The confessions of a not so dangerous mind.
On the floor, under my desk, there’s a little tin train that my mother picked up for me. The space where the conductor’s cab would be is hollowed out. I use it to keep pencils and such things.
If you were to wrap your hands around all the things there and pull them out, you’d see that the bottom of the tin is full of twist-ties.
Without even realising it, it seems that I’ve developed a habit of saving all the nicer twist ties that come my way – especially the plastic coated ones that you get with higher-end electronics.
My name is Chris, and I have a twist-tie fetish.
I have a recurring fantasy. It involves a crowded subway car and a pair of scissors.
One of the first things I learnt when I started riding the subway regularly in the sixth grade is that as a courtesy, you should take your backpack or shoulder bag off and place it on the floor. So it doesn’t hit the other commuters standing and sitting around you.
I would like to sneak a pair of sharp scissors onto the subway with me and have at the bag straps of all the inconsiderate people who ride the subway during rush hour. As their bags fall to the floor, I would laugh with unabashed glee.
Yesterday, there was one such person standing right next to me as I made my way home. And, he happened to have a pair of scissors sticking out of the side pocket of his backup. It had orange handles. I resisted the urge, though.
My name is Chris, and I want to be a subway vigilante.
When I was in high school, I would spend hours every night, after everyone had gone to sleep, looking at pictures in magazines and on the internet.
I would visit sites like AnandTech and Dell. I’d memorize the articles in MaximumPC and PC Gamer. I’d drool over their hardware reviews. Then, I’d dream about my perfect computer.
My name is Chris, and I’m a recovering geek.