serinde

I went to Pennsic for ten days, and had a good if subdued time (in spite of my tent flooding the first afternoon). As anticipated, I didn't do a fraction of what I normally would have, a thing that was encouraged by extreme humidity for the first five days. (At least it wasn't also extremely hot, being chiefly in the mid-80s or so; we've seen far worse. But it encouraged sluggishness.) It was hard to identify the exact reasons, and more relevantly the proportions of each, for why my ass was dragging: weather? lack of sleep? being out of shape? COVID residual? general confusion and forgetting How To Pennsic? but I tried not to frell about it too much, and just meet myself where I was. One effect of the general situation was that I couldn't help with camp breakdown as much as I usually would have, and I felt bad about this, but it is inspiring me to do what I can to be in a better physical place for next year.

Today I am on my way into campus, and this has provided me with a much clearer A/B comparison: it may have been three years since I was at Pennsic, but it's only been, what, four weeks since I last commuted. And the conclusion is that I am definitely still dragging some COVID-induced negative levels. My walk to the train station is a little under a mile, and even with a loaded backpack avec laptop this is ordinarily just a pleasant ramble for me; but this morning it was actual work. So, yeah. I'm not going to be an idiot (for once) and try and push myself unduly; but I will try and make walking part of my day whether I'm going in or not, and see if I can start building this back up.

So, once upon a time and for many moons uncounted, I had a paid LJ account. Then the whole Time of the Random Banhammering came, and various & sundry other stupidities from the new overlords, and I did not want to give them of my moneys any more, so I dropped to a free account and moved my primary existence over to Dreamwidth, which can be neatly summed up as "LJ without the suck, and with some smart enhancements".

However, most people who are still active in the Foojournal-based worlds at all seem to still be on LJ, so I maintained my account there. And I was a little sick of only having six of my many icons, the rest being flagged inactive (except when you comment on someone else's post, where it gives you a choice of all of your icon library, and doesn't tell you which are active and which aren't); but what the hell, it's free, amirite? But yesterday I finally took note that you can just buy extra userpic capacity, so I went ahead and did that thing, $6 for the year being within my "fine you can have that much of my dosh" limits for another 15 icons.

You know what happens if you do that? It randomly chooses which of your icons to make active. Automatically. Instantly. No saving throw, and you can't switch it around. Your only option is to delete anything it chose as being active that you didn't want--which of course disassociates that icon from any of your old posts or comments you had used it in back in the paid days.

I was sure this was too stupid to be true, so I opened a support request. No, the Russians are oh so terribly sorry, but this is Just How It Works.

COME TO DREAMWIDTH. IT IS RUN BY SMART PEOPLE.

Because everything happens at the same time, I also was called for jury duty this week. (In sober reflection I should have taken my postponement, but I was thinking that a) whatever other time they called me for would undoubtedly be even less convenient and then I wouldn't be able to postpone again, and b) I believed everyone around me who had had to show up maybe one day and then that was it.)

Now, it must be understood that I do not have a problem with this; indeed, if this week/month weren't so full of the ualeauleauleaue, I would be really excited to serve on a jury. I truly do believe it is part of what makes society go 'round, and I truly do hope that if it's ever my turn in the legal barrel that intelligent, well-rounded, competent people will not try to do whatever they can to avoid it, and I truly do feel it to be an honorable and worthy thing to be doing. (The last and only other time I got called, when living in Jersey City, I got as far as juror selection and they bounced me--to my dying day I will believe it was because, when they asked "What's your favorite TV show?", I said "Buffy".) But also, this is trial jury not grand jury, so I expected the most that would be asked of us was one week--which I could spare, with difficulty it's true, but if I worked like a dog at night it could be okay. Whether or no, it's still important to show up, and now they tell us that there is wifi in the juror waiting room and all, so I figured worst-case I'd be sitting around for a day or two but I'd still be able to get a lot of work done.

( Life In 60 Centre St )

And I told the truth and the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but I feel crappy about it. I had two powerful duties, and they conflicted, and I had to choose one; and I think I chose the right one, but that still means I failed on the other.

User: I keep getting this error with Firefox. {description elided}
Student Helper: This happens when Firefox detects another profile in use. {fix elided}
User: That didn't work. Also this started happening when we started using this application hosted elsewhere, and other schools are saying they're having the same problem with it too. So please come troubleshoot it.

