Adam Hxxker

I had a strange surge of depression yesterday. The holidays usually leave me a bit... vacant at the end. So much activity, commisseration with friends and family, and then- WHAM- it all comes to a stop and you're left at the beginning of another new year with only work and one more day off work to cushion the blow. That's some pretty poor planning, if you ask me.

Brian happened to be online so I think I latched onto him as a social outlet. Finally after combatting urges to both drink (!) and pig out, I asked him what exactly it is that normal people do when they're feeling sad besides stuff their faces. He said exercise and hobbies, which I immediately realized was true. Now... putzing around on the computer makes me feel better to a point, but after several hours it turns into a general feeling of sloth which doesn't help matters. So at around 10:20pm, I grabbed my coat and went for a walk.

I guess I ended up walking a couple of miles, though I'm not sure precisely. I walked down Camelback to 7th Street, south a bit 'til I realized that I didn't want to go all the way to Indian School. Turned into a neighborhood hoping to cut through... that turned out to be a dead end, and one of the spookiest neighborhoods I've seen in a long time. A few times I skipped as I tried to walk faster and make my escape. About four blocks from my house on the same street as I live, I found a house for sale with some flyers in a tube. I grabbed one and glanced at the list price... $250k. "Damn," I thought, "that's a big house. That won't help my sales price." But then I walked under another street light and saw I had misread the 2- it was actually an 8. Eep. No complaints there.

By the time I got home, my body was warm enough that I didn't need the coat anymore. And I discovered what I'm increasingly finding to be true; physical activity is mother nature's release valve for everything. It really doesn't seem to matter what it is... spend some time converting chemical energy into kinetic energy, and your body will love you for it. Sickness, depression, sleepiness, sleeplessness, weight irregularity, water retention. It's pretty amazing, and I'm pleased to at least temporarily have reached a place where I can consciously intercept my habits when it comes to depression. Maybe if I can rewrite the rulebook and replace bingeing with exercise... I'll find more of the stability I've been looking for.

It seems so effective, really, that it almost seems like I'm experiencing a placebo effect. I woke up this morning at a decent hour, actually got out of bed and made coffee and ate some breakfast. Put up the new shower curtain I bought... and washed my new sheets and put them on the bed, too. And now I've just finished laying out the clothes I intend to take with me to the CES in Las Vegas this week. I'm torn about this trip; part of me wishes that the conference was closer to the end of January, but the rest of me figures I'll on the company dime so I may as well enjoy myself. There's a whole day at the Sands dedicated to consumer robotics advancements. Ooh la la!

I finally found a piece of furniture to finish off the major elements of the entry room; a vintage vacuum-tube driven phonograph console. It works flawlessly, and my intention is to rig the PC to transmit over FM so I can play MP3s on the console and not have to worry about records at all. I just have to coercebeg somebody to help me move it into the house after work but before my flight on Wednesday.

And now I shall enjoy a bowl of soup, a couple episodes of the Simpsons, and some World of Warcraft. Sweet, sweet, geeky luxury.

You know, there are benefits to knowing somebody long term. Like maybe, this...

Or, maybe this one?

This is the house Adam lived in when I met him:

And this was one of his most favoritest haunts:

And this was me shortly after I met him. ;)

And this. This is for him refusing to take down the picture of me in a drunken stupor in Indy.

Don't you just love that look, ladies?

Love you Adam!

I discovered a couple of nights ago that one of the valves under my bathroom sink was leaking. There was a massive puddle, but fortunately no major destruction or anything. I've been keeping it cleaned up since then, and then today I headed over to the hardware store and picked up a replacement valve.

An hour or so later, I've managed to completely remove and clean the old valve without destroying any copper piping. The new and improved replacement valve is installed, bone dry, and works flawlessly. I still find these sort of successes sort of shocking.

Ahhh, this has been a good year. The house has been good to me. My job has been good to me. My friends both old and new have been good to me. Threads of possibility and potential still run throughout my experiences, and that's something I try to cherish.

I'll post some pictures and perhaps a video in a day or two. Until then... happy 2006, everyone!

p.s. You know, one of the strange things about the passing of the new year is that I always feel detached from the world somehow. Like... everyone in your time zone shares this synchronized moment of experience, and everyone on the planet experiences the same thing within 23 hours of each other. Maybe it just seems anticlimactic when you see the ball drop and realize that there ain't nothin' special enough to unite people that way.

