Category: Writings

I dont have much to say.

My keyboard got soda spilt into it, so some of the keys stick and dont work. One of them is key (oh, man – play on words) to making contractions, so, even though I could just quit making them, Ill continue to make contracting, just without that all special key.

Finals are this week (to everyones surprise) and I may actually have more time to post. Well see. I hadnt much to say lately.

I finished my [ english project ] and hope that you all will take a look at it. Even if it is brief. I wanted to include more interwebs, but Im done with it.

I think that is all for now. I am planning on redoeing the site over Christmas break, so you may see a very different [A]wayken[.]Com[ ] come the new year. Well see.

Before you read anything, look at [ this ] wonderful picture.

This, people, is the elusive MegaTron. This rare photo has caught the MegaTron in its natural environment, some sort of disoteque, as are so popular with young children of today.

Here he makes a hesitant wave. To hide himself from predators (mostly likely trying to steal his awesome hat – or are those his ears??) he, himself, does himself become an optical illusion, himself. He stands, straight-legged, ready to take on the world one stilt-footed step at a time.

It’s hard to tell what sort of expression it wears. It appears to be looking at something up and to its right. Or it could be part of the MegaTron mating dance in which they basically just do that expression right there – that one — right … there.

It is my only hope that this creature does not find its way into our cities. If so, the results could be disasterous. It has been known to inexplicably suck the power out of any surge protecter with a simple clicking sound.

These creatures excite easily and may defend themselves by launching old pumpkins at offenders. However, if caught face to face, do not fear this creature. One on one, or caught in a small group, the MegaTron is actually pretty cool.

Just don’t Peek-A-Boo with him – after that, my guess is, you’ll never see him again.

This isn’t really a post, but I wanted to get something out here so that you people don’t think that I gave up websites.

“Webpages? Those are for dorks!”

No, what I did instead is decided to devote myself to my studies. So, I have little things to share with you. For one, there is [ this ].

This is a pretty cool [ pic ]. I’m also experimenting with Media Player 9. Jeff had it a while back and I’ve decided to give it a spin. ( + ) is that it minimizes to the task bar. ( – ) is that it doesn’t take control, so when I hit “Pause” it starts Winamp. geez.

Secondly, here is a humourous story. I have several email filters that put emails with key words into a special folder. I check that folder first, skim the subject lines, the authors and decide whether to keep it.

Then I hit select all, and I uncheck any emails that I wish to keep. The remaining selected emails I delete. Then I select all again and I send those to the inbox.

Well, today, I checked my “Forwardz” folder, and I skimmed. Oooo, two emails to keep. I selected all, unchecked the two emails, the hit “Send to Inbox.”

oh holy mother of pearl why why me hoeahhh

Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Because suddenly all I had was those two emails. And I had a funny feeling that the rest weren’t in the trash. Now I’m afraid to see my inbox.

Sometimes I hate email.

just sometimes.

You know what that is up there? No you don’t.

I am writing this post because I haven’t slept for close to 24 hours and plan on skipping band to sleep this afternoon. I hope that my grammar and spelling do not suffer, but they will. Like all of you will.

I have an assembly project due. Guess what? I uploaded it to this stupid website and you can download it. Make sure you put all the files in the same folder. If you run it and wierd things happen, then don’t worry. It’s just that you have a gay computer.

Get a new computer and try again. That link is right [ here ].

Why else am I up so late? Well, I had a lot to add for other authors. A lot considering the usual stagnation. And I also haven’t updated the [ Zimmermann Site ] in a while and I figured I’d do that. I also have a stupid Calc test. It’s gotten me quite by surprise, but I feel like I could do anything tonight. After figuring that project out, I’m ready to take on the world… Hardcore!

I think right now I am going to reboot my computer, watch an episode of 24, do some math related musings, and possibly a couple hits of [ acid ].