I haven't really posted about work since starting the new job a year ago. (Then again, I haven't posted much about anything, so it's not that I've been deliberately exclusionary.) But it is needful to set up some background before getting to the actual meat of this post.

( Lo: Background. )

( Primal conflict: man vs. self. )

( What do you do when you don't know what to do? )

( Takeaway: )

Department Assistant: "Hi, I'm calling from the XXXX department. We need to order a computer for our lab, and it has to be an HP, how do we do that?"
Your humble correspondent: "Is there a particular reason it has to be an HP? Is there some kind of peripheral or card it has to have? Because the desktop machines are pretty much created equal, and we should be able to get you a much better deal through Dell."
DA: "I don't know but they said it has to be HP because it needs to run this thing...what is it... L - I - N - U - X ?"
YHC: "...Why don't you email me the spec and we'll figure out what you need to order."

(Quoth elibalin, "Maybe that's why my printer keeps jamming. I'm using Windows ink.")

It's a busy week: the students are moving back into the dorms, the faculty is returning to their offices, everyone's working double tides to make sure everything's right and tight for the start of classes next Tuesday.

Therefore, of course, I've come down sick.

I seem to have fought off most of the symptoms--it's chiefly manifesting as total soul-sucking lassitude and enervation, though with a bit of tetchy throat and sinus headache--but even couch + laptop forces me to set it aside and close my eyes every 40 minutes or so. I OBJECT. STRENUOUSLY.

For once, however, I am being smart and actually staying home instead of trying to power through it; and I'm actually getting some stuff done in my moments of lucidity, which I would not if I had dragged my sorry ass in. The other major goal is to shake it before I have to troop off on a family trip Friday night.

nedlnthred has the congenial July 4th custom of drumming up a group to go watch the NYC fireworks display, which gatherings I've usually missed in the past. This year, being as how the display was over the Hudson, the obvious viewing location was the Frying Pan, which is an old rusty boat with a bar in it. The problem is, that particular venue has been Discovered this season (to the point I heard some Joisey Boyz talking about it on the train), and we learned that they were charging a C-note just to step on board, let alone the food and booze cost.

I took to the intarwubs to find an alternative, and came across the Liberty Belle Spectacular, at the rooftop bar of the Empire Hotel. Jazz Age party, cocktails, dancing, burlesque, and only $20 to get in; yes, that will do nicely. The more so as the word was that there would be only 25 at-the-door tickets, so it seemed likely that it would not be a goddamn crush.

[We pause while the audience laughs uproariously at my charming naïveté.]

The doors were to open at 7pm, so we (a party of six) rolled up about 7:20; whereupon we were taken aback to see a line of people extending around the corner and down the block. Was this for non-ticket-holders, we inquired? No, it's for everyone, and the line would split further up. ...Well OK then. We got on line, and chatted, and waited, and slowly shuffled forward, and waited some more, and... [Time passes.] Some 40 minutes later, we made it to where the line split, where they checked for printed receipts/confirmation numbers. Those which had same got blue tickets and went left; those who did not, got red tickets and went right. At which point both types of guest were passed through the velvet rope in equal numbers--or indeed with a stronger preference for the non-advanced ticketed, much to the chagrin of those of us who had planned ahead[1]. Indeed, after the third batch of hoi polloi were permitted up to the exclusion of ticket holders, a lady behind us confronted the gatekeeper to ask, in essence, What The Fuck, Dude. He claimed that he was letting people in equally. We all stared at him with the "you're lying, we know it, and you know it", but it was left at that and in the next batch he did let equal numbers in. (Lord knows what he did subsequently.)

At length we made it up top. The bar is a big space, with a terrace on either end (though of course only the western-facing one was going to be immediately relevant), and a decent amount of lounge seating, though not nearly enough for the mob of people. The band was excellent, playing jazz and swing tunes, and in old-style Navy uniforms, which I thought was a nice touch. As we rolled in, they were having an impromptu fashion show of ladies who had come in period rig[2], and there were many fine-looking outfits indeed, though the biggest hit was a Rosie the Riveter look-alike. The drinks were $14, which is a bit high, but they were at least good and unusual; in-house creations, not "here's your vodka and cranberry juice in a Dixie cup". If you managed to stab someone and get a seat, you could order food (and bottle service if you're that kind of idiot). Anyways, it being twenty to nine[3], we got drinks and immediately fought our way onto the terrace to try and get a decent view for the fireworks, which would start around 9:20.

