Diary of a Network Geek

So, who’s worthy of your coveted link section on your blog?
Today, instead of working like a fevered dog, I read blogs. Lots of them. In fact, I left comments on quite a few, too. Some of these blogs, I’ve been reading for months, and some, I just started reading recently. Some of these fine folks have links to my website, but not everyone and there is no direct correllation between length of time I’ve been reading and commenting on their blogs and whether or not I have a link.
That made me think about who I link to, and why. The answers are not good. There’s little ryhme and less reason to why I link to folks on that sidebar menu. Sometimes, it’s because they have useful professional information. Sometimes, it’s because they’re funny. Or, because their writing really touched me in some way or another. Sadly, sometimes, it’s little more than a very limited popularity contest. If I like you, you get a link. Sometimes, I just like people, even though I may not agree with them or be a part of their world at all, but, still, I like them, so…
Yeah, I know, it’s so very, very Junior High of me, but, well, so be it.
So, why do you all link to other people’s blogs? And, more importantly, why do you not link to others?

It’s going to be a long week.
The day’s not even half over and I just want to curl up in a fetal ball under a comforter with the dog and sleep for the next two weeks or so. Maybe I’m getting sick. Or am sick. (I mean catching a cold, you wisenheimers!) But, I can’t get sick. Christmas is coming and I still have to get to my favorite Thai place before it closes and I’m reading the scripture Christmas Eve and…

Oh, yeah, in a moment of weakness, I got suckered into reading scripture. I’ve been practicing my radio voice for the past two days as a result. And, yes, I’ll probably record the scripture that I’m going to read and have it on my website by Christmas Eve.

Now, it’s time for lunch with a chaser of vitamins, aspirin and echinacea. To bed early tonight….

Yeah, so what keeps you up at night?

I have a leak in that crazy water sculpture thing I did a couple of months ago. Apparently, in the cold, a seal popped and now there’s water everywhere. Of course, I didn’t find it until after church, so I can’t do anything about it until the morning.

I worry about my readers. I’ve got far too many good-looking, female readers for my comfort level. Do you ladies worry about that? The guys who read your blogs? See, I have a little social anxiety and that spills over to here. I’m afraid of scaring you all away with my crazy thoughts. Yet another reason to self-edit, eh? It really freaks me out to think you’re out there reading this. Geeks are safe, but, you adorable, magnificent, brilliant, beautiful ladies scare the bejeezus out of me. Really.

Who the heck is reading my blog via a Blackberry? Look, I know four people who might read this blog that also have Blackberries. One is a guy I see every day at work and he had no need to read this blog. He knows details about my life that this blog will never, ever see. One is a lady, and I mean a real lady, who could, in theory, read my blog wirelessly, but, again, has no real reason to do so. (In fact, Uncle Jim will let you pretty gals in on a secret. You want to know more about me than what’s showing up here? Ask me. You’ll be horrified at how free I am with personal information. If you ask the right questions, you’ll even get answers to things I should keep my big yap shut about, too.) The other two are my ex-wife and her meal ticket. But, since I know it burns them up to read this stuff, I don’t block their IP addresses. Let them come! So, they might be reading this on a Blackberry, but they sure don’t need to. Who are you mystery Blackberry user? Who are you!?

I also worry about why I can’t seem to overcome inertia enough to get my ex-wife’s junk thrown out. Granted, there’s a lot of it and some of it I should sell, but, still… Hey, anyone want to buy a platinum wedding ring with low mileage? Hardly worn, I swear! (No joke. She hardly wore her wedding ring. And, yes, I worry why I couldn’t see that sign of impending doom.)

I lay awake at night trying to figure out safe topics for small talk. Why is it that I can talk to girls under the age of twelve and women over the age of fifty, but women between twenty-one and forty leave me speechless? Last week a woman in that age group was watching me at church. Yea, church. I was doing origami, as I often do during the sermon, and she was watching me out of the corner of her eye. I should have been able to chat her up, shouldn’t I? What should I have said?

Why is it so hard to get a cup of coffee? I mean regular coffee, not a complicated Starbucks Venti Caramel Macchiato Half-Caf with a Ristretto, Upside Down. All I want is a cup of regular, black diner coffee. Where can you get that in Houston? I mean, without getting a whole meal. I just want a simple cup of coffee. Is that so much to ask? Sure, coffee houses are nice places to meet and talk and whatever, but, uh, if I wanted that kind of complication, I can dwell on my failed marriage. Thanks, but I’d rather have something easier that doesn’t give me gas or indigestion.

Why do pretty women roam in packs like wild marauders in a dystopian, post-nuclear-holocaust science-fiction movie?

