Apple <3s kitties.

If Twitter's trends for the day are any indication, today's big news isn't one of abducted American journalists being sentenced to 12 years of hard labor, but rather Apple's official confirmation that OS 10.6 will be dubbed "Snow Leopard," following the company's Big Cat naming trend.

(Side note: Part of my work responsibilities require me to have a Twitter presence, though, thank God, only as a non-personal corporate entity of sorts. But, as a result, I know too much about Twitter. And by "too much," I mean "something.")

Anyway, since I love me some Apple as much as the next sane modern computer user, I began to wonder what cat names are in the cards for Mac's remaining OS X generations, 10.7, 10.8 and 10.9. We've already gone through some biggies, after all: Cheetah, Puma, Jaguar, Panther, Tiger and, currently, Leopard. Here are my predictions for future installments in everyone's favorite OS, in no particular order:

Lion: This will obviously be 10.9, king of the OS X pack. Described by Apple aficionados as being "The Best," and by Windows users as being "Terrifyingly User-Friendly" and having "Really Scary Teeth." With notable customized variations:

Nittany Lion: Only available to Penn State University students and alumni. Default desktop image of Joe Paterno.
Mountain Lion: Allows your computer to double as a still; comes with recipe for Apple's Homemade Moonshine.

Cougar: For older, but still physically attractive, women; with an interactive component that randomly generates compliments on one's physical appearance and a built-in widget of listings for local plastic surgeons. Or, conversely, for young, gold digging men; with various built-in applications that automatically spend money and set up personal profiles in search of young, attractive mistresses on Internet dating sites.

Smilodon: (Also: "Sabre-Toothed Tiger") Novelty OS with special themed apps and widgets. Upon installation, replaces any preexisting Adobe Creative Suite Package with "Cave Painting," any downloaded or factory installed games with "Inventing the Wheel," and Microsoft Word with "Emphatic Grunts and Pantomime."

Domestic: (Also: "House Cat") For agoraphobes or social pariahs. Can be installed in multiples to give a "multi-screen" effect on a single monitor, popularly to watch multiple YouTube videos of adorable animals and/or stupid human tricks at once. Used to combat feelings of loneliness and to simulate any sort of connection to the outside world.

Fisher: (Also: "Fisher Cat," New England only) An application created by Windows, purportedly to allow a Windows user to install & run an Apple OS on their desktop, as Apple users are able to do with Windows when (God forbid) necessary. However, the application instead downloads a virulent phishing virus used to obtain sensitive personal information from the offending parties as a punishment for trying to use an Apple OS.

If any or all of these predictions come true, you heard it here first. I could take or leave any of them, really, but Mountain Lion might be fun to bring out at parties.

On matters of love and practicality.

This might not come as a revelation to anyone who's known me for any period of time, but...I'm not particularly good at maintaining long-term relationships, short-term relationships, no-term relationships or -- hey, if I'm going to be entirely honest -- any sustained level of male-female interaction requiring patience, compassion and general emotional stability.

I'm not particularly torn up about being single presently since I'm not that prone to feeling desperately lonely. But I am worried that any chances for exhibiting my aptitude as a housewife will be ruined by my solitary tendencies.

I'll have you know, I possess a number of characteristics that would be beneficial to any Potential Husband(s) I may have in the future. For example, when I'm stressed out, I enjoy:

1.) cooking,
2.) cleaning,
3.) organizing,
4.) shaving my legs,
5.) engaging in private activities one does not discuss in polite society, and
6.) driving long distances.

I should clarify on the "cleaning": While I'm not partial to vacuuming, I do have a strange predilection for an old fashioned sweeping and scrubbing. But that's easy enough to solve. (Potential Husband, if you're reading this, let's try to find something with hardwood floors. Or linoleum tiles, at the very least...if we must.)

I can relate to a man's Inner Geek (I was raised on Monty Python, the Three Stooges, Star Wars, and all varieties of Star Trek) without over-indulging it (I won't go to your conferences or dress up for your non-canon fantasies). Also, I'm definitely not a shopaholic, probably not an alcoholic, and I don't listen to questionable mainstream music.

All things considered, as long as I don't get frustrated with my Potential Husband(s), empty our joint checking account(s) and take off into the night on one of those long-distance drives (which may or may not include faking my own death and living the rest of my life under an assumed identity in another geographical region of the world that doesn't allow extradition), I should think said Potential Husband(s) would consider me a Very Good Catch.

Don't you think?

Anyway, feel free to submit your Potential Husband applications for review. And thanks for listening.... I'm glad we had this talk.

Real estate is giving me a headache.

I've been looking for an apartment near work so I can put an end to my 70-mile commuting days and nights spent in the company hotel. As much as I love freeloading off my parents and employers, I need my own place. But, despite my best efforts, the Internet is making this search more difficult than it should probably be.

Do you know how many real estate search sites are out there? 50 gazillion, approximately. And all these sites require accounts and log-ins. And none of these sites share property listings. And all of these sites are driving me crazy. And I'm betting none of these sites are willing to pay a decent psychologist to help me work through the issues this is creating.

And so I ask, what are you good for, Internet?! You complicate things! Everything might be just a keystroke away, but that's part of the problem -- everything is just a keystroke away...in a bazillion different places! It's scattered willy-nilly all over the place, without any organization, rhyme or reason. What's the good in that? Who does that help? NOT ME, that's who! Now, stop being so frustrating, Internet, and get out there and find me an apartment!

File under: "Things I Should Do But Probably Won't."

I have to start writing more.

No, let me rephrase that:

I have to start writing more of what I want.

