How the West Was Won

I dedicate this post to the loving memory of my old bedroom at the Overhouse, and to promises of future joy in my new room.

I've always been a fan of the roommate shuffle. Anybody who's lived with roommates for a while has probably thought a little about what life is like on the other side of the wall, or bathroom, or efficiency dinette with built-in mini fridge, or whatever living arrangement keeps all your junk away from the other people's junk. We've had a couple rotations of colorful characters sweep through this stately manse, but it's been rare (actually this is the first) that I've ever traded with anyone other than getting out of the bunk-beds with my brother. My old digs (West SIDE!) were decent, if a little cramped. Shelves built into the walls, great natural lighting, good heat flow, and a spiffy hallway-ish entrance that gave time to get decent when the Enemy would burst in on me when I had, um, company. But when I got the Queen size bed, things changed. Sure, it helped with the aforementioned "company", but seriously, it became a somewhat medium sized closet. Also? There wasn't a closet. So when Duddy moved out (sniff), Aaron snagged his, and I bolted for Aaron's. HA! Movin' on Up!    ...To the East Side! Now my old room has been turned into a studio booth, and I'm left with only memories. I will say that having a door directly facing Aaron's is pretty killer. I don't need an alarm clock anymore (we work at the same time/place), and I can make a quicker retreat after any unspeakable practical jokes committed under his bed. Or in his dresser (sorry). But some things I thought to brighten my life seem a little colder now. Clinical. Thicker walls mean less noise, sure, but it's harder to keep up on my roommates' sex lives now. And I'm certain they're saddened by lack of news from my romantic interests. Having a closet keeps my room clean(er), but it just doesn't feel like home without clothes ankle deep on the floor. 

Le sigh....

The Nerd-Pod

This past weekend, it would seem, was a momentous occasion in nerd history. Future nerd historians shall look upon this innocent age (specifically, July 11th), speculate on what nerds thought and felt, and will be filled with joy and wonderment; sharing the excitement of their nerd ancestry with celebration. As the last remaining human without an iPhone, I realize that my line is ending, and with it goes hope for history of my own kind. They say that history books are always written by the winning side, and so it goes for nerd-dom. Frankly, I used to believe that I myself had strong nerdling tendencies. I mean, I think I actually own a 20-sided die. But years of reluctance toward the ever expanding technological requirements for acceptable nerdliving have left me impotent in a nerdworld that no longer sees use even for things as patently nerdy as sliderules, Construx, and my sweet vintage top-loader NES. Ever onward, however, I shall fight this encroachment. Though I suffer indignities by the score, I shall only relent when at last gasping breath I must...    Look, you bastards, I've got a blog AND a Myspace page now. Happy?