Madness Dreaming of Normalcy

Today is gonna be a short post. It's a tough one for me so, here goes. Today I honor the memory of a dear friend of mine, Timothy Lee Rackley, who four years ago today, at 6:30 A.M. CST (approximately one hour from when I'm writing this) took his own life with a bullet to the brain. In his suicide note he had said that he could not fit in with society or what it required of him. He ended his own life instead of living one of misery and/or torment, self-inflicted or otherwise. Sometimes I envy him. I haven't been feeling well since I got out of bed, today. I feel like shit, I'm going through the motions of my life, but I feel beaten and defeated. I feel that I am not where I'm suppose to be. I feel like I'm making the best choices I can but those choices aren't making me happy. I can't explain it. I've been trying so hard to find out what it is I want for my life, but every time I try it ends in failure and depression. I feel like I don't be

Once there was a dead man. He died just as he had lived, working in front of a computer day in and day out. His heart had finally caught up to his sedentary life style. The smoking and drinking didn't help, at least not for his health. But what finally got him to the end of his life was the work. The work consumed him. Everyday he would roll out of bed. He would walk the twenty two steps to the desk where he worked and he would type. And type. And type. Until he was tired, then he got up, walked those same twenty two steps and slept. On weekends he would drink alone in his apartment and work drunk for as long as he could. Smoke breaks took away from his work so he began smoking from his desk. On the day he was to die he had just finished working, and moved to get up. He stretched his long fingers in a weave until they clicked. He started walking back to bed and on step twenty one he felt an ache in his chest. His mind reeled at the sudden onset of pain. He looked to the dresser n

So, this kinda might be cheating (I wanted to create a space where I wrote just about my thoughts/opinions/dreams/life etc... but, no on lives in a vacuum), but I'm going to post something that a friend on facebook said. For the purposes of this post, I will edit slightly. To whomever broke into [my significant other's] car and stole my [bag] by smashing in the back window: fuck you! The world would be better off if you got shot in the face. I cancelled all my cards before you could use them. Enjoy the 20 bucks in cash you got. This is why I will never vote democrat. If it was up to me all you shit bag piece of shit non contributors to society would just be killed. Fuck you. Karma will get you. Fuck you. Pardon my language.

So I don't want to give an extensive list of who did this technique first. So I'm just going to gloss over all the people who came before and try to focus on the subtle ironies and humor that comes with writers writing for writers. Let's clarify. It's the kind of story that Kurt Vonnegut might've written if he included himself in his own story. The kind of story where he would interact as a writer with his characters (some of them being surrogate characters for himself, he would even go so far as to make them writers as well) and he would see through them as the author sometimes does and his characters would ask things of him and his God like powers. And all the while, people would have their minds blown and enjoy that feeling. And that's good. English professors would dig deep into the book's text finding every subtle nuance with every single word put under the microscope. And that's pretty good. And then there are his fellow authors, his peers, who

Ah Apple. The pinnacle of usability, ease of computing, and price. For a very long time I thought that apple was the opposite of the old phrase, "You get what you pay for." To which I mean, I was not convinced that such a high price tag was indeed worth the ease that the computer gave. I sat around dealing with the small tricks and hacks I needed in order to get windows to do what I wanted. I just accepted that having a development environment that was sometimes wonky, didn't have the power and flexibility of command-line prompts (like unix/linux) with a clean UI that just made sense. For a long time I sat around and hated Mac, blindly and ignorantly. Then I got a new job as an iOS developer. Naturally, I would have to purchase a Mac in order to work as an iOS developer. So, took the time to grab a Mac book pro and have been using it for two days now. ... Holy fucking hell. I'm fairly certain that there is no better computer for development on the market. The OS