Does my dog really smile at me? And is it because she really loves me or because I feed her?

Am I ugly? Too fat? Does my goatee look weird?

Do chicks really dig “sensitive guys” who pour their emotions out in a blog?

Am I cool because I have tattoos? Or does that freak people out, too?

Is it really cool to be a computer geek again?

Does desperation really have an actual smell? What about love?

Yeah, what about love? Can you ever really love someone? Even after you’ve been betrayed? Even after you look back and see all the times that your lover/spouse has most likely been unfaithful?

Is it fair to ask someone to change when you don’t want to change yourself?

Can I die from lack of sleep? Or will I just have a psychotic break? Will I know when that happens? Or, is it really subtle like those stupid Magic Eye books that never seem to work for me anyway?

Am I too effeminate because I want someone to hold me and stroke my hair and tell me that she loves me? Or that I just want someone who trusts me enough to tell me the truth and then fall asleep with her head on my chest? And, is it weird that I want that more than actual sex?

Is it really that late? Right. I’m going to go lay down and try to sleep now. I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Hey, it’s not too late to get this for Christmas!
Last week, I was talking about a little “hair of the dog”, so it seems like an appropriate time to mention the coolest stuffed toy I have seen in a long time: The Transforming Werewolf Plush. I mean, a toy that turns inside-out and makes a whole other toy?! They didn’t have stuff this cool when I was a kid! This rates right up there with the Cthulhu Plush Slippers and the Cthulhu Claus as my “most lusted after, but totally senseless, gift item”. Another new favorite, is the Giant Tube of Plush Polyhedron Dice, but that’s not as cool as the werewolf. Ah, now, if only I had someone to buy them for me…
Oh, well, maybe I’ll get them for myself next year!

For making an ass of myself, apparently.
You know, I don’t mind doing this when I do it on purpose, but, when I do it accidentally, well, that’s irritating. You might not see this via the blog, but I’m actually a ver polite person. I think courtesy and manners are the social “glue” that keeps communities together and functioning. So, when I’m unintentionally rude or insulting or hurtful, it bothers me. On those occasions that I purposely slight someone, something else is at work and I rarely feel any shame a precious little guilt at having done so.

However in the past several days, I’ve been an Internet boor. Quite unintentionally, of course, but, still… The incident that got my attention and “woke me up”, so to speak, was a response to a post on another blog. Someone commented about said post and I penned a comment expressing a difference of opinion. Apparently, I worded my position in such a way that the previous commentor took offence or felt attacked, because he responded with, well, a bit of aggression. I read his responding comment and thought Yeah, whatver, pal. Look if you have to act that way to make yourself feel like your schwantz is longer than mine, knock yourself out. I hope it satisfies your reptillian hind-brain you unevolved primative. And, since he’d used the word “Tough” in his reply, I also thought Tough? Look, you panty-waist, I’ve had moral dilemmas tougher than you.
It was then that a little voice, not unlike the Whos singing in Whoville, said to me Hey, slick, this is that opportunity for change your smarmy butt is always waxing poetic about. Remember that, bright boy? NOW is the time! NOW is your chance! And, so, instead of getting uglier, I responded with an apologetic comment. I hope he read it and all is well.

I also ran my great, big mouth about some things about which I knew precious little this past week and weekend and found out later how deeply I’d stepped in it. Again, unintentionally, but still, to me, that’s worse than being very deliberate about it. The fact that I was a big buttinski, even though I was trying to make someone feel better, was just plain rude and I’m sorry about it. (Okay, there’s actually more than one person who falls under this particular umbrella apology thanks to my rectocranial inversion issue this weekend, so, please, everybody who feels even slightly miffed, just assume I’m talking about you, okay?)

And, finally, I’ve been a little passive-aggressive with Doc, my new roommate. Sorry, about that, Doc. We’ll talk.
I won’t go into details on the blog, but, suffice it to say that my ex-wife taught me some tricks that I’d just as soon unlearn. I mean, I hope to be married again, one day, or at least live in sin with someone other than Doc, so it’d be best to weed out these annoying little personal habits now, before I meet that Special Someone. Passive-aggressive behavior is never pretty, so I’d really like to nip this bad habit in the bud before it blossoms into really annoying habits. In other words, ladies, I’d like to change the most annoying things about myself before some poor, well-meaning girl feels compelled to try and “fix me”. Sounds like a plan, neh? Any suggestions that y’all have observed, in me or others, are welcome. (Think my ex-wife will comment?) Hmm, maybe a new poll….

So, some Advice from your Uncle Jim, think twice before saying whatever’s on your mind, then keep your yap shut anyway. Mostly, people already know and don’t need to hear it. Mostly.