Oh man – it has snowed.

i hate snow

I get images, like anyone else does, about things they read. Sometimes these come painfully. They are vague and shadowy, and one must concentrate hard, harder, to bring them forth. Often these images aren’t true to themselves. They are not what they actually are. They change themselves, because they do not want to be seen. I usually see this type of image when I am trying to understand something that doesn’t come clear. Or if I am trying to write something that doesn’t want to be written, it hides from me. This paragraph itself is an example. I sat for a full minute before I was able to start it.

Other images snap into focus. They are fast and beautiful, and, more importantly, they are talkative. They wish to share everything with you, every detail of themselves, and you have but to listen and the write (if that’s the case) or merely enjoy. When one reads a good book (which seem to be far and few) such a thing happens. Believe it or not, Harry Potter was such a book for me. Harry just seemed to shine, his pages quickly coming to life before my eyes.

The final type are those images who are shy. They want to be seen, but they want to be safe. They want to hold back from you, because they are so special that they know if you work for it, they will be all the grander. These are most often the types of images I see when I write. It takes a delicate prodding, but they come forth in their splender, and I put my pen to paper or my fingers to plastic.

I saw you on that train, peering listlessly out a window into the wintry landscape
that passes on by, tears reflecting back the golden sunlight that danced on your face. These were tears of fear, uncertainty, and frustration. Tears that screamed “Why ?” and “Why me ?” in their silent path to your lips.

You sat with your coat and purse, which appears more like a shoulder bag, thing and with clasps, legs crossed under a what appears to be a stylish, red, ankle-length skirt. Around one ankle is a faded, dark green ankle bracelet and around one wrist is what looks like an unadorned charm bracelet, but is actually
a time piece. Time doesn’t matter anymore.

I stand there, in the dark, three doors down from yours. I can see the sunlight poor out the window in the door into the hall. And I can hear a snifle and a sigh. I walk forward and the light on the dark red carpet, though muted, reflects up onto my face, illuminating my eyes. They’ve welled up with a commiserated pain. I walk forward, to your door; and knock.

You turn with a start, and the beams highlight your straight brown hair in a flash.

“Mind if I share company with you?” I cautiously aire. Your hand goes to your mouth, covering those same lips that are moist with your sorrow. Then you get up and run over to me and throw your arms around my neck. You close your eyes, forcing out more tears, and I can feel them on my neck and cheek. I share a tear with you.

We embrace for what seems to be forever. So much is spoken, but unsaid, and so much more is understood, but unquestioned.

We go back into the car where you sit in the sunlight again, but smiling this time. I sit opposite, in more shadows, but smiling this time. And the train rolls on. On to Holland.

When did the word “dope” mean cool? I must have missed that transition. I blame rap music.

Today I only have info to report.

We have two new authors.

The first is “missa” who has published one poem in the [ ]words[ ] section.

The other is my cousin, “brenna” who posted four poems in the [ ]words[ ] section.

Make sure to read their stuff. Always top notch.

Note : If these pages look messed up it’s because I broke them. Sorry.

~ :cry:

The most recent network outage was caused by the total failure of the Cabletron SmartSwitch/Router that serves as the central point of connection for the building wiring closets. The problems associated with the Internet-2 router appear to be resolved.

All the building wiring closets connect back to the server room through a port on the SmartSwitch/Router. As such, it is a single point of failure on our network.

Primarily due to cost of about $138,000 for the device as configured

Yes and no. We have budgeted $43,000 for Cabletron maintenance. Knowing that the Cabletron device lacked some of the features we needed to implement a secure wireless network, we used those funds (and a bit more) as the initial payment on a three-year lease of a Cisco 6500 switch/router. In this case, continuing maintenance on the Cabletron device would not have reduced the network downtime, so severe was the failure.

The Cisco Switch had been delivered to InterTel in Sioux Falls. Last week a Cisco technician was on campus collecting information necessary to configure the switch – especially the intrusion detection components. The original plan was to schedule implementation early on some Thursday, which is our regular maintenance time. The total failure of the Cabletron switch has provided the “opportunity” for an immediate installation. The Cisco switch/router was installed on Wednesday morning.

Now that we have the network operating again, we can determine what failed and attempt to repair the device. If it can be repaired it will become our backup central switch/router.

