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I actually did it! I'm pretty excited. My Linux Server box is now running a Kernel that I compiled. What finally forced me to do it was that I had to replace the network card with one that wasn't built-in, or as a module ready to go.

I'm coming to the conclusion that soon, I need to bite the bullet and just give in to golf inevitability that I can't get much better, and if I do, it just isn't worth it.

For the past two years, I've been on a crash course to improve my golf game and become a good golfer. Spending hours practicing, hitting thousands and thousands of golf balls.

I can do two things. 1. Keep at it. 2. Back off the improvement game, and focus on the scoring game. Like working with the swing I already have.

Smart people may say, "Do what gives you the most pleasure or satisfaction from the game."

I have just recently gotten over a major hurdle in being layed off. At least I think I have.

I've had the golf fever for a few years now. I just gotten over a major hurdle of changing my swing. It's the hardest thing to do. That is, most golfers will never get really good, because they have the wrong technique and they must change. The problem is, the proper technique is not at all intuitive.

This has taught me a valuable lesson. You have to check yourself from time to time because we are so overconfident of ourselves. If it feels right, then it must be. Well, here I am, playing golf in such a manner that feels goofy, except now the ball goes further and straighter with less effort. Imagine that.

At work, I extend this. If I'm working on a project, I try to spend as little time in between demonstrations to the end users. I can love the programs I write, and user-interfaces I design, but the problem is, somebody else wants it their way. YOu gotta do it their way, or it won't be used.

This Personal Journal or Blog was a very famous journal and well read considering it was never advertised, just spread by word of mouth. My last check has it being read over 800,000 times.

The title is the literal truth: "True Porn Clerk Stories". As the writer was a part-time Video Store clerk and full-time aspiring improv performer. The Video store she worked in was small-time, the type that have a "Porn Basement". It's an incredible perspective she gives of Porn Addicts (of which I'm sure there are a few here on Slashdot).

The interesting thing about this is, I could recommend this journal to a female friend. It's written by a female, and in such a way as not to be Pornographic. The porn is just the backdrop, the canvass let's say, to some incredibly pathetic losers that spend untold thousands on smutty videos.

I had been following her job by reading her journal over the past year, and now she's finally quit. She admits that she's received tons of positive feedback on her writing, etc.

This guy finds solace in his meaningless life by reading the journal. Doing a Google reveals the journal is imitated, referenced, and praised.

  I probably won't read her much anymore, so with that I bid her (Ali) adieu and leave you with a few excerpts:

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We have a new vistor to the porn section. He's been in twice now. Actually, he's been in at least three times, as he is a registered member, but he's only stood out twice.

He comes in, goes down to the straight porn section, and whips out a hand mirror. Then he applies makeup for about an hour.

Seriously.
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  So anyway, I started out with the Discreet Method: I went down with a handful of tags and put away the ones right around where he was, hoping to drive him out with a quick dose of Virgin/Nun/Mom/Mother-Goddess. No dice. He just kept turning his back to me - an increasingly hard prospect as I corralled him into the corner.

He actually tried the hand creep once until he glanced over and realized I was a)an employee and b)female. He decided to wait me out, pulling his pants up and his coat down a bit - I had clearly cramped his masturbating style.
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  We were on opposite sides of the room with our backs to each other. Gradually, I became aware of movement behind me. I turned around. His pants were drooping a few inches below the waistband of his boxers. He had snaked his right arm up underneath his coat and it was moving rhythmically.

For a second, I just stared.

Then, before I knew it, I heard a voice coming out of my mouth. It was a furious principal's voice, a drill seargeant's voice, Sigourney Weaver's voice just as she's about to wax an alien. It came up from the diaphragm, resonating through my chest, deep, powerful and furious.

PUT IT AWAY AND GET OUT!

Life is good...

1. Got Samba to work at home.

2. Brought the Dead Pavillion back to life with just scandisk, and regclean. So I didn't have to install an OS.

3. Learned more about ipchains. Had to do this to get Samba working.

4. All I have left to do is get my wireless net card working under Linux, which requires some kernel gymnastics.