Man, I love this game.
I have so many Atari-related memories . . . I could go on for pages and pages . . . another day. 🙂
Month: March 2003
Calling all bloggers
Check it out:
My thesis is an attempt to fill in the void in academic work about blogs. Previously in articles and commercial books published about blogs (Rebecca Blood’s books and the O’Reilly book, for example), why we blog has been researched using personal experience, with a few indepth interviews, or by analyzing websites. None of these three ways can come close to providing as accurate a depiction of the blogging population – who we all really are, why we blog, and how we’re using our blogs – as a survey.
So how about it? We’ve all taken the “what robot are you” and “what type of hat do you keep behind your toilet” tests, so why not take a few minutes and help this kid out?
Oh, and if you think it’s a cool thing to do, maybe you could trackback in your own blog, and help spread the word? That’d be cool. 🙂
My taxes, hard at work.
Now this is just stupid.
Treefingers
I slept through the night like a baby. No dreams, no restlessness, not a single disturbance. When I woke this morning, the clock said 5:58. I beat the alarm by 3 minutes! I victoriously turned it off before it could beep, and hopped out of bed feeling relieved and rested.
I drank a cup of coffee, ate some cereal, and met my friend Burns at 6:45. We spent the next six hours at Dodger Stadium, standing in line for opening day tickets.
“The race for third place has already begun! Be part of the excitement at Dodger Stadium!”
Perchance to dream.
All week, I have woken up about 2 hours after I fall asleep. I end up staring at the ceiling for what seems like an eternity, before sinking into a restless slumber, waking about once every 90 minutes. I have had terrible nightmares, from which I awake with a scream somewhere between my stomach and my lips, depending on the severity of the terror.
The dreams are always the same: I’m running from someone, or someone I love has been taken from me, or there is some Big Terrifying Thing just outside my field of view. Two nights ago, I had two separate nightmares; in both of them Anne was kidnapped and I knew that I’d never see her again.
When my head touches my pillow each night, it is with a sense of grim resignation. Many mornings, I am exhausted when I get out of bed. I feel like I’m not getting any rest at all. I look and feel like hell.