So, my brother Pat left for Northland College
today, which has been called "the environmental liberal arts college." I have no idea what he's planning to do (maybe something outdoorsey, maybe psychology), but the college is only one hour from home, which should be good for him. It is
Ashland, but maybe he'll go crawling under the city to find the "other city." (which, apart from Northland, is the only real reason to go to Ashland)
Pat is also taking Boole. Boole is a Sony VAIO PCV-300DS desktop nightmare that was my second computer in college (my first was a Neo systems pre-Pentium 586, which, in 1998, my dad thought "was enough for a computer guy"). My favorite memory of Boole was how the motherboard fried when I installed a 128MB RAM chip, since the power supply is calibrated to support exactly
the power requirements of the original system components. My second favorite memory of Boole is how it's small enough to fit in my bag, which was handy on the busride to Best Buy. Also, it's a PII 400 with 64MB RAM and a Matrox G200 video card (translation - he won't be losing any time from studying by playing games, because none of the newer ones will run).
Mom was in charge of packing his physical stuff - I was in charge of getting Boole ready for the Northland network and "packing" all of his stuff from the family computer onto 4 CD's (at two copies each, it took me the better part of the evening). Did I ever mention that I love the bin-packing version of the Knapsack Problem? Well, I do . . .
My creation for Fight Club is postponed by Real Packing, which is when I take a giant stack of books, clothes, etc., and a bookshelf from home, and try to fit it in the van. Mom usually gets upset with how much crap I bring with me, but this time it's not coming back, so she's okay with it. Real Packing will happen when Mom gets back with the van. In the meantime, I'm just kind of dazed from how early I got up, and I need to shower and wake the hell up.
On the plus side, I actually found the tool I need to make the Fight Club thing . . . but that would be telling . . .