While the Cabletron device has had its operational peculiarities, we ordered the Cisco device primarily for the extra features that would protect the wireless network, support local multicasting traffic, and provide internal intrusion detection services. The speed of network response in the dorms is a function of the peer-to-peer applications students are running on their personal machines.

DSU is not an ISP. The network is established and managed to support academic activities in accordance with the Computing Privileges Policy (see it here (ps – you can click this)). The fees collected are utilized to fund the switches and support services for the network in the dorms. The $60 per semester equates to $15/month. This is the approximate cost of a limited access dial-up connection. In keeping with the academic focus of the network, connectivity in the dorm provides a way for students to quickly and easily access local resources. Better access will naturally result when dorm residents cease running peer-to-peer applications.

Examples of peer-to-peer applications include: KaZaA, Grokster, Morpheus and others. These applications provide opportunities to retrieve or share music, movies, software, video games and other copyrighted materials without authorization. In addition to consuming bandwidth for non-academic purposes, these applications raise issues of copyright infringement and open personal machines to virus attacks. While there are legitimate uses for peer-to-peer applications, the bulk of the peer-to-peer traffic appears to support entertainment, not academic, activities.

Last year DSU attempted to block each application through its standard “port”. But students would configure the application to use another port and by-pass the network management rules in place on the PacketShaper®. This year, rather than attempting to block or limit each application, we’re limiting the bandwidth to the dorm subnets to 6M – about 75% of our 8M Internet connection – at priority level 0. The rules as implemented provide first priority to network traffic for labs and offices. For example, if the labs and offices require 6M of network connectivity, the dorms will be limited to 2M; if the labs and office require 4M of network connectivity, the dorms will be limited to 4M; if the labs and offices require no network connectivity, the dorms will be limited to 6M. This network management approach has certainly reduced the complaints from faculty and staff concerning network access.

With the PacketShaper® we can identify those machines that are consuming excessive bandwidth. Rather than establish a “bandwidth police” unit, we would prefer that students accept the responsibility to utilize the network in appropriate ways. This does not preclude future steps to ensure ethical and reasonable usage of network resources.

Son – that is for YOU to decide.

Does anyone really relate my titles to my posts? I could post something completly random, and often I do, and no one would catch it. Like this time.

Okay, we have
1 new poem by Emotional Evolution
and
2 new authors.
Luke Sudenga has a prose piece I have entitled “Musings” because I wasn’t sure what title he wanted.
Hesh is our other new artist. This author has submitted 3 haikus for your pleasure. Please read them!

It’s people like this that help keep my site going. :)

Thanks, Guys

Today’s topic? Boys with fingernail polish.

First off, if you call it “fingernail paint”, boy or girl, you’ll get made fun of. I found that out. See, I was at play practice tonight (go figure),

, and Heather and Jamie were doing nails. Jamie says, “You want me to do YOUR nails?” After some consideration, I said okay. She did my right hand in dark red with a silver thumb, and the opposite colour scheme on the other hand. Now, my excuse to my friends is that it was for the play. In fact, it kinda is. We decided that for one of my plays, my character is going to be a punk/goth kid and might wear nail polish. I’m thinking red and blue for now. I can’t find anyone with black.

So, the issue is what’s wrong with guys wearing nail polish?

Society does nasty things to people. It makes people say “THAT’S not right” when they see a boy with black nail polish. Tattoos, piercings, nail polish. These things are “tools” of the goth. Really gothic people have a large assortment of these things. But why? It’s because society says that “THAT’S not right” and that’s what the goth counter-culture is about : being not right.

How did nail polish get into this. I’m not sure how I feel about tattoos and piercings. Both are permanent changes to your body. A reactionary would say that God gave you your body, and you have no right to change it beyond his vision. This is too … reactionary for me. But I’m not sure that fashion falls into the realm of burning ink into your flesh or poking metal/plastic pieces into it.

Nail polish is different. It’s simply decoration, like makeup or hair colour, or clothing, even. People of different background decorate themselves a different way. I’m not a big fan of corsets, myself, but some people wear them. Good for them, I say. I like to be different at some things.

