Woo~ Urban Dead

Finally finished my personal website for W315, the CSS isn’t working but I really don’t have time to fiddle with it as much as I would like to. Oh well.

I also wish I had Photoshop handy. Stupid lack of net at home.

Ethics

Now, I won’t go into explicit detail about where I work or how this practice came into being, but sufficed to say that there are people coercing other folks into signing into a deal that could, in theory, charge them about 20 dollars a month.

Now, by coercing, I mean they tell them that it’s part two of our membership process and more or less imply that they have to sign up for this program. This doesn’t sit well with me. Call me morally responsible, or ethical or whatever. Not that corporate America, as a whole, doesn’t cut corners or lie or try to get away with whatever they can, but I just can’t do that.

Perhaps I’m not disillusioned enough yet.

Writing

I’m working on a final copy of my paper for my class today and doing this at the same time. By doing both, I’m killing two birds with one stone.

You see, my W315 requires me to keep a blog and my paper is due. So writing about writing my paper is pure genius. Did I mention I’m writing a paper?

You may have noticed that this actually has nothing to do with my paper, it’s just a clear attempt at pulling the wool over my professor’s eyes by writing a blog, basically, about nothing.

Mm, buffer.

World of Warcraft

So. My blog on Rotahall has apparently expired, so this will have to do for now. Go me!

I purchased World of Warcraft about a week ago, and I must say, I’ m thoroughly enjoying my experience. Before I had tried it, I was a staunch adversary of paying to play a game you’ve already purchased. I think that this particular game may have changed my mind.

You might say, “What’s so different about WoW?” My answer is thus: Live development team. Blizzard created Diablo and Diablo II, and years after they’ve added anything to these wonderful games there are people online still chugging away at defeating Baal and his kin.

The development team for WoW is constantly working on patches and updates and various new content. Here’s some jargon for you. An instance is basically a dungeon crawl designed for you and your group only, so anyone coming in after you while not in your group will simply start the instance all over again. The team at Blizzard is working hard to make more and more of these for you. And take my word for it, they are fun.

Right now, my highest character is a level 24 Mage, and I must say that teleporting around has made me even lazier than I already was.

Dulce Et Decorum Est

As Cairn pointed out, the title of my blog is somewhat loosely translated as “For the Jester’s Fatherland.”

What better to have as a second blog entry than the explanation behind my title? Nothing. That’s what.

I suppose it can be attributed to Wilfred Owen, but even further down the line it can be attributed to Horace. Either way, I enjoy the poem that Owen wrote while still in active duty, though it wasn’t published until after he died.

Dulce Et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas!Quick, boys!–An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

I know I’m ready

Way to go, nataliedee.