January 10, 2002

gravitational mud sheep

The temperature suggests that it’s raining, but the precipitation falling is much too slow. Conclusion? It’s either snowing or the gravity shackles broke down.

TEST: Nope. I fell down the spiral staircase just as usual. Gravity is fine. It must be snowing.

The problem with not having anything important to do is you end up moping around the apartment in your sleepwear all day, listening to music, updating websites and reading weblogs. Not so say that’s bad or anything, just that my actions would seem a lot more official if I actually dressed in something presentable. I can’t even answer the door like this. I think a similiar fate befalls people who work at home. The good ones probably work quite hard, albeit in their underwear, but at the end of the day they look back and see nothing. I rolled out of bed, I sat at the computer for eight hours, I rolled back into bed. What did I do all day?

The next problem is figuring out what to eat. It’s 10:47, and I don’t know if that means breakfast or lunch. Brunch is definitely out because it implies something extravagent like french toast, bacon, soup and melons. I can’t choose between pasta or oatmeal.

I’ve decided to stop feeling guilty about reading weblogs, and I’ll bring the pangs back only after everyone else feels guilty about reading the newspaper. Which they should. The way these bloggers pick apart the media, it’s startling that anyone has a subscription anymore, or that people actually get paid to write the rubbish in papers. Today I will launch my new Links section and give ya’ll some quality thought-provoking blogs to check out.

Later: Ok so, Links didn’t happen. I got distracted by this at USS Clueless. It got me thinking seriously about what I post on the web, so I rooted through all my MetaFilter posts. Nothing there I was ashamed of, and I think the content at Cromlech is fairly clean. I never seriously considered the implications of being Googled. I’m cool with whatever most people find, but if a snooping employer starts poking around the net I don’t want them to find posts that suggest independent thought. I’m a good sheep. Good sheep.

Do you guys hear me? GOOD SHEEP. I love your company. I especially love that you’re prying into my publicized private life, not because of an honest interest in me but in an attempt to find any mud I managed to track in the house. Good for you.