I’m not into clothes. I, early on, learned to hate popular kids. I do, truly. And popular kids care about how they look – they dress in the highest fashions, with the highest regard for price tag. Not me. To deal with this, I could care less where I bought my clothing. Most of it is from rummage sales, and no one cares. And if they DO care, then they’re a “popular kid” and I hate them.

I did dye my hair. I enjoyed the change. I change my desktop background often – severely often. I change my windows theme less often. I love change, being different (part of that anti-main stream thing) and so I changed my hair. It was work, though. And many people didn’t like it. Some of my friends weren’t very impressed. Some people liked it. In either case, it was the reaction that I didn’t like. Why react to me differently? I changed my hair, not my religion. Nothing big.

I don’t do makeup – it’s part of that same anti – mainstream thing. Though, a guy wearing make up would make me counter-culture, which is what I want. Hmm, maybe something to consider.

Nail polish : issue. I’ve talked to one guy who has no problem with it. I’ve talked with one guy who has deep problems with it. I’ve talked to a girl who has no problem with it. I’ve talked to a girl who has problems with it. Let’s explore this.

Problems with this : maybe these people are scared. Maybe they had oppressive upbringings. Maybe they’re scared to be individuals, because they don’t want to be the ones on the outside. I was on the outside, and I’m not going in.
Societal norms are good for creating a sense of home. If you’re young, and society says “Be whatever you dream” then where do you start? You become overwhelmed – or you become fabricated. You copy your parents. People get stuck into a certain mode – a certain mold – and they can’t/won’t break free.

Why? Is it fear? Fear plays a large part in our lives – it makes us do many stupid, crazy things. So does lack of fear, for that matter. We call one group cowards and the other hell-raisers. Is that right? Is it right to say that society should dictate our personal feelings. Sure, culture should influence, but should it set in stone? Culture’s been wrong before, and will be wrong again, and may be wrong now.

I don’t know – maybe I’m thinking too much about this. All this over nail polish. I’m wearing some right now. What do you think about that? Does it make me weird or gay? Does it make me cool and counter-culture? Or does it not even matter?

By the way, just so you know – I don’t own any.

Yet.

“I choose white” – bright like starlight,
But pure chrystallite on its space-wise flight.
So, dot dot dot, here’s fallen snow –
“All dressed up with no place to go.”

Blanc, like a bride, blushing with cold,
Made frozen and bitter with no one to hold.
She closes her eyes, but try as she hides
She can’t force back feelings. Her loneliness sighs.

This winter she’s gone out, spaced apart – tossed about,
Launched into the air, floating haphazard routes.
She lands upon earth, hard, sans sun’s mirth,
And lays there forever as snow without worth.

You know you’ve gotten too far when you see signs for Sioux Falls. Today, I drove right past my exit. I got a little worried when I saw billboards for Dell Rapids, and then I got very nervous when I saw “Sioux Falls 10 Miles.” I mean, I love seeing my name in white, but this meant that I was far far away from home. So, I turned around.

“This is great,” I thought. Just another way to top off my weekend. If you noticed a distinct change in my mood today, and you wouldn’t unless you showed up before play practice, it was because this weekend I confronted my mystery girl.

I could give you her name, but what does it matter – she’s gone. I have a bad feeling from the beginning, but my intuitions were confirmed. She didn’t quite say no. Girls don’t say no to me. If I even get to the part where I can ask her out, then she says yes. But usually, I get almost to that part, and the girl in question wigs out. She starts to feel bad because she knows she has to say “No”, but she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings because I’m a “nice guy,” but she just doesn’t think of me “like that.”

This post will not be very humorous.

What is it about me that makes girls cry when I ask them out? How does that work? When I ask a girl out, she either really likes me, and says “yes” right away and we’re quite happy for a spell, or she breaks down and I get the “I don’t want to lose you as a friend” speech. So, now I have to decide if “love” is overrated or “friendship” is overrated. And where is the line? How does one tell?

