I have a bunch of interviews scheduled. My biggest concern with them, so far, is not my performance at them (I've never really had a problem with interviews), but rather that all the firms (yeah, recruiters, although I did get a bite from Microsoft for my old boss's position, which I did apply for but was naturally ineligible for. sigh) are kind of small. I wonder to myself, gee, if I'm gonna make $60 an hour, and they're going to skim a further $40 to $60 on top of that, why the hell don't I own one of these companies? I remember the first time I heard the difference between my wage and my "cost" -- $35/hr vs billed $60. That's insane. I pretty soon thereafter renegotiated and got myself $55 without the middleman.
Also, all the positions locally are for companies I don't really want to work for. I really want to go work on the Zumwalt armaments, but that's in BFE. Sigh.
04 August, 2006
02 August, 2006
Life, only tilted 90°
So, because I dutifully fill out my Virginia unemployment forms every week, I am more or less aware of how many times I am in contact with people about my resume or work. Virginia, bless their heart, has thus far contributed $290 to the "alex is writing a book" fund. This is not very much. But I digress. The important point here is that I have been sending between 2 and 5 resumes to people a week, who have contacted me. I have found that sending out blast resumes from monster (or dice or ...) does not work. So I let the people find me.
Until today. Er, I still let them find me, but five people found me today. On a wednesday. And they seem like good leads. One of them is a civilian organization with peculiar, but useful benefits (Mr. Hardison will recognize some of them). Another is with a company I worked for in 2003, Judge Technical. They're a good group of people and I liked working for them. The kicker? It's in MSP. This after I've been laughing at my sister for moving there. It's defense, and the contract is to another company (I won't name the principal here) I have worked for. Weird, right? But it's right up my alley. Slingin' Solaris in a defense environment. Amphibious Assault Vehicles and (probably, but not certainly) Ticonderoga-class warships. Cool shit.
Since MSP has Eagan, and this place is not in Eagan (it's north of MSP), I find myself wondering if there is some new technical hub forming in the midwest. John (darling sister's husband) is working for LMCO there. And of course, there's the USPS with a gargantuan datacenter. And there's at least two airlines (their operations centers, not just the hub), and there's an HP datacenter up there. And that's just the shit I know about. So maybe, if I stay at my current rate, and I move up there, where the cost of living is way lower than DC's, I'll make out like a bandit and the last post will seem silly. Maybe.
I'd probably have to buy another STI. Oh god, no, not another STI!!!
Until today. Er, I still let them find me, but five people found me today. On a wednesday. And they seem like good leads. One of them is a civilian organization with peculiar, but useful benefits (Mr. Hardison will recognize some of them). Another is with a company I worked for in 2003, Judge Technical. They're a good group of people and I liked working for them. The kicker? It's in MSP. This after I've been laughing at my sister for moving there. It's defense, and the contract is to another company (I won't name the principal here) I have worked for. Weird, right? But it's right up my alley. Slingin' Solaris in a defense environment. Amphibious Assault Vehicles and (probably, but not certainly) Ticonderoga-class warships. Cool shit.
Since MSP has Eagan, and this place is not in Eagan (it's north of MSP), I find myself wondering if there is some new technical hub forming in the midwest. John (darling sister's husband) is working for LMCO there. And of course, there's the USPS with a gargantuan datacenter. And there's at least two airlines (their operations centers, not just the hub), and there's an HP datacenter up there. And that's just the shit I know about. So maybe, if I stay at my current rate, and I move up there, where the cost of living is way lower than DC's, I'll make out like a bandit and the last post will seem silly. Maybe.
I'd probably have to buy another STI. Oh god, no, not another STI!!!
31 July, 2006
29 July, 2006
's good fo' tubaculosis
Peter Tosh ("legalize it") tells us that ganja is good for tuberculosis. I probably don't have it, tuberculosis that is, because the little skin-pop they did looks fine. Like a mosquito bite instead of a boil. However, they have found a mass in my chest, in my right lung. Today when I went back for more x-rays they didn't give me any of the dilaudid/phenergan party favors, and didn't even let me see them. Although because it looks like my tuberculosis test is looking negative, they're leaning towards pneumonia. Great.
The whole TB thing had me really tweaked. The "cure" for TB is six months of medication. Furthermore, I have no idea where I would have gotten TB. The hospital asked me the usual questions, "have you been out of the country lately?" And I answered "well, San Diego" -- which is close.