I had a minor disaster with the truck yesterday so I took the bus in this morning. I was a bit disappointed when I saw the hulking, ancient form of the Zero Line bus lumbering toward me. I don't care for those busses... the seats are arranged in a more awkward way, and the hand rails all seem to force you to sit in contorted positions. Plus the denizens of that line have seemed exceptionally nasty on past rides. Beggars can't be choosers, however, and I was in a big hurry- so I bit my tongue and boarded.

I sat near the front of the bus, but there was surprisingly ample seating. A woman next to me was talking with the bus driver. “I don't think I could do your job... driving people around in the middle of this... I can't say the word... bullshit.” Referring to the ongoing construction along Central Avenue for the light rail. He didn't respond and I assumed he was ignoring a crazy person, but after a bit he said that he mostly just tried to avoid running over the construction warning markers.

As we neared her stop, she mentioned that she works at Le Peep. The driver laughed and said he always got a kick out of the guy in the chicken suit they put out on the street corner to bring in business. “Oh! That's Luis.” And he told her to have a good day and he'd see her on Tuesday. Go figure.

A woman boarded the bus who wasn't familiar with the lines. She stood at the front for a bit talking to the driver about where she should transfer to get to a particular intersection, and he helped her out and explained where she'd need to exit the bus. For some reason I found the whole exchange interesting and pleasing.

At the next stop, a woman with her baby boarded the bus. They were followed by a remarkably elegant woman in her mid-fifties. She was wearing a short but tasteful black and white polka dotted skirt with a green jacket, and she wore her hair up. There was something about her that was just radiant, and she sat near the woman with her baby and the two cooed at each other and I completely lost my blank transit face and couldn't help but smile. And when she said to the bus driver, “Sir, do you stop at Washington?” I was simply overwhelmed with the utter politeness and friendliness of every single person sitting around me.

So maybe the Zero Line isn't so bad after all.

I've had so much turkey and stuffing and Korean food and chocolate over the last three days, I could pop. I've also noticed an alarming return of Pimply-Adam that may or may not be related. So to try to get things back in shape, I stopped by the grocery store after work today and loaded up on fruits and vegetables. A new one tagged along this time... a turnip.

I haven't had turnips since I was a kid. I don't remember how I was exposed to them, but I distinctly remember eating them raw and chopped up into little cubes. They're sort of the gigantic ogre brother of radishes, which I also used to love. But then again, they're somewhat similar to jicama, which is Spanish for “satan's ass root,” I think.

Mmm, not a lot to talk about I suppose. Shalom, y'all!

My family has a tradition for the holidays that basically entails a two-pronged celebration. Christmas Eve is when my immediate family gathers at my parents' house to spend the day together after opening the gifts we gave to each other. Christmas Day is the extended version where we all truck over to my grandparents' house and commune with some combination of my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. So today was round one. A few key moments...

1. I am entirely infatuated with Dance Dance Revolution. I played that game for hours on end and was surprised to discover that my feet, in fact, are capable of coordinated activity. And nothing makes me want to dance like techno remixes of favorite Nintendo theme songs from my childhood.
2. I received a gift from my parents that is so right on that I cannot even explain it or display it here because it would ruin the fun of showing it off personally to each and every acquaintance I have. I've already named it. It horrifies me in such a way that I left it in the truck tonight.
3. I took advantage of the medical scales my parents keep at the house to do my first weigh-in since my visit to Edmond. Lo and fucking behold, I'm down to 188 pounds. 188 pounds. Though the BMI system is kind of ridiculous, this is the first time in a long time I've been classified as “normal weight” for my height. It occurs to me that I may be in trouble once I achieve my target weight. (Which, for the sake of having a target weight, is... oh, let's say 180.) That's gonna be a whole lot of obsessive behavior to shunt into something new.

p.s. this is fucking sick. that's right. sunday is xmas.

I have a sudden hankering for a marathon showing of Xmas episodes from Futurama. I don't think anything else would scratch the itch, really. Nobody does it like KwanzaaBot.

I've done a bit of shopping yesterday and today, and I think I'm actually finished. Well. Except for my grandma. I'm fucked there though, it's too late and I have no idea what to get for her. Maybe I should regift something. “Here, Grandma. It's a fondue pot. A fondue pot! I knew you'd love it! Merry Christmas OMFGBBQ!”

Go figure. Shitty reviews and a 12% on rottentomatoes.com and I ended up liking it anyway. Of course I may have been distracted by the company, but the plot actually made some sense, the special effects were pretty good, and Charlize Theron was finally hot again.

