I’m, or at least my workstation, is functional again.  It’s a bit ugly when I boot because I can’t get Plymouth to work properly no matter what I do.  This is with Ubuntu 14.10, it worked with 14.04 and a 3.13.x kernel, but something broke in 14.10, I tried reverting to a 3.13.x kernel, no good.  I read some others had success with a 3.18.x kernel, I’m running 3.18.9 now, still no good.  I’ve tried pretty much every fix I can find to no avail.  It just spits out a bunch of error messages.

     I would be happy without it and just the normal 4-penge boot and start-up messages, but it seems that lightdm depends upon it, so can’t do that.  For now I guess I just have to live with the error messages.

     On a plus side, I was able to really fine-tune the kernel to the hardware and work-load that I have and, until I run out of memory (I have 4GB on this box) it performs quite well.  Once it goes into swap hell, well it performs like any machine in swap hell.  I’d add RAM if this was an ordinary PC, but being a MacPro 1,1 it requires ECC registered memory which is 8-10x the price.

     25 Days until freedom (with a little “f“), 25 days until I’m no longer under community custody.  Freedom with a big “F” doesn’t exist in this country, the constitution has pretty much been re-interpreted out of existence, any more but freedom with a little “f” I guess is better than no freedom at all.

     My right to vote may not be restored for months, that requires a judge signing a document that basically says the DOC has carried out the sentence I was assigned.  In actually, the DOC  went far beyond what the court assigned, by placing on me numerous restrictions that were neither ordered by the court nor required for safety, but I haven’t the money to fight that in court and 25 days from now it will be largely moot.  And I guess until that happens I can’t travel outside of the country without permission.  Mostly moot since the only country I could possibly afford to travel to is Canada and I’m pretty sure they won’t let me in now.

     If I understand Washington state law, there is no possibility of getting my right to own a firearm restored as long as a no contact order remains in effect, and that’s another 4-1/2 years away.  Not that it really matters since the only gun I’ve ever owned is an antique that I would have been afraid to fire given it’s condition, willed to me by a family friend when he passed away, and subsequently stolen by a satellite dish installer.

     Life goes on in some form I guess.

I’m still operating in crippled mode here, my 1680×1050 monitor is operating at 1024×768 because Ubuntu issued an update that blew out my Nvidia drivers, my pre-emptive kernel, my nx-libs which freenx and x2go rely on, among other things.

I can not get nvidia’s drivers from their website installed and the ones that are provided with the Ubuntu distribution never did work properly with my graphics card (an antique GT7300).

I’ve complete rebuilt the kernel and they still won’t install although the original problem they complained about is gone.  Frustrating!

     Do you remember a point in your life where you imagine that, having done something very small and seemingly insignificant at the time, would have changed your entire life?

     I’ve got one of those points.  There was a girl in elementary school, fifth grade, that I had very strong feelings for.  I believe way beyond a crush because those feelings never entirely went a way,  But I was shy, afraid to express those feelings back then.

     We went on a field trip and during the bus ride I was initially in a seat by myself.  During the ride she came over and sat next to me, right up against me, and I was overwhelmed, and my shy nature at the time, I reacted by scooting over and making some room.  She reacted by getting up and going to another seat and never spoke to me once after that.  It was like that was some type of cosmic test and I failed, or maybe I didn’t in another life, in the quantum many worlds theory, somewhere out there is a me that had a Ward and June life and perhaps I’m envious of my other world self.

     I believe, had I not moved away, she would have been my life mate, and life would be entirely different.  I wouldn’t have spent 2-1/2 years in prison, wouldn’t have two estranged kids, wouldn’t have a kid that knows no other world except video games, or one that can’t spend more than half an hour with me before his girlfriend calls him back.

     I love my wife and I know she loves me, but there are definitely some rough edges.  But maybe this was meant to be, as hard and difficult as it sometimes is.  Maybe those kids will do something worthwhile.  Or maybe I’ll just live out my years disgruntled and die.

     I have to go to sleep now after having just watched Django.  Not sure it was the best material to watch just before falling asleep as dreams have already been weird and almost overwhelmingly intense recently.

I just had a glass of Diet Coke, just like the one pictured here, explode as I lifted it up to take a sip.  Maybe that’s what I get for mentioning the Jewish congress.

According to ABC News:

According to a study done by the Pew Forum, only 2 percent of the adult population in the United States is Jewish but representation in the House and Senate was much higher than that in the 112th Congress.

Jewish representation accounts for 7 percent of Congress as a whole and 12 percent of the Senate which is a considerably high percentage.

I wonder how this skews our policy towards the Middle East.

     I know I’m not alone in really disliking the yearly ritual of setting clocks forward a year and then setting them back again in November.  I don’t have a huge number of clocks, what I do have is a body that has a very difficult time adjusting to a changing sleep schedule, even an hour.  I know I’m not alone, and I know there are others who do have a lot of clocks to set and it’s a major pain.

     Why don’t we just globally shift the time zones ahead an hour and just leave them that way year round?

     I still frequently have dreams that involve problems getting home.  They will involve situations where I parked in a parking lot but forgot to pay and my car was towed, parked in a tow-away zone and my car was towed, used mass transit but no bus was coming for a long time that goes anywhere near my home, went to take a train but no train goes in the direction of my home, walk for miles and miles and the territory is unfamiliar or difficult or risky to cross, so can’t get home.

     After my father left, the house where I grew up didn’t feel like home any more.  No place I’ve lived since really felt like home, even here where I’ve been for 31 years, save for the 2-1/2 years I spent in prison, doesn’t feel like home.  My mother expressed a similar sentiment once when I was a kid, so I guess my journey is not unique in that sense.

     I’m not sure exactly what home even represents.  Perhaps a sense of security I will never have as long as I’m alive in corporeal form.  I just know there is a sense of longing that won’t go away.

     There was a brief period where this did feel like home, when all my children were here, when my family felt complete.  After Carl left home that feeling left with him and has never returned.  And through my own actions I’ve estranged two of my children from me.  That is not easy to live with.

     When John Belushi died, I noticed the look on Robin Williams face changed, and no matter how comic the role he played, I could always see sadness in his face, like he never got over mourning that loss, and sometimes I wonder if he wasn’t at least in part responsible for his death, did he supply the drugs, but I’ll never know.

     What I do know is now it’s something I can identify with.  My mother is gone, two years now, and I can’t get over that.  My father’s health is not good, I don’t know how much longer he will be in this world.  When my daughter left I cried, and she asked why, and I told her because I didn’t think I would see her again in this life, and I told her about a customer who said he hadn’t seen his daughters in six years, and she told me she would never do that to me, but I knew she would because of what I’ve done to her.  My fault I know, self-fulfilled prophesy.  Doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

     I think the only thing that will ever feel like home is returning to God in my death, but God has made it clear that I’ve got a lot on my plate yet between now and then, so I guess I’m doomed to live with this feeling for a long time.