The Chronicles of the Angry Geologist

Yeah. You all know I'm single. And if you've been reading long, you know what I've written in the past about Valentine's day.

I'm not going to do that this year.

Look, I've read over my friend's list. I know that a lot of you guys are sick of the holiday-bashing. So I'm not going to do that, I swear. But I would like to explain why I've done it in the past- it's not about commercialism, or reducing trauma, or any of the other speculated reasons I've read. It's about human nature.

Okay, so you guys have found someone that makes you feel fantastic. You're happy. And since we're social animals, that means (in one way or another) you tell the world. This is human nature and there's nothing wrong with it.

Meanwhile, all the single people see something that you have and they want. Every single person, no matter who, is jealous of people in healthy, happy relationships, and if they tell you otherwise they are lying out their asses. There is a part of life that single people miss out on, and they experience relationship envy. This is human nature, and as long as us single people keep our envy in check, there is nothing wrong with it.

And there's nothing wrong with having a holiday to celebrate romantic love- it's fantastic! Even better if it's not unrequited! It does tend to rub one's singlehood in one's face, but that's not anyone's fault, is it? The thing that sucks about Valentine's day is that it falls in the middle of February, when it's cold and rainy and still dark at five o'clock and you might have gotten a teaser of spring just warm long enough to really feel it when winter comes back and kicks you in the teeth again, when the debt collectors are knocking at your front door and the tax man is knocking at the back door, and you can't step away from your desk at work, and there's no good fresh food in the grocery store that isn't from a third world country, and the creepy guy that smells like feet won't leave you alone, and all the demons are a little too close to the surface. Then you get a holiday that celebrates romantic love, which you don't have. And it's everywhere. You have a choice to go dig a hole in the woods and sit in it until March, date the creepy guy that smells like feet just so you won't have to spend the evening alone, or snark in self-defense. In this situation, snark generally tends to be the healthiest choice.

So, uh, don't take it personally, or as an assault on the holiday, or as an assault on you and your relationships. It's not anyone's fault that we're all in the situations that we're in, so on behalf of all the single people tonight, I wish you and yours the best, and ask for understanding during a very difficult time of year for the rest of us.

That said, happy Dead Gangster's Day.

Someone please explain to me exactly how nuclear power is supposed to solve the problem of carbon emissions. Seriously.

Okay, I realize that the actual reaction that boils the water that drives the turbine is carbon neutral. That's gravy. But where do you think they get the stuff that causes the reaction? Uranium ore is, unsurprisingly, a mineral. And minerals have to be mined- usually with explosives and machinery bigger than your house.

I'd really like to know what the nukes-will-save-us crowd thinks these machines run on- rainbows and kitten farts?

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a pet person. I am always more "myself" when I own and care for some sort of animal. That's the way I am, I've accepted that, and so have my friends.

My parents, on the other hand... well, there's a reason why I put off telling them about Roland.

Case in point: yesterday, I was walking by a yard sale, and I found a 30 gallon fish tank and stand with all the accoutrement for $10. Yes- ten dollars. The stand needed a fresh coat of paint, but I mean... that's giving the damn thing away! It's all glass, very sturdy, the filter even has a built in foamer chamber! Of course, after I got a verbal assurance from my neighbor that everything worked, I paid her the ten dollars and picked up the thing right away.

The stand is mostly repainted. There's a few little things I would like to add, but those can be done later- besides, I need some balsa wood for that (and there will be pictures, so keep your pants on). Today, I added the gravel, the water, the Java Ferns from my old betta bowl (RIP Levi- sorry I didn't catch your swimbladder problem in time), doused it with stress-zyme, and started up the filter. I'm going to let it stabilize for a few days, and maybe start adding fish on Tuesday or Wednesday.

While I'm not an advanced fishkeeper yet, I am not a novice aquarist. To some extent, I know what I'm doing, and if I ever think I'm getting myself into trouble, you can bet I will spam the fora with my issues.

And, like most things in my adult life, my parents seem to think I'm going to be incompetent at this. My bettas have lived at least three years per fish, including the ones that were sick when I got them, and I was working under adverse conditions (very limited space). I didn't tell them about the saltwater tank I had in grad school, because I knew they'd run with this again, though when they saw it, they didn't seem to knock my roommate for taking poor care of "his" fish. The last time that they know that I had a fish tank was when I was a kid- there were two goldfish in a 10 gallon tank- okay, okay, I was a stupid pet owner, but in my defense I WAS EIGHT and I think that at a quarter century I can do a LITTLE FRACKING BETTER THIS TIME.

