Steve Jenson's blog

Just when I was thinking about taking a short media fast, speakeasy and pacbell joined forces to help me decide when: Friday through Monday my dsl modem's lights were about as dim as a certain former Texas Governor. My dsl modem was, as he would say, An Axis of Nonworking.

In other news, I've dug my head about as far into OO theory as one should ever. I think I get E's Maker pattern now. Jeff Darcy gave a clueful explanation of continuations: "a function, it's arguments and activation record (stack frame) all in one ugly package". I paraphrase poorly but you get the idea.

I started writing out the grammar rules for Momoko finally. I want to get the parser finished before codecon since I promised Brandon I'd finish it at least 10 years ago now. After this, my involvement in various projects will drop to nil and I plow through my reading list and fill my notebooks with exercised exercises and other proof of Personal Fulfillment, Tony Robbin's style.

I started another wiki for personal amusement. I'm not entirely sure what'll be there but it won't be the same as what's here. Probably reviews of books, design notes, ideas, and scratchpad space. I still need to finish my work on generating math notational graphics. Explaining them is such a bitch when I could just show a graphic of a power series.

One nice thing about my forced media fast, without irc or email to keep my fingers active, the pain in my wrists vanished. I coded a whole lot but the pain still vanished. I must've halved the typical amount of time I spend typing, though.

Grand Theft Auto III. Holy Fucking Shit... There's something to be said for chasing a guy around a block three times, gunning him down, jacking a car to escape the cops, then realizing the guy you just capped is still running, so you mow him down with your car, finish him off with your flamethrower which sets your car on fire, blowing it up, forcing you to jack another car, and somehow still evade the cops. Take that Congress. You can have my GTA3 when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.

# — 31 January, 2002