Lessons I've learned are best applied forward.

Okay, first let me say I'm pretty embarrassed that my archive link still doesn't work. Am I an idiot or what? There are like, six hundred thousand blogs and they all have functioning archives. I need Blogs for Dummies. Oh, wait... I think I'm there. Okay, so... I guess I need Blogs for Spazzes. Spazi. Whatever. Point being, help! If you can figure this shit out, e-mail me at k8emak-at-hotmail.com. Thanks. Actually, if you're reading this at all, maybe you could let me know what you think, other than telling me that the archive link doesn't work. Cool, thanks.

Now, onward.

So life's been a little complicated lately. Normally when this happens I like to ignore the problems until they burst out of control one by one. That provides me with a convenient triage of disasters based on proximity to explosion. This time I'm just going ahead and letting them explode. I just don't have time for mediation, I'm afraid.

First, the Japanese are coming. One if by Newark, two if by Queens. Which means I better clean my desk off... and learn Japanese... and build some analyzers! In the meantime, my design is failing all kinds of tests. Safety, thermal... the list keeps growing. It is all fixable, but it's one of those things. The more you rush at the beginning, the longer you'll have to work to fix problems at the end. I'm really glad I've had the chance to work on this project, though. I did some design work that I'm quite proud of, mostly industrial-type design, for holdability and appearance. I really am pleased with the result (even if some of the parts don't quite fit together on their own...).

After my first year of college I worked a summer at Key Bank, and mostly what I learned there was 1) that banks are not to be trusted blindly and 2) that I never wanted to work for a bank again, ever. I've learned similar lessons here... that managers don't really know what they're doing, and that I never want to manage another project.

My apartment is a big mess. The giant laundry pile is returning with the busy days of summer. The changing of seasons does this to me. Why should I wash the warm clothes when I won't need them for 3 months anyway? Where oh where did I get this habit? My mom is a super diligent lauderer. But even when I was in high school I was terrible about doing my own laundry. Then I would do it all in a huge spurt and it would all be terribly wrinkled because of that terrible phenomenon I like to call "Fast Washer, Slow Dryer," which results in more than one load of wash jammed in one dryer load, all just staying in one cylindrical mass and rotating, rather than "tumbling" like it's supposed to.

And the third factor keeping me from sanity (or at least my normal state which is somewhat closer to sanity though I rarely get beyond the grey area of indifference except to venture into catatonia) is the trials of being an ex-girlfriend. I've never enjoyed being an ex-anything particularly an ex-girlfriend and the best I can ever do is just cope. But The New Joe, who prefers to be called Joe Classic but really has to earn that title by replying to e-mail every once in a while, said something to me not so long ago... at first I was incredibly offended but the more I think about it the more I think it is in line with one of my big mantras, which is that everyone and everything I encounter has something to offer me, and good or bad, it will always be character building. Anyway, here's what Joe said... printed without permission but the guy loves exposure so I'm not too worried...

I am not long for this coast, and I go to carry Westward a solemn, bittersweet knowledge of Things Experienced. Solemn: for the deep, abiding passion for the past; bittersweet for the fact that my passion is no longer a longing; I want to carry the past with me, not re-live it. And carry it I will, preferably in my left hip pocket, right next to my keys.

To which I couldn't help but respond, with apologies to Ani Difranco, that I prefer mine underneath my right pant leg, strapped to my boot.

So that's that. Nothing a busy weekend complete with a regatta won't cure.