But in the end, it appears that the ulcers in my throat (the peroxyl/lidocaine approach works very well for the mouth) and the fluid in my lungs are benign. Or at least as benign as bloody mucous coming out of your mouth every couple minutes can be.
The whole TB thing had me really tweaked. The "cure" for TB is six months of medication. Furthermore, I have no idea where I would have gotten TB. The hospital asked me the usual questions, "have you been out of the country lately?" And I answered "well, San Diego" -- which is close.
But in the end, it appears that the ulcers in my throat (the peroxyl/lidocaine approach works very well for the mouth) and the fluid in my lungs are benign. Or at least as benign as bloody mucous coming out of your mouth every couple minutes can be.
Cake's Patriotic Jumpsuits
Sometimes I hate living in DC. Washington is a pretty nice town to live in. There are myriad ethnic groups and associated cuisines, there are both high and low brow entertainment, and a thriving culture that seems to stretch back forever.
And then, every summer, I am reminded of why much of the world hates Americans and wants to attack us in our homes, to bring the fight to us. Because we're a really detestable group of people. We consume and consume, and what we consume, we waste. We treat the market as if there is a scarcity when there is rank abundance but for our consumption. Because they sully Arlington National Cemetery with their out of control children, dripping foulness off their persons and the meals they are so eagerly consuming.
People cannot teach their children to have manners any better than an unruly dog. They cannot fit through doorways or into chairs. They're a largely unattractive group of people who are here in the "capital of the free world" as some sort of sojurn to Mecca, and what do they want? T-shirts to prove they've been there. They are just like the rest of the world says we are: rude, inconsiderate, morbidly obese, ignorant, arrogant, and a terrible waste of resources.
What percentage of the population even begins to understand what is great about this country? What percentage give more than a token thought to the fact that somebody will die today, tomorrow, the next day, with more to come, so that they could purchase that t-shirt? What percentage understand the government well enough to be qualified to vote on its construction? If you're opposed to George W. Bush because of his cocaine problem, or drinking problem, or even because you didn't like his father, okay, vote against him. But I bet you don't even know your senator's your elected congressmen's names. So you just mark down the "party line", and we get a country that is governed by the ignorant idiocy of the people living in this country.
They come here in the summer. And for a short time every year, I am ashamed that I am a part of those masses. Most of the rest of the year, especially during business hours, you will meet what we -- Washingtonians -- think the rest of the world sees us as. We don't even know that the world hates us because of the people that come here in the summer.
And then, every summer, I am reminded of why much of the world hates Americans and wants to attack us in our homes, to bring the fight to us. Because we're a really detestable group of people. We consume and consume, and what we consume, we waste. We treat the market as if there is a scarcity when there is rank abundance but for our consumption. Because they sully Arlington National Cemetery with their out of control children, dripping foulness off their persons and the meals they are so eagerly consuming.
People cannot teach their children to have manners any better than an unruly dog. They cannot fit through doorways or into chairs. They're a largely unattractive group of people who are here in the "capital of the free world" as some sort of sojurn to Mecca, and what do they want? T-shirts to prove they've been there. They are just like the rest of the world says we are: rude, inconsiderate, morbidly obese, ignorant, arrogant, and a terrible waste of resources.
What percentage of the population even begins to understand what is great about this country? What percentage give more than a token thought to the fact that somebody will die today, tomorrow, the next day, with more to come, so that they could purchase that t-shirt? What percentage understand the government well enough to be qualified to vote on its construction? If you're opposed to George W. Bush because of his cocaine problem, or drinking problem, or even because you didn't like his father, okay, vote against him. But I bet you don't even know your senator's your elected congressmen's names. So you just mark down the "party line", and we get a country that is governed by the ignorant idiocy of the people living in this country.
They come here in the summer. And for a short time every year, I am ashamed that I am a part of those masses. Most of the rest of the year, especially during business hours, you will meet what we -- Washingtonians -- think the rest of the world sees us as. We don't even know that the world hates us because of the people that come here in the summer.
27 July, 2006
D20_2061.jpg
I took the 'Ru in to the dealer today to have it coated with some sort of sealant. They're also going to buff out some shopping cart mark (we find these marks on our bumper, with finger marks on them, so the guy that did it, knew it, estimated the damage, and decided "eh, why bother leaving a note"). Mike Mentes, the services advisor there is an ASE master mechanic (this is very hard thing to accomplish), and knew everything he needed to know about the STI.