At work, I've got my requisite daily allotment of articles that I need to churn out on an every-other-hourly basis. After researching, writing and editing these stories all day long, I don't have much creative steam left at the end of the day. In fact, I think I've lost my ability to manufacture anything even remotely resembling "creative steam" because the type of writing I do is entirely non-creative and more a matter of mass-production. ...Unless, of course, coming up with different words for "concert" and "tour" counts as being creative.

Example:
Trek, journey, jaunt, circuit, venture, outing, run.
Event, performance, show, gig, set, session, jam.

WHERE'S MY PULITZER?

(Please note: The requisite number of articles is entirely a figment of my imagination and product of the fact that I am a guilt-induced laborer who must complete a certain amount or level of work each day, no matter how long it takes, for no other reason than I Must. But I've repeated this number at work so frequently that it has become more fact than figment. And that number is "four to five," which is technically a range, but I'm not a technical person. Yes, I am. That was a lie.)

I want my passion back. More than that, I need to remember what my passion used to be, find out where it's locked itself away on this long-term sabbatical from my life, plead with it to come back to me ("I need you -- please!! Don't leave me! Can't you see what a mess I am without you?!"), and then torture it into submission until it is once again fast in my keeping.

That sounds kind of hot, actually.

But no, not that sort of submission. (Although...)

Once I get the "writing on a regular basis" thing down, the next thing to work on is "writing with a purpose." And then, "ending what I start." I like to think that I used to be somewhat adept at concluding things, but my whole life has become a bit open-ended. And, writing what I know (or as I know), my personal narratives have developed a tendency to drop off abruptly without underlying causation or overarching summation.

Maybe I can't rein in my writing until I also lasso in some of the straggling loose ends of my life... Naaaaah. Too difficult. That would probably require decisive action or at least some sort of conscious effort. Strike that. Instead --

Maybe my "style" should just become open-ended and subjective. Does that make me post-modern or a just lousy writer?

This is why we can't have nice things.

I've been misplacing/losing things on a frequent basis this past week.

First to go were my iPod earbuds, which was especially distressing because I've only had the iPod a little over a month. These most likely dropped off into the night when I was getting into/out of my car on Thursday evening...which means they're (probably) smashed into a million pieces in a parking lot somewhere. I would've bought a replacement set at the Apple store today, but besides having a $30 price tag, I also had a dream last night that I found the earbuds at work. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping to find them in the office on Tuesday.

I'm sure I've misplaced other things this week (and just haven't missed them yet to notice), but most perplexing is the case of my vanishing $10 bill. Opened my wallet Saturday morning to clear out some loose change and counted a few $1 bills and a $10. Reopened my wallet Saturday afternoon for my health insurance card and randomly looked through the bills again -- several more $1 bills than I previously counted and NO $10!

In "One Hundred Years of Solitude" (which I finished two weeks ago -- so good), one of the older characters loses things and blames it on elves rather than her own senility. I'd like to think that I'm a bit too young to be senile. Then again, I did joke about blacking out a couple weeks ago when I couldn't figure out why I was covered in (my own?) blood one evening....

But on the off chance that I'm not completely losing my mind, I'd really like it if the elves would return my earbuds and $10. I think that's a completely reasonable request.

My week, in three parts.

Pt. I / I did something I've been putting off for a while because I thought it would be mortifyingly embarrassing. A few months after restlessness drove me to take a pair of blunt scissors to my hair late one night, I went to my hair stylist to get a legitimate haircut.

She said I did an impressive job and must be a natural. That appeased me enough to do more chaotic things to my hair in the coming months...with solid plans for a major experiment/shakeup in April.

It'll grow back.


Pt. II / Found notes I apparently made after a particularly vivid early morning dream yesterday. Deciphering my messy, sleep-laden handwriting, it says:

had a dream I was trying to hang out w/ multiple groups of friend in various centuries @ the same time. (1800s, present) ended up ditching everyone to join a pop-dance-blues band & sing in a gay bar. let everyone down, but had so much fun!

There are a lot more details that I can remember, like the fact that I was apparently Joan of Arc at one point.... But the whole thing started when I dream-texted a friend, asking if she'd want to go to Newbury Comics with me -- which I actually did upon waking up. (Note: You can tell you're sending too many text messages when you start to do it in your sleep.)


Pt. III / One evening this past week, I had to scrape some ice/snow off my car before heading out from work. Didn't think much of the whole process, besides how cold my hands were, but I was on my way in about 10 minutes. While checking into the hotel where I stay during the week, I looked down at my right hand and noticed it was covered with blood. Odd. But again, didn't think much of it. ...Until I got into my room and looked in the mirror. My face was covered with blood, too.

I told my parents this story and told them that I probably blacked out during the drive to the hotel, and pulled off to the side of the road and killed someone before continuing on my way. They thought this was hil-ar-i-ous -- my mom was laughing so hard she was crying. They also thought it was more likely that it was so cold that my skin froze and then split open when I bent my fingers.

Gross.


So much more to write, so much....

WANTED: Decisiveness.

I've reached a new level of indecisiveness. For the past week, I've been adding (and removing, and re-adding) items to my iTunes and Amazon.com shopping carts, trying to decide whether to buy digital or physical copies of approximately 20 albums that I want....

One part of me desperately needs the instant gratification of an iTunes download, but another (very stubborn) part of me doesn't mind spending a little more money and waiting a few extra days for shipping in exchange for album art and liner notes.

And both parts of me have given up on a resolution being reached anytime soon. The only thing I have wholly and absolutely decided is that it's a good idea to invest about $300-400 (maybe more) in expanding my music collection.

Anyone feel like making this decision for me? Are there decision-makers for hire? And, if so, would the satisfaction that comes with making someone else (i.e., me) happy be payment enough for them? Because I can't afford a decisive personal assistant and a sizable addition to my music collection.


I'm amused/thankful that this is the greatest source of anxiety in my life at the moment.