March 2006

This site is both fascinating, sad, and.. well, yeah.

When Deb died, I know we went through hell to try and keep her blog up and running. (Blogger doesn’t like to keep them around for long after they’re deemed inactive – even though we explained the situation – so we’ve got a backup copy saved here on Coffee’s machine if/when it disappears.) We took over her domain so it could be kept up indefinitely. And, if I’d had the chance, I’d probably have wanted her memorialized just like the people on the site above.

It’s just a strange thing to wrap my head around, somehow.

Yesterday, while trying to get the installation of linux underway, I couldn’t get the system to boot – the BSOD kept coming up to taunt me. I changed everything I could think of within the BIOS, and.. nothing. I remember that the HD had previous ‘issues’ but couldn’t remember what they were, so I assumed the problem was somehow related to that.

Coffee came home, tapped a few keys and the install started to run. Fine. Okay. I can live with that – I mean, he IS the King Geek. The machine in this house all know and respect that. Me too. All good. He shut down the system so that I could do it myself today, rather than rushing through it together.

Today, having sorted out that whole “can’t boot from the CD” issue, I was prepared to get Fedora installed and start playing.

DENIED!!

I put in the first installation CD, started things up, and was happily selecting various options when the fucking BSOD appeared and informed me that the “installation ended abnormally” (no shit, eh?) and the whole thing crapped out. It was, however, kind enough to let me know that I was permitted to reboot. Gee, thanks, mutherfucker.

So I did. And then I restarted the install – only to have it BSOD all over again.

I shut down the machine and made a Greek salad with plenty of feta. While eating it and pondering the stinkiness of feta (which is not gorgonzola, of course) I read up on some more FTA stuff so the day wouldn’t be a total waste. I then daydreamed about how Coffee will, once again, tap three keys and the entire thing will not only be booted, but will be installed perfectly.

It’s good that I’m married to King Geek. I’m not even the court jester in this scenario.

Yet. ;)

Today I had to go to Future Shop, a Canadian store that’s somewhat like Best Buy, to pick up a computer cable. I wandered around for a bit and couldn’t find it, so I then stood by the counter where the tech dudes work. One of them looked up, and asked if he could help.

My experience in Future Shop has never been positive. I shop there because it’s very close to home, and because they generally have decent prices, but nearly every time I go there I leave in a pissy mood. It’s particularly bad when I’m trying to buy “big ticket items”. The crabby feelings start when the sales guy (and it’s always a guy) doesn’t make eye contact. It continues when he speaks only to my husband or male companion, despite my assurance that *I* am the one purchasing the item. In most cases, I ask my husband or friend to walk away and leave me alone with the sales guy so that I can get a straight answer and ask my own questions.

Today, however, the guy started chatting to me like the mad 1337 H4x0r that I am. ;) This impressed me so much that I was speechless for a moment. It turned out that they did not have the cable I wanted (serial -> USB) and he mentioned another store that I might try.

I arrived at that store and was treated, again, like Queen Geek. I mentioned what I was looking for, and immediately the sales guy started telling me more than I could ever have asked to know about it. Telling me my options. Offering his opinion. Then he started hypothesizing about what I was going to use said cable for – and he was right – and started yammering about that subject for a while. At no point did he talk down to me, and at no point did he make the assumption that I couldn’t keep up with the conversation. Again, I was stunned.

Was it because, for once, I was alone? Was it because of the pink hair (suggesting, of course, that I’m an ‘alternative’ kind of girl who might know ‘alternative’ things that girls don’t normally know)? Was it because they could secretly sense that I wasn’t in the mood to be fucked with?

I swear – I’m gonna’ keep my hair pink forever. People are SO much nicer to me. And not just geeks.

I finally saw “Just Like Heaven” (with Reese Witherspoon) – and, well, it made me cry. And laugh. And cry some more. It was mostly a chick-flick, so Coffee didn’t miss anything by letting me watch it on my own. I really enjoyed it more than I thought I would.

And the perfect ending was the Cure song, “Just Like Heaven” which I adore.

Now, before I find another movie to cry over, I’m going to go to Zellers and buy some containers to organize parts of the kitchen.

I have no idea why I feel compelled to DO THESE THINGS. They aren’t interesting, there aren’t any new questions/answers, and they bore ME. But still..

Read the rest of this entry »

The fastest way to get me to hyperventilate and freak RIGHT OUT is to present me with a series of numbers and ask me to do something with them. I’m okay with addition and subtraction and multiplication and even division (mostly). But anything fancier and my heart rate increases, I get sweaty, and I feel a strong and nearly overwhelming urge to run far and fast to get away from whatever I’m supposed to be figuring out. Even though the math stuff I’m doing follows all the rules (there’s nothing hypothetical to imagine or try to picture) those rules aren’t logical *to me*. I struggle with my own rules (usually more complicated) and I forget parts of other rules (so things don’t work out properly) and then I’m frustrated and pissed off and serious, seriously, agitated.

