Molten Boron

So last week Comcast moved Cartoon Network (and, more importantly, Adult Swim) to digital-only. I discovered this when CN started showing football games.

This is one of three channels I watch, and it’s been replaced by “Sports South.”

I contacted their tech support in a vain attempt to get some sort of satisfaction, and was told they sent mail out to everyone announcing that they’d upgraded and enhanced their system in such-and-such a way that blah blah blah, etc.

Monday I ordered a cable box. It was free, ’cause I was only going to hook it up to one TV (actually mercury [my MythTV box]).

I get it in the mail Thursday, the same day I get the letter from Comcast explaining that they’d upgraded and enhanced their system in blah blah blah. Great timing.

Since I’m now using a cable box (technology I was glad that we got rid of with the advent of “cable-ready” televisions), I can’t use MythTV to change channels on the tuner. Well, not directly. There are a few options.

One is the IR Blaster that came with my Hauppauge capture card; I can’t get this to work. There are a baker’s dozen tutorials and howtos, but they’re all different, and none of them seem to work for me.

The digital receiver has a serial port! I can control it through that, but discovered (after 20 minutes of digging through boxes for a serial cable) that mercury doesn’t have a serial port.

I believe mercury has Firewire, and could (in theory) use that — but the receiver doesn’t have it.

So now I’m boned. I can use the MythTV box for viewing live TV and pause it, but I can no longer use it to schedule recordings.

It’s all very frustrating. Things were working just fine until Comcast decided we all needed to be on digital. How the hell is this better? The first digital show I watched on it was King of the Hill, and the display got corrupted three times in twenty minutes.

I now have far too many damned wires in my living room.

For the last week, I’ve thought there was a party tonight. It’s two weeks from now. Whoops.

I blew my four-day caffeine-free spree today; lots of tea, lots of Coke.

Canada Dry and Sailor Jerry, now.

I’m blogging on the PC because the Mac is playing The Fourth Kind, borrowed from cute-and-way-too-young waitress at Sal’s.

Going to drop off The Thing for her tomorrow.

The PC screen is very bright; ruins the mood of the movie with the rest of the lights off. The Mac has a shortcut — something like control-option-command-8 — that inverts the screen colors. I’ve done something similar with the NVidia settings, but it’s a pain to get to and there’s no shortcut for it.

Might be neat to play Team Fortress 2 this way.

I’ve been meaning to learn how to use Java and Eclipse and the Android SDK and the whole shebang, but it’s a hell of an initial cliff. It’s easier to just go to bed.

Didn’t go to work yesterday. Slept through it.

That’s sort of a lie. I slept through most of it. Woke up periodically, checked my email, went back to bed.

The Chicken Parmesan sub at Sal’s is really good.

Shada’s in stealth mode. She’s been a bit of a terror lately. I’m glad, actually; it means she’s getting more exercise than I am.

I keep meaning to go back to the stationary bike, but as with Eclipse, it’s easier to sleep.

This movie’s starting to get into the ancient-astronaut vein.

Maybe I’ll get something done this weekend.

While eating dinner at Sal’s, with a bare minimum of Googling (forgot how to assign to arrays during initialization, and minor inspiration for non-blocking getchar() — oh, yeah, use curses!) I wrote my first C program in years. Life!

I think I’ve coded Life in every programming language I’ve ever learned.

Feels good, but I wish I’d done something useful with my high-productivity dinner-time.

Had dinner with Chad on Wednesday. Him, me, I don’t know. Something’s weird. I think I pissed him off.

Didn’t go to work Thursday.

Did twenty minutes on the stationary bike this afternoon.

Two steps forward, two steps back, and one step sideways.

HUZZAH!

I feel like I should write something but my head hurts and I’m going to bed.

I’m like a blog-tease.

I took advantage of Kevin’s birthday (and his air mattress) last weekend and finally got to see New Orleans. I’m afraid I’ve spent too long at work since then, and a lot of my good adjectives have been burnt out of my head by daily soul-deadening job-stuff, but I’ll say what I can.

It was neat. They have drive-through daiquiri places. And a huge park. And bars! And restaurants!

Most of all, I liked the houses. Beautiful old houses. Curves and arches and sweeping stairs everywhere. There was a lot of construction still going on, but they have a ways to go, yet.

Met several of Kevin’s friends down there, and they all seemed like pretty sharp people. He drove Trey and I all over the place, telling us how things had changed since Katrina. Kevin made a great tour guide, even though we didn’t do touristy things.

It’s been almost five years, though, and large chunks of the place haven’t recovered or rebuilt. (Sounds familiar.)

On a more personal note, I didn’t crash while I was there. I got drunk and whiny, but not to excess. It was hot and humid, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Oddly, I slept noticeably better there than I do up here. Allergies, maybe? Too much cattus-interruptus from Shada to get enough sleep at home?

The vegetation and low horizon and daily thunderstorms reminded me a whole lot of Florida, and I loved every minute of it.

(Except maybe the roads in Alabama and Mississippi. I didn’t realize Tennessee put so much effort into ours.)

Writing this at Sal’s. Been meaning to haul my laptop in here since they got wireless. I’m kind of self-conscious about it, though.

I’m self-conscious about a lot of things.

Had another half-day at work today. Couldn’t bring myself to start; slept until eleven or so.

(I thought that perhaps writing in a different environment would allow me to distract sufficient portions of my mind to let the words out; I didn’t count on being distracted by food, though. Duh.)

