Subterranean Beefworks

Where to start

I know there's a lot I want to say in this entry, but I haven't really figured it all out yet. Maybe I will once my room has gone dark.

Stay tuned?

Update:

As it turns out, I have less to say in this entry than I thought I did. Little has changed, I am still amazed by the same things, and still lose my audience when I try to explain the things that amaze me.

I am very comfortable here at Lehigh. I was afraid to leave RIT because of how much of a groove I was in. I knew all the buildings, I knew how the place worked and what I could get away with. I also had a very steady job and great living conditions. It was a lot to sacrifice, but each day, at least once, I have enough silence to myself to affirm that I made the right choice. If it isn't the beauty of campus, be it in pouring rain or pouring sunshine, it is the scent of the air or the comfort of my bed. If it's none of those, it's the joy of spotting the extraordinary cars people drive around this place, or it's looking forward to hanging out with people who I really care about. I wouldn't go so far as to say things have completely settled, because firstly, I don't have a girlfriend and I can't say I've had a real blast at a party yet. Still uncomposed too is my group of friends, which shuffles among new climbing aquaintences, new faces at lunch with Jamie, and the people I meet with my housemates. That's not a time-critical thing though, especially having found someone who is shaping up to be at very least a best friend.

What might be more interesting for readers is some good old fashioned roommate drama:

A huge reason I am so happy here is that I can return home to someone I consider a friend. Pat is as close to a perfect roommate as I could ever ask, as someone who doesn't snore, who is consistently respectful of my things, who is reasonable and sociable, and who lives very unobtrusively along side me.

Regardless, tonight we had a little flare up. It was long ago established that he and I are to be the guard dogs of eachother's belongings in the presence of outsiders. We made a pact that what's his is mine and what's mine is his (in terms of what's in the fridge) and that we were to make sure our shit didn't get fucked with by anyone. I trust this kid completely and I am of the strong opinion that he will never violate my belongings.

But tonight it had to be explained that I am frankly just not comfortable with people on my computer, him included. He needed to use MS Access on my comp because it wouldn't work on his. I felt that I should keep him from using it for a couple of reasons.

1) My computer is my sanctuary. I have poured money, time, frustration, and effort into getting this thing in the state it's in. It's untainted by others and I will do everything I can to keep it that way. That's why I lock it every time I leave it, without fail. It's like locking your car that holds your $2000 sound system and 365 CD Album full of your best disks. I somehow get a sense of comfort and security knowing that only I have control over my box.

For him to get any use out of it (since I am often not in the room), I would have to keep it unlocked, and thus sacrifice that comfort.

2) I make the assumption that his use wouldn't end at one session, and I just wouldn't want this to be a recurring thing (since I'm compulsively/unhealthily protective of my box). I see it progressing from Access, to other things like entertainment (when a movie doesn't play on his old IBM Thinkpad or whatever). Maybe I'm wrong in assuming that, but it's not something I want to have to put my foot down about later.

3) He is computer literate, but not computer savvy. Seeing what I see in my job every day, I can imagine any number of rookie mistakes that he could make that would upset the balance I have on "Lichen." It's something I want to avoid.

I know there are those out there that understand my whole 'sanctuary' thing perfectly, but there are also others who look upon it as completely ridiculous. I guess it's just the rift between different cultures. I feel like a pilot when I use my computer. I know where everything is, I know all the shortcuts, I've defined my own. I know how long things take to load and how to recover from fuckups. It's like an extension of myself.

With that in mind, sorry dude. You can't borrow my hands to open a softdrink, nor to scratch your balls.

Posted by Alchemae at September 23, 2003 11:13 PM