across rather odd tidbits of information that continually tie into the most bizarre other portions of my life and what passes as knowledge. Expect those to pop up.

Also expect to see completely rambling meaningless pap that seems oh so important to me at the time... sue me, I'm still going through adolescence. I'm only 31, after all.

As a parting shot, and one that came up just last night... when you have to wash your kitchen drying rack... where do you put it to dry?

So, now what?

So now I have this public forum in which to express myself, and I find myself at an impasse... it's not that I have too little to write, but instead too much. "Too much?" says you, "Does this guy think anyone cares to listen?" Probably not. I'm well aware of that. I just have this other writing gig on the burner right now that's rather important.

I'm a dissertation student in computer science at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. (whew) As such, I run across rather odd tidbits of information that continually tie into the most bizarre other portions of my life and what passes as knowledge. Expect those to pop up.

Also expect to see completely rambling meaningless pap that seems oh so important to me at the time... sue me, I'm still going through adolescence. I'm only 31, after all.

As a parting shot, and one that came up just last night... when you have to wash your kitchen drying rack... where do you put it to dry?

Obviously, time isn't an issue today

I bought a kitchen magnet.

I don't buy magnets, so much as acquire them[1], so for me to actually *buy* one, well, it had to be Special(tm).

It's a quote, from Nietzsche: "One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star."

Anyone who knows me, and my wife, knows that we have particularly mundane families. They're nice, definitely. Successful, sure. But... mundane. We are the 'weird' ones, the ones who keep thinking "There has to be more than just what is in front of my face." That's what draws us together.

Among our friends though, both in NC and in Seattle, we're the odd ducks... the ones not wearing black, not running RPG sessions every week, not SCA members, not writing amazing fiction, not doing much of anything other than skirting the event horizon of Suburban Mundanity. We wear khaki, for god's sake. The sweet candy shell, however, belies a darker substrate that fails to ever commit to a particular path of goth, renfair, scene, or tech, not due to lack of interest, but due to lack of *lack* of interest. I love it all... the same high I get from a night of thrashing to a techno beat, appears when I climb the last few feet to the top of a remote peak. It appears when I have been coding for two days, without sleep, without break, just to Make This Work. And I do. It appears when my skin burns from the heat of passion, shared with my love. It appears in so many diverse elements of my life, that I want to sample them *all*... but there is so little time that I garner just a mere taste of each on the tip of my soul, never able to fully consume any single one.

I find that the easiest way to move and slide between worlds is to be the most unassuming and average looking beast... to look mundane. It works... the trick is to make sure that the mask doesn't shape the person underneath.

One my most cherishes moments was, when sitting with a group of Friends In Black, that I was introduced to a new acquaintance. This new acquaintance looked at me *very* oddly... you see, I was wearing khaki pants, a button down shirt (may have even been a Ralph Lauren), and deck shoes. He shot glances at me several times before finally stating "You pass really well, you know that?"

I was in absolute nirvana.

So I cherish my chaos, I embrace it, I wrap myself around it, and let it whirl its dance of fire inside my essence. And by doing so, I unleash what I have inside to give birth to my dissertation research, my own dancing star... the first of many, I hope.

[1] I have a Seattle Thunderbirds schedule from 1993 on my refrigerator, several pizza delivery service ad magnets (some are even for the city I live in now), and an array of Bettie Page magnets that were my last purchase, five years ago.[2]

[2] They're my wife's. No, I'm serious. [3]

[3] I'm a PhD student, we like footnotes. Deal with it.

Obviously, time isn't an issue today

I bought a kitchen magnet.

I don't buy magnets, so much as acquire them[1], so for me to actually *buy* one, well, it had to be Special(tm).

It's a quote, from Nietzsche: "One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star."

Anyone who knows me, and my wife, knows that we have particularly mundane families. They're nice, definitely. Successful, sure. But... mundane. We are the 'weird' ones, the ones who keep thinking "There has to be more than just what is in front of my face." That's what draws us together.

Among our friends though, both in NC and in Seattle, we're the odd ducks... the ones not wearing black, not running RPG sessions every week, not SCA members, not writing amazing fiction, not doing much of anything other than skirting the event horizon of Suburban Mundanity. We wear khaki, for god's sake. The sweet candy shell, however, belies a darker substrate that fails to ever commit to a particular path of goth, renfair, scene, or tech, not due to lack of interest, but due to lack of *lack* of interest. I love it all... the same high I get from a night of thrashing to a techno beat, appears when I climb the last few feet to the top of a remote peak. It appears when I have been coding for two days, without sleep, without break, just to Make This Work. And I do. It appears when my skin burns from the heat of passion, shared with my love. It appears in so many diverse elements of my life, that I want to sample them *all*... but there is so little time that I garner just a mere taste of each on the tip of my soul, never able to fully consume any single one.

I find that the easiest way to move and slide between worlds is to be the most unassuming and average looking beast... to look mundane. It works... the trick is to make sure that the mask doesn't shape the person underneath.

One my most cherishes moments was, when sitting with a group of Friends In Black, that I was introduced to a new acquaintance. This new acquaintance looked at me *very* oddly... you see, I was wearing khaki pants, a button down shirt (may have even been a Ralph Lauren), and deck shoes. He shot glances at me several times before finally stating "You pass really well, you know that?"

I was in absolute nirvana.

So I cherish my chaos, I embrace it, I wrap myself around it, and let it whirl its dance of fire inside my essence. And by doing so, I unleash what I have inside to give birth to my dissertation research, my own dancing star... the first of many, I hope.

[1] I have a Seattle Thunderbirds schedule from 1993 on my refrigerator, several pizza delivery service ad magnets (some are even for the city I live in now), and an array of Bettie Page magnets that were my last purchase, five years ago.[2]

[2] They're my wife's. No, I'm serious. [3]

[3] I'm a PhD student, we like footnotes. Deal with it.