Oh, an a quick clarification… I’ve had some folks ask about my “sordid past” and no, it did NOT involve drugs, or even alchohol, though, I might remind you that I don’t drink like a girl. And, I have never taken illegal drugs. I’m freaky enough without them!

Advice from your Uncle Jim:
"The only difference between saints and sinners is that every saint has a past and every sinner has a future."
   --Oscar Wilde

I’m actually not so blue.
The other day when I was at my head-shrink, he asked how things were going and how I felt. I told him that I felt better than I have in a long time, which is very true. He was a little dissapointed because he’s doing something on TV about holiday depression and, well, I just wasn’t going to be giving him any material to work with this year. Actually, we had a laugh about that.
Oh, sure, at times I get a little down because it would be nice to have someone “special” during the holidays, but, mainly, I feel pretty good being single. As I told him, at least I’m not married to someone who consistantly makes my life miserable at the holidays anymore! Though, I have to admit, in the past, before I suffered through that, I always hoped to have someone with whom to share my joy of this season. Girls get to say things like “Always a bridesmaid and never a bride” and give a sad, little laugh, but men don’t have any cute quips to toss out about that. When we’re single, though all our friends seem to be in relationships, we’re just, well, single.
In any case, even though I won’t be decorating this year at all, the holidays just aren’t depressing to me. I think everyone around me expects me to be all doom and gloom, because of how my ex-wife left me last year about this time. Actually, she took the only working car, grabbed her daughter and ran while I was in the shower. No note, no phone message, no nothing. Just cut and ran. That was a little hard to deal with, last year. And, yes, last year was terrible for me. I contemplated suicide more than one, but, in the end, I didn’t “play solitare with a pearl-handled deck”, as Mr. Zevon would say, because that would have meant she won. I couldn’t have that, now could I? And, maybe that’s why this year seems so effortless in comparison. What could be worse than that? Losing all my hopes and dreams in one afternoon, right before two family oriented events. Everything is up from there.
And, to me, that’s what this season is all about. Change. Rebirth. All Fall the days have been getting shorter, the nights and darkness lasting longer, and it is this season, at the Winter Solstice, that the hours of light start to overtake the hours of darkness again. Literally a rebirth of light in the world. (This year, the solstice falls on December 21, by the way.) In fact, it’s no accident that the early Christians chose that time of year to celebrate the birth of Christ. After all, the pagans they were trying to convert were already celebrating the rebirth of light, so, why not capitalize on that? Regardless of why or how it happened that way, this season has been about rebirth and renewal for me more than any other.
Every year, I get a new chance. A fresh start. Every year, I get a little hope that things can change. That I can change for the better.

I know this year has been tough on some of my readers. There’s been loss and heart-ache and pain of all flavors. That can happen at any time of year, of course, but it seems to sting worse during this season, for whatever reason. With that, and two very special readers in mind, I whipped together a fun, little PERL-based web-app that I’d like to share with you all. It’s the New Year’s Resolution Generator. And, if mention of tequila and kissing strangers comes up more frequently that you might expect, all I can say is, I’m single and an eternal optimist!

Or, what’s with all the polls?
So, I’m skimming through e-mail the other day and in the middle of a note about something totally unrelated, a buddy asks why I’m doing marketing research on my blog.
Hunh? I think. Marketing research? Then, it hits me that he’s talking about my latest poll. He reminded me that, hey, it’s my blog and I can write whatever I want. I don’t have to do market research on what my readers want on my own blog. Oddly, it never even occurred to me that I was doing that. Admittedly, I did feel a shift in my demographic from professional, male geeks toward something more, er, feminine and not quite as geeky, so I guess that triggered my need for feedback and research.
See, not only do I have a degree in Marketing, but I was raised by a life-long salesman and marketer. Dad drummed those things right into me before I even got to college. “Monitor progress toward goals” and “Be sure to ask the right questions” and “Set measurable goals” were all things he tried to teach me. Not just about business, but life. So, market research is part of who I am. It’s what I do. Kind of an odd thing for a geek to know, I suppose. Of course, I know a lot of things that are odd, even for geeks. For instance, when I remember to listen to my own inner voice, I can size people up pretty quickly and accurately. Good trait for a therapist, or a salesman.
But, I don’t think I have the right personality to make a good salesman. I’m not anywhere near outgoing enough to make that my bread-and-butter. I’m far too quiet. Honestly? I think I would have made a good priest. Yes, even with my dubious background, I would have made a decent priest. Not a monk, but priest. Sadly, I was raised Methodist by Baptists, so that option wasn’t really right for me. And, frankly, I never trusted our ministers, so that option is out, too. But remember, before every priest took his vows, he was a regular guy. Even a priest has a past. Oh, and, I can work a room, too. Some of my friends know what my stand-up would be like. They’ve heard me do ten or fifteen minutes just on my ex-wife and, mostly, they were rolling. I get that from Dad, too. He could tell off-color jokes at a funeral and get away with it, not to mention those crucifixion jokes he used to tell at Easter.

