THIS IS AWESOME!!
Computer programmer Michael Yingling developed a search engine for archived Calvin & Hobbes comic strips. Here are some tips for using it:
Currently the search only looks for EXACT phrases (not case sensitive), so if you’re looking for a comic with the words “balloon” and “airplane” you cannot enter them both, or it will search for “balloon airplane” together. Perhaps in the future I will fix this, but it’s actually a lot more difficult than leaving it as-is.
There is one exception though! You can search for a DATE and it will find that specific comic, though it MUST be of the format MM/DD/YYYY. So 09/01/1986 will work, but “Sept 1st ‘86″ and “9/1/86″ wont – yet.
For real - See it for yourself - http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/20/fashion/20CulturalFacebook.html?hpw
"A used surfboard was one of echoboom's first purchases when he moved to Southern California from Houston (not known for waves), and he waited tables to support his habit. Told he had non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, he had to abandon the sport; now four years into remission and working as a production assistant, he has returned to the ocean.
“I was happy to embrace surfing again when I got a clean bill of health,” Mr. echoboom said, and his profile is an exuberant declaration of well-being: I surf, therefore I am
word to your mutha!
Night 2 of Contemplative Shorts Shopping at Target. Why does my inability to pick out some decent, new shorts feel much bigger than it really is? Why must I feel that each pair truly fulfill my needs as not only clothing- but style, comfort and originality? Why does this shopping experience eerily parallel how I feel about my life right now? The lack of enthusiasm, amongst various quality products has been incredibly taxing on my mental being.
I do want new shorts because the ones I currently sport hang off my ass because ive lost a lot weight in the last few years. If the shorts themselves symbolize the "change" and "desires" i cant get seem to grasp in my minds eye- what exactly does my ass represent?
P.S - dont ever fart inside the changing room of a large store; when you're in your underwear, you have nowhere to run.
They say to start at the beginning and I promise I will later (how I’ve started questioning my life’s purpose and meaning as it relates to Work) but today I went to a Bikram Yoga class and I feel its important to remember how I felt. Naturally, I'm going to share.
Going to Bikram Yoga (its the hot,sweaty one) allows me at least a few hours I can stop worrying about my outside world and instead focus on strengthening my body. And as I focus on my body, my mind will benefit. The workout isn’t easy and at times my mind does lose focus. It’s a struggle sometimes and I try to snap myself out of it- usually echoing that I should be paying attention to every breath and how my body feels at that moment, (kind of a “Live in the now” taking notes kind of way).
I believe that this yoga is helping me because it is forcing me to concentrate harder. Sometimes the idle mind can be a bad thing (especially mine) . So I understand the benefit of having this arduous, strong discipline to stop my mind from straying and focusing solely on one important task
So, Sunday’s class was interesting. As I’m having many uncertainties about what I want to be doing with my life, I knew it was important for me to get away from my dilemma and get some exercise. Today’s class was probably the hardest yoga session I've endured. The room was packed and the humidity was tremendous. It made holding the postures incredibly difficult. I was breathing so hard and my heart was pumping so fast that I swear I could see it beating through my chest. It was strange, because my chest looked like it was throbbing in a small quadrant on the left side of my chest. It looked incredibly odd, and a little alien like. I did realize that I was trying harder than ever before. Resting is important but sometimes there isn’t a long enough break to calm down. I really put in an effort to do every pose even if I wasn’t able to use my full energy. Though I did go slowly a few times, it made sense to at least continue with the motions of the poses.
By the time we made it to the floor, I was ready to call it quits. The yogi opened the door a few times to bring in some fresh air and my body was begging for me to run outside. The classes are always a struggle but never had I really wanted to leave so much- it kept crossing my mind like never before. So now I was fighting my mind and reiterating that I will not leave. As the class was ending, I was counting the seconds when I would run out the door. I also knew that it was time to start praising my mind and body by giving it the, “you are awesome for staying. You are a strong individual that can get through anything and these little outside worries are not going to stop you from succeeding”- lot of positive reinforcement mantras.
Class was over and it was time to relax. And I didn’t run out. I always like to spend a few minutes lying down and waiting for my heartbeat to slow down, while also giving thanks to the universe. (Sometimes it’s easier to just stay there and let the room clear out a bit before I have to deal with the masses of sweaty bodies running around in the lobby.) But this was different; I stayed there for almost twenty minutes. I was so tired and I wanted to go outside but I just wasn’t ready for it. I needed to lay there and really spend some time relaxing. Of course, my mind starts to concern itself with my dilemmas and I try and calm down those thoughts. Sitting and looking into the mirror, I felt a little scared but kept repeating my positive thoughts.
Finally, I gathered my stuff and walked out the door. The fresh, cool air was so strong and completely washed over me that I just started crying. Instantly. Standing outside the door, water bottle in hand, amongst the small crowd in the lobby, I just started tearing up. My sobs weren’t that loud but it was noticeable. It was enough to stop me and just take it in. It was a happy but also a bit of a sad moment. I don’t mind crying and understand that sometime we need to get it out, but it’s amazing how happy and scared one can be in a moment. I walked around the couch in the lobby and sat for another 10 minutes, choking up every few minutes. It was more important for me to let it out so it was a little embarrassing but I didn’t try to hide it. I just wanted to let those moments pass naturally.
So I cried a bit. It felt good I guess but I’m not really sure. I was definitely grateful that I succeeded in the class. It was so hard, and such an accomplishment. On the other hand, I know one of the reasons I was scared to be crying was the possibility that it wouldn’t end, that these tears would continue to spiral me into a panic-attack mode like I had last year (at the time I hadn’t worked in a few months and I was incredibly upset, feeling like such a failure in my professional life; a feeling of such utter despair that it really scared me. Here I had my health, an amazing relationship, a roof over my head, and yet I was so stricken with unnatural fear for my work life that I was in misery. Dramatic yes, but damn. So. Not. Cool. )
Honestly, im not trying to overanalyze the moment, but I do want to remember it. There was a beautiful and also unnerving quality to that moment and I feel its important to acknowledge and somehow learn from it.
its like my right arm is gay..
i might have to add this caption to the back "Robot, motherfucker! Do you speak it?"