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And so you ask me to write 500 words in 500 seconds, and I ask
you... is that fair? Can you even compare your l33t typing skills with
mine? You, a professional writer of doc, and lit, and me, a masher of
code and number? Well, fine, I won't whine the point (too late) I'll
take up the challenge.
But I'm warning you, I'm proof to spell-checking (I'll run it after the 500 words) and if I throw in words that don't make sense, well, you've only yourself to blame. But the worst thing about this 500 words in 500 seconds is that there doesn't seem to be a topic. Hell, I'd need to ruminate, but no, you've left me like an Improv-or-DIE victim, dancing for his life at the end of a plank, sharks and timers waiting for him in the sea below. I think I'll slam a friend of mine... hell, why not. This way I get to vent my spleen with no governor to watch over me and ward me from saying things I'm not supposed to say. This friend (although I'm sure he now lists himself in the ex-friend category (1)) was a hermit just like me. You may know the type, or, if you're one of those damn extroverts, can't possibly know the type... We hermits rarely go out to parties, and if we do it's only by great force of will or guilt that we do. We're normally content to sit, dwell, fester among our close nit group of friends or housemates. Anyways, this fine fellow was of similar ilk to me, and then he fell on rough times. Broke up with a girlfriend, had a job that went kabooie, the whole nine yards. I saw him occasionally, and, this is the worst thing about being a hermit, not quite enough. When he threw parties (we hermits do throw them from time to time, it's just painful) I'd come by, chat, etc... We used to go out drinking, but with his new job of his that was always away, not so much anymore. So anyways, I saw him just a month or two ago, and he's giving me the big hairy eyeball. He's being extra diplomaticly mean in the burrito bar line, and talking about how he hates the geek society, but he's making sure to underline the lines between the lines. And, like I said, giving me the big hairy not-so-subtle eyeball... Now I deal with this by just shrugging it off. If he's going to be obtuse about it, I'm just going to pretend I don't even see it. If he wants to take the time to tell me I was a lame friend and I should have gone out of my way to visit with him (when he was obviously hurting much more than I knew) he should at least come out and say it. But that's not my point. My point is that he's as big a hermit as me. He's angry and sullen about me not coming and talking to him, and lending extra shoulders of support, or even contacting him. POT KETTLE BLACK. Damn it. He's just as much a hermit as I am. He contacted me as much as I contacted him. We both held parties, both attended. Heck, I even tried to contact him to give him a job at my company (fat lot it would have done him, we've had three rounds of lay-off since that time - but like I knew that at the time). Yes I'll take the blame for being more hermit like than I should be. Yes I'll take the blame for having an out-of-sight-out-of-mind personality. But there's no way I'm going to shoulder that blame Atlas-like on my shoulders. Bucko, if you're hurting and you WANT me to go out drinking with you, damn it, you're going to have to give me a ring on the telephone. I took the same jedi-telepathy classes you did, and they didn't do either of us squat.
i,jasona
1) And damn it, I'm still his friend. I'm not going to
put up with a great deal of petulance, but if he wants to give me a
real chewing out, or just share a beer or two, damn it, I can't
stay that mad at him.
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