March 19th, 2006

static (transparent)

just because I never call doesn't mean I don't love you

Hi, Internet.

Sorry I haven't been calling or writing.  Oh come on, don't be like that baby.  Don't be jealous.  It doesn't have to be that way.  It's not even like that!  I've just been busy, that's all.

I think I'm going to start taking lighter courseloads... one, I hate calculus to the point of.  Um.  Hating it.  And two, business has been picking way up lately, and I'm realizing that, you know, it's not like I have some Great Plan that predicates on me getting my diploma as soon as humanly possible.  Yeah I'm not getting any younger, but hell, what's the hurry?  It's not like I'm starving by ANY means now, and it's also not like what I'm doing professionally isn't, at the very least, perfectly good resume material in the meantime while I get the degree.  So I think instead of trying to rush rush rush to get the degree as soon as possible while still getting enough work in to keep afloat, I'm going to back the pace off to what's consistent with me being happy and doing a good job and not feeling harried and maintaining the level of support for my clients that I always have.  And, you know.  Not tearing my hair out.

I mean let's be real here - if I finish my degree in 2008, in 2010 I'll be 38 (omfg!) with a Bachelor's of Science in computer science, and about 12 years of professional industry experience, 8 of which are running my own consulting, administration, and sometime development business full-time.  Whereas if I don't finish my degree until 2010, in 2010 I'll be... 38 (omfg!) with a Bachelor's of Science in CS, and 12 years of professional industry experience / 8 of running my own business full-time.

Why rush?
yoga FLAME!

I need you to feel this

Experimental verification leads me to conclude that it is, in fact, possible for the Death Stereo to play Tool's "Prison Sex" loudly enough to cause the neighbor's CD player to skip.  (From outside, which is where I prudently stayed for this test, it was still possible to hear his irritating-ass bassline underneath the audio warfare I was waging in return... barely.)

Interestingly, he didn't actually come outside until the playlist hit Tori Amos.  Booming beats he could deal with, but long-sustain slow-decay piano chords that rattle the fillings out of your teeth and make your lungs hurt for 10 seconds at a time were apparently more than he could take.

Once he finally came outside, we arrived at an uneasy accommodation.  I suspect it won't last long.  But that's okay, I have the Death Stereo, earplugs, no headache, and no neighbor on the other side of me.  I can renegotiate at will... if necessary, I might even take it past half volume.