I received a letter from the City of Phoenix yesterday. The last time this happened, it was a warning that my weeds were so mighty and tall that they had become classified as a pest and fire hazard. So you can imagine my concern that I'd open it up and discover some new and embarrassing HOACity code violation.

I was pleased (to a “dance a little jig” degree) when I instead discovered that my neighborhood has had its historic designation application approved. This means that a substantial number of the homes in my vicinity are now protected from demolition and hideous external remodeling. It also means that I'll have federal and local funds gifted to me to recondition any exterior feature in a historically accurate way. It also means that I'll receive massive property tax breaks starting relatively soon.

And it also means that I can go update my equity and net worth in Quicken. Woohoo! Merry Christmas!

Oh, I'm ever so behind. I started to forget I still have a blog.

I had a really rough day last Friday. Both my boss and my boss' boss were out of the office. And I don't need observation to do my work- I'll whistle a happy tune and turn out code like a good factory worker all on my own. But I do need someone to stand between people who come directly to me to try to circumvent and override priorities over which I have no power. Especially when those people drag me to meetings which demonstrate the kind of sheer idiocy and incompetence that makes me want to drive nails into my eardrums to silence their endless bickering.

So, right, that was a bit unpleasant, and I cracked a bit. Unloaded on a friend over margaritas and had more beer after I got home. Crashed grumpily in bed at far too late an hour since I had to drive to Sedona the next morning.

Sedona was great, though. Relaxed with my family, played games and avoided all alcohol (as I am repenting for many days of excessive drink) but had a lot of fun. I listened to a few back episodes of The Dawn & Drew Show on the drive up... I didn't think this would affect me until I arrived and accidentally said “shitty” and “fuck it up” in front of my ten year old sister, who was naturally quite put out.

*snip snip*

Work is bad. I won't talk about it in detail because I can't seem to do so without diverging into content that might get me dooced. I figure it'll shake out soon enough, or I will find ways to cope... (exotic class schedules aren't out of the question)... but right now, I'm annoyed as fuck and... *snip snip*

Right then, pip pip, cheerio.

Tired now. More cleaning and laundry to do. Will write more later.

I didn't mention it yesterday, but my adventures took me right by Houdini's house. Within a mile, actually, and by accident. But once I realized where I was, I thought, “Ehh, I may as well drive by.” I'm not sure why. But I did. His motorcycle trailer was laying on front of the back gate.

Since then, I have had an alarming flood of Houdini-related memories bubble up to the surface. Nothing really detrimental or painful, just... undesired, and unexpected. Go figure. Really, though, I dealt with him by circumventing grief. I short circuited the process by falsifying history and fooling myself into acting like nothing had ever happened. So is it a surprise that I'm vulnerable to him still- but only to the grief that his memory can finally force me to confront?

I went on a Lesser Adventure today. After waking up with a good dose of espresso and a much-needed facial purification exercise, I was all rearing to go... nowhere. So I got in the truck and headed north, at random.

There's some interesting stuff up that way. I don't think I went anywhere I haven't been at one time or another, but I connected a few dots on my mental roadmap and got to see some areas I haven't visited in years. And like a bee spreading pollen to neighboring flowers, I did some of my regular shopping and spritzed my spending dollars across... Moon Valley? Union Hills? Still, technically Phoenix.

I finally replaced the old thermostat in my bedroom with a programmable one. I made a mistake and bought two horizontals- the front unit has a vertical thermostat already and I'd rather keep it consistent- but I'm optimistic after having installed one that the second will be a cinch.

Despite my floricidal tendencies, I seem to have finally gotten the knack of keeping some plants alive. (We're not going to count the overgrown lawn here.) The trick seems to be to place the plants in a location where I must see them almost daily, and in a location where water is readily available to top them off. Plant #1 lives on the clothes dryer under a window and gets water every time I do a load of laundry, and plant #2 lives outside by the koi pond and gets some redirected koi effluence whenever it starts to look droopy. Voila, happy plants!

Today I picked up a small chile plant to place in the trellis in the front yard. The sprinkler system waters that area so I figured I'm covered- and I was digging happily in the soil, getting the little guy situated, when I felt something a bit squishy. It was fresh cat poop. At least I know the plant will get plenty of nutrients.

It looks kind of ridiculous, really. The front yard is lush and green but otherwise subdued in texture and color. Now there is this teeny tiny chile plant that's like a defiant explosion of color and shape and it looks a bit out of place. But assuming I can keep it alive, I'll either add one or two more or drop a couple other plants along the row with it to balance things out. And for the time being, everyone can just accept that this plant makes the statement: “Look what Adam hasn't killed yet!”

