Noobs

5:42pm
I am cooling down from my last support call. I work in IT. I helping people with their daily work duties, making sure that they are able to access the applications they need to access, ensuring that their data is safe and secure, and teaching them what they need to know to make dat money cuh.

It is a stressful job at times due to the different personality types that call in for support. There are the easy calls, where the user will call in with a specific question, excepting a specific answer. I got you answer right here. Bam! Next call. There are the people in the in between who call in wanting to learn how this or that works, who are somewhat difficult due to their lack of knowledge, but their drive to learn makes these sort of people easy to work with. Why? Because they reasonable and logical people. They understand what needs to be done to in order to make shit happen. This is how you do this. This is how you do that. Ok, cool. Next call. Then there are the difficult ones. Those who refuse to learn and call IT support for the same issue over and over. You would have thought they would have known by now? No. It seems like a mental block to them. The inability to learn from past mistakes. Repeating the same behavior over and over. These are what you call noobs. Those masochistic bastards that like to running into walls over and over again, refusing to acknowledge the door to the left of the wall that allows them to walk in without any hassles. Fuckin noobs, dude.

Human Relations Report: 3/14/2011

Memorandum for the Admiral of the Inter Dimensional Star Fleet

Subject: Human Relations

Monday, March 14, 2011

Human tensions are on the rise. Resources have become limited due to ongoing genocide. Male and Female battle each other on both physical and spiritual levels. Differences in perception lead to distrust amongst the humans. Evolution and growth are slow at times, but burst in times of crisis. I wonder if the humans plan this on an subconscious level. To destroy with the subconscious intent to recreate a new.

Spectaclez

Apathy

The wind swirled around me as I stood across the edge of memories.  The inconsistent constant.  Refuge in a forest of fire burning on the cliff of spiritual despair.  I tremble in review as I inhale.

I have filled the pit with many things, but hardly remember one.

To turn humans to machines

Perception. Pre means “before” and -ception is to “catch”. Perception is result of the gathering and processing of data collected from anyone of the known/unknown senses. Machines in the form of computers can perform these sorts of operations but I suppose what separates humans from machines is in between the flow of perception and operation; The intent. A computer’s intent must be preprogrammed into it’s software in order to perform a function as opposed to a “free” human, whom has the capacity create independent intent.

A machine follows the preconceived plans of the programmer.

In order to manipulate a human, you must arrange the data gathered from their senses in certain ways in order to program intent.

For example. There are the 5 tradition senses: Touch, smell, hearing, vision, and taste. Then there are additional senses like balance and acceleration, temperature, proprioception (being able to touch your kneecap without looking), pain, direction, etc. Within the body there is the pulmonary sense receptors within the lungs that control respiratory rate. Receptors that control vomiting. Receptors that control my boner. Not to mention metaphysical senses like clairsentience (intuition), clairaudience (voice in your head), clairvoyance (mental images, 3rd eye), and claircognizance (the feeling you get when you “just know”).

You can create complex outputs like morality, beauty, and loyalty. You can even control the perceptions that lead up to them; and i hear perception is power.

Zug Zug

7:40am wake up.  Brush my teeth.  Maybe take a shower.  Go to work.  Let’s do this.

The commute to work is mind numbing.  I’ve gotten so accustomed to it, it I feel like I am in the passenger’s seat, watching myself drive.  Sometimes I’ll have a doughnut.  The rectangular shaped ones, with chocolate glaze on top.  No cream.  I buy them from the sweet old Korean lady that operates the doughnut shop right next to my apartment complex.

I fire up my computer.  Open up Microsoft Outlook, Pidgin, Client Tracker, and Firefox.  Go to reddit.  I burn 10 mins before I touch a call to recollect myself from my out of body commute.  How did I get here?

Lunch time.  If I am in zombie mode, I will pick one of two places to eat.  Golden Bowl if I’m fighting for my free will or Jack in the Box if I’ve succumbed to zombification and hungry for brains.

Time to go home.  I flinch for a nano-second at my commute home.  I cup my balls, gently.  Let’s do this.  I go through a mental checklist of things I need to do when I get home while I drive.  No cupping of balls.  I listen to some talk radio and my head starts to hurt.  Life is a serious of problems to troubleshoot.  Too much thinking.. I change the channel to KISS FM and initiate autopilot.  Get the fuck out of the way.  Warp Speed.

Memo to my “artist” self.

When I was younger and lazy-er, I would criticize those who had more than I due to my own lack in life.  It wasn’t until I realized that my mother’s bank account was finite and one day she would run out of money and have non for herself.  She is the kind of woman who would give her last dollar to her son just because I asked.

A poor artist, who refuses, keyword REFUSES, to get a paying job because they feel that they are part of the capitalistic cog just passes the buck to the people who are willing to carry their burden for them.  Like my mom did for me.

This world is cruel and you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.  Not everyone is smart or talented enough to land the perfect job that allows you to make a decent living while doing what you love.  Some are.  Most are not.  I am learning to own my suffering and make beauty out of it.

edit:  Of course you cannot sit in shit situation for very long, you do what you can to change things, but in the mean time, do what you must.

Comfort amongst assholes

My romance with violence is long and opaque.  I love watching dramatic movies with humans destroying their enemies; pre and post coitus.  The sound of victory to the background of the cries and groans of the defeated.  The pseudo morality that we must obliterate the opposition in order to gain stability.  The unreasonable cause.  The display of combative skill.  During dark days, I daydream about the disintegration of society, waiting for the opportunity to dust off my Lightsaber, cast some motherfucking shadow bolts, and rack up killing blows, all while standing atop a pile of once living corpses… while smoking a cigarette.

Kind of sociopathic isn’t it? These thoughts come to me when i least expect them, you know.  I don’t plan this shit out.  I’ll be driving work one day and there I am, standing atop another pile of dead bodies… in my mind.  I don’t know why I think these things.  It’s been that way ever since I was a child.

When I am super stoned, I think to myself, “You are one sick fuck.”

But before the self criticism hits me, I sign onto World of Warcraft, where I am comforted by others who also like to destroy things.

Patience is a skill

Patient is a skill that, in my line of work, is the most important tool in the handyman’s tool box.

Dealing with noobs, ignorant bastards, ingrates, and not to mention pseudo smartasses, is some seriously soul draining work.  But in this world, what isn’t soul draining if you are making a decent paycheck?  Of course there are career opportunities that are soul satisfying that allow you to take home a decent paycheck, but I digress.   I’m an asshole, not a philosopher.  I don’t know if I’m even using digress correctly.

Anyway, so someone called me up today asking for some report.  The same report she had called in for 10 times earlier.  I already knew which report she was talking about before she even asked me.  So I politely put on my plastic smile and shat out, politely, the answer.  The same answer I had given 10 times earlier, acting like this was a brand new issue.  Living in denial with an unwillingness to learn.  Because this is what I have to do in order to pay rent, buy food, ganja, my monthly World of Warcraft subscription, and have sex with my girlfriend without having either of our parents busting into our room talkin’ about how disrespectful we are for having some uninhibited sexy time.

Anyway, patience is the key.  Or live at home and have quiet sex, no pot, but at least you will have momma’s awesome home cookin’.

Breakroom

I don’t know I feel about this. Having reading material is handy, but the thought of the previous occupant marinating in his own shit while catching up on current events paints an uncomfortable mental picture in that I will be sharing ass space with a stranger.

I would sometimes rather live in blissful denial.