It has always been this way – though I think the start of my complete downfall was in grade 8 when I was forced into the “advanced” math class (by virtue of a teacher who didn’t understand that my ‘gifted’ label was primarily in languages and similar stuff and NOT MATH). Everything was wooshing over my head, everything was moving too fast, and I just never learned the basics. If I could swallow my pride, I’d love to sign up for grade 6 math classes and progress from there. Seriously.

Later, in high school, when I realized I wasn’t going to enter a university program requiring a lot of math knowledge, my boyfriend was easily coerced into doing all my grade 12 calculus and algebra homework for me. I had a teacher who ranked take-home assignments as 80% of the final grade. The fact that I aced all of the assignments and flunked all the in-class tests should have tipped someone off, I’d think, but no. My math idiocy went unnoticed.

Sometimes, if I don’t think much about it, if I can simply let the math-centre in my brain do the work and it’s okay. It’s like the ability to manipulate numbers is actually in my brain somewhere, but smothered by the panic every time I try to access it. Like a big wet anti-math blanket. Really, most of my life is about the very simple numbers – it’s not often that I need to figure out anything overly complex.

In short, life-skills math is fine. Anything beyond that makes me twitch and panic.

My aversion to numbers has always embarassed me. It’s akin to being illiterate – trying to hide the fact that you have no idea what the hell that formula adds up to and wondering if there’s a way to fake it. (There usually isn’t.) I’ve even gone so far as to do the “toss out a guess and hope it’s the right answer” method to problem solving. Then when someone says, “Don’t you mean X for the answer?”, I’ve nodded quickly. “Ah yes. I meant X. Clearly I didn’t, um, carry the 2…” (instead of, “What? X? Are you shitting me?! Where the hell did you get X from?!”)

One of the thing I love best about Coffee is, as noted, his ability to keep a straight face when I present him with my lack of knowledge. Numbers are Coffee’s friends – the more complex, the more he seems to like them. I tend to turn to him for help when I’m lost, and he’s nice enough to help me figure out the problem (or just solve it for me when he sees I’m verging on a numbers-related-meltdown). He doesn’t laugh at me, or look incredulous and say, “Are you kidding? How can you not KNOW that?” even though I’m sure he’s at least somewhat horrified by what I don’t know, sometimes.

His knowledge of numbers is.. sexy.

There. I admitted it. I get turned on by.. numbers. Even though they scare me. It’s kind of like having sex in a public place.

Last night, having spent the day conquering some FTA stuff that I was trying to understand, it occured to me that I didn’t know how to solve a particular math problem. I used to know – in that I vaguely remember a grade eight math class addressing the technique – but I realized I had no clue whether my memory was correct. So I hesitantly asked Coffee if he’d help me out. I grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled two quick examples (not challenging examples, but simple) and asked him to tell me how he’d solve them.

He gave me some tips, then took the pen and started to write down some numbers. And..well, yeah. Erotic. Totally erotic. Watching him do that was akin to watching a magician pull quarters out from behind my ear – I know it’s just a matter of knowing how the ‘trick’ is done, but my god, how cool is THAT? Coffee + Math = MAGIC POWERS.

And then we had some of the best sex ever because, well, yeah.

My new plan is to do math ON HIM. I figure if I straddle him and put a pen and paper on his chest and then demand that he teach me math, we’ll both win. The added bonus? I’ll begin to associate ME doing math with a very, very VERY good outcome.

Best. Idea. EVER.

Now that Coffee is employed, I’m starting on my self-taught-stuff endeavour. Until we know where we’re going to be living long-term, and until everything is a bit more settled, I’m holding off on enroling in ‘real school’. The last thing I want to do is start earning credits toward .. umm.. something and then have to transfer somewhere else to continue.

So, for the time being, I’m picking out random things that I want to learn, then reading, exploring and finding ways to acquire knowledge on said subject. For someone with ADD, this isn’t the easiest thing in the world. The trick is to find active subjects – things I can DO rather than just read about. I need to be as hands-on as possible.

My two current projects are researching FTA satellite dishes and getting my linux skills updated.