After years of geekery in the realms of unix, I have finally found an application for the “at” utility. Cron is easy, everybody uses cron. But when you've got a new projector that's become a six-foot television in your bedroom, and you don't want to run the thing all night long while you sleep, is cron going to help you? No way!

vesuvius: ~ % at now 2 hours
at> br -f 9
at> <EOT>

I was reading an article earlier about the Denver International Airport finally giving up its underground baggage handling system completely. Somehow that stemmed off to this page talking about strange phenomena observed at the airport, the bizarre murals on the walls, and other conspiracy-type information. It sounds a little fishy to me, but I'll definitely check out these creepy murals the next time I fly through Denver.

I probably should've tried to pull off the movie this weekend, but my brain scattered and I ended up procrastinating plans for too long. Between irrigation schedules and other plans, the best bet will end up being this Friday the 2nd. If I can't swing that, it'll end up being Saturday the 24th. It looks like Barbarella has pulled ahead... (although I'm pretty sure that somebody's been cheating!)...

I've got a serious newfound appreciation for the projectors we use at work, though. This thing is a beast. It burned out a bulb already- I figure it'd had some use before I bought it- and I discovered that the bulbs it uses, while cheap, only have a lifespan of 50 hours or so. The DLP jobs at work are tiny tiny, incredibly sharp, and have bulbs that last for thousands of hours. Maybe by the time I burn through a handful of bulbs, I'll manage to find a comparably cheap first-gen DLP projector to replace it.

I. For a variety of reasons, I'm in the process of refinancing my mortgage. Having initially taken both a first and second mortgage in order to avoid paying PMI, the rising interest rates had already triggered the first of a long line of rate increases on the smaller of the loans. This makes Adam an unhappy boy. The hope was that with rising real estate values, I'd hold more than 20% equity and would be able to roll both back into a single fixed-rate mortgage.

The appraisal came back today, and it's breathtakingly higher than I expected. Literally breathtaking. Not many things take me gasp aloud, but I was on the phone with my mortgage broker and I actually lost my breath for a moment. My coworkers all asked afterwards if I was okay. I'm such a dork.

II. I met with our CIO this afternoon to explain to him what exactly this whole “RSS thing” is. And I was startlingly comfortable with him. I've always been intimidated by authority figures, celebrity types, etc. But you know what? As soon as I was obviously comfortable with him, he warmed right up. I think it actually made my boss uncomfortable, he kept trying to butt in to make it obvious that he, too, knew all about RSS. (Mm'kay.)

It was eerily reminiscent of that dream I had last night... just without the hostile reaction. The big boss started explaining to my boss a scene from the Godfather to help him understand why not to become emotional and tip his hand to those “outside the family”. I think I might actually like the guy. And I think the experiences of this trip in Indy may have been more catalytic than I realized.

III. The projector I bought on eBay finally arrived. Don't ever use the post office to ship anything that won't fit in an envelope. For the same price, you can use FedEx or UPS, and neither of them suck nearly as much ass as the postmaster.

I hooked it up to the better speakers, cut the lights in the bedroom, and put Alien vs. Predator on half of a long wall. And it is FANTASTIC. Not high-res DLP quality, but incredibly good for even DVD quality video. I'm actually scared to watch it because the combination of sound and darkened room make it far too immersive, and the scary house sounds don't help.

Wow, I had the freakiest series of dreams last night. I keep remembering odd details. Someone pretty high up in my company was sort of mixed with the woman on the plane whose ass got grabbed. I was in a meeting with her and a handful of other people I work with.

In this meeting, she was talking about some sort of spam problem. She was saying, “So, there's no way to solve this? That means we'll have to abandon the whole application.” I felt like I'd just arrived, but I chimed in and explained a couple of possible solutions to the issue. She seemed thrilled with this, despite the fact that she proceeded to interrogate me about details. I told her I'd need three weeks to implement the change, and the meeting broke up.

My boss took me off to a corner and told me that they'd all been wanting to keep that information from her. I said something pretty pointed back to him about how his job wasn't to cover his own ass and hide things from people. We got into an unpleasant argument and both of us said some pretty ugly stuff.

In the end, I was talking more and more with the boss that matters and she was pleased with my work. There was a stage set up somewhere that was almost like an altar to her... there was a large artistic rendering of her face, and people performed a play on the stage at various intervals. My boss kept telling me to be wary of making a “pact with the devil” and I kept going back to the stage to watch the show and try to figure out if I was doing something stupid.

There was also a part of the dream where MacGyver showed up. I don't know what that was about.

