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November 10th, 2007

I stayed in my coma late into the morning. That sound machine is really evil.



Speaking of comas, a reading—and consequently a discussion board posting—for Monday's Rhetoric of Science and Technology class (for which I'm the summarizer) refers to the story of Johnny Got His Gun. I read this book as a young man, in high school back in the 70s, and it made such an impression on me.

A World War I-era American soldier in a hospital realizes that he was hit by an artillery shell and lost his arms, legs, ears, eyes and most of his face. The remaining torso and head is being kept alive by machines. He lies and thinks about his life for several years before realizing that he can use his head to tap out Morse code, but the banging is ignored by his regular nurses and doctors until one Christmas, when a different nurse realizes what he is trying to do. He is finally able to communicate and he asks someone to help him leave the hospital or die.

The discussion board posting includes a pointer to this video by Metallica, of all people, exploring—through music— the moral questions and themes addressed in this book.



On my way to Helios, I stopped to buy a birthday card for my sister, which I filled out, addressed, stamped and put into the mailbox at the post office just in time to realize that Monday is Veteran's Day, which will make my card a day late. Grrrrrrr!

Since this is probably the third year in a row that this has happened, I have gone to November 11, 2008 and put "Veteran's Day" in my Palm Pilot, which will remind me to allow the extra day for the mail to arrive on the correct day next year. Bless my planning mess.

From the halls of technical communication: Okay, the mailbox on the street across from the post office says, "Saturday Pickup: 10AM." Perfectly clear. However, it was 1:30 when I got there. So I actually went inside the post office to see if the pickup there was any later so that I would not lose one more day in the transaction.

There, the sign said, "Saturday Collection: 1:00—5:00." What in the hell does that mean? Anytime between 1:00 and 5:00 someone will collect what's in the box? By 5:00 someone will do it? Continuously during that time someone checks for another letter being dropped in?

I dropped my letter in at 1:30, and I have absolutely no idea of its fate. Frustrating.



At Helios, I did some STC work, worked on my blog a little, and did some Verbal Data Analysis project coding.

Thomas, worker at Helios, said a little too loud when I walked in, "It's the guy with the best t-shirts in town"; Doug, from the bar, stopped by—toasted after an afternoon brewery tour; David, the teacher, stopped by my table to say hello; Dan, from my Internet & Society class a few semesters ago, said hello; and Joe called at about 3:30 to let me know he wasn't going to make it out to join me for a while.



I got home at about 6:00 and made some Shrimp Chow Mein, which overall, was disappointing. I mean it wasn't bad. I just wanted to taste the shrimp a little more.

I only ate about a quarter of it—a third the most—so hopefully with the shrimp, onions, and celery in it overnight, it'll be more tasty tomorrow.



After doing a little more homework, I had to stop and clean up this sty. Much better now.



Late, like at around 10:30, I decided to go out. Kwhy? Kwhy? Kwhy? I'm just going to leave it at that.

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