Deactivated Property

I was a teenage g0th once.

Then I was a 20-something g0th engineering student.

Moving allows a perfect opportunity to feature some truly Deactivated Property from the local Office -- like this gem from 04/11/2002. This was about two weeks before I had the epiphany during 6.111 that led me to really dig in and get good at applied engineering. I can't remember if this was during the semester where I couldn't sleep for more than 2 hours at a time. But what the time stamp proves that it was probably around the time I was repeatedly kicked out of lab (having repeatedly stayed past closing) and ended up crying because my analog accumulator still did not work.

Oh, MIT. What a horrible meat-grinder of a place. It took me three years to even approximate being well-rounded after graduation. In fact, I'm still not so much round as a shape of constant width, which is at least topologically interesting.

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"Here I am, yet again, writing on stolen paper with stolen pens -- It's as though all these moments of mine must be stolen, hidden from the course of my daily life. I have always heard that words were precious - but contraband?

I doubt my ability to ever achieve genius in this place. As it is I practically beg to be trodden upon and left destitute by the percussions of inadequacy that mask the passing of my days like a pulse, or a dirge.

We no longer talk in this place where we've found ourselves -- we commiserate, we condemn, but do we talk?

I have lost my tongue and my taste for more. I lick my lips and pray for silence, or for a point to somehow be made. But the point never comes!

'Why are we here?' I asked the machine --
'Because that's just the way of things,' it calmly replied.

Sleep, sleep, sleep, darkness, little brother to Death, the warm twins close to one another. Because that's just the way of things. Such a perceptive toy...

Maybe serendipity makes machines more perceptive than all of us."

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