We have a loaner Forester, and, uh, it's 100% gutless. Lots of headroom, but gutless. And don't go telling me that the 2.5XT Forester is fast. It's slower than a WRX, but faster than a Dodge Caravan. Now that's an accomplishment.
Anyways, so I am headed to the pharmacy with a script for mouthwash, percocet, and phenergan. The mouthwash is supposed to numb the mouth, and I have Peroxyl (hydrogen peroxide mouthwash) to help clean up the ulcers. This is such a gross disease.
So, since the drugs are happy drugs (percocet), and the 'Ru is getting detailed and sealed today, we are in a happy place. I figured these pretty flowers would offset the disgusting tongue photo.
We have a loaner Forester, and, uh, it's 100% gutless. Lots of headroom, but gutless. And don't go telling me that the 2.5XT Forester is fast. It's slower than a WRX, but faster than a Dodge Caravan. Now that's an accomplishment.
Anyways, so I am headed to the pharmacy with a script for mouthwash, percocet, and phenergan. The mouthwash is supposed to numb the mouth, and I have Peroxyl (hydrogen peroxide mouthwash) to help clean up the ulcers. This is such a gross disease.
So, since the drugs are happy drugs (percocet), and the 'Ru is getting detailed and sealed today, we are in a happy place. I figured these pretty flowers would offset the disgusting tongue photo.
DSC00251.JPG
I got sick the morning of my flight out to San Diego. I wasn't hungry, I wasn't thirsty, and I was feeling top-dizzy (I think tall people will relate to this terminology). By the time we got on the plane, I was having cold sweats and chills while I slept on Sandy's shoulder.
As we got to San Diego, it got worse. I couldn't eat -- I threw up anything that went down the gullet. I couldn't drink for the same reason. I'd literally throw up plain water. This has happened to me before, and we generally agreed then (it's actually happened twice before) that it was psychosomatic. So I just figured I didn't want to be there in San Diego, that I certainly didn't want to be involved in any wedding, and it was just hot as fuckall.
This lasted and lasted, including my throwing up the catered food at the wedding reception (discreetly, so as not to offend anyone).
Mother was very understanding, and suggested I go home to the hotel, force fluids, and "get at least twelve hours of sleep." Well, that I did. Except the fluids part. Between last wednesday and today I've had less than half a gallon of water (or any liquid).
Today when I woke up, I felt more like shit than I had in the past few days. I opened my mouth to brush my teeth and found these disgusting ulcers and pocks on it. It appears that whatever was pissing off my joints (knees and wrists mainly) and giving me searing stomach cramps had either weakened me to the point that I got a bacterial infection, or it was expressing itself in my throat.
Whatever the case, we called UHC's 24/7 nurse, who said it constituted an emergency, so off to the ER we went. They gave me three litres of saline which I was ever so grateful for (not being able to drink, but being incredibly thirsty). They gave me ice chips, which I can "drink" without moving my tongue, which means it doesn't hurt. They also gave me dilaudid and phenergan for the pain (twice!), which is always pleasant. The pain went away and I have actually managed to eat a small sandwich. However, I'm sticking to the water (Vitamin Water "Revive" from Glacieau) and non solid food. In particular I find the Dannon "la Creme" to be both tasty and easy to eat.
There were a few people at the wedding reception who implied that I was leaving because I didn't like my sister, or because I didn't want to be there. I hope those people catch this very illness and it rots out their tongues so they cannot speak such vileness anymore.
Picture is of the pocks/ulcers on my tongue in the ER. They went all the way down my throat.
As we got to San Diego, it got worse. I couldn't eat -- I threw up anything that went down the gullet. I couldn't drink for the same reason. I'd literally throw up plain water. This has happened to me before, and we generally agreed then (it's actually happened twice before) that it was psychosomatic. So I just figured I didn't want to be there in San Diego, that I certainly didn't want to be involved in any wedding, and it was just hot as fuckall.
This lasted and lasted, including my throwing up the catered food at the wedding reception (discreetly, so as not to offend anyone).
Mother was very understanding, and suggested I go home to the hotel, force fluids, and "get at least twelve hours of sleep." Well, that I did. Except the fluids part. Between last wednesday and today I've had less than half a gallon of water (or any liquid).
Today when I woke up, I felt more like shit than I had in the past few days. I opened my mouth to brush my teeth and found these disgusting ulcers and pocks on it. It appears that whatever was pissing off my joints (knees and wrists mainly) and giving me searing stomach cramps had either weakened me to the point that I got a bacterial infection, or it was expressing itself in my throat.
