Clearing a few things up

Growing up, people told me many things that turned out to be blatant lies incorrect. My parents played a large role in this, but teachers, grandparents, and friends of the family certainly shoveled out their share of misinformation. Since leaving the proverbial nest, I've learned a few things on my own. I'd like to share some of this knowledge, mostly so that my parents don't embarrass themselves at dinner parties.

1. Sniffling does not cause snot to lodge in your brain. As disgusting as sniffling may sound, snot has some fairly limited options with regard to movement. It can kick around in your nasal cavity, you can blow it out your nose, or you can swallow it, at which point it enters your digestive tract. I do not know the exact force required for snot to blow a hole through the nasal wall, allowing it to shoot up into my brain, but I'm pretty sure I can't create that much force by breathing in through my nose.
2. A small residue of dish soap does not result in death. It turns out that you won't die if you eat off a dish that had a few bubbles of soap left upon it while it sat to dry. I'm pretty sure that if you left a giant glob of soap on a dish and then ate food off it, you might wind up with a minor bellyache, or you might blow bubbles out your nose and mouth. Barring any strange dish soap allergies, death is not a likely outcome. (I find it particularly interesting that this nugget of misinformation came from the woman who let us play with mercury in the same bowls we ate dinner out of.)
3. My house is not a Superfund cleanup site. Contrary to all predictions based on the state of my room as a teenager, I keep a reasonably clean house. No government agency has ever contacted me to suggest that I pose a health risk to myself and others.
4. Watermelon seeds need light and soil to grow. Despite having swallowed dozens of watermelon seeds over the years, plants have failed to sprout from either my ears or my bellybutton.
5. The average household fan will not chop off my fingers. I've inadvertently tested this one a few times with the result that my hand hurt for a few minutes. My fingers remain obstinately attached to my hands. I'm sure there are some high-grade industrial fans out there with metal blades that can do quite a bit of damage at high speeds, but the average ceiling fan or plastic household fan will not dismember a human.
6. Tampons are not art supplies. This was actually told to my younger brother, but it deserves a place here. Fortunately, the misnomer was cleared up before he got to an age where he thought all the girls in his class were artists.

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Peeking through my fingers

The recent past for me is a swirl of impressions and memories. A year ago, I was in Spain. Less than two months ago, I lived in an entirely different neighborhood, one where people threw trash on my lawn and wrote their names on my driveway. I wouldn't have minded the latter quite as much if they at least had good handwriting. In April, I was told I had three weeks to do six weeks worth of work for a project that was then pushed back and expanded to include about six times as much work. I've been working relatively hard since then, with some lulls that were instantly filled by packing, moving, and home remodeling.

The upshot of all this? I am tired. I am tired in the way that makes my bones ache and my heart palpitate. Run down. Exhausted.

I look at the camera I bought in July and wonder when I'll take photos, or post the ones I've already taken. I look at the film from Spain I still haven't taken in to get to developed and wonder about that, too. They keep company with the unpacked boxes, the stack of books I've yet to read, the music I'm not listening to.

There is a light, though. It's not even that distant. If all goes well, we will release on Monday night. The code I've worked on for the past five or six months will be out in the wild, for dozens to enjoy. After the obligatory emergency bug fix releases, things will calm down. I won't work until 10:30 at night, and I'll start to feel stronger, less tired, more capable.

It's going to be so awesome.

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Friday is song day

Two songs in my inbox this morning:

• Code Monkey, from Duane. You can listen to it on Jonathan Coulton's site. You'll have to find it on the page once you follow the link. My favorite line: "Code Monkey think maybe manager want to write goddamn login page himself."
• The Rebecca Song, from Yolanda. I didn't realize the creators of South Park had written a song about me.

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Things I don't understand, #5,988,443

What's a tea cozy for? Seriously. I think it would keep the tea warmer, but is there another use for them? Isn't boiling water plenty warm on its own? Don't you want a little heat to escape so you can drink tea without scalding your mouth?

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What a way to go!

There is some concern over creating black holes, even tiny ones in a laboratory setting. The concern being, presumably, that we will all get sucked in and die. Personally, I hope this is how the human race destroys itself. After all the fears of war, drought, famine, global warming, etc., I think it would be funny if we were all sucked into a black hole some jerk created in a laboratory.

Plus, I like that someone's working on it because in my first crappy "novel," I had a character nicknamed Professor Plum who was attempting to create a black hole of his own so that he could make time pass more quickly and live farther into the future than he'd be able to with a normal human life span.

I was reading a lot about the Theory of Relativity at the time... The theory being that if you are near enough to a black hole to be affected by its gravitational pull without actually getting sucked into it, time will move more slowly for you than for someone who is not close to the black hole (e.g., the rest of the world). So if you had a little black hole at home and you thought, "I wish this day would just end!" you could go sit next to it for a few minutes (the time required would depend on the gravitational forces you were subjected to) and voila! Nighttime.

Of course, I did absolutely no math in order to determine if this is even possible. Presumably, for time to move noticeably more quickly (or more slowly, depending on your perspective), you'd have to withstand a larger gravitational pull than the human body would able to. But it's fun to think about.

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Wood paneling: the find of the century

I posted an ad for my wood paneling on Craigslist in the category "free stuff." It ran for one day, during which I received 12-15 replies. Some people only wanted a few pieces, some wanted all of it. One guy offered to pay for the darker, uglier wood paneling. I believe I could have started a bidding war. So when I say that people are insane, I believe I have irrefutable proof to back up my statement.

Although the first few pieces were picked off by a fellow named Dave who will use it in a haunted house at the Memorial Colliseum, starting on Friday, October 13. If you go, keep an eye out for my ex-wood paneling in the T.G.I. Fridays of the Doomed. I can't think of a better use for the stuff and Dave is not included in my blanket insanity statement. The rest of you, however, most certainly are. Not because of your interest in wood paneling per se, but because you read this crap.

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Mud is also a verb

Ugly wood paneling
goes fast on Craigslist.

I'm practically bursting at the seams with gratitude. My mom rounded up the troops and got my stepdad, my uncle, and his wife to come help me with the problem areas in my house. (Or the largest problem areas, anyhow.)

The crew arrived at my house bright and early Friday morning and kicked so much ass, it's impossible to describe. Where once there was wood paneling and then more wood paneling and then either wallpaper or gaping holes, there are now white walls, freshly mudded and ready to be sanded and painted. Where once there was a rotting mud sill and rotting floor, there is now newly-patched wall, new floorboards, and a new subfloor ready to be tiled. Amazing!

My uncle also taught me how to patch a wall. I can now (theoretically) go from gaping hole to sheetrock, mud, tape, more mud, and voila! No hole in the wall! My newfound mudding skills will be put to use in the next week or two as I fix up the corners in the den and float out the wall in my entryway. I get to use terms like "float out" now because I am an expert in the field of mudding. And by expert, I mean that I now know that "mud" can also be used as a verb and I know precisely two things about how it's done. But my uncle says I'm a natural.

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