Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   rash of firings
Monday, March 22 1999
Very casually at the company meeting, and utterly without fanfair or emotion, one of the two VPs of Marketing announced the firing of three of his underlings, one of them a long-time employee of the firm. It was a surreal and unsettling thing. It was as if this incident was designed to throw fear into our ranks. Were we expected to feel grateful that we were among those remaining? Is that why no one seemed to care? Is there no value in experience, in knowing the ropes? Sometimes my workplace feels a little like the administration overseen by Saddam Hussein. Who is to be executed today? If not me, will I be promoted? What does this mean for the long term? Should I care, or just kiss ass and hope for the best in the short-term?
When I got home, my house was a center of socialization yet again. Kim and Steph were hanging out and cooking dinner. This time, however, I had to buckle down and finish up the website I've been building for Kim's employer. And while Kim wants to show me off to her friends in social contexts, she's also like to prove to her boss that I'm not the flake I've been behaving like. These are indeed conflicting demands, so she's had to prioritize. Similar conflicting demands come from various people at my workplace and in my own, independent, social life. I'm pulled in so many directions that it almost seems I could satisfy everyone just as much if I accomplished nothing at all.

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