Flavigula

Here lies Martes Flavigula, eternally beneath the splintered earth.


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Programming
Java
Work
Mon, 02 Aug, 1999 00.00 UTC

I am concerned about the Chat application that I was so eager to take on. It is not as though i cannot handle the coding aspect, but instead have a pronounced lack of assertiveness in production. What shall I do to curb this incessant desire to dawdle in sloth? Well, first of all, I need to run the application and list the things which should be APPARENTLY improved/fixed/added. Here goes. - An applet parameter or a command line argument must specify whether the chat instance is in 'operator' mode or no...

Nostalgia
Kerby lane
Austin
Friendship
Relationships
Oberon
Fri, 30 Apr, 1999 04.00 UTC

Scott's gaze to me is exceedingly curious, as if he is expecting me at any moment to be pummelled. I wonder what Melanie's words were preceeding the snapping of this photograph. I look very much as if it was not expected. That is, there is no poise or silliness in my demenor, a facet of my personality that manifests itself when some human being who is psychologically associated with me begins to aim the camera (and I am noticing their actions, of course). The drink I quaff (not in the photograph, but surel...

Oberon
Relationships
Tue, 27 Apr, 1999 04.00 UTC

*Black* is in my head, annoying my restless neurons with how it relates to my situation. The craziness of last night haunts me like a receeding dream at which I try to clutch but recall only snatches that blur even further into grew forgetfulness. Another person with whom I was very close is gone and no amount of insolent kicking of my legs or wailing like a forsaken ghoul into the night will make her come back. Two weeks ago today I told her *goodbye* and two days prior to now she said she cannot return t...

Work
Relationships
Mon, 25 Jan, 1999 00.00 UTC

Now I shall attempt to gleefully continue my work on James's project, hopefully in a successful manner. Hawkwind spills out of the speakers and I am reminded of the particularly lengthy day during which I completed most all of the tournament management tool and left an imprint of the event in this elaborative mishmash of words. My mind is also on Magdalena, with whom I spent the majority of yesterday. I wonder if she will keep her resolve to leave Daryl. I hope. Why? Well, because I want her to be hap...

Elaborations
Work
Motivation
James
Wed, 20 Jan, 1999 00.00 UTC

Well, quite a bit has changed since the last entry of "elaborations". I shall probably fortunately not go into details, however. Morrissey croons above my head and struggles to raise my eyelids from their half-closed position, mostly unsuccessfully. My fingers are having quite a bit of trouble efficiently hitting the correct keys to form these tenuous words. No explanations necessary, I suppose. Mother I can feel the soil falling over my head. I must work on the software for James, the lines of broken...

Music
Nostalgia
Meaning
Thu, 23 Jul, 1998 00.00 UTC

What an amusing thing that i am doing at this moment! I am making a tape for Julie VanLoh, whom I have not seen nor heard from since October of 1996. I was the one who did not keep up the contact, however, and I am quite regretful of that. The one day we spent together meandering about Anchorage trying to find a church to attend stamped some sort of indelible impression on my mind. It keeps recurring in my dreams. Strange. What does her eidolon mean to me? "Tea for One" pours into my wax-laden ear so...

Philosophy
Tue, 19 Mar, 1996 00.00 UTC

The Principle of Sufficient Reason states (quite matter of factly) that there must be an explanation for: - the existence of any being. - any positive fact. A very spiffy point that Melanie made in her philosophy paper that I have just received via the ubiquitous postal service is that this principle is silly in that the first part generalizes out to the second. That is, the actual existence of a 'being' is, in fact (no pun intended), a 'positive fact'. Perhaps they (it's those 'they' again), when idea...

Religion
Metaphor
Wed, 02 Nov, 1994 00.00 UTC

I press my face against the glass of my unbelief, the foggy pane clears and I see lucid emotions, wheeling wearily through my mind. Have I lost all sense of who I have been? Have these things that have tortured and rent my spirit been subdued, leaving me bored with my contentment? Have I slacked off in my writing? Yes! (Marcie's Birthday -- XVI). Psalms 23. (NIV) > The lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. The Lord God has built a fence, a fence of barbs and electrons, tearing and electrocuting ...

Frustration
Productivity
Writing
Mon, 31 Oct, 1994 00.00 UTC

Frustration -- pounding my brain with its painful pickaxe, driving all rationality form my head. I can't think! I cannot think! Try as I might, I am feeble. The shadows creep quickly over my eyes, blurring my sight and smothering my mind. Fuzzy images of clearer thoughts dance just within reach. I grapple with them to try to untangle the weave that squeezes tighter and tighter onto my brow. Limping, I grunt unintelligible, ugly remarks at passers-by, blinking at my arrogance, lost in their opulence. Memoriz...

Religion
Instinct
Escapism
Self-preservation
Wed, 26 Oct, 1994 00.00 UTC

Thoughts on "self-preservation": Many human "goals" can be stretched, expounded on, then compressed back to the concept called 'self-preservation'. Is this extremely simple yet powerful instinctive sense an integral part of most everything we do? Jayson provides a few excellent examples, though I shall not elaborate exquisitely upon them. Simply: the avoidance of large, hairy beasts with sharp claws and pointed teeth. I suppose this may be a purer, unadulterated... or better yet, non-camouflaged instance ...

Lethargy
Productivity
Writing
Tue, 25 Oct, 1994 00.00 UTC

I eagerly grasp at my intention to slip from productive pursuits to lethargy with hands that mean to strangle... I'm grappling with my will to get back to writing from the more alluring computer work that has filled my day. I sit pretentiously in Linear Algebra class filling this page with rhetorical dribble. I'll pass an integral form of my psyche onto my surroundings just right after my left armpit develops the ability to, at will, create a different recipe for tapioka pudding thrice an hour. At least I h...

Along with martens, goulish goats and the rippling fen -
these writings 1993-2021 by Bob Murry Shelton are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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