Whatever the case, we called UHC's 24/7 nurse, who said it constituted an emergency, so off to the ER we went. They gave me three litres of saline which I was ever so grateful for (not being able to drink, but being incredibly thirsty). They gave me ice chips, which I can "drink" without moving my tongue, which means it doesn't hurt. They also gave me dilaudid and phenergan for the pain (twice!), which is always pleasant. The pain went away and I have actually managed to eat a small sandwich. However, I'm sticking to the water (Vitamin Water "Revive" from Glacieau) and non solid food. In particular I find the Dannon "la Creme" to be both tasty and easy to eat.
There were a few people at the wedding reception who implied that I was leaving because I didn't like my sister, or because I didn't want to be there. I hope those people catch this very illness and it rots out their tongues so they cannot speak such vileness anymore.
Picture is of the pocks/ulcers on my tongue in the ER. They went all the way down my throat.
25 July, 2006
D20_1866.jpg
So I started fooling around with night photography. I so much prefer inanimate subjects (except in a very few cases) to people. Take twenty people out to a football game or something and I'll be the one looking intently at the cracks in the asphalt with the macro lens, or trying to take pictures of trees.
So the shot is somewhat cliche, but it turns out (this is why it is a cliche, it's a cool technique). The location is Torrey Pines beach looking north on US 1, with Del Mar sort of off on thr right.
I'm definitely going to be experimenting with night photography more in the future. Sandy and I have discussed a camping trip to shenandoah for a weekend. Talk about ample subject matter (stars, trees, and critters!!)
So the shot is somewhat cliche, but it turns out (this is why it is a cliche, it's a cool technique). The location is Torrey Pines beach looking north on US 1, with Del Mar sort of off on thr right.
I'm definitely going to be experimenting with night photography more in the future. Sandy and I have discussed a camping trip to shenandoah for a weekend. Talk about ample subject matter (stars, trees, and critters!!)
D20_1854.JPG
My first real night time photo. This mushroom is the same as the one previously posted, only shot after the sun had set. I set the ISO to 100, got the tripod out on its shortest setting and set the 60 to f/7.1. The exposure was about twenty seconds, and the orange hue is from the low pressure sodium lights they use in california. This photo is one of my all time favorites.
D20_1890.jpg
You can see in exquisite detail the gills under the mushroom (which I had photographed the night before). This lens (60mm/f2.8) is wicked, wicked, wicked, for macro. Sandy loves the 60 and will go find things with it I didn't even know was there.
23 July, 2006
Stress again
About six years ago, I had a period in my life which was so stressful, I could not bring myself to eat. If I forced food, I would throw up. Most people haven't starved before, so I'll explain a little detail. Your body starts to consume your muscles. It seems to me this happens especially at night. I wake up with an excessively sore body. Everything from the little muscles in my hands to (most especially) my pectorals as well as deltoids, quads, and biceps.
I haven't been doing any heavy lifting, so we can't blame that so easily. Stress just makes it really hard to eat.
My body is apparently telling me things are much, much worse than I thought.
I haven't been doing any heavy lifting, so we can't blame that so easily. Stress just makes it really hard to eat.
My body is apparently telling me things are much, much worse than I thought.
D20_1513.jpg
Drinking with Dad... We met at the Poseidon in Del Mar after our flight came in. The shot turned out well, although it was completely off the cuff -- I wanted to show dad the LCD on the D200. A commentor on flickr says it has great composition. If that's true, great! Otherwise, just enjoy the beautiful wood grain, the contrast of the orange and the blues, and the fade to infinity.
17 July, 2006
There and back again
Anatomy of a hemorrhage:
Flights: $179 + tax (there); $199 + tax (back again) -- times two bodies
Hotel: $209 + tax * 4 nights
Car: $45 + tax * 5 days
sum: $2,436.50
I find myself reminded of my cat, who was mortally wounded in his fall from our apartment building. The vet looked at us and said, "we can probably put him back together, are you able to pay for the procedures?" The question can be distilled into a simple question: "how much do you love your cat?"
