I am Matt Thomas.

Thinking Out Loud

July 28, 2005

Am I the only one who thinks Federal Hill looks like a reclaimed garbage dump?

Half-Dressed

July 27, 2005

So, I just realized my comments are two or three kinds of ways busted. I’ve got a long weekend coming up so I’ll take care of it then. But hey, Dean Allen released Textpattern RC4 and naturally I couldn’t wait to have it. The comments system is way different now, though, and all my cute little hacks got shut down like a bad ferris wheel.

Update 7/28: Everything’s back to normal, save for the Live Preview. It’s going to require just a bit more hacking than I’m willing to do on what is ostensibly my day off. Gravatars are back, though, the Preview stage is gone, and that stupid tiny Textarea is back to a respectable size.

Tea-riffic!

July 27, 2005

Everybody loves a good pun now and then. And everybody also loves a good batch of sweet tea. So, when I didn’t have time to make a separate trip to a “regular” grocery store this weekend to pick up a box of Luzianne, I found myself perusing the selection of weird hippie tea at Whole Foods. I recognized Tazo tea from Starbucks, and picked out a flavor, “Passion,” that sounded, if not tasty, at least interesting.

I love this crap. It’s no southern-style sweet tea, but it’s very, very good. Obviously I feel like a traitor and a hippie for drinking it, but I don’t care. Check it out.

When It Rains

July 25, 2005

There’s something to be said for the theory that you’re always more attractive when you’re taken.

I spent a period from May of 2003 until March of 2005 begging for jobs. I applied for jobs at everything from advertising agencies to stores at the mall, trying to get hired as anything from a furniture salesman to a logo designer. It took a chance conversation with a total stranger, by which I was alerted to an opportunity, to end the drought and end me up in a strange city so far from home.

Completely unrelated to my full-time employ, I’ve heard several times lately from parties interested in my work, having seen little more than a few small projects and my silly little blog. It’s hard not to wonder where this was just a few months ago when I was desperate, living in my parents’ den. Now I’m on the verge of something big, bigger than I ever expected, especially not right around the time the Savannah Morning News told me I didn’t have enough experience to be an obituary clerk.

Then ridiculous bullshit floats my way. BGE decided—just now—that my credit isn’t good enough to continue receiving electric service without a deposit. I’ve never been late, other than the time I had to dispute a bill that turned out to be $100 too high because the didn’t actually read the meter, they just guessed. And I’m the untrustworthy one. Despite living on my own for the better part of five years now, I’ve suddenly become so irresponsible that BGE demands an extra $200 from me to keep the lights on. I’m failing to see the difference between this and extortion.

Wachovia charged me $16 for checks I didn’t order, then charged me $30 because I overdrafted as a result. I called and it took forty five minutes to convince my “personal banker” that charging new customers for things they didn’t ask for might be less-than-ethical business practices. He offered to refund “one or the other, but not both,” as per “company policy,” until I asked him whether a box of checks and a made-up service fee were worth losing a customer and every single person that customer comes into contact with for the next month until the customer gets it out of his system. He figured not, and was then miraculously able to refund both charges. Glad he figured that one out.

I’ve met some amazing people lately. From Seattle to Tennessee to right around the corner, new people have been moseying in and out of my life with alarming frequency lately. It’s very strange. Once I find somewhere I feel good in, I tend not to mix things up. I’m like an eight-year-old that won’t take off his favorite new shirt. So when new people come into the picture, it’s a little bigger of a deal for me. I like it.

Whether it’s a shitstorm or clear skies, I get it all in bulk. I’m looking forward to upcoming days when I can embrace the usual, the comfortable, the same; rather than a continuous pendulum between bad news and good.

Gone Quiet

July 18, 2005

Right, so sometimes I forget that part of having a web site is doing something with it. After Sinman’s artistic foray last week, I wasn’t sure how to top it. I’ve sat down to write a few times, but nothing ever came. So, no need to force it.