FTA satellite is “Free to Air” – which means it’s not something that needs decryption or special codes. It’s a matter of understanding how the satellite transmits information and how the dish intercepts and translates it into a picture on the screen (or radio signal, if that’s your thing). Surprisingly, there are many many satellites out there, transmitting all sorts of programming, for absolutely no cost. It’s 100% legal to view these channels – you don’t need a special code or password. The trick is understanding how the technology works and how to work with it on the end-user side – where to point your dish, what the various transponders do, etc. The good thing, for me, is that this same technology is used when one wants to intercept the ‘non-free’ signal. It’s fairly easy to find information online about how things work. So far my main goal is understanding all the various acronyms (which I’m kicking ass at!) and how it all comes together. It’s absolutely fascinating, and there’s a LOT to learn! I’m really really enjoying this.

The linux side of things is a different ball of wax. There are some things I’d like to be able to do – and while using Windows enables me to do certain things quickly and efficiently, it’s not always the best solution when you want additional control or care about fine details. Coffee has always been the one to do those tasks, on his computer, and now that he’s working I’d like to be able to do some of it myself. It’ll be to both of our benefit, ultimately, but it will also allow me to do some of the stuff I’ve wanted to try – without worrying about messing up his computer.

I’m going to be spending a portion of today setting up my linux machine – installing Fedora and playing around a bit. Coffee has set me up with an account on his machine (which I’m using right now!) so I’m slowly getting comfortable with some of the commands and the way certain things work. Sloooooowly, but surely.

Though I’m pleased that Coffee has a job he actually likes, doing things he likes to do (and getting paid for it, of course), my selfish benefit is being ‘enabled’ to learn the things I want to learn. To spend a day doing laundry, reading books and napping, then spend the next day geeking away with my eyebrows furrowed and a big grin on my face. I love when Coffee comes home and I get to show off all the cool stuff I’ve learned. I love that he keeps a straight face while I’m shouting, “And THEN I imported all my Sage feeds!” and doesn’t roll his eyes. And I love that I get to teach him all about the FTA stuff.

Mostly? I like feeling smart again – getting to use my brain in ways that I want, rather than being told how to use it in a corporate environment. I fucking LOVE those “A-HA!” moments where the lightbulb over my head explodes, rather than simply illuminating. Whooohoo!

This is what my aviary looks like in the early evening – when it’s dark outside and the birds are lit by artificial full-spectrum lamps. For perspective, you can see one of the birds in the very middle, at the top of the aviary, perched on an ivy platform.

The “textured” ground you see is a combination of corncob husks and Carefresh paper bedding. The birds like the Carefresh for their nests, but it’s also good at absorbing any water they splash out of their dishes. There’s a LOT of ivy hanging in there – some for perching, some for swinging, some for hiding in. Like most birds, the finches prefer to be up high – but in the mornings and late afternoon they have a fabulous time on the ground eating and hopping and splashing in the bath. If you can sneak into the room quietly enough, it’s a great show to watch for an hour or two.

Here’s a photo of three of the finches inside the aviary, perched on the middle ivy (a ‘support branch’ that they can easily rest on). The one on the left is “Shadow” – the first baby finch my flock ever produced after I adopted them. He’s also the child of my favourite (now-deceased) bird, Edgar-B. The other two are females; the nearest of the two is “Tabitha” and the furthest of the females is “Claire” due to her very smooth appearance (short for “Clarity”). Shadow requires perches that are wide enough to support him – he has a twisted foot that doesn’t grip very well.

There are two other male birds in the aviary, but you’ll have to wait on pictures of them… The little freaks won’t sit still long enough for me to snap a non-blurry picture. :)

Melissa’s dove, Mirve, laid an egg. That’s pretty cool, right?

In the spirit of competition, I present to you the result of 5 finches (3 males, 2 females) + 2 nests and 3 weeks of uninterrupted boinking….

Read the rest of this entry »

I posted this to WNET a few minutes ago.

I’m sitting here watching random crap on TV and I landed on Jerry Springer “Hot & Hostile” which is.. well, I confess to missing the first part of the show. But at the moment that I changed to the channel, there were two women (one black, one white) arguing over some guy – the black woman is married to him, apparently.

Within TWO SECONDS both women had stripped off ALL their clothes and were screaming at each other and having a slap fight. One began shouting, “You like to take it up the ass!” which made the other grab her, toss her to the ground and start trying to.. erm… give it up the ass with her hand. There’s a third woman wearing a thong doing some sort of pole-dance off to the side of the stage.

Then, the ‘guy’ in question appeared on stage and ripped HIS clothes off so we can see exactly WHAT they’re fighting over. He’s currently wearing plaid boxer shorts and a big tie. Both women are running around screaming and slapping each other – still naked.

I *vividly* remember when Springer shows ended with a “Be kind to each other” message and all that. I cannot figure out how he got from THAT to THIS.

AND WHAT THE HELL KIND OF SHOW *IS* THIS, ANYWAY? It’s not porn and it’s not a talk-show and it’s not wrestling and… WHO WATCHES THIS?! (Other than people like me who are just.. stunned…?)