I'm finally back in Phoenix. I enjoyed Indy, but I'm tired- more due to extended time spent in business attire and more time talking about work than I'm used to. Fortunately, my reserve of alone time can last me for 48 hours of constant work exposure. Much longer and I would've run howling into the streets wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt with flip flops.

I was on the flight back from Indianapolis sitting next to an older couple. The woman was next to me, maybe 60-something. At one point, I was trying to bend my legs into a new configuration to get the blood flowing again. She said, “Are you okay?” I looked at her with a sideways grin and said, “Yeah?” And she said, “Isn't this awful?” And without thinking, I said, “I hate it.”

It turns out she and her husband were flying to Anchorage, Alaska. They'd just decided a week before to do it on a whim... they'd both always wanted to go. I was thinking to myself how cool it was to see an older couple that still enjoyed each other so much and traveled without a plan. And then he put his hand around her shoulder. And then slid it slowly down to her ass. And she giggled.

And I pretended not to notice and continued reading my book.

Ohhhh, man alive. I have had some yummy meals in my day, and had the good fortune of having an expense account for a few of them. Tonight's dinner was... tied for the best expensed meal ever.

We dined at St. Elmo's steakhouse in Indianapolis. Started out with one of their famous shrimp cocktails... fresh ground horseradish made the cocktail sauce so delicious I was tempted to eat it all by itself. Five massive jumbo shrimp... juicy, tender, flawless.

A couple of my coworkers ordered beer but I ended up opting for a filet mignon with a glass of an amazing cabernet sauvignon. It was... a bit pricey, but I figured one glass of quality wine is about the price of two beers, so I was still in line. Ohhhh man, this is the kind of beef that's worthy of a sashimi spread. Tender, delicious, flavorful... warm pink center, juicy. Ohh, there is nothing like a flawless cut of beef with a meaty class of wine.

The service was phenomenal as well. The older I get, the more I appreciate the kind of exceptional service it seems you only receive at institution-type restaurants. I like that it doesn't feel like a facade- it's almost European, that these waiters are more than just waiters. They take pride in their work and want you to have an exceptional experience. I don't mind paying a fat tip to someone who acts like a gentleman and is conscientious and courteous.

I think I'm on meat overload, though. Is that a midwestern thing? I've never noticed myself inadvertently chowing down on tons of meat before. Everywhere I've been to eat, it's just been meat this or meat that. Although I did have a spinach salad for lunch with corn and black beans. And meat on top. Hrm.

We're on the flight back to Phoenix tomorrow afternoon. To be honest, this trip was a perfect temporary escape. Demanding enough to require an almost meditative focus, but short enough not to become painful. And the weather has been gorgeous.

Long day. Long, interesting day. It's been a little eerie- meeting with a lot of the people who I knew before, being in the same places. There's a spark, or a positive feeling, that is gone. Gone gone gone. I'm not sure if it's because one of the key guys on the team left just recently, or if it's a permanent change. The printing presses used be downstairs, they're not there anymore. And everything that seemed grimy out of necessity before seems hollow and empty. Kinda sad.

I found one particular thing sort of delightful in a way. My company has had ties to Indianapolis for decades, and the time when I was here last was just before we were purchased by a large media conglomerate. When I was here, I was assisting in the installation of some replacement software that a coworker and I had built to augment a commercial application both sites used- and hated. And it was an improvement.

The acquisition derailed the parallel development, though. It needed a lot more work, which I continued to do in Phoenix. Kinks got worked out, speed improved, hardware improved, process flows improved. In the end, we got down to a pretty snappy, response, customizable tool that does just what we need. And we abandoned Indy with a version of the software that had an extra chromosome.

Now that I'm back, though, I managed to squeeze out details of what happened with it. They speak of the version I gave them with loathing- (I didn't remind them that I helped bring it to them)- and then they talked about a replacement that a programmer had been hired to build for them. They've since replaced it at the demand of corporate with something debatably inferior but standard... so I said, “Hey, can I see XYZ if you've still got it running?” XYZ being the middle version.

I was sort of amazed to see an alternate incarnation of the final product I had worked toward in Phoenix. The interface was subtly different- certain things were rearranged, relocated, replaced. But I could tell enough of the nuts and bolts to see that they'd taken my system and made it work the same way I eventually did. They ran into some of the same problems I did. Hearing all this reminded me of those stories about twins separated at birth, who claim to have felt when the other was injured and did other eerily parallel things in their lives. Yes, I am a dork.

It was fun to see my baby all grown up without my help.