I will soon summarize the second half of the weekend adventures, which took place on September 8. But first, a lyric. This is a song I'm sure many people will recognize. It is a song that has been around for several years.

I have decided to resurrect this song as my anthem again for this time period of my life. It's always been a great song, but I couldn't always call it my anthem, because it didn't always fit, especially for a while. Now, it fits me again. Read the words. (Or even better, listen to them.) The first portions are especially recommended for all the unemployed programmers of the world.

Check.

Well... in my case, the second part, at least.

For my life: Check, check, and check.

Take that as inspiration.

Well... At this moment, there may still be a few traces of alcohol running around in my blood stream. But I'm sober. Truly.

Check. But I may have been overpaid for a while too, depending on how one looks at it. (Does someone who sits at a computer all day, writes code which is fun anyway, surfs the web, and installs enlightment really deserve to get more money than a brick layer?) Everything balances out.

Mmmmm.... I think I'll just have to fudge this one. Build Me A Site Dot Com.

Yep. Have you written to your senator this week? I haven't, but sometimes I think it might be a good idea.

Having attempted some meditative practices, this statement resonates here.

No comment. But I can feel it. I may have done wrong to some people with some of my words. No further elaboration here, however, because what has been done is done.

[Bitscape nods in solemn agreement. Especially the part about the cigarette.]

Ditto.

I actually did flash the peace sign to a few people earlier tonight, some of them total strangers, others I had met but hours or days before. Those were good moments.

I'd like to think so.

Hell yeah. This never stopped being true. :)

Others would be a better judge of this than me.

This can, and has happened.

Whether it be simply saying "Hi, how ya doin?" to the pretty girl in the corner, or walking into the business of yet another potential employer whose responses are unknown, this is me. I'm brave, but I'm chicken shit.

Sick, as in perverted? Sure. Isn't everybody? As to my own physical attributes, once again, I would defer to those who are in a better position to judge.

Truer words were never spoken.

That would be wishful thinking for me. Maybe in another life, I will be a real musician. Until then, I can just admire those who are.

Believe it, I do.

No, not me! Tobias, I will keep. Payments, I will make. (Eventually.)

Yoda, I am not. Nor Yoda will I possess. The transportation of Jaeger and Kiesa, Yoda is.

Too sleepy, I am. Longer than I expected, this did take. But another rambling I will write before sleep I do.

...

Artist: Alanis Morissette. Title: Hand In My Pocket.

That is again my anthem. Listen to it, sing it, (re)memorize it. If everyone did this, the world would surely be a better place.

Be back after a caffeine brake.