Diary of a Network Geek

I started cleaning house a little this weekend.

You see, I have this one room that is filled with the residue of a previous life. Old clothes and books and furniture and papers and junk and… Shoes. Lots of shoes.
I stopped gathering bags of junk to throw out when I hit six because I’d more than filled my garbage cans. I have so many more to fill and throw out that it was almost overwhelming. Almost. Most of the clothes will go to someplace like the Salvation Army or to help victims of Katrina or something. (Yes, there are still people from Katrina that need clothes!) I have old school uniforms and jeans and other kids clothes as well as adult clothes. I haven’t even started sorting the boxes upon boxes of books. Or decided what to do with all the left over furnature. Frankly, there are some heirlooms I’d like to see go back to my former in-laws, so that, one day, my former step-daughter might have them. I’m not sure if that will happen or not though. If you all could see this one room in my house filled with so many boxes and bags and piles of junk, you could see why it was so hard to get motivated to deal with it. There’s a part of me that would like to just heap it up on the front lawn and set fire to it, though I wouldn’t indluge in that kind of waste even if it weren’t illegal to burn that much that way. Still, it has to be dealt with somehow, sooner or later, so I’ve started. A little at a time and it will get out faster than I might think.

I joked with my mother not too long ago that I should have a party to get rid of it all. I could go through my house and tag all the things that I want to “dispose” of and then invite single women in to just cart it off, in exchange for contatct information and/or dates. She thought it was hilarious. I even had a plan for different levels of exchange for the stuff.
I could use colored stickers or tags, with each color requiring a different level of personal info. For white stickers, just a name and good phone number, pre-verified. For red stickers, a name, good, preverified phone number and at least two evenings that the lady in question would be available for a date in the next two months. For gold stickers, a name, a good, preverified phone number, at least two evenings in the next month that she’d be available, and one actual, prearranged date. Obviously, the grade of “stuff” goes up with each sticker and the required information to gain access to the stickers. Each level has access to the lower levels of sticker as well.

Like I said, my mother thought it was hilarious. Have I mentioned that my family has a somewhat twisted sense of humor? And, interestingly enough, my father remained rather silent on that whole subject.
Anyone have any thoughts on the merits of such a party?

Now, you may have noticed that this post is surrounded by pictures of shoes. Lots of shoes. On the top left, a single pair of rather sensible shoes, women’s size seven and a-half. The rest, though, are seven pairs of, well, not so sensible shoes. One is a size eight, but the rest are also size seven and a-half. I should note that these are not my shoes, but shoes I am going to be getting rid of, one way or another, shortly. You may also notice that they have a theme, of sorts, besides being mostly black. Notice the extremely high heels, the amazing platforms. Also, if you click on the thumbnails, you’ll see that most of them are hardly worn, or, in some cases, not worn at all. I should note also, that while I paid for most, if not all of these shoes, I did not really pick them out. I retained veto rights over them, so they all had my tacit approval, but I did not go seeking them. They were not my “thing”, as it were, though I had little argument with them as I bought them. In many ways, they represent the worst kind of residue of that old life. They are not what I’m looking for at all anymore. They weren’t even what I was looking for back then, but they were what I found.
I hope that what these shoes represent don’t frighten or disturb anyone who reads this blog, either employers or potential dates. As I mentioned, they represent a life I did my best to walk away from and leave behind. But, I do hope they explain, a little, that when I say I have a sordid past, or that there are things about me that people don’t know or understand, I’m not joking. I’m not kidding around, or exagerating, or embelishing for effect, or even trying to impress anyone, when I say that I do have an unusual past, a slightly different history, than people might think from this blog and my current life. Or, as I like to remind people, even a priest has a past.

So, finally, here’s a little Advice from your Uncle Jim, kids, everyone has a past and that sometimes effects their future. We can change, even though it may be hard and may have a price, but, who we have been will still effect who we become. You can’t always tell who a person was by who they are today.

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"Before you give someone a piece of your mind, make sure you can spare it."

Were you a little lonely on St. Valentine’s Day? Then, my geeky readers, I’ve got just the thing for you: The top eleven Geek Pickup lines, third edition, as stolen from BBSpot, for your Friday afternoon funny:

Geek Pick-Up Lines: Part 3
11. I’m attracted to you so much that scientists will begin to doubt the Theory of Relativity.
10. What’s a nice girl like you doing in a chatroom like this?
9. Resistance is futile.
8. No matter how I sort things, you’ll always be first.
7. No, that’s not a Logitech MX-100 in my pants, but thanks for noticing.
6. I think you could be an integral part of my project life cycle.
5. I’d switch to emacs for you.
4. You put the SPARC in my workstation.
3. If you have an empty slot, I have the card to fill it.
2. We’re like SLI. We’re great alone, but we’d be so much better together.
1. You got me stuck on Caps Lock, if you know what I mean.