When looking at a wounded animal which is sure to die -- maybe not today, but possibly tomorrow -- why do we feel compelled to save it now, rather than let nature take its course? Why must we become so embroiled in this thorn-ridden tug of war? People would have been shocked if I had told them, "well, I couldn't afford to pay for the cat, I had made other financial commitments." How could you do such a thing? You could have liquidated assets! You could have cancelled the financial commitments and other plans so that you could keep the cat alive! It's sheer foolishness.
And yet we encounter the same situation, from cats all the way up the food chain to people.
Sometimes, animals fall off of buildings, and people get run over. It's an end, if not "the end," who is to say whether I made the right or wrong decision? Ran through this with Floyd at our lunch today. He seems to think the math is pretty clear. I think it's pretty muddy.
Flights: $179 + tax (there); $199 + tax (back again) -- times two bodies
Hotel: $209 + tax * 4 nights
Car: $45 + tax * 5 days
sum: $2,436.50
I find myself reminded of my cat, who was mortally wounded in his fall from our apartment building. The vet looked at us and said, "we can probably put him back together, are you able to pay for the procedures?" The question can be distilled into a simple question: "how much do you love your cat?"
When looking at a wounded animal which is sure to die -- maybe not today, but possibly tomorrow -- why do we feel compelled to save it now, rather than let nature take its course? Why must we become so embroiled in this thorn-ridden tug of war? People would have been shocked if I had told them, "well, I couldn't afford to pay for the cat, I had made other financial commitments." How could you do such a thing? You could have liquidated assets! You could have cancelled the financial commitments and other plans so that you could keep the cat alive! It's sheer foolishness.
And yet we encounter the same situation, from cats all the way up the food chain to people.
Sometimes, animals fall off of buildings, and people get run over. It's an end, if not "the end," who is to say whether I made the right or wrong decision? Ran through this with Floyd at our lunch today. He seems to think the math is pretty clear. I think it's pretty muddy.
Strangeness afoot
A story, presented without any context or hint at meaning.
A man befriends an older woman, some twenty years his senior. She lives on the 56th floor of a very large building. With her husband, she has purchased the entire floor she lives on, as well as the four floors above it. The "condo" has its own elevator. She chose the building because it provides a view of a vast forest (eucalyptus) that stretches many miles around the building. An aerie, if you will. The forest is home to a pet of hers, a bright violet-patterned bird of prey. Resembling in shape and appearance a falcon, only with the size of a large eagle. The eagle mostly stays out in the forest, watching things through eyes that resemble schmidt-cassegrain telescopes (complete with center obstruction), yet which retain their spheroid shape. It comes home to visit the woman, who we can call Nancy, for food and affection. Much like the practice of "falconing" except the bird is allowed to roam free. While the bird does not speak, it does seem to understand the nuance of human communication (if not the words), following the body language and inflection of the humans it keeps company with.
There is what you could call sexual tension between the man and the woman, although both realize that there is no possibility of any kind of relationship due to circumstances beyond the two of them (such as a husband and the age delta). Yet there is a continual exchange of sly come-hithers, as if the two of them wish to inflame the longing between the two of them. It is apparent that both parties to the relationship have ulterior motives. That is to say that while a love could be defined between them, there are other things that attract both of them. For him it may be some kind of "forbidden fruit," and for her it may be the same. There are also hints exchange that while he may be trying to experience her frame of reference, she wishes to relive her youth through him.
The woman, although she is clearly Nancy, bears the resemblance and name of somebody he has not known for over a decade, named Amy. In a strange kind of way, there is a confluence of identity. It is difficult to make out how much "amy" and how much "nancy" there is in the woman. Instead, most of her identity is shrouded in her age, the prolonged yearning of the erstwhile couple, and in her violet bird.
What does it mean? I haven't the foggiest. Consider it quick sketches of character and regurgitated experience gotten out of hand.
I need to get back to writing. The pot is boiling over.
A man befriends an older woman, some twenty years his senior. She lives on the 56th floor of a very large building. With her husband, she has purchased the entire floor she lives on, as well as the four floors above it. The "condo" has its own elevator. She chose the building because it provides a view of a vast forest (eucalyptus) that stretches many miles around the building. An aerie, if you will. The forest is home to a pet of hers, a bright violet-patterned bird of prey. Resembling in shape and appearance a falcon, only with the size of a large eagle. The eagle mostly stays out in the forest, watching things through eyes that resemble schmidt-cassegrain telescopes (complete with center obstruction), yet which retain their spheroid shape. It comes home to visit the woman, who we can call Nancy, for food and affection. Much like the practice of "falconing" except the bird is allowed to roam free. While the bird does not speak, it does seem to understand the nuance of human communication (if not the words), following the body language and inflection of the humans it keeps company with.
