Software developer, author, and blogger Jeff Atwood wrote his confessions of the 1980s this week. As a teenager and not-quite-adult, he was a phone phreaker.
The old 10-screen Crestwood Plaza AMC theater closed last month. It took two weeks for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch to notice, and probably for many others.
As a sign that I’m getting older, the theater’s obituary called it “dated.” And I thought to myself that it wasn’t long ago that they built it.
My name is Dave. I am an Amigaholic.
I thought I was recovered. But I don’t think you ever recover. Not really.
You see, this week I was trolling Craigslist for garage sales. I look for trains, toys for my boys, and other things that strike my fancy. I spotted a sale that advertised an Amiga computer. I shouldn’t have put it on my list, but I did. I didn’t want to buy it, but I had to see it. I had to. Like I said, you don’t recover.
So the site was down quite a bit because my DSL modem was having a hard time holding on to a connection. I spent a fair bit of time aiming a camera out my bedroom window, then out on my porch, trying to get some shots. What I was seeing was beautiful. I hope the camera was seeing beautiful stuff too, but chances are I got a fair bit of Missouri Gray too.
I had a very long, very pleasant conversation yesterday with someone I hadn’t seen in 8 years. I’ve been running into a lot of people I haven’t seen in 8 years lately, but this was far and away the longest I’ve talked with any of them. Let’s just say if I could have any job in the world, this person’s would be high on my list. But this person is infinitely more qualified for the job than me. Why? It’s in that person’s story. And I have no right to tell it. A few names and a few places came up in conversation, and they triggered some old memories, which triggered some news accounts that I looked up for someone as a favor years ago. I know what was in the papers, but that doesn’t mean I understand.
Five years ago I probably would have told the story anyway. But not now. Why? I can’t put it any better than this person did. Unfortunately I don’t remember exact words, so I’ll paraphrase. When you’re dealing in news, you just write the facts, and your perspective is plenty. When you’re dealing with people’s emotions, it’s a completely different approach.
Yes, this person is also a professional writer, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see the story, told from a first-person perspective, in print some day. And I’m not in the news business anymore.
And now I know you’ll probably be coming back for a long time, looking for a link. I know what I’m doing… (And I’m perfectly happy in a setup role.)
Oh yeah. I had another conversation yesterday. I mentioned something about being borderline healthy–at 140 pounds in combat boots and with a week’s worth of change in my pockets, I’m at the barely healthy weight for my height. (I’m 5’9 1/2″ in combat boots.) My cholesterol is just high enough to be healthy. My friend asked where specifically. I don’t remember numbers but I remember it being low enough to impress the doctor. Then he said there’s a weird correlation between low cholesterol rates and suicide rates. People with low cholesterol are more prone to suicide. It turns out that lower cholesterol results in lower seratonin levels, and seratonin is necessary for a healthy mind.
I’ve always had low cholesterol, and I’ve always been prone to symptoms that are consistent with low seratonin levels like depression and general dissatisfaction. And it seems to me that yes, during the times when I ate lots of red meat, at least this year, I was happier. When I’m really good and don’t eat red meat or ice cream for a long stretch of time, I seem to be more prone to go into a funk.
No wonder that pizza joint on Watson Road is called Happy Joe’s Pizza and Ice Cream Parlor… I think I need to pay Happy Joe a visit this week and make a new habit. Quadruple pepperoni, please. And ice cream. What? Ice cream with or after dinner? Now that’s a silly question. Before!