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A rock that was long ago pushed down the side of the Appalachians to settle in to the bank of the Catawba glares back at the indifferent August sun. Light fire and cool breezes run through the thick shade of oak, up the bark covered ladders of pine and bounces down on the willow branches, occasionally setting loose a strand of spanish moss to take flight with its dandelion brothers. Over the dragonflies and water spiders to a warm rock next to a chocolate river where a boy is squinting at a little painted turtle. The turtle, who was clearly a magnificent bird in a previous life, is trying desperately to remember how to fly. Leaning out on the weathered edge of the warm stone, ignoring the human thing examining him like ones in the big white boats examine the trees, he stretches out again. Arms and legs high to catch the drafts. Head up to guide his lift. Tail curved up to stabilize the ascent. "If a turtle can remember how to fly, maybe I can remember who I used to be too. Little turtle, keep trying. We can both do it." Arms raised to the sky on red freckled shoulders under a flop of sandy brown hair he reaches up to the sky and trys to pull down the shade like an invisibility cloak he once read about, to wrap himself up and sneak away into a remembered future. Instead of invisibility, the turtle is excited to feel the winds racing across the old Indian river buffet his precariously stationed plastron. Then; arms, legs, head and tail, a little painted turtle remembers completely what it was to be a meadow bird, bright and red, making a quick dart to the ground on warm up-drafts. A gentle curve that ends with a splash and a sputter. The little boys excitement rolls away with the waters ripples. Belly down he reaches to scoop up a memory of feathers from the river's shallow. Swimming an excited circle the painted turtle looks up at the human thing with pride. "Why are you going away? Don't quit! You will do it next time. I know you can do it!" Little turtles are, however, easily distracted by tasty water spiders, and flying is hard work that can build up an appetite. Leaning back against the wind a sandy brown mop contemplates an old river. "Maybe it's ok not to be who I used to be, but to remember who I was and just be who I am." Dragon flys play a game of tag as the sun moves through its zenith and the shadows fall straight down, exhausted. The turtle slid back into the water from a shade place on the side of the big warm rock, quite pleased that some human things seemed to be able to understand. Boy to river. Turtle to land. They take a glace before wandering away to find food. A boy who thought he saw red feathers darting between the river grass, and a turtle who could have sworn he saw a young man walking towards his future and not away from anything.
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first off I'm only posting through dreamwidth now. :-( sorry LJ.

second. I have the google+ and the facebook and the twitter, and far too much to do so my writing has drifted off. I have, however, been spinning out one off short-shorts at lunch. So I'll post one of those now and again to remind you I'm still alive.

Hope you are all doing well!

Quick note

Dec. 26th, 2010 03:54 pm
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Happy Birthday to [personal profile] thanate! Love ya!
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On Spetember 21st 1897 8 year old Virginia O'Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of the New York SUN. The response of Francis Church has since come to be one of the most inspiring and reprinted newspaper editorials in history.

text copied from

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old. "Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. "Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.' "Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?


VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
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don't forget to get your session in line for the ticket gauntlet!
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the width of a dream can be measured by the elation of hope growing in the thought of it. always dream always grow and one morning when the dream is ended discover the shade tree of a dream grown tall strong and majestic. the dream could be now. it could be. all the possibilities of the infinite tomorrow unfolding between before the sleepers eye. all the mystery of us wrapped up inside ourselves, desperately reaching toward the moon light for a chance to take hold, grow strong, and finally at the end of our lives slumber erupt into a shower of fond memories and the dappled comfort of October sky fall. a thousand dandelion seeds of us drifting softly down to settle upon the fertile earth of the drifting mind. only a fleeting memory and tiny tears of sand to remind us of when we could fly.
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      || the hackapotamus says: ||
      ||  "Your Firewall Sucks" ||
      ||   ,_,                  ||
      ||  (0_0)_--------_       ||
      || (.___,)         |~'    ||
      || `-"-"-'         /    ' ||
      ||  `|__|~----~|__|   (() ||
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OK, now if I can just finish these last couple of school assignments I can go to Pennsic worry free.

dominated with an epic score of 96%!
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I got it under control:


Jul. 26th, 2010 03:37 pm
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OK computer friends, taking the C|EH soon, any study, review, or 'pay attention' pointers?

P.S. At some point this week I'm going to be linking up LJ to DW. If you would like to follow me over there I'm at
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making the just from LJ to DW, we'll see what we see but it looks like a good idea if nothing else.
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I've had to slump to writing all kinds of silly greasemonkey scripts and ab-block rules to make LiveJournal even somewhat readable. One of the reasons I haven't been paying too much attention to LJ of late is that I find the necessity of these actions painfully obnoxious.

LJ you are officially on notice. get it together or get lost.
grauwulf: (Crazy-Silly) apparently this is a required attendance event if you're new to the area. Having been referred to as "a local cultural immersion" it seems like it could be a big old ball of pink flamingo good time. If pink flamingos are your thing, apparently if you live in Baltimore you don't have a choice. *shrug*

as they say, the higher the hair the closer to god.
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we will see what else comes of it but I'm making the first steps on a longer journey. Tighter code, deeper understanding, and your email await. It's a small first step, but a step none the less.
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work, meh.
school, meh (but enhanced with associates degree and a 9cr summer *blarg*)
quasi-ick (unfortunate throat issues yesterday), meh.

"technically" I still won more than I lost yesterday :-P and today [ profile] thanate brought in the first crop of veg from the consumables garden, peas. Big tasty all natural noms from her green thumb to our digestive bellies. nom indeed!

has anyone every done peas in the pod cooked with salt, like edamame? does it work?

EDIT!: go back and replace all the place it says "peas" with "pees", laugh hysterically at my lack of editing :-P
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TSA Officer: A beloved name from the blogosphere.
Bruce Schneier: And I always thought that I slipped through these lines anonymously.
TSA Officer: Don't worry. No one will notice. This isn't the sort of job that rewards competence, you know.

yeah, I lol'd
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(... ...)

1996 - James Gosling invents Java. Java is a relatively verbose, garbage collected, class based, statically typed, single dispatch, object oriented language with single implementation inheritance and multiple interface inheritance. Sun loudly heralds Java's novelty.

2001 - Anders Hejlsberg invents C#. C# is a relatively verbose, garbage collected, class based, statically typed, single dispatch, object oriented language with single implementation inheritance and multiple interface inheritance. Microsoft loudly heralds C#'s novelty.

2003 - A drunken Martin Odersky sees a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup ad featuring somebody's peanut butter getting on somebody else's chocolate and has an idea. He creates Scala, a language that unifies constructs from both object oriented and functional languages. This pisses off both groups and each promptly declares jihad.

without a doubt, the best humor article I have read in some time. but maybe it's just time for some.....
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