God I hate MySpace. It's still so horrible. I admit that there's been no shortage of improvements and enhancements and blah blah blah dot dot dot, but come *on*. How can it still be so overwhelmingly popular?

Facebook isn't much better, mind you, but at least the interface was well-designed from the ground up. Now, I understand that Tom may have had better things to do than dream up an amazing interface from scratch (there's hardly a basis for comparison for social networking sites, right?) but there's been plenty of time and opportunity for a sweeping revamp. Heck, there *has* been a sweeping revamp. And it still sucks! Awesome job, blind helmet-wearing monkeys. Your skills never cease to impress and amaze.

So why am I still using it? I don't. Unfortunately there are still a ton of people that do. I even see MySpace addresses on ads for random stuff on TV. Ugh. Anyway, those poor souls that continue to use it need at least a little bit of sunshine in their otherwise dark lives, and that's what I'm here to deliver. Once every six months.

It's like living in Canadia, only without the Canadians. Awesome.

I know I haven't posted anything up on this blog in about a million years... and that's because I have a real blog for people to read and get all sappy about:

Click here to go see it.

It features all the excellent writing you've come to expect from yours truly, littered with random observations and other supercool things, like pictures.  Much more fun than MySpace, with half the calories!

And with over 100 entries, it'll keep you busy on a rainy day!  Woohoo!  Love it! ;)

Everyone's a freakin' poet. No training, no studying, no background. There's no structure, no timing, no rhyming, no reason. Just a bunch of words and sentences spaced dramatically. I might be wrong (it's been a while), but I believe that's called 'prose'. But everyone's a poet. I'm a poet. I like the sound of that. It sounds artsy, and people can dig artsy. Maybe it'll get me laid, or make me some new friends. And the best thing is that you don't even have to show any work to still be a 'poet.' And if you do, it doesn't have to be good. Because most people (*most* people) couldn't tell good poetry from the menu at Denny's (which, by the way, is poetic in its own special way). I could scribble a bunch of lines on napkins or take-out menus and stuff it all in my back pocket, or carry around a notebook where I write observations (the sky... is blue today...) and say "Hey. What's up. I'm a poet. Check out my sweet, sweet poems." "I'm a poet", a poetrist, the vocal stylist who puts words together in his/her own way and wants to sell you on their poetic identity. Maybe they want attention, maybe they really do love their art. No, not me personally, but I know plenty of people who do. Want attention. And love their art. And say they're poets. Sometimes it's a combination platter with extra cheese. I don't know if I could do it... don't know if I could resist the urge to laugh. Especially if I ran across someone who read one of these seemingly poetic observations and said "Hey, yeah, that's really cool... you're really talented!" When they're actually thinking "Okaaaay... what's the point?" What a line of crap all that is. If you want to take a dump in the woods and call it art, do it. I know plenty of people that do exactly that (and it smells terrible.) There's a great sales/business adage that says: "What's a nuclear submarine worth? Whatever someone will pay for it." Definitions and structure lose their value in an ever-evolving field. I might go so far as to say art (and all its cousins) would be considered ever-evolving. Unless you're a creationist. Then you're just screwed.

I don't ask for much from people. In fact, I don't ask for anything at all. But that's not true. Run, run, run, stumble, run, fall. Get up. Why can't people be patient? Why can't they see past, through, into? Run, run, fall. Get up. I do ask for patience. It's the only thing I ever ask for, really. When I'm running late, when I forget something, when I have to juggle priorities. My friends know it (how well they know it), and they give it. In return, they get me. Personally, I think I get the better end of the deal. Patience, wild monkey. Deceleration is only painful for a little while. Detachment helps to heal all manner of wounds. I think I may have been running with a pair of scissors recently - a very impatient pair of scissors. No, not impatient. That's hardly fair! The scissors are simply sharp. Too sharp for a clumsy, thick-fingered ape. Running is a complicated affair, too. Running too fast for my short legs. It's *hard* to run that fast, for that long. Especially with a tail. What did I expect? It doesn't matter. Run, stumble, fall. Totally worth it. What's a reward without the risk? Whoever said that didn't take the risk and fail. Bastard. That's a deep cut. Maybe I'll start running with staplers. It's so much easier to take staples out. Hah. And when you lose your stapler, you don't miss it as much as when you lose your scissors. No, no, typically you just run over to another office and steal *their* stapler. God, so much simpler and less dangerous! Dammit. I want my scissors back.