But, I digress. So, I can’t help the marketing research. It’s just one of the crazy things that make me who I am, like being double-jointed or knowing about knife-throwing or being obsessed with language and the written word. Just another mostly harmless quirk. As long as I remember not take it too seriously.
Now, about those tattoo stories… Should we start with “How Uncle Jim Got His First Tattoo”? Or is that too much like one of Kipling’s Just So Stories? Or, would my faithful readers be more interested in the finger cutting ritual of the yakuza? You know, there’s a trick to that…

Or, Uncle Jim takes on a boarder.
That’s so much classier than claiming to be a slumlord, don’t you think? Of course, with the state my house is in, it might be closer to the truth! Anyway, I just thought I’d update my gentle readers with the knowledge that “Doc” moved in today. It’s going to be a bit while we rearrange everything, but, I think it will be good once we’re settled. Hilda is getting used to the idea of having someone else in the house, which is good. My poor, brown girl has been so anti-socialized from her time in the clutches of the Harpy that she’s still a little skittish around strangers. (And, trust me, kids, few are stranger that “Doc”! Just kidding, Doc, just kidding.)
Also, Doc brought me clove cigarettes. Now, this might horrify some of you, but, yes, I’ve been smoking a bit. Just one cigarette per day and two on the weekends, but, still… I’ve been under a lot of stress this year and, well, it’s the holidays and… Okay, here’s the deal. I was jonesing for a smoke some time back and, when I told my head-shrink about it, his response was, “Well, it’s not as bad as some of the things you’ve done. Other than the health aspect, of course.” Sheesh! Well, with that kind of encouragement, I lit up again. And quit for a couple of days. And, lit up again. This time, I promise, it’s just through Christmas and, after my current batch runs out, I’ll stop. Again. (Oh, yeah, like anyone reading this blog really cares that much, right? I mean, it’s not like my mother reads this. Whatever.) Sometime I’ll have to explain more about why this time of year tends to inspire me to smoke. Until then, I’ll just remind you that I am Mr. Bad Example. But, what I thought was funny about the clove cigarette thing was that “my people” were taking care of me.
Never ceases to amaze me how folks come out of the woodwork to give me things I need or want or whatever. I’m like the Geek Godfather. My favorite phrase is “Yeah, I think I know a guy.” I’m told you used to hear that on the South Side a lot, back when my Dad was a kid. Regardless, my people always come through for me, no matter how bizarre the request. Sure, sometimes it’s a close call, but, still they always come through. Always. It’s almost enough to make me believe in guardian angels. Almost.

Well, enough update. While Doc settles in some, I’m off to see a The Chronicles of Narnia with another friend. And, with that, I’ll leave you with a quote. As a “prize” for guessing who said it, I’ll vote your way to whoever comes up with it first. (Except for you, Doc. You’re too damn smart for your own good!) Good luck!
“In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play.”

A primer from Patrick Norton.
Yes, that’s right, Patrick Norton of TechTV and The Screen Savers fame. Pat’s written a little article in his blog over at Extreme Tech about switching to Linux for “free”. I put “free” in quotes like that because, frankly, nothing is free. There are some things that just don’t work or don’t work as well in Linux as they do in Windows. And, there are programs that simply don’t run under Linux. Oh, sure, you can try to use an emulator or whatever to make it happen, but I’ve never, ever really trusted those suckers. Especially not with my financial data. To me, that’s what will “kill” Windows, a Linux-version of Quicken.
Anyway, Pat has a good overview of the pros and cons of switching to Linux and it’s worth taking a look.

Know them and defend them.
With a whole lot of help from the Electronic Frontier Foundation, of course. The EFF has a relatively new campaign to both raise awareness of blogger’s legal rights and to help carve some out for them. Not many people realize that there are some liability issues with blogs and what’s written there. Folks use their blogs in a number of ways, but some of them might result in charges of libel, among other things. And, of course, there are the famous cases of people being fired for blogging about work. Well, the EFF has long been an electronic watch-dog group, keeping tabs on our eroding freedoms online and, of course, trying to stem that flow. They’re good folks with a good cause and it’s worth looking into.
You can sign up for a “badge” for your blog to help raise awareness at this link.

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