Feelin' Kinda Strange

No typey-type for a while. Life must be better than I give it credit for.

However, all night I've had strange machinations going through my head. Not anything sinister of course, just weird thoughts.
For instance, the following words are (at the moment) exceedingly wierd:

• Blunderbuss
• ukelele
• prawn
• chair

A blunderbuss, at least as I've always understood it, is an early form of shotgun. Essentially, it's a big funnel that scrap metal is poured into and blasted out at some unsuspecting target. Ok, not really. But as a kid, I always imagined it like this because of the funnel-shaped end of the barrel.

Ukelelelelele... obviously, they just forgot to stop typing.

Prawn - definately doesn't sound edible. Also scores gravy points for being paradoxical. (It's a giant shrimp)

Chair. What can I say about "chair" really? It's always been a really weird word for me. When someone asks me about levels of meaning, I usually reply with "Why is a chair called a chair, and not Quetzalcoatl?" Then I ramble off about my theory on colors being different for every person. They only look normal to us because we've always seen them as such.

Come to think of it, Quetzalcoatl is a pretty wierd word too... but I'm not going to fault a guy for his name.

Sweet Sounds Comin' Down...

On the Nightshift.

After working for a year at this particular job, I finally had the chance tonight to Restart the Server.™ Hoo-boy, is it ever fun going through other people's confusing and incomplete directions. Theseus never had it so good...

Rather than slogging through all the minutiae of the process, and how my version of the directions omitted a third of the steps, (not to mention the steps that were plain-ass wrong) I'll just say that if you're ever in the position of writing directions for someone else, be as specific as possible! Please don't assume I know anything about server maintenance, don't assume I know keyboard shortcuts to use when the damn mouse doesn't work... hell, don't even assume I know how to use any of the fancy technical gew-gaws inside that cramped, wire-infested room. Write those instructions like you're talking to a 5 year-old. And even then, you'd better cross your fingers.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not an addle-brained twit when it comes to technology, quite the opposite actually. As far back as I can remember, I've always been able to open child-proof bottles, and program VCRs. (without that VCR-Plus nonsense, to boot!)

Just don't assume I know what you're talking about. Lord knows I don't pretend that anyone understands what I ramble on about.

What I am is what I am

It's an interesting exercise to ask someone what they are. It's a deceptively simple question on the surface, but one that very few people can answer to their own satisfaction. I cannot, in any good conscience, recommend trying it with someone you don't know well... Or can't outrun.
Because when Larry on the next barstool over says "I'm a 48 year old District Manager for Stuckey's," and you have to tell him that "That's not what you are... That's what you do." He's going to get ticked at you.

Maybe he'll come at you with a Pecan Log shiv or something... Who the hell knows with those Stuckey's guys?

So this being the One-th post, it seems reasonable for me to make at least a half-assed attempt to "Answer the Question" as Mr. McEnroe once said...
The simple answer is that I dunno. For now, I'm planning on taking it slowly. Weekly updates at best - no guarantees during finals week. What I can do is answer some of what it's not.

1. Scottish. Absolutely nothing to do with the fine country of Scotland. A few generations back, a relative of mine got on a boat there and ended up here. But between my distant lineage, and Big Country lyrics, that's as close as I'll be getting.
2. Soul, as in Music. I'm far far too white for that. It's like talking about Sizzler steakhouses with a Hindu: all theory, and no practical knowledge.

So where does "Scotland of the Soul" come from then? Good question. For the answer, I quote General Kenobi:

It's SHITE being Scottish! We're the lowest of the low. The scum of the fucking Earth! The most wretched miserable servile pathetic trash that was ever shat on by civilization. Some people hate the English. I don't. They're just wankers. We, on the other hand, are colonized by wankers. Can't even find a decent culture to get colonized by. We're ruled by effete assholes. It's a shite state of affairs to be in, Tommy, and all the fresh air in the world won't make any fucking difference!

Despite being a Grade-A potty-mouth, Rentz has pretty much summed up the way I feel whenever I get in a writing mood.

There ya go.