And we stood. And stood. and stood. And were crushed by people. And couldn't see anything but an admittedly gorgeous sunset. There was burlesque and dancing where the bar let onto the terrace, which we could only perceive by the cheering and flashbulb popping. I was particularly woeful because I was wearing shoes that are not for standing in--I can wear them all night, but not for hours of nothing but standing on concrete--and I was hitting the agony point; and we were crushed in behind a group who had a table and seats (those stupid square hassock things that bar/lounges like), and the party in question weren't even sitting half the time. Indeed, one of them was having words with Beth because our party was maneuvering in the gap between their table and the next one and I guess he felt we were harshing their mellow or something.

At length, the fireworks started. Upon which we realized a few things:
1) Fordham Law School was in the way.
2) A really tall fingerlike apartment building was in the way.
3) The tasteful palm fronds along the edge of the terrace were in the way.

We could still see a good portion of the show (except elibalin, who was directly in line of the palms), but it was not the unimpeded front-row view implied on the tin, as it were. At one point "This Land Is Your Land" broke out, and the whole crowd was singing, and that was kinda cool. Later, the band and one of the singers was striking up "God Bless America", which I am regrettably far less fond of[4], but eh.

As anticipated, the instant the fireworks were over there was a mass exodus, and many of the remaining guests surged indoors to the air conditioning and the entertainment; and thus, after about ten minutes of vulching I managed to land us a table on the patio. Which was good, because I was reaching the end of my little fraying rope... A half hour of sitting, drinking, excellent conversation, and a snack restored comity and joy. We decided to move back inside to check out (and perhaps partake of) the dancing, but upon standing up again I realized that I was quite, quite Done. I really would have liked to have stayed and seen the actual party we were here for, but a dispassionate assessment made it clear that misery was right around the corner, so I took myself unto the crosstown bus, and thus home.

So, Lessons Were Learned:
* Do not, do not, believe that any event that looks cool and claims exclusivity will not be mobbed to alt.hell and back. Wear comfortable shoes. Get there early. Stake out turf.
* Investigate the exact barge locations of the fireworks well in advance.
* If you want to take a Night on the Town, and actually be up to all of it, don't start drinking Pimm's cup at noon (unless you're arranging a disco nap in between).

As I explore the nightlife world, I am more and more getting the sense of that classic Yogi Berra line, "No one goes there, it's too crowded". I really don't like forking out the brass for the privilege of being crushed like a sardine in a noisy environment where you can't see or talk to anyone but who's standing directly beside you. Beth reports that, after I left, the party reached the sweet spot of good music, good dancing, and enough space to actually enjoy all of these things, so that's good to know; but, I mean, argh.

[begin footnotes]
[1] Beth spoke to the organizers upstairs on this head, and was told that yes, they'd had a lot of complaints about it. I notice that this is not the same as "...and we'll do something about it next time we hold an event".

[2] We had plenty of time to observe a lot of these outfits while on line and then once upstairs; we noticed that, first, many weren't actually Jazz Age at all, but were much more 40s or 50s, which is okay with us, because there's only one body type that looks good in flapper gear; and second, most were more theatrical/passing-the-squint-test than true period outfits. Now, many still looked very, very awesome...but not to the knowing eye. (I'm not the knowing eye, but I was in company with several.)

[3] And there was still a huge line behind us waiting to get in. I can only imagine what the reaction of the ticket-holders who were still on the street when the fireworks started was.

[4] I may be unjust to the song, simply because its sentiments and chorus have been appropriated by assclowns.

I have had cause to wonder whether Ranger might not do better with a companion; he has spent his entire life being half of a duo, and his behavior has gotten a little odd and proprietary (co-dependent?) over the last year, and he seemed to tolerate visiting kittens not too badly, and nedlnthred has had problems finding home for poor Domino, a most sweet-natured cat; so I decided to take him on a trial basis and see how it worked out.

I picked him up on Friday morning and decanted him, whereupon he went directly under the couch. Ranger was, of course, hissingly displeased per usual, but not making much of a fuss. So, when I left Friday night, Domino was quietly hiding under the futon, and Ranger was watching with disapproval from the bed. Domino would occasionally make a tiny "mew mew mew" and poke his head out, or explore a little, at which point Ranger would hiss (giving himself a hairball) and he'd duck back under. But they were pretty much staying each in their own room.

( Begins now the tale.... )