Like every downtrodden hacker, I'm more interested in working for myself than anyone else. Now that I'm jobless, I've been mulling over possible business ventures. Game companies? Children's educational software? Maybe write The Great American Novel? Full time blood donation? Lord, I'm willing to do anything but work for The Man. Repeat after me: Our Father Who Art In Heaven, please Please PLEASE don't make me work for another dot-com startup. Don't make me write abstract relational database interfaces. Don't make me enhance some fool's E-BUSINESS. Lead us not unto corporate whoring, but deliver us from the Big Swinging Dicks of Bureaucracy. Amen. I was sitting at Andrew's house last week, waiting until I could leave California. For the most part, I sat in front of a dialup 'net connection and drooled. Check email. Check the 'chat rooms. Sift through Singles.com for a goof. Slashdot. Newsgroups. Linuxgames.com. Check the time. Repeat. Amid all that reduced brain activity, an email drifted into my ol' Hotmail account from Rob, a friend from college and Charlotte. Aha. I perk up. As the banner advertisement dithers in, I scan the body of the letter. To paraphrase: "Hey, remember your ex-girlfriend Heather? She's getting married." For those that rolled their eyes the first time through this rant, please don't hit "delete" yet. I like to think I can grow and learn at least at the same rate as a Furby, and I have a better outlook now. I'm not angry at the world for maturing around me, although it bothers me that Heather of all people managed to be more socially attractive than me and hook a mate, but I can let that go. Poof. It's gone. Okay, it fuckin' bothers me. So what? I'm trying to pinpoint the nerve. Is it a fear of change? That seems to be a theme in my life right now...maybe a fear of OTHERS changing? Maybe I want people that aren't with me anymore to be bitter, loveless old maids forever. It's not fair of me, and I don't CONSCIOUSLY wish that, but maybe that's it. Karie (from the last rant) certainly had better options right off the bat, and she's married now. Just had her first anniversary, I'm honestly pleased to announce. Becky (my second serious girlfriend, depending on who's definition of "serious" you choose), just got married a few months ago. She wasn't going to take very long to find better options; nobody even joked to the contrary, and she didn't, and good for her. Heather (number three), well, that took me off guard. Blahblahblah. It's not important. I'm talking about BUSINESS VENTURES here, after all, and I think I've found an ideal means of avoiding designing yet-another-customer-relationship-management-software-package to make rent. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to announce the grand opening of the Ryan C. Gordon Marriage Clinic. Want to get married within the next five years? All you have to do is have sex with me. I now have irrefutable proof that I am capable of endowing women with phermones that make them IRRESISTABLE to men from all walks of life. Afraid of being a bitter old lady with 50 cats in her apartment, who watches Lifetime television and dreams of the day that Fabio will come to sweep her away? Not a problem. Here at the Ryan C. Gordon Marriage Clinic, our trained technicians can prepare you for a life of matrimonial bliss. Think it'll work? I wonder if I can find some venture capital for it. That might be hard, as the concept doesn't have the words, "Java", "embedded technology", or "Linux" in it anywhere, so the usual VCs might be put off, but then again, the business plan has the word "sex" in it, so a few of you are probably reaching for your wallets right now purely by instinct. Eat your heart out, Larry Flynt. Ahem. I do think the last year has been uh, educational at worst, but it sure as heck strangled some relationships. Overall, I'm the prime candidate for the lonely idiot with the house full of cats, and not people like Heather. Heather and I had an odd relationship, that started oddly, and ended odder still. Hey, she's an odd girl. But does that mean there isn't a match for her out there? The crime here is really that, consciously this time, I really believed there wasn't such an entity. Apparently I was wrong, but it doesn't make the belief any more...right? Good? Correct? Maybe I should dwell less on other people's love lives, and dwell on me. On the here. And now. Yes. So, I think I'll continue down this corporate line of thought. All my ex-Loki compatriots are wondering how you meet women in a foreign city, where there's really no place to go if you don't like chillin' in bars. I think it just needs is that good ol' corporate bureaucracy to push it on down the line: so here's a resume for all you eligible ladies in the audience. RYAN C. GORDON 1152 Chickasaw Circle firstname.lastname@example.org Objective: To find a soul mate, if not a physical one, that lets me employ my skills in a creative environment. Education: BA in field mostly unrelated to interests in life. Relevant Skills: Very self-deprecating. Potentially upwardly mobile. Capable of coherent thought, and occasional artistic expression. Thinks the Three Stooges are stupid. Can dress self. Phenominal beyond words as a lover. Doesn't think you're fat. References upon request. --ryan.