I wish I was back in high school for this one: Wireless Networking for the TI graphing calculators. Back in high school, our graphing calculators full of games saved some of our sanity. We went so far as to create Tetris tournaments. I went so far as to create games in BASIC for the TI-85, then to learn assembly for the TI-92. I never did get enough knowledge of the TI-92 to create games, but that knowledge did help me out with my college course in assembly.

Mac OS 9 versus Corel Linux? At first, this "Death Match" made no sense at all. After reading the article, it still makes no sense at all but did a good job of explaining the abilities of these alternative OSs.

Have they found out the mechanism for memory?

I can smell her now. The scent is reminiscent of a powder. Not baby powder, but a dry, mute aroma. A floral accent is present, similar to lilacs yet not as pungent. Before this, I only had one visual. The setting is always the same. Nighttime turns red to grey and yellow to white. She stands softly with her back to a wall of windows, covered mostly with draperies. It seems to be our bedroom. The visual of her is the strongest. Long, straight hair frames her oval face, giving her an intelligent air. The color black is an understatement, for her raven hair is so dark it is translucent. The contrast to her pale skin is remarkable. Though barely visible in the moonlight, her eyes burn with a comfortable evil. She is definitely my equal. Her attire is still a bit hazy. The Japanese aspects of my psyche scream out kimono, yet it could just be a simple shapeless dress she is wearing. The setting speaks that we are home for the night, or we could have just gotten home. There are many things I know, yet questions still remain. Her emotion toward me has two possibilities; she is either upset and concerned about something between us, or she has a joy in her heart boundless. The year I turn 22 is pivotal, but is it because we meet this year, or because we get married in that year? These images and soothsay swirl in my mind as a mist, never to be grasped.