Hey, they just keep on getting better, don’t they? Well, there are more coming, but, I like doling them out over time. You know, to build the anticipation!
Happy Friday!

It’s been a long week.
And, frankly, next week doesn’t look like it’s going to get any easier. For starters, I’ve been wrestling with this server at work. I mean this has been real Jacob wrestling with the Angel kind of epic battle stuff here. In fact, it was so bad that just today I was looking at returning Novell’s Open Enterprise Server and SuSE Linux in favor of Windows Server 2003. For those of you who know me and know my Novell zealotry, you know how much I would have hated to do that. Thankfully, the guy Novell sent over to help out got me squared away. I think I’ve actually been Novell certified longer than he’s been in the business, but, still, he knew his stuff, so it’s all good.
I’ve been trying to get the server installed for the past two weeks and kept running into strange errors. Well, it turns out to have a really, tiny, picaune thing. Remember some time back I was talking about naming conventions? Turns out it was more important than you could imagine. In the old days, we all used the underscore character in our tree names, as in “CompanyName_Tree”. Now, apparently, no one uses that convention and, as a result, a bug slipped through that kills the install. So, do I get a prize for finding it? Doubtful.
In any case, we managed to convince the boss that we should stick with Linux and OES and that we’d go over the migration tools tomorrow, which is when most of you will be reading this post anyway. So, I’m still going to get those career goals in after all. Woot!

On other fronts, I’ve got at least one, dear, sweet lady crawling all over my site to try and find out all about me. No matter what she finds here, and, yes, I am directing her to put the best possible spin on who I am, it still won’t be me. Not all of me. Not the part of me that people really love. The blog gives information, but, I’m more than the sum of my stories. And, in fact, many stories simply won’t ever see print, here or anywhere else. I have collections of odd, little facts and strange, obtuse skills that simply don’t fit well into a blog. And my humor doesn’t really play well in print, either. It’s all timing with me, and you can’t do timing very well in print. Still, I worry that we’ll be all out of things to talk about by the time we actually connect for coffee. I hope she’s ready to talk about herself!
And, several people have come to me for advice in the past week. Or, I’ve seen a couple of situations that I’d like to advise people about. Thankfully, I’ve shown restraint. Mostly. No one really wants me to give them advice. My advice is rarely well recieved, even if it is dead on. It may be my communication style, but, whatever it is, people sure don’t like hearing my advice. i do try and temper it by starting off with “Well, if I were in your position, I’d…” Doesn’t always work that well. Of course, I never said I made the best choices for myself, either! Still, sometimes it’s just like watching a slow-motion train wreck. You can see it all happening, but what can you do? These folks wouldn’t believe me if I told them the pattern I see in their lives. They’d just get pissed off at me. Of course, it wouldn’t change that I was right or that they knew I was right, but, still…

Well, there’s more, but my brain is all a-whirl with thoughts of my upcoming day, weekend and week that I can’t summon them up. Besides, I have a feeling I’d really irritate someone if I did! Always seems to work that way. So, it’s off to a lonely bed with my faithful companion. G’night.

I think it’s going to be a long day…
So, about the fourth time I was falling back asleep this morning, my mind started to wander. Now, keep in mind this is a PG-13 blog and I try to keep it clean, okay? Well, I’d had an e-mail exchange with someone who was sick, who was wishing for somebody to make her soup and snuggle with her under the covers and keep her warm. Yeah, guess where my half-waking mind went this morning in my cold house. Right. And, yes, that would have been a pleasant way to spend Valentine’s Day, frankly. Feeding someone soup and keeping her warm is better than the way I’ve spent that day in the last several years at any rate. Now, you dirty minded people, I told you to keep it clean. I wouldn’t have taken advantage of the sick lady. Just snuggled in and helped her break that fever. Honest. You can trust me on this. I would not lie to you about something so important.
So, does that sound sad and lonely and desperate? Or just warm and fuzzy and cute?
Well, I don’t care, either way. I wasn’t quite awake and my mind was just going somewhere warm. And snuggly.