I go to restaurants because they remind me that other people are real, and I can interact with them on my own terms.

That’s not how people are. On-demand.

These are people that are financially obligated to be here during certain periods of time. They’re polite to me because it’s their job. This isn’t friendship. This isn’t family.

I haven’t actually talked to Chad in a couple months.

We were drinking at the Nail one night in February. Chad and I disagreed about the capabilities of the HDTV behind the bar, and he just went off. He snapped at me that every time we go there, I argue with him. I disagreed, and that didn’t help my case any.

Something in me shut off. I was furious. I felt betrayed, whatever the reality. I was done. I finished my drink, finished what I could of my pizza, and left.

I think I understand what happened from his perspective; about as well as I do from my own, anyway. I won’t go into that here, as it seems like airing someone else’s laundry. As I have my not-entirely-reasonable responses to feelings, so does he.

(Waitress drops by; I wish I could learn to keep my eyes from immediately going to breasts.)

(Can’t have a post about my feelings and another man’s feelings without reinforcing my heterosexuality? No, really, the waitress is painfully attractive.)

We’ve had a couple minor text-message “conversations” since then. He’s quit drinking, which makes me angry. I don’t know if this could be described as rational or not, but it’s certainly inappropriate and counterproductive. I’m glad he’s happy with it, but… I feel like once again, I’ve followed him into something only to be left behind when he moves on. I can’t keep up with him, and never could.

(More accurately, I think, he bores of things and moves on while I prefer to stay in one place.)

That’s not his fault.

As careful as I’ve tried to be, little flecks of tomato sauce have found their way to my laptop.

There were other things I wanted to write about, but I think that’s enough, for now.

What does one do?

I mean… I’m theoretically a perl developer, but I spend maybe an hour a day doing that. *Maybe* two. I play WoW a lot; but I haven’t played it for more than an hour in the last three days.

I didn’t go to work yesterday. I just went back to bed.

None of this (picture “this” accompanied by a lot of vague hand-waving) is where it was supposed to be, by now.

Also, I’m a little drunk.

I actually started to send this to someone instead of posting it, but half-recovered in time to realize that what’s in my head is in my head and not outside of it.

Drinking and watching House and funny cat videos.

Spent much of the evening knocking heads off zombies.

Finished my latest car book, Hunter’s Run. It was interesting. Not what I expected.

Work has been frustrating. I’m fine in the morning, I’m okay through breakfast — but getting to work just shuts everything off.

When I finally get to leave, … I don’t feel like I have anywhere to go.

There’s stuff going on in my head, and I’m afraid to find out what it is.

Bought some new pants.

I think I’m going to Cookeville tomorrow.

When I close my eyes, the motion make me seasick. Sort of a blurry, drifting, wobbling feeling.

Memories swish around and fold into other things.

Loaded down with cliches. Needing to “find myself.” Need reasons. Destinations. Goals. Motives.

Bored and tired. Can only motivate for a few hours at a time, and then it’s all meaningless again.

I question almost everything except what needs it, which I don’t recognize.

It feels like everything’s over, finished. Just hanging around, now.

What’s next? Who will I be tomorrow?

Who was I yesterday?

I go in circles. No one can answer these questions for me. I can’t answer them. The end. There’s nowhere to go from there, so I start over.

I don’t entirely understand. I had to steal them from her before I went to, um, dinnerbreakfast. She’d hunkered down in three or four pair by the bedroom door and gone into ambush mode. You know how that is; pupils dilated, ears forward, tail whipping. Death on four legs for anything smaller than her. Then, POW! Part of her nest was gone.

After dinner, I’m back in sweatpants and Shada’s back in my jeans, guarding the door.

I promised myself I’d write today. I even tweeted twattered twitted twent about it, so I’m publicly obliged.

Trying to stay on-task, but distractions abound. Already watched an episode of “Parks and Recreation” and half of “The Office” and the first episode of “Invader Zim” and played around with the Mac a bit, and I’m not even a dozen dozen words in.

Had my regular checkup with my doctor a few weeks ago; weight 263 pounds, blood pressure 132/88. All my organs seem to be functioning properly. Creatinine, potassium, glucose, all that happy stuff.

Doctor suspects the weakness I’ve recently noticed in my right arm might be an early carpal tunnel problem. Told me to get a wrist-rest for my mouse-pad. Haven’t yet, but will try to remember to.

I’m not going to my therapist next week.

Last week was disheartening. Recognized that I’ve been doing everything I can to not cooperate with her. On one level I do, but that part isn’t as dominant as the one that just goes to say that I’m going. Not as strong as the part that says, you know, screw it, I’m going to sleep through Wednesday for no reason. Therapist thinks we’re just wasting time.

(One-hour intermission for phone call with Sky. She’s going through some interesting times.)

Haven’t been to any bars in a while, but want to — and know there’s no reason to. I want to drink and socialize, but not by myself. Me and a bunch of strangers? No.

Been thinking about my Waffle House habit. I can eat a meal at home. I can read a book at home. I’d rather eat and read a book at Waffle House, or Sal’s, or Hacienda. Somewhere public. Why? I think I like being around people. Not necessarily interacting with them, but being near. I need to be reminded that there are other people.

Using Waffle House as a social outlet can’t be healthy. I mean, even aside from dietary effects. These people are paid to be there and say hello to everyone that walks in. It’s their job.

I’ve got friends. Why don’t I hang out with them more? Is it because the more familiar I am with someone, the more free I feel to behave like an ass?