There is what you could call sexual tension between the man and the woman, although both realize that there is no possibility of any kind of relationship due to circumstances beyond the two of them (such as a husband and the age delta). Yet there is a continual exchange of sly come-hithers, as if the two of them wish to inflame the longing between the two of them. It is apparent that both parties to the relationship have ulterior motives. That is to say that while a love could be defined between them, there are other things that attract both of them. For him it may be some kind of "forbidden fruit," and for her it may be the same. There are also hints exchange that while he may be trying to experience her frame of reference, she wishes to relive her youth through him.
The woman, although she is clearly Nancy, bears the resemblance and name of somebody he has not known for over a decade, named Amy. In a strange kind of way, there is a confluence of identity. It is difficult to make out how much "amy" and how much "nancy" there is in the woman. Instead, most of her identity is shrouded in her age, the prolonged yearning of the erstwhile couple, and in her violet bird.
What does it mean? I haven't the foggiest. Consider it quick sketches of character and regurgitated experience gotten out of hand.
I need to get back to writing. The pot is boiling over.
12 July, 2006
Data loss
My mac has returned from Apple, with a new optical drive. The drive in it had failed with a "thunking" noise. After reciept of the machine, I looked over the data situation and decided that I had enough space to migrate data off one external disk and onto another, so as to reformat the "moved-off-of" drive into HFS+ and make a mirror of the other drive. Between me and redundancy was about 15GB of video that needed to be recompressed. I started up a handbrake run for the recompression/reformat (to iPod 5G standard), and opened iPhoto to have a look at things. Handbrake crashed. iPhoto crashed. The Finder crashed. Disk Utility crashed. The mac was immobile. Realizing that one of the hard disks had probably gone to sleep, causing a hang on IO, I halted the machine, powered it off, and rebooted. When it came back up, the disk I was recompressing on had 70gb more free space than before.
As it turns out, iPhoto, or some other process, had replaced the directory (/Volumes/Storage/Offline iPhoto/iPhoto Library) with a file of 000 permissions and a date of 31 Dec, 1969. Unix people will know this is completely FUBAR. Now, since the directory had been replaced with a file, all the files linked "underneath it" (Unix people will also probably know that filesystems only pretend to be hierarchical) still existed on the disk, albeit without any file data (so metadata and filenames are gone). The only way to resurrect this data is to read the disk, bit by bit, and copy the files which are unlinked to another disk. Apple's Disk Utility ran fsck and determined nothing was wrong with the disk. Naturally, since it was formatted FAT32 (to cooperate with my Windows machines in the Microsoft Era), there are few tools to work with it on the Mac. One utility, Data Rescue II, found about 70gb of data that was ready to be "restored", but it isn't free, and it doesn't know what a Nikon RAW file (.NEF) is. This makes me think that it's mistaking the NEFs for TIFFs (it found 18gb of JPEG and 40gb of TIFF data, which is the right ratio, if the wrong files). Either way, I don't like the idea of paying for a tool which will only recover a third of my data, and only the data which has the least resolution (JPEG vs RAW), and none of the data from our recent trip to Hawaii (which was all RAW).
So it would seem that I have suffered a catastrophic loss of data, the important data. And this, after I had not only purchased O'Reilly's DAM book but recommended it to a coworker from MSFT.
Luckily, it would seem my book is undamaged. However, I am afraid to continue to work with the laptop has it has shown a propensity to eat data, and may very well have a bad logic board (which could have been causing the "failed" -- or not so failed -- optical drive, and now my bluetooth controller is absent, again). However, even though I might sell the machine, it is not quite enough to constitute a new desktop. Furthermore, Apple is going to release new desktops this year, so any machine I buy now is not only overpriced but obsolete. I cannot continue to use a laptop as a desktop (even with the excellent iCurve). Its power supply is not sufficient, probably its cooling and other items are not intended for 24/7 operations, and so on. Not to mention the fact that a tower offers me the choice of a pair of internal 500gb drives, mirrored. Mirrored being the important part there.
So back to the book for a second. I'm now closing in on 20,000 words. That's anywhere from 15-25% finished, depending on who you talk to. I am very pleased to be making progress. Most of what was a "proof of concept" originally has developed into plot arcs, containing what I wanted to convey originally. It's a fun "job", but unfortunately doesn't pay very well. I'd like to get this book finished so I can work on the other one I wanted to write. It should be shorter, but is much, much darker. Funny how a global catastrophe is less frightening than a very personal one.
