Here Today and Here Tomorrow
Oct. 7th, 2003 12:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
robotech_master"Life can be so tragic—you're here today and here tomorrow."
That's what the fortune cookie program generated as I logged into my computer just now, and somehow it seemed appropriate to the entry.
Because that's how life is, really. The days kind of blend into each other, and if you're not careful, you don't find anything worth recording in your livejournal, and then your parents call you right at the beginning of the one TV show you watch in the entire week and want to talk about it. Not that I'm, y'know, bitter or anything...
But really, that's been largely how it's been for the last week or so. Not much new to report. I go to work, I read books, I take calls, I come home, I get email, I sleep.
But I suppose there have been a few things that merit being brought up. Last Tuesday morning, for example, I received a bit of a shock as I was sitting here at my laptop in my room in my underwear (as I'm prone to do for a while before bothering to get dressed—after all, I'm the only one who lives here, I can get away with it) when I heard something in my living room...and when I stepped out of my room to see what it was, I saw a silhouette of someone coming in the door. I uttered an exclamation and dashed back in, only to hear my Dad's voice a moment later saying, "It's only me." After getting over the shock, we went out and had a good breakfast, and Dad had brought me a set of a lot of Corelle plates, bowls, dishes, and teacups.
Another thing that's worthy of note: the other day, I happened to get turned onto a series of DC Vertigo graphic novels by one of my co-workers, who said it was her favorite series in the whole world. The funny thing is that this co-worker, a sweet little married woman (her husband also works at MCI, in a nearby bay) about my age or younger, was just about the last person I would have ever expected to enjoy a series of comic books that was cover to cover gore, violence, obscenity, and so on. Just goes to show you never can tell by looks.
And what a series! Preacher is obscene, irreverent (sometimes blasphemous), offbeat (sometimes grotesque), bloody, violent, more foul-mouthed than the Tourette's ward at Arkham Asylum...and a work of pure, unmitigated genius on almost every level. Sort of In Nomine crossed with a Tarantino movie, with a hefty dose of Western movies thrown in. If this is the sort of thing that appeals to you, you'll love it.
Anyway, she had the first seven out of the eight collected volumes, and by the time I finished the seventh, I was anxious enough to find out how it all ended to go to Amazon, find the eight volume used, and plunk down $11.50 to get it shipped to me. After I read it, I'll sell it to the co-worker for $10 even just to be nice.
And I think that's about it for interesting stuff that's been happening to me lately.
As a closing note, it's a funny thing...when I just now logged into my computer a second time, I got this fortune:
The life which is unexamined is not worth living.
-- Plato
Wonder if someone's trying to tell me something.
That's what the fortune cookie program generated as I logged into my computer just now, and somehow it seemed appropriate to the entry.
Because that's how life is, really. The days kind of blend into each other, and if you're not careful, you don't find anything worth recording in your livejournal, and then your parents call you right at the beginning of the one TV show you watch in the entire week and want to talk about it. Not that I'm, y'know, bitter or anything...
But really, that's been largely how it's been for the last week or so. Not much new to report. I go to work, I read books, I take calls, I come home, I get email, I sleep.
But I suppose there have been a few things that merit being brought up. Last Tuesday morning, for example, I received a bit of a shock as I was sitting here at my laptop in my room in my underwear (as I'm prone to do for a while before bothering to get dressed—after all, I'm the only one who lives here, I can get away with it) when I heard something in my living room...and when I stepped out of my room to see what it was, I saw a silhouette of someone coming in the door. I uttered an exclamation and dashed back in, only to hear my Dad's voice a moment later saying, "It's only me." After getting over the shock, we went out and had a good breakfast, and Dad had brought me a set of a lot of Corelle plates, bowls, dishes, and teacups.
Another thing that's worthy of note: the other day, I happened to get turned onto a series of DC Vertigo graphic novels by one of my co-workers, who said it was her favorite series in the whole world. The funny thing is that this co-worker, a sweet little married woman (her husband also works at MCI, in a nearby bay) about my age or younger, was just about the last person I would have ever expected to enjoy a series of comic books that was cover to cover gore, violence, obscenity, and so on. Just goes to show you never can tell by looks.
And what a series! Preacher is obscene, irreverent (sometimes blasphemous), offbeat (sometimes grotesque), bloody, violent, more foul-mouthed than the Tourette's ward at Arkham Asylum...and a work of pure, unmitigated genius on almost every level. Sort of In Nomine crossed with a Tarantino movie, with a hefty dose of Western movies thrown in. If this is the sort of thing that appeals to you, you'll love it.
Anyway, she had the first seven out of the eight collected volumes, and by the time I finished the seventh, I was anxious enough to find out how it all ended to go to Amazon, find the eight volume used, and plunk down $11.50 to get it shipped to me. After I read it, I'll sell it to the co-worker for $10 even just to be nice.
And I think that's about it for interesting stuff that's been happening to me lately.
As a closing note, it's a funny thing...when I just now logged into my computer a second time, I got this fortune:
The life which is unexamined is not worth living.
-- Plato
Wonder if someone's trying to tell me something.
