Really demoralized this morning. The first real certification exam of my course, the CCENT, is next Thursday, and I am working my way through the qualifying exams, and failing. I KNOW the material, but the exams, which are supposed to be representative, are full of questions which are either A) not covered in the curriculum, or B) so badly worded that I just can't parse them. My only ray of hope (and it is slim, at the moment) is the certainty that if the qualifiers are truly representative, NO ONE would ever pass, and people do all the time. So the likely thing is that the qualifiers are junk. Doesn't make if feel any better when I fail them, though.
From the Dredge, sort of. This is the relevant part of a LiveJournal post from this day in 2015. My current state is hardly wonderful, but those days were a horror.
In other news, my job is killing me. Management is currently pursuing a practice of seeing how much extra work they can push to my group before we implode, and we are holding up pretty well. Except that I am doing a two man job with the "help" of a hopelessly green partner, which means I am doing double work AND trying to train my partner too. I spend twelve hours going flat out, then come home and have work related anxiety dreams when I sleep. I have a lifetime's worth of mental stability tricks to keep my head together, but they take a toll on my body, and I don't know where the limits are. I am really afraid that I am going to find out.
When will the world become so complex that the average person will no longer be able to formulate an informed opinion about anything of substance? It has already happened.
From the Dredge. I had purged this one from my brain. It's scary.
I was in Burger King today, and the CNN newsreader was interviewing an AI expert. At one point, the newsreader said, "Now, this is not as advanced as the computer, I don't remember its name, from the movie 'A Clockwork Orange' that tried to take things over."
When did reality break?
Poor Mister Gebo.
He is back in jail once more.
He did nothing wrong.
(Dementia's Neopets account has been frozen for no reason for the second time in ten years. This counts as a local trauma. A minor one, but in a place as sanity-scarce as this, everything matters.)
Forty-one years ago today, I stood on the edge of the abyss, looked into the face of Oblivion, and decided to turn around and go home. But nothing is ever quite the same after an experience like that...
I believe in magic. Almost everyone does, though most don't acknowledge it, and some deny it vehemently. But as a matter of anthropological and psychological fact, we are hard-wired to draw emotional comfort from non-rational ritual, be those rituals religious or social or personal. Ritual works; for my current purposes, the metaphysics are not relevant. And the knowledge that non-rational ritual can have concrete results is something that you can use for practical purposes, and THAT is what I think of as magic.
This comes up because the other day, one of my adopted nieces asked the internet to suggest a talisman, something she could use as a focus to invoke the power of ritual to help her deal with some of the daily horror. I thought about it, designed something, built it, gave it to her.
This morning I heard back from her. She went through a rough patch last night, picked up that talisman, used it to get back on her feet. I am gratified and a bit amused by this. Gratified because I was able help my friend, however remotely, and amused at the transcendental absurdity of it all.
The progression is wonderful and awesome. The talisman began as a foot long piece of coat hanger wire, essentially junk, shaped over the course of half an hour with REALLY simple tools. But then you take into account the technological wonder that steel wire represents, and the hours of craft that are behind that half hour of effort, and the thousands of years of mythology and the hundreds of thousands of years of human developement that made this little bit of ritual predictively effective...
Magic IS. Magic works. Life kicks us around, but we persevere...
Something that would happen in a well-ordered universe: Sarah Michelle Gellar for a guest spot on "Supernatural", maybe as a hunter who had a relationship with Dean back in the long-ago. (Or maybe Gellar and James Marsters together?)
Given that the dreaming brain can't handle the alphabet very well (giving rise to the often repeated, but not quite true, idea that you can't read in dreams), anxierty dreams about coding syntax are WEIRD.
Silly puzzle for the day. As usual for this kind of thing, if you know the answer, just say, "Yes" or some such in the comments, don't give it away. I will post the answer when I think the dust has settled adequately.
So... It is possible to construct a grammatically sound English sentence that consists of a single word repeated eight times. What is that word?