I roll over and find myself looking into eager, soft, brown eyes surrounded by red-blonde hair. Oh, God, what a night…

But, that’s getting ahead of myself. It was a long, frustrating week of server wrestling that ended in a stalemate. The endless cycle of tweak, test, repeat broken by the pulsing tone of a text message arriving on my phone. No, more than that. “A picture share!”, my Inbox winked at me. “I’m so tired!” said the message. And then I scrolled down. As I recall, my reaction was “Daaaaammmmmnnnnn!” Followed by, “I wonder what her lips taste like?” And, more, of course, but not anything I’d share in a PG-13 blog. What I did respond with was how cute and adorable I thought she was. Apparently, she was looking for more. More I could have given her, but, well, I do try not be too aggressive with the married ones, even if they are unhappy and headed toward divorce. And, since she’ll be reading this, I loved her little, lopsided smile and her wild blonde hair pulled back into a simple pony tail. Adorable. The kind of adorable you want to wake up with for the next sixty years or so.
Somewhere between the camera phone surprise and throwing in the towel on my server config, a guy invites me to his “Thank God Almighty, I am free at last” party. Normally, I’m not really thrilled with a guy carrying on a conversation with me at the urinal, but, hey, free food and drink is worth a little dance outside my men’s room comfort zone. So, last one out the door into the rain, I zip over to meet his Filipina girlfriend, eat her wonderful shrimp wrapped in bacon, and knock back two quick beers. While I’m there, my hot, little picture-taker calls, then excuses herself when she hears where I’m at. On my way home, I call her.
“Yeah, I’m headed home already. Look, I work with those [deleted plural expletive] five days a week. They always want something from me and can never wait. I don’t really want to hang out with them any longer than I have to after I get my free food.”
“So, you still going to the bookstore?”
“Yeah, might as well. Hey, I know it’s not going to go well, but abject failure makes a funnier blog post than outrageous success anyway.”
“HaHa! Well, good luck on your cooter hunt!” Have I mentioned I really dig that country twang in her voice? Shame she’s married. That’s me, always the friend of the hot, married girl.

I slid into Borders with a plan, or, at least, a theme: music. Music magazines and CDs. Hey, it’s buy three, get the fourth free! So, I decided that it would be four that I don’t normally listen to now. As I roll through the door, I can see that pickings will be slim. Couples everywhere. Well, I figure I’m already there, I have my laptop and I can use the coffee. So, I grab a couple music rags that have free CDs: Mojo and Classic Rock. Then, it was a quick lap around the store, feigning interest in books I knew I wouldn’t buy. Worse than a snipe hunt. So, upstairs to skulk around the writing books, trying to look literate. Rumor has it, chicks did literate guys, or so I’ve been told. As I pass by the VD display, though, a book catches my eye: Cooking to Hook Up : The Bachelor’s Date-Night Cookbook. My music theme has met its first upset, but, I think, eventually, it’ll be worth it. If chicks dig literate guys, literate guys who can cook have got to be even better. Right?
So, since the pickings aren’t any better in the knitting section, I ease over to the music section. Right to the Pop/Rock racks, with a slight detour past the “Local Scene” display. From there, I snag A Little Gun Shy by Brian Douglas. It’s a risk, but, hey, he’s local talent. Then it was off to a new favorite, discovered through obsessive-compulsive searching through the blogosphere, Bowling for Soup, this time I grab Drunk Enough to Dance, because, that’s about what it takes for this whiter than white-guy to get out and shake it. Then, two new ones from old favorites: The Delivery Man by Elvis Costello and the Imposters, along with Wildflower by Sheryl Crow. Like I said, whiter than white. It’s who I am, learn to embrace my lack of diversity.
My music theme complete, I hobble into the coffee shop, still hoping that single women will have nothing better to do on a Friday night besides buy books and chat me up. Hey, hope springs eternal, you know? No Bavarian death cake, but a surrogate from Belgium and an espresso shooter in a paper cup. It’s either that or a long, chest needle like Pulp Fiction. I eat my Bavarian death cake substitute like a guy in a prison movie, always looking at the other tables and with one foot in the aisle in case I need to move in a hurry. The caffeine shooter chases the cake, but it’s not enough, so I go back and get regular medium cup of steaming, hot, Italian Fascism to keep me going through the tragedy that has become my wasted evening. In a sad attempt to salvage my trip, I crank up my ancient laptop, which runs RedHat, and do a little writing exercise to keep me limber. I describe the people I see:
People seen at Borders
The guy with the faux three day growth beard… The tall girl with him wearing yoga pants…
The two couples on a date. The fair-skinned girl with dark eyes who was more interested in the other men than her date. The sad smile she gave me as she walked just out of his reach said “help me, for God’s sake find a way to help me out her, buddy” Her date was the recycled frat boy with the baby face and the crewcut that had grown out sideways and in uneven patches…
…All lonely, all hungry, all hunting the same thing. All failing miserably. All except the two gay guys who found each other. Happy as clams, they make cow eyes at each other and giggle like school-girls.
A little girl, half Asian, with a thoughtful gleam in her eye and a tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth in concentration as she crept to the leather couch and stealthily slipped into the seat next to the couple on a date, never taking her eyes off them. The man with his back turned, his steel gray eyes behind open-rimmed glasses intent on his date, a girl with a ruddy complexion and streaked red hair who was years older than he and unhappy. He had to work to make her smile, harder than he should have.
My best prospect was one of the gay guys and I’m not that lonely. Not yet, anyway. So, I scooped up my magazines and CDs and shoved my antique laptop into my bag. God noticed and sent out the signal to the troops. As soon as I was in line to checkout, two single girls walked in together, moving with purpose toward the far end of the store. Just my luck.
The guy from last week, who recognized me, checks me out and asks about the coupon. Coupon? I tell him I think he used it last week, cheating for me so I can save a buck. He does it again and makes a point of handing me the second coupon. For next time. Damn pusher. At least I got a discount. Being a regular has its perks, I guess.
On the way out, I hold the door for a group of five young women. Yep, that God sure has a sick sense of humor and my timing is still dead on.
Damn, I could really use a cigarette.

