Ultramundane.com -- It's Just Not Natural.

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United States, California, San Francisco, The Mission, English, Spanish, Casey, Male, 31-35.

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Saturday, February 28, 2004

Are Things Getting Better, Or Are They Getting Worse?

"You shouldn't work 11 hour days when you're sick."
"I also shouldn't be sick when I have huge deadlines."

At least I'm only a little sick. Vince was so sick his blog fell apart. It's a bit better now, as are we both. But while I'd rather not trade sicknesses, I'm still a little jealous that he got better drugs than I did.

Going into work on a Saturday won't make me any better, either, I'm sure. Blah.

Tangentally related (and only barely): Thirteen Ways to make Orkut better. It's an interesting service, but definitely not all-the-way baked yet. (I'm also just now starting to explore Friendster and Tribe.net, so I'm hardly on the bleeding edge of things.) If we've met (or at least exchanged fairly substantial email correspondence) and you'd like an introduction to join Orkut, shoot me a message and let me know what email address you'd like me to use.

02:58 PM PST (link)

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

I'm Just Fine, Dammit.

My mother called me last night. "I figured that since you didn't post," she explained, "that you were either busy or sick." Call it Mother's Intuition for the Internet Age. Indeed, I've been sick for the past few days. I'm only barely back at work today, but there are too many projects that need to get out for me to spend any more time sick at home, vegging out in front of Phantasy Star Online and sleeping. I hate it when the meat gets needy.

As usual, I ran out of TheraFlu in the middle of being sick, so yesterday I made the traditional ~~walk~~ float down to Rite Aid for emergency provisions—drugs, juice and tea. (And potato chips. They were on sale.) It was less surreal than usual, probably because I haven't been so feverish this time; there was much less glassy-eyed staring at shelves of shiny consumer goods. Getting to work in the middle of the downpour, however, was another kind of "floating" entirely. Now that I'm here, people are welcoming me back from the dead and suggesting that I go home early. Damn it, I fought to get here, why shouldn't I work the whole day? I've got two rations of TheraCrack; that should last me until about 1 AM. I can do my work just fine.

As long as my work consists of staring, glassy-eyed, at my computer monitor. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to float over to my 2:30 Meeting.

...What is it that I do here again?

02:23 PM PST (link)