That’s what gets guys messed up. How are we supposed to know when you bloody girls are ready for more than friends? How are we supposed to know if you’re being serious or if you’re not? I can’t read minds. I tried. We sat around in seventh grade and tried to send each other shapes when we didn’t have band, and the results were less than average. I can’t recieve or send messages via ESP, so why do you keep trying to get them out that way? If girls weren’t so sure that they have to hide their traces, we wouldn’t have this problem. If the female gender wasn’t so bloody paranoid, we’d all be happier.

Geez. Quit trying to knab guys. Or if you aren’t, start doing it. Or if you don’t really care for guys, then you shouldn’t be taking advice from me. Wanna know a secret about guys? It’s never that complicated. The answer for a guy is always simple. If you think she likes you, then you’re gonna find out you’re right. That or she liked you and changed her mind. We don’t dwell.

Things were simple once. Maybe it’s that I’m not a “guy” but nothing gives me more ulcers than girls. So many signals. Maybe it’s that I’m sensitive to the signals, and that I misread a lot anyway, but it makes life pretty damn complicated. And I can’t even get my ASM to work properly, so, God knows, why my screen flashed grey lines. It supposed to be a solid color!! Ok, I’m getting off topic. In fact, I’m ranting.

So, yeah, I got turned down. Then, on Saturday night, a friend from Sioux Falls (she’s an xray technical engineer… kinda) was on MSN, and we chatted, and she came over at 900. So, Alicia (the girl), Bryce (my bro), Lindsey (Bryce’s g/f), and me (single still) all watched the Lion King. That’s actually a good movie, even as old as it is.

So, the weekend wasn’t all bad. Alicia’s cool. But, yeah.

Check it out! My “Pizza What?” story got published at uber.nu. Uber.nu is a daily webzine that is editted by Ben Brown who has also been mentioned on the site before.

Please check it out! I am so stoked that he published it.

Also – read what I wrote last night before this.

“Hey, roomy. Did you see that I got the new Seether video?”
“Oh, yeah? Is it on your whack?” (snicker) , (snicker)
“No. Yeah. It is now, Miles.”

There we sat, Adam and I, in our solitude. We sat comfortable in our own quiet little worlds, set easily within the span of our expansive, luxurious room. I turned and walked to the hot tub, where the masseuse was getting the oil warmed. I smiled. It’s really the little things that make life worth it.

Suddenly, Adam broke the space. “Hey, did I tell you that … uh .. I also … uh … got … that …” As his ellipses of thought traversed the span between us, through the llama farm and over the chocolate milk brook, my imagination broke my mental space. I asked myself, what would it be like to travel on –

It was a chilly, and possibly blustery, evening as Jasmine and I stood, arm in arm for warmth. The train pulled up with it’s brilliant red engine, and it’s solid black passenger cars. The pistons pumped with the mighty footfalls of a giant of lore, then suddenly they stopped and the mightier brakes engaged, throwing sparks into the air beside and underneath the train.

Jasmine turned to me. I could see the excitement in her eyes. She didn’t need to say anything. It’s not often that a pair of poor, underprivileged street cleaners, like ourselves, got to ride on the fabled train of thought. I breathed deeply the open air. We were lucky. This particular station, located in the heavy thinking portion of Adam’s brain, had hardly any thoughts to disrupt the train. Mostly visitors boarded here. We were also lucky in that the usual oppressive hot air front had passed on this October departure.

We got on. I was so racked with excitement that I soon became sick in the bathroom and had to lay down for several minutes. Then the train started. It heaved forward with the push of Paul Bunyan himself, giving us an anticipated rush forward on down the tracks.

We sped into busier parts of the brain. Through the portion for talking, and then to the lesser populated region for listening. We saw wondrous sites and a couple in the next car came by to share a spot of tea with us. They were a polite couple, and we discovered that they were going to visit their son in the olfactory suburbs. They told us stories. Stories that I, one day, will share with my kindred as if I, myself, were at those places that they spake of.

We neared the center of the brain. This is what Jasmine and I had waited for so long to see. Our grandfather had come from this area. He had been a translator, but he had grown incompetent with age and soon took to less intensive jobs. It was a dream of his to visit the land of his birth. Too bad we didn’t have enough money for three.