And, this morning? This morning I wake to a flirty strawberry blonde batting her big, brown eyes at me. My dog reminding me that it’s laundry day. But, that opening sure had you hooked, didn’t it?
Good dog.

The top eleven Geek Pickup lines, second edition, as stolen from BBSpot, for your Friday afternoon funny:

Geek Pick Up Lines: Part 2
11. You had me at “Hello World.”
10. Mind if I run a sniffer to see if your ports are open?
9. You make me want to upgrade my Tivo.
8. By looking at you I can tell you’re 36-25-36, which by the way are all perfect squares.
7. Jedi Mind Trick: “This is the geek you’re looking for.” *waves hand*
6. You can put a Trojan on my Hard Drive anytime.
5. Have you ever googled yourself?
4. How about we do a little peer-to-peer saliva swapping?
3. With my IQ and your body we could begin a race of genetic superchildren to conquer the earth.
2. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this when there’s a Farscape marathon on right now on the Sci Fi channel.
1. I’m attracted to you so strongly, scientists will have to develop a fifth fundamental force.

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the blogosphere….
Some of you may remember my reader warning from November, when my ex-wife was following me to other blogs and leaving strange comments there, as messages to, well, to someone. Guess what, folks? Yeah, she’s still out there and still obsessive-compulsive, apparently. In the past week, I got e-mail from two or three people who asked about my ex-wife, her location and her IP address. Yes, as far as I know, she’s still in Phoenix, Arizona, or thereabouts. Yes, if you have an IP address from that area that seems to, well, show up a lot in your logs, that’s probably her. Now, she seems to be concealing her IP address at my website, or I haven’t been looking for her in my logs very hard, or both, but she doesn’t seem to be smart enough to do that on the other blogs she’s haunting. Honestly, considering that our divorce was final five months ago, you’d think she’d be able to let go by now, wouldn’t you? I can’t imagine what she’s interested in with me anymore. I haven’t been to her blog in months, but she seems to still be very interested in mine. And, sadly, in people who comment on my blog, so, well, be warned that if you do comment on this blog, she will most likely follow you to your blog and, possibly, comment. Until she does, comment that is, just enjoy the extra hits. Feel free to contact me for more details. If you’d like, leave a comment marked PRIVATE: and I won’t let it roll live to the blog.

Again, sorry about this, but, well, these things happen. At least you know now. What a world…
Update: Well, thanks to my intrepid readers, I have more details on the strange goings on. Apparently, the IP address is associated with her new husband’s company. To limit any potential liability, I choose not to reveal the name or IP address publicly, but will provide the information on request. So, now, I’m not sure which of them is more obsessive-compulsive and can’t let go. Or, which is the worst option. Again, my apologies to anyone who’s been adversely effected by this strangeness.

