Dark Shack QRT

This weekend is ARRL Field Day, and for the first time since picking up the amateur radio hobby, I’m just not feeling it. I don’t think I’ll be charging up any batteries and raising temporary antennas at my home just so I can struggle to get on the air and be heard. Not this year.

I was OK with last year’s solo Field Day only because it gave me something to fucking do during quarantine lockdown. True, yes. But on reflection, I found it was too difficult, so unrewarding, and completely heartbreaking. I remember being crestfallen at the difficulty I had trying to make the few contacts I actually logged. Who can fucking be heard when contest superstations are running 500W amplifiers on great antennas? It’s in my nature to clam up if nobody gives me space to talk, and radio is no exception. Field Day is a crowded room.

The radio club is back at the Red Cross this year, like in the Before Times, but the RC-imposed restrictions are heavy and require contact tracing and time slots. It’s just not worth the effort.

That’s what I feel in 2021.

One’s enjoyment of a hobby is directly linked to the community one keeps, that’s true. But I’ve been drifting away for so very long. I just have a hard time actually wanting to hang out with other hams. It’s not through any fault of their own; we’re just not the same people. Most hams are either 20 years my junior…or 20 years my senior, and the few of my age are busy with making a life. So it’s tough to scratch out a tenuous friendship, especially over a tenuous hobby.

But I have a difficult time anyway being with the people that I actually want to be with. It’s exhausting.

Anyway, y’all have fun. 73 and all that. Whatever. Maybe next year.

Goaled Fish

My job is like standing on a skateboard and trying to clean a goldfish bowl while I’m holding it in my arms, with the fish still in it, without killing the fish. The task is so wobbly, messy, and difficult, I put the bowl down, sit on the skateboard, and scroll through the fish food with the guilt that after feeding the fish and making the bowl dirtier, I’ll have to go to the living room tomorrow and explain to my parents that the fishbowl cleaning task is still actively ongoing.

Forced Hands

Testing to see how Android is fucking up firefox. I mean, it looks right so far, but jesus christ is it laggy. Android has some hate for FF. Like, Facebook text entry box gets the letters scrambled if I type too fast, which is just fucking astonishing. I’m really starting to hate the future.

Ok, trying to edit in wp is just bad, like, I can’t scroll and edit text. Maybe the javascript engine in FF Android is just fucked. Gefickt. WTF.

Thing is, Chrome Android got completely rid of the option to disable autoplay videos, and FB pushed the new mobile web interface to me, which is poisoned with autoplay video ads. That’s some smelly, dirty shit.

So here I am, trying Firefox Android again, at least for FB and some other sites…because it has adblockers. So far, it’s just not there. So buggy.

So sad.

Dry Noodles

Listening to sex podcasters talk about sex with sexy people who have lots of sex is interesting…but empty. It’s like reading food writers who write about Italian food with Italian chefs who make lots of Italian food for Italians.

It’s just unsatisfying, like a picture of food in a menu.

I mean, I guess I can boil ramen for the meanwhile, but maybe one day I’ll get back to making linguini from scratch? Maybe? And how many more meals do I have left before I can’t cook anymore? Eh?