Something pretty funny happened Saturday night. Whilst rummaging through my closet, trying to hang things up (for once) and pack away the things I never wear, I came across an awesome pink stripe oxford shirt that I’ve never really been able to wear because it’s never fit. I decided I’d prematurely test my new eating habits of late by trying it on and, to my utter amazement, it fit. Man, that was an awesome feeling. I’m not yet at the point that I can look in the mirror and see any difference, but when you can wear new clothes that’s always going to make you feel good.

Anyway, so I head out to the Pub, and as I’m waiting to cross Greene St., these two redneck-looking guys pass me, and the far-scruffier of the two very scruffy guys mutters “fuckin’ faggot.” I turned around, thinking I must have misheard him, and he obliged by repeating himself: “look at that fuckin’ faggot.” The other guy just laughed. So did I. I wasn’t about to get into a fight with these two dudes—they’d obviously kick my ass and probably try to tie me to a fence or something—but I wore my “fuckin’ faggot” moniker like a badge for the rest of the night. If two dumbass drunk rednecks think I’m stylish enough to be gay, then I must have looked pretty damn good.

You say “Wah-com,” I say “Way-com”

July 11, 2005

Having an Intuos tablet at my desk is sometimes a dangerous element, particularly when you’re surrounded by ancy designers navigating that grey area between our weekly staff meeting and lunchtime. I offer Shaun’s latest creation on top of one of my design comps as evidence. Click the thumbnail for a larger view.

Critical Sleeper

July 11, 2005

I can’t sleep.

I’m awake at 3 am, but I went to bed hours three hours ago. I’ve been lying there since. It’s not that I’m not sleepy. I’m exhausted. My brain won’t stop. I’m lying in my bed and listening to a voice inside my head that is becoming increasingly tiresome.

You need to clean your apartment. You should eat better. You have to be more careful with your money. You never should have quit playing the piano. You shouldn’t have moved so far from your family. My inner voice is random, it is persistent, and it is brutal.

It’s not that I’m unsatisfied with my life. I couldn’t ask for a better job, and compared to my first year in Savannah, living in Baltimore has been a breeze. Tossed ‘round in an ocean of self-doubt, anyone can convince themselves that He Is In Over His Head. True or not.

I know better, figuring eventually I will find where I misplaced my energy and my ego.

I want to sleep.

Lie, lie, lie.

July 3, 2005

I know it was you, Karl. You broke my heart! You broke my heart!

In the words of the inestimable Shirley Q. Liquor, “You is a backstabbin’ lie and you is goin’ down, baby! The whole neighborhood gone sit out there and cheer and holler when those indikements start rollin’ out like checks on payday!”

So…what’s new?

July 2, 2005

Not a redesign, just a new coat of paint. Small IE-related bugs still to be squashed. Go figure. Otherwise, consider this a big middle finger to the color-sighted out there.

To My Neighbors:

July 2, 2005

Could you do me a favor and stop murdering each other?

I’m serious, here. I need your help. I understand that murdering is a big part of your “thing,” but it’s getting on my nerves. I confess to being fairly ignorant when it comes to what’s hip and new in street culture, but I do understand one thing: murder is in.

Murder has some bad side-effects, though. For the folks who live near the Shock Trauma Center here in Bodymore, Murderland, every murder means a trip chauffeured by your friendly local emergency medical technician in his ambulance! Unfortunately their sirens are very loud! That means every time you murder late at night, people like me get woken up!

I realize that it will be very difficult to give up your murder, but I’ve composed a list of things that you might use to fill the time in which you’d normally be murdering.

• Organize a neighborhood basketball team
• Learn a foreign language
• Volunteer at your local community center
• Mowing lawns or doing odd jobs for the elderly
• Join your local YMCA!
• Murder (Just kidding!)
• Go horseback riding
• Make a mix tape for a special someone

• With nothing more than cold medicine and some household chemicals, make your own powerful narcotic!

  These are just a few of the many fun activities you can do that do not involve any murder! With the right amount of determination and just a little creativity, I think you’ll find, after a while, that you don’t even miss murder. Try it today!

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