After listening to Ken Jordan's "Celebrity Playlist" a few times, and thoroughly enjoying Ennio Morricone's Man With a Harmonica, I decided to rent Once Upon a Time in the West which I also thoroughly enjoyed. Also recently watched Pulse, a japanese film by Kiyoshi Kurosawa (imdb). Wow, what treats, both of them. Immensely enjoyed both. Pulse is a little rough, but in a good way. Both films have a sort of timeless message that could be adapted to any medium. But Leone chose a western, and Kurosawa chose horror. Admirable, both. It would have been easier to do in another genre, and perhaps the message would have been muddied.
Lastly, while I have been trying to keep current here, it is tough to do with a timebomb for a primary computer. I am using the iBook now, with its lowly 256mb of ram, and everything is difficult. I may be a little more sporadic for the near future.
As it turns out, iPhoto, or some other process, had replaced the directory (/Volumes/Storage/Offline iPhoto/iPhoto Library) with a file of 000 permissions and a date of 31 Dec, 1969. Unix people will know this is completely FUBAR. Now, since the directory had been replaced with a file, all the files linked "underneath it" (Unix people will also probably know that filesystems only pretend to be hierarchical) still existed on the disk, albeit without any file data (so metadata and filenames are gone). The only way to resurrect this data is to read the disk, bit by bit, and copy the files which are unlinked to another disk. Apple's Disk Utility ran fsck and determined nothing was wrong with the disk. Naturally, since it was formatted FAT32 (to cooperate with my Windows machines in the Microsoft Era), there are few tools to work with it on the Mac. One utility, Data Rescue II, found about 70gb of data that was ready to be "restored", but it isn't free, and it doesn't know what a Nikon RAW file (.NEF) is. This makes me think that it's mistaking the NEFs for TIFFs (it found 18gb of JPEG and 40gb of TIFF data, which is the right ratio, if the wrong files). Either way, I don't like the idea of paying for a tool which will only recover a third of my data, and only the data which has the least resolution (JPEG vs RAW), and none of the data from our recent trip to Hawaii (which was all RAW).
So it would seem that I have suffered a catastrophic loss of data, the important data. And this, after I had not only purchased O'Reilly's DAM book but recommended it to a coworker from MSFT.
Luckily, it would seem my book is undamaged. However, I am afraid to continue to work with the laptop has it has shown a propensity to eat data, and may very well have a bad logic board (which could have been causing the "failed" -- or not so failed -- optical drive, and now my bluetooth controller is absent, again). However, even though I might sell the machine, it is not quite enough to constitute a new desktop. Furthermore, Apple is going to release new desktops this year, so any machine I buy now is not only overpriced but obsolete. I cannot continue to use a laptop as a desktop (even with the excellent iCurve). Its power supply is not sufficient, probably its cooling and other items are not intended for 24/7 operations, and so on. Not to mention the fact that a tower offers me the choice of a pair of internal 500gb drives, mirrored. Mirrored being the important part there.
So back to the book for a second. I'm now closing in on 20,000 words. That's anywhere from 15-25% finished, depending on who you talk to. I am very pleased to be making progress. Most of what was a "proof of concept" originally has developed into plot arcs, containing what I wanted to convey originally. It's a fun "job", but unfortunately doesn't pay very well. I'd like to get this book finished so I can work on the other one I wanted to write. It should be shorter, but is much, much darker. Funny how a global catastrophe is less frightening than a very personal one.
After listening to Ken Jordan's "Celebrity Playlist" a few times, and thoroughly enjoying Ennio Morricone's Man With a Harmonica, I decided to rent Once Upon a Time in the West which I also thoroughly enjoyed. Also recently watched Pulse, a japanese film by Kiyoshi Kurosawa (imdb). Wow, what treats, both of them. Immensely enjoyed both. Pulse is a little rough, but in a good way. Both films have a sort of timeless message that could be adapted to any medium. But Leone chose a western, and Kurosawa chose horror. Admirable, both. It would have been easier to do in another genre, and perhaps the message would have been muddied.
Lastly, while I have been trying to keep current here, it is tough to do with a timebomb for a primary computer. I am using the iBook now, with its lowly 256mb of ram, and everything is difficult. I may be a little more sporadic for the near future.