Jasmine and I started to share this story with the Oudoors when we heard a scream. It seemed to come from in front of us. I noticed the high pitch it had, and it seemed to go on forever. We dashed out into the hallway, and it was at that moment, when I saw the car ahead of us compacting itself strangely, that I realized what I heard was not a scream at all. The sound was the squeal of the breaks, the twisting of its metal, the destruction of our train.

I can, now, only imagine what the wreck suggested from the air. A snake of cold black, a head of red, slithering it’s way at the speed of an impulse, mounting ranges and dashing through valleys, suddenly and violently stopped. A beautiful invention of man met head on by a beautiful creation of nature, and the resultant carnage. The train derailed terribly. It broke into many parts, destroyed trees and baggage, and took many many lives. Car after car piled upon car after car as the momentum of our journey caught up with us.

Finally, it all stopped. It was dark where Jasmine and I were. We were on the grass, I think, and I think the train covered us like a distorted metal tent. I dared not to move.

Then the wreck began to slide. We were not on a decline. Nay, we were quite right flat, but the wreck was moving as if it were being pulled by something. I crawled out from under the car. I pulled my sister out with me, out into the air and the sun, and we turned to the direction that the train was lurching. There in front of us was a black hole. It was approximately 20 feet in diameter, and it pulled debris in with indiscriminate taste. I heard a voice, a faint voice, say “Who would leave a black hole next to a train track anyway?” but we were all too worried, too distraught, to answer his rhetorical question.

Then I felt it on me. The gravity was pushing me, pulling me, towards the black, gaping … hole. Jasmine, all at once, was swept up and taken in as if she were nothing. Having more man meat to me, I was able to hold off for several more seconds, but I too succumbed to the force.

I was off the ground – I was in the air. Then I was in the black. I could see for miles, but I could see nothing of my sister, the train, or anything else that had been taken hostage by this abomination of nature. All I could see was a single word. Solid, large letters of white against the forever black background. The word –

“Our Lady Peace song?” … what?
“What?” I murmured.
“I said, ‘did I tell you that I got that new Our Lady Peace song?’ Innocent?”
“Oh, no. You didn’t. Sorry – I spaced out for a second.”
“That’s okay – my train of thought completely derailed on that one. Hope everyone’s okay.” And he laughed hard – naive to the reality of it. But inside I thought the same thing:
I hope everyone’s okay.
I hope to God they’re okay.

Well, kids, another day is gone. I’ve gotten a lot of noise about my post yesterday. I got three MSN conversations from one person, completely blown off by another, and an email from someone I’ve never met asking for more information. Shmoly gesus. I seem to know how to create a sensation. I think I should clarify somethings.

Of course, there is always the possiblity that I’m making her up, but that aside, she doesn’t live at DSU. I implied that because I am a dirty, sneaky little devil and it gives me pleasure to use words like weapons, but I never said it. Ha ha ha – you all fell for it. Fools.

See the above box to tell why.

You know who I’m talking about.

You people are shallow and sick.

Carl. Get your own.

Does this help? Is it my style? Is it my delivery? What makes people react like this to my writing? I’ve had similar lashbacks before. People who think they know what I thought when I wrote something actually have no idea what I thought or why I thought it or what I’m thinking now.

Like this: I was on my way to the Dakota Prarie Playhouse for play practice today. It was around 9:20 pm, and it was dark out. Suddenly a bright point of light streaked its way across the sky. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not going to tell you what I wished for. Besides, my mom read this blog. Naw, I’m just kidding. I didn’t wish at all.

How can you not wish at a shooting star? Easy. I looked at it with this stark confusion, like I didn’t know what was going on. And a voice in my head said, “You should make a wish” but nothing happened. I just stood there dumbfounded, like this was the best thing to ever happen to me or the worst. And then it was gone, and I realized that I had stopped walking.

What do YOU think it means? It’s a true story, but it’s fitting enought to post. Let me know your thoughts.