cleaning

I was going to post last weekend, but I feel that I am entering into my malaise mood again: Why write about the moment when I can half-remember things a week later? Blah.

But anyway, last weekend was quite busy for me. I accomplished many tasks at hand, but I didn't complete the tasks I wanted to complete.

The first thing I wanted to do was start cleaning my cartridge video games. I cleared off the dining room table to make way for the wave of PCB boards and plastic cartridge shells I had to clean. I unscrew the security screws from the cartridges and place them in little glass dishes. Opening the NES and SNES games was straight forward. Opening the N64 games surprised me: There is signal shielding inside the cartridges!Not only do I have to open N64 cartridges, I also had to open the signal shield with a conventional phillip's-head screw driver. Crazy. Once the table is completely covered with opened games I realized I couldn't clean the copper contacts! Now it is the early afternoon on Saturday so I think to myself I have plenty of time to run out and buy some copper contact cleaner. I called Riley for a ride and he came and picked me up around 2:30pm. We hop-scotch around four big-box stores and there is no goddamn cleaner anywhere! We wasted three hours. Well, the time spent driving aimlessly wasn't a complete wash. I did manage to find some padded envelopes for when I sell things on Amazon.

We drive back to Kevin's house and we make an evening of smoking pot and watching retarded racist animation from the 1940s. I served him left-overs and we had a really good time trying to figure out why half of these shows were banned in the first place. They did have racist elements, but only a few of them were really overt with their racism. He leaves but it is still fairly early in the evening. I realized, in my intoxicated haze, that I left the house is completely fucked up. The first floor hasn't been cleaned yet and I left it in worse condition when I left the opened cartridges all over the table. The basement was fucked up, too. I tore apart most of my plastic bins looking for rubber erasers, which can be used to clean copper contacts. Of course I didn't have any erasers. Riley left the house around 6:30pm I believe, and from that time until midnight I straighten up the downstairs. I partially re-assembled the cartridges and set them back in the book shelf Kevin bought for me earlier this year. I also took apart the NES and SNES controllers, cleaned them, and put them back together while listening to NPR. My liberal outrage was going off the charts. I shouldn't listen to those shows while high. I went to bed at 3:30am.

I think I woke up at 11am after I went to bed. Since Kevin was away to Chicagoland helping his mother with house chores, I had the house to myself. While he was gone I cleaned the whole first floor of the house. It was incredibly dusty. Plus, there are those imposter ladybugs everywhere. I'm constantly stepping on crunchy dead beetles and flicking live ones outside where they belong. I also mowed the front lawn, primarily to expel the excess gas in the gas tank, but to also mulch the autumn leaves on the grass.

Last weekend was a bit crazy, but I had a great time with Riley, my video game collection, and cleaning the house. Today I just bought Brasso from the grocery store. I guess I didn't have to badger a friend to drive me all over the shopping district in Champaign; I only had to bicycle one mile to a grocery store to buy what I needed for my cartridges. It doesn't matter. I probably won't get to finish this cleaning project until the middle of December. Until then, my games will sit, unplayable, on the book shelf.

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finding you

I read this while looking for information on Michio Kaku. Did God want me to find this passage? Is nothing set to coincidence?

Of course there are alternative planes of existence. We all live on the same planet but we don't all live in the same world. Furthermore, from reading the posts on Worthy I dare say we don't all worship the same God in Christ. Everyone has their own personal take and image of God, albeit the scriptures present God as objective, nonetheless how we know him is subjective to the individual. maybe that's what the Bible means when it tells us to, "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling".

Is that what I experienced two weeks ago? Did God really express himself to me? I really don't know.

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