Signs from God

People often imagine that signs from God are giant, epic visions of Charleton Heston on the mountain. They are more usually mundane.

A good example, seeing a dime in your freshly washed laundry and thinking, "Heh, I may not have listened to my mother and checked all my pockets, but it's not like I've ever accidentally washed anything important." and shortly thereafter seeing that you just washed your key cards that grant you access to your gated community and underground garage. Better yet, they still somehow work.

Why do I bring this up? No reason, no reason at all.

Temporary?

I have temporary memory. To be more specific, 95% of everything important I digest vanishes into a dusty filing cabinet in my brain, never to be seen again.

In coming home from spring break, I managed to remember everything. Absolutely everything from the least important to almost the most important. I say almost with good reason.

I left my wallet, my keys, and my student ID 500 miles back in Massachusetts.

Whee.

My deepest apologies to my dear parents who have long endured these continual, patience trying adventures.

So I've got a temporary card for the time being. I think the guy I got it couldn't have shaken his head in a more depressing manner when I informed him that I couldn't show him any identification because that was also left behind. Thankfully, some people still do things on good faith.

Lost and Found

Some of you may be aware that sometime between Thursday and Friday my keys fell into the cracks between moments and have not shown themselves since. Some of the people falling into the previous group may be aware I was searching for my keys. A few of you may have known that I tore the room apart multiple times and with a level of methodical masochism that is only matched by the time I spent five hours killing the exact same enemies in Ninja Gaiden over and over again for money. Two of you know that just now Patrick pulled them out of thin air.

Apparently they were in the chair that I had looked in, on, below, behind, and upside down twice.

Not only did Patrick pull them out of thin out while sitting on said chair, but he did so while paying absolutely no attention to what he was doing because he was watching a TV show.

So, I am happy I have my keys back, and laughing at the terrible, terrible irony.

Whoops!

The following is the result of never once deleting a single e-mail I recieved on my college address. It was never important to me, I always told other people to use my preferred address if they wanted a timely response, and the interface was always blah.

While in Japan, I've had to check it regularly because the school's policy is to send everything from emails of 0 importance to "If you don't read this in 12 seconds you will die" importance. Sometime between yesterday and today, a limit was finally imposed on how much of the crap they bombard me with I can just leave lying around.

This is what happened.



This wasn't from gigantic files, this was from thousands of random messages often having absolutely nothing to do with me. Why in the name of anyone was I getting messages directed at seniors as a freshmen? Why did requests for college girls get sent to me? Heck, why did I get e-mails specifically directed at art majors when I am a computer science geek?

In any case, I just spent a lot of what would have been useful time clearing out six hundred and forty megabytes of e-mail I never wanted in the first place. Being only able to view 200 e-mails at one time and instantly being reset back to the first page after doing anything aside from clicking "display next" is rather stupid.

I'm back down to the point where I can send and recieve e-mail from that address, not that I even intend on using it much. However, it is my only lifeline to the administration of Messiah College, and however crappy it is I need it.

Still, it's rather distressing to one day be able to freely recieve important e-mails detailing such important aspects of my life such as where I might be living come Spring, and the next day have to delete thousands of e-mails via an inefficient and frustrating interface in order to do what was carefree the day before.

I'll be extremely glad when I can leave behind Novell and its e-mail webclient forever.