I just had my last cigarette.
I sat outside with a cup of coffee and smoked my last cigarette just now. I’m about to leave and get my hair cut, for which I am woefully overdue, and I’ll stop on the way to get gum. Lots and lots of gum, to help me curb the oral craving for a smoke. (That’s item number two on my list of Resolutions, BTW.) Considering the amount of work I’m about to immerse myself into with the server install and conversion, it might not be the best week to stop smoking, but, well, I have to stop sometime.
Last night, I ran out with some friends to a noodle shop that I haven’t tried before. Of course, that meant I over-ate. Again. I always do that in noodle shops, which is going to make Resolution Number Nine a bit more challengeing, but, still, it was good. So, I won’t eat lunch today to make up for it. Tonight, I’ll head out to dinner with folks from church, since I’ve paid all my bills and still have money in my pocket.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll do my Driver’s Safety course via OnDemand, thanks to WheelsInMotion. While all that’s going on, I’m also doing laundry. And, actually, I have a load in right now.
Oh, I also went to Borders last night. I picked up a couple of books my head-shrink reccomended to me, to be added to the ever growing pile of Books To Be Read. As well as getting a book I ordered on Syraic. (That’s a language related to Aramaic, which is probably the language that Jesus spoke. Probably.) Not to mention a couple of magazines on Linux, including one that had a wall chart of handy Linux commands and Open SuSE install CDs. I love that OpenSource stuff! And, I got a couple of CDs, too. Three from the “Local Talent” section, which I’ll review when I listen to them, a collection from The Brian Setzer Orchestra and one from some folks called “Bowling for Soup”, just because they seemed interesting!
Well, I have a lot to do yet today, so, off I go!

This probably won’t mean much to most of my readers.
Loompanics was THE underground book publisher and the best source for The Anarchist Cookbook, before Amazon.com, of course. They had everything from alternative energy to conspiracy theory to guerrilla warfare to, well, you name the counter-culture and they had resources for it. This is where I first got a copy of How to Start Your Own Country, among other unconventional books. These folks were, well, “interesting” doesn’t cover it. I mean, a book catalog that has a section called “Heresy/Weird Ideas”? It doesn’t get much more interesting than that! And, now, they’re going out of business. At least there is some good news: almost everything they have in inventory is 50% off. So, here’s your chance to get that freaky, counter-culture “how-to” book you’ve always wanted, save some money, and participate in a little history.
Go ahead, the government isn’t watching you so closely that you can’t at least browse their on-line catalog, so hit the link: Loompanics.
(As a side note, while looking through their books, I was shocked to learn that I already owned all their good lock-smithing/picking books, and I have yet to even try to pick a lock! Ah, the wages of a misspent youth…)

Okay, so a couple of odd things…
First, as you regular readers know, I’m a bit of a frustrated writer. I have tried all sorts of tricks to get myself writing again, outside the blog, that is. I’ve dug up writing exercises from years past. I tried being more “arty” in this blog. I even tried starting a blog just for my writing, though that devolved into something else alltogether. In fact, I tried everything short of just disciplining myself to sit and write. In any case, one of my many experiments was a blog written from a fictional character’s point of view. That didn’t work, so I tried reusing that blog for some other experiments. I called it, after the re-start, Journal of a Madman. Sadly, some one saw this, I assume via a search engine, and thought it was real. Apparently, it was this one entry that disturbed him most: Demon Voices. I just thought was odd and interesting. UPDATE: Please understand that this is a work of fiction. It was an exploration of what I thought insanity might look like from the inside. If I have disturbed anyone with this, I apologize. I have not heard voices of any kind, ever, nor have I ever been treated for or diagnosed with any kind of psychotic disorder.
Second, there was this Nonsequitur comic that Doc sent me. My head-shrink will love it. I, however, will neither confirm nor deny the veracity of this comic and its message.
Thirdly, I went to see my minister at Mercy Street. I did this in preparation for joining the church. Or, actually, moving my membership from the church I attended when I was a kid down here. Apparently, they keep you on the books forever, so all this time, I’ve been a member of a church I haven’t visited in almost 20 years. Go figure. But, that wasn’t the strange thing. The strange thing was how much I was like this minister. And, apparently, as I was talking about my ex-wife with him, explaining, in part, why I’d stayed away from church for so long, I said, “We mistook intensity for intimacy.” I kept waiting for him to use that in his sermon, but it never quite came out. In any case, this is the first step in my completeing number eight on my list of resolutions.
And, there was some other stuff, too, but I’m still figuring that out, so I probably won’t post about it just yet. (I will say, though, that it resulted in neither scars nor tattoos nor criminal charges. In case you were wondering.)