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It's the most nerve-wracking time of the year.

Hands down, the pressure put on you by society is highest this time of year, what with such nuggets as "X days 'til Christmas!" and "'Tis better to give than receive."

Thanks, Charles Dickens. He wrote more Christmas books than anyone else. Of course, there's the classic "A Christmas Carol" which has been bastardized into more works than anything else I can think of, and only concerns the material side.

If we were honest about it, we'd just do like the ancients and have solstice parties, unless we're really lucky and have a Saturnalia (though I think only 1% of the male /. population would be able to pull it off).

And the worst part is getting broke now. It's been six months since I've had steady work, and I had to quit that because, well, I couldn't afford to keep doing what I was doing.

Winter's hitting hard, and I don't know what in the hell I'm going to be doing tomorrow.

Keep your eyes open.

A slashdotter is going to run for political office.

More to follow.

I'm waiting for a phone call that will successfully conclude a month plus of waiting.

Due to certain contractual obligations, I can't talk about what until either a) I'm rejected, in which case I'll gladly relate the info, or b) I'm accepted, in which case there will be more waiting whilst I giddily salute.

It's been driving me nuts, the waiting. It seems that waiting for Something To Happen That You Have No Control Over is the worst thing. (This particular observation is one reason I'm opposed to the death penalty; I find it crueler to know death stalks you and you will not know when it comes rather than the knowledge of a date and time and manner which will cause you to cease to be.)

Before they were invited to be part of the process, expectant fathers probably had this kind of anticipation. Family members of a surgical patient experience this. The defendant probably experiences this during deliberations....

Sorry. Friday I'll follow up.

Unbe-fucking-lievable.

I didn't even realise I was this lazy until I looked at the Fatwa post.

There she is: 19 Nov 04, and it's 18 Nov 05 now.

364 days.

Wow.

What's changed in that year?

My age, and that's it.

I've been told to get my life in gear, and I have. It's in Neutral. I'm not going anywhere. My resumes and applications are received into virtual black holes, since I don't even get the courtesy of a "f*** you" phone call. I'm still waiting for my f***ing school to deign a diploma uponst me.

I've converted my core system to Gentoo. Not a painless process, and there are still some hiccups (in particular with DVD burning), but it's OK for now. I've still got my domains, and God willing I'll actually do something with them besides give GoDaddy my eight bucks per annum.

I'm trying my hand at NaNoWriMo, and what's driving me batty is stringing the cogent scenes in my head into a nice, deep story. Not deep as in spiritual or meaningful, deep as in.. to analogize, I want my plot threads woven as well as a hand-knotted Persian rug.

It's kicking my ass, as is my patent insomnia and my anticipation of certain things, like HOPE 2006 and.. well, leave the rest for later.

I'm in shock over the slaying of Theo van Gogh by "Mohammed B", as he is called by the Dutch police.

I'm in fear over the call to kill Ayaan Hirsi Ali, the Somali-born, Muslim-reared, Dutch MP who wrote the screenplay.

I'm in mourning over the Dutch reaction, turning from one of the most tolerant societies to another America, in the intolerance given to those whose faith is different. (Legacies of Calvin in action.)

Here's a link to a torrent of the film.
http://godfather.qtm.com.ar/Submission%20(Part%20I)-%20Theo%20van%20Gogh%20-%20Ayaan%20Hirshi%20Ali%20-%20MPEG2-mpg.torrent

The copyright issue is less important to me than making sure people see the film, and understand what the **** pissed these people off:

1. The woman is wearing a sheer abaya (robe). Her form is fully visible below her head which is covered by an opaque hijab (head-scarf) and niqab (veil).
2. Qur'anic verse is written upon her form, and lash marks slash through certain passages.
3. Her frank descriptions of domestic and sexual abuse, and her state of repression.

Share and enjoy.