So I decided to stop using this blog engine. I was looking around to compare sites, and Friendster has this unbelievably convenient thing where instead of using their blog engine, you can just attach an RSS feed to your profile. This lets you atttach your own personal blog (which has been running for about a year now) to the profile without having to rewrite the whole freakin' thing or trying to maintain more than one blog (or in my case, several blogs.) Especially personal blogs. That's just not feasible. So yeah, a feed like that is just awesome. Someone should tell Tom, or whoever that guy is. I'm just not gonna use the MySpace blog. It's ridiculous to do that. Instead, I'm going to aim people at my blog. They can subscribe to it just like any other blog (if they're actually interested in what I have to say.) http://www.josesierra.com There's even a photo gallery for those that care. Don't get me wrong, the MySpace blog works (I guess) for people without blogs, but it doesn't do the rest of us much good. Oh well! It's all about the right tool for the right job, yo.

I got some parts - short shifter and camber kit. The spacers should've been here by now, but I'll give it a couple more days. Installing the short shifter was easy (Dieselgeek makes the best short-shift kits for VW and Audi) but the adjustment process was horrific. 15 minutes to put in the shifter, another 30 minutes to adjust it correctly. First time thought I was done with the whole project I hop in the driver's seat, clutch in, and cycle through the gears. All seems well, so I put the airbox back in, but when I hop back into the car I realize I don't have reverse. Sucky. So I pull allll the shit out again, pull out the airbox, and keep on with the adjustments. Now it's nicely put together, adjusted to taste, and clicks like a real short-shift. Super nice. The camber kit is in my trunk and awaiting installation. I just need to figure out where to go and when to get this done. I'm tempted to just go to a tire place like Tire Hut or something to get it done, although my boy Paul said he'd hook it up. I do hate to wait tho. I haven't climbed in days. I feel a bit weak from the whole 'being sick' thing, and I've lost some finger strength. That glucosamine stuff is really good. It might be a totally psychosomatic thing, but if it works, then who cares, right? I'm going to try to climb a little bit tonight. I'm excited. I'm actually pretty excited about a bunch of things today, and this weekend. Harry's coming into town with Christina & Alex for a couple of day, and that's always nice. Lots of good stuff. I'm in a very positive mood today.

I'm feeling a little discombobulated today. God only knows if I even spelled that right. To quote a colleague, "I feel like taffy being pulled in every direction. And they're not even pulling the good parts." My parts should arrive today! Camber kit, short shifter, spacers... a bunch of good stuff. Exhaust should be in sometime this week. It is Allll Good. Next month I'll do some bodywork, I think. The Sillysmart design is almost done (again). I keep tearing that design down and putting it back together. Can't decide where to take it. I haven't even started on the design for my personal site. I've got *way* too much going on! I do believe... yes... anxiety? Stress? Hmmm.

Happy fandango, whatever that means. A cop totally rode my ass on the way to work today - seriously, he was practically in the seat next to me. I could practically smell the donuts and coffee on his breath as he turned to me and said "Pull over, boy." I felt the anxiety well up inside as I expected his lightbar to go off. My tag's expired and even though I wasn't speeding when I saw the cop, he may have noticed my slightly aggressive attitude while pounding through traffic. But it didn't go off. Instead pulled a lanesplit and passed me dirty, giving me one of those cop-looks that says "If you were in my jurisdiction, boy..." Delray Beach cops in Fort Lauderdale have *nothing* to say. Buh-bye 'boy'. Which reminds me... would all you fuckers who sit in the left lane on I-95 and drive 50mph get a clue and get the fuck out of the way? If you can see two miles of open highway ahead of you, and there's a mess of cars behind you, could that possibly mean that you, and you alone, are holding up traffic? It's real simple: change lanes. Go slow, go right. Very simple formula. Now, I *know* that you have every right in the world to obey traffic laws and speed limits, but do it on your own time, ideally in the slow lane. It's a courtesy. Call it karma. Next time *you're* in a hurry, you won't have some dipshit in a minivan holding up 50+ cars behind him because he's just plugging along in a car that won't *do* more than 50mph. It only becomes my issue when I get to work late because of that guy. Leave earlier? No way. Why should I spend more time on the road than I have to because some schmuck doesn't know the law? Oh yeah, by the way, it's the law. "Slow traffic stay right". Ever see those signs? They're not there for their health. Passing on the right is technically illegal. So while you're sitting there, sipping coffee and chatting away on your cell phone in the HOV lane or the lane just next to it, remember: it's legal to shoot at each other on the highway now.

So I've been bullied into using MySpace. Okay then, fine. I'll use it. I'm busy working, working, working, wait... I think I'll drink an' drink an' drink an' drink an' drink an' FIGHT! Gimme a good 5.10 to work, a 6 pack of b'r, and a hot woman to spank. The rest is fucking details. Nothing happened today so far. Except for the cheesiest 80's music playing on iTunes. Scrrrrew. And I'm putting together some XML. How unbelievably uninteresting. Maybe I should take a nap?