Best. Episode. Ever.
想想自己最适合谈的应该是精神恋爱...
Best. Episode. Ever.
想想自己最适合谈的应该是精神恋爱...
A programming.reddit.com comment on Jeff Atwood's blog:
What I don't like about "Coding Horror": the title promises "Daily WTF" style entertainment, but doesn't deliver. "Coding Horror" ought to be about people coding dynamic web pages entirely in SQL, or having some mission critical system written in a cryptic version of csh.
Apparently, fast twitch only gets you so far. 30 seconds lap contrast is the new frontier.
You're a part time lover and a full time friendAnyone Else But You, Juno soundtrack.
The monkey on your back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Here is the church and here is the steeple
We sure are cute for two ugly people
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Hello. I design systems.
I hesitate to add "for a living", because that may somehow imply that I am actually good at it. And also because there are only so many systems one can fit into one's career, so if one lays the claim that he has seen them all, then one may have not wandered deep enough into the belly of the beast.
Observing that Barrack Obama's inaugural speech (albeit charismatic), uses the exact same cliches as George W. Bush's, the Daily Show makes the following philosophical note:
It’s like... Why is cheese delicious on Italian food?
But when you melt it on Chinese food, it’s disgusting?
Because all that a young man can ask for, is to wake up every morning and fall in love all over again. Smiley.
The final ascent in the Boston marathon is affectionately known as "Heartbreak Hill".
I'm just sayin'.
It is worth noting, as well, that in the original coffeehouses nearly everyone smoked, and nicotine also has a distinctive physiological effect. It moderates mood and extends attention, and, more important, it doubles the rate of caffeine metabolism: it allows you to drink twice as much coffee as you could otherwise. In other words, the original coffeehouse was a place where men of all types could sit all day; the tobacco they smoked made it possible to drink coffee all day; and the coffee they drank inspired them to talk all day. Out of this came the Enlightenment.
The Conversatron is back, Back, BACK!
Gawd, I have not been so happy since... Monday? =)
What you don't know won't help you much either. D. Bennett (via Slashdot)
This is truly depressing.
I took a psychological test at Project Implicit, and the tests revealed an implicit (sub-conscious) strong association of Black Americans with weapons than White Americans.
I find myself more forgiving of racial bias all of a sudden.
My insouciance does not leave me a great many hot buttons. But if there's one thing that drives me absolutely bonkers, it has to be the silent treatment. You know, not the passive kind, where someone slinks away and you lose contact, and you forget years later what the big brouhaha was about. I am referring to the active aggressive kind, where you encounter someone on a regular basis, be it their physical beings or online personas, and said someone looks right past you and pretends that you do not exist. It just reduces me into a big pile of craziness.
Instinctively, everyone understands that the surest way to overcome the silent treatment is to reciprocate in kind. It is almost like a staring down contest, where determination (and determination alone) determines the winner. At least, that's the theory. I have never initiated the silent treatment ever, and any time I have tried returning the favor, I have only succeeded in making myself more miserable. Which means I have to talk first, an implicit concession that I am somehow less emotionally sturdy, and consequently every inch of my male ego screams out in murderous protest. And that only makes me doubly pissed off, since I have to endure some ill-conceived misery, only to suffer an embarassing defeat.
After awhile, you do not even need to go through these emotional contortions to become unhappy. In infinite wisdom, your mind already anticipates a bad outcome, therefore you can officially be ticked off right off the bat.
Usually I would be really concerned that I have made a public disclosure of a surefire way to put me on a short trigger. But today, I have discovered a new response.
Ladies and gentleman: the word is "sandbagging". =)
Real mature discussion here, I know.
Insomniac. And watching PDC videos.
Friday is absolutely the best day of the week. Used to be because of Research Friday; now it's because Saturday comes immediately after.
(Really, it is not what you think. In case you are new around here, remember, don't go believing everything you read on the Internet. =)
It has been a month or two since the light bulb in the kitchen blew. I have been meaning to replace it, except it is rather hard to get around to it. Maybe it is the conscious effort to delegate menial tasks, and to avoid getting volunteered for menial tasks. Which is usually an excellent recipe for getting some real work done, the exception being, of course, when the delegator and the delegatee are the same person.
Maybe some good will come out of this: I imagine I may soon acquire super-powers, like being able to cook in the dark or blind-folded or something. Perhaps it says something about one's culinary skills, when the absence of light does not make a difference in the quality of food. A pessimist will think just the opposite, but me, no, definitely an optimist. Yea.
I am understanding this very broadly, as what can and cannot be achieved through empiricism in daily life.
The Fourth Quadrant - A Map of the Limits of Statistics (or, "A Statistician's Take on How the Quants Blew Up Wall Street")
On a side note: if my advisor were reading this, he would likely note my unhealthy predilection for quadrants.
I don't want to achieve immortality through my work... I want to achieve it through not dying. - Woody Allen
Nostalgic: for sugar satchets being snatched out of my hands. Mmm. Peppermint green tea.
There are two types of readers. Those who skip past the acknowledgements, in a terrible hurry to get to the main point of digression; and those who dawdle in the acknowledgements, in the hope of gleaning that much more information about how the prose came to be.
Seeing that you are here, you are presumably in desperate need for reading material, and therefore very likely to be in the latter camp.
Since you typically find acknowledgements at the beginning of books, let me start this new chapter with one of my favorite acknowledgements: Olin Shivers for the Scheme Shell Reference Manual (via Philip Greenspun).
Who should I thank? My so-called "colleagues," who laugh at me behind my back, all the while becoming famous on my work? My worthless graduate students, whose computer skills appear to be limited to downloading bitmaps off of netnews? My parents, who are still waiting for me to quit "fooling around with computers," go to med school, and become a radiologist? My department chairman, a manager who gives one new insight into and sympathy for disgruntled postal workers?
My God, no one could blame me---no one!---if I went off the edge and just lost it completely one day. I couldn't get through the day as it is without the Prozac and Jack Daniels I keep on the shelf, behind my Tops-20 JSYS manuals. I start getting the shakes real bad around 10am, right before my advisor meetings. A 10 oz. Jack 'n Zac helps me get through the meetings without one of my students winding up with his severed head in a bowling-ball bag. They look at me funny; they think I twitch a lot. I'm not twitching. I'm controlling my impulse to snag my 9mm Sig-Sauer out from my day-pack and make a few strong points about the quality of undergraduate education in Amerika.
If I thought anyone cared, if I thought anyone would even be reading this, I'd probably make an effort to keep up appearances until the last possible moment. But no one does, and no one will. So I can pretty much say exactly what I think.
Oh yes, the acknowledgements. I think not. I did it. I did it all, by myself.
Welcome back. =)