*huff*

It's okay, though. They've always been way too overprotective of me. I just have to wait them out, and prove to them and myself that I am a responsible adult. They'll come around. Eventually. I can be patient.

Besides, a school of neon tetras are going to look great under that blue light.

I really hate this time of year. Really. Hate.

It's cold, and it hasn't been that long since it was warm so that those nice sunny days that you could run around outside without dressing for Antarctica are still fresh in your memory and taunting you like football jocks rag on the fat computer geek. More so, it's dark. It gets dark ridiculously early, and stays dark until well after you've got out of bed in the morning. Your sleep cycles get marvelously screwed, and you start to wonder if bears don't have the right idea by sleeping through the winter. Then you briefly consider becoming a migratory bird, but remember that you have a job (not complaining about the job- might not have to go back down to Baltimore, so really happy about that). And between the cold (which, somehow is ENTIRELY WITHOUT SNOW!) and the dark, there's not much you can do except sit in your house and knit and try and battle the thermal curtains and watch your gas bill rise and slowly go completely frakking INSANE!

Gragh... roll on January.

I am a geek. Therefore, I am probably one of the... well, one... people in high school that enjoyed reading Beowulf.

I mean, it was pretty cool for someone with an imagination who was able to look past all the old language and bits the monks added in. You had the big hero, the big monster (which was nasty), and the big monster's even nastier momma, who as I understand looked something like a cross between an octopus and a city bus. And the hero kicked the asses of the monsters and came back to a party given by a Viking queen. With much more imagery.

And then we get this Beowulf movie...

First off, Grendel's mom? Not hot. Octopus and city bus not hot. She didn't have feet molded into stilleto heels either (well maybe she did, but they'd have been covered by the chitin). Beowulf would not have wanted to do her. And where did they dig up these actors, SciFi Original Movie Casting rejects?

I am not going to this. I am that much dumber for having seen the previews. I think I can safely say that this movie is going to look like a cross between an octopus and a city bus.

That's what happened to poor Mariya Fatima of Jamaica High School in New York.

It shouldn't- I don't want anything that killed my paternal grandfather and dropped my maternal grandmother to happen to anyone. Ever. No one deserves to lose their brain like that, and I don't care what you did.

But this makes it infinitely worse!

To summarize:

The school was having too many fights. So the principal, Guy Venezia, ordered teachers not to call 911 for any circumstances. Now, I don't know how he made the incredible leap of logic that not having cops available would prevent fights. Maybe it was an NCLB thing where if the cops were always in the building you'd lose funding, and that's another reason why I hate that monstrosity but that's another blog entry for another time.

However, not calling 911 because a little girl- no dummy either, not that that would make a difference- an honors student collapsed because her brain was either bleeding or had a vessel blocked, was apparently encouraged. Medical treatment was delayed for an hour, when minutes count in a stroke.

She is reading at a fifth grade level now. She wants to go back to school, but because her brain was damaged so much during that ordeal, it'll be years before she's back up to speed. I'm not saying never, because the human brain is so bloody amazing that it can rewire itself practically on the fly. But she's got a hell of a row to hoe in front of her.

As for the inhuman troglodytes that made up this policy, they are working elsewhere in the district, and "may face disciplinary action."

If that disciplinary action includes liquidation of all their assets to pay for this girl's treatment and ten years in pound-you-in-the-ass prison for gross criminal negligence, I'll consider it a start.

Hat tip: kobold

Dear Sirs,

Especially, you, Library Guy.

I'm not really sure what kind of signals I'm giving off here, sitting at my laptop in a study carrell, facing the wall. I look up every now and then to give my eyes a break from the screen, and I'm smiling because I'm almost done with this monstrosity, but it doesn't mean that I'm looking and smiling at you. Even if you happen to walk in while I'm doing it.

If you say 'hi', I will say 'hi' back. However, if it goes any further than that, I will look at you like you've asked me for a naked mole rat. I'm busy, and I don't want to talk to anyone right now. I will make exception for cute little kids, because chances are they're into dinosaurs or pyramids or something else cool.

If you continue to pester me, I will look at you like you've asked me for a lightly grilled naked mole rat on a bun with chipotle mayo. I. Am. Busy. And. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Flirt. With. You.

If you ask me what I'm working on, I will look at you like you have strings of lightly grilled naked mole rat hanging out of your teeth, and say that I'm trying to finish my thesis. I will not be nice, because you are bothering me. I am not here for your frakking entertainment. I am here to work. You are in a library- go find a frakin' book, and leave me the frak alone!

No love until I get some respect,

The Angry Geologist