(this suggestion from @WildCardZero)
I’m one of those people who frequently looks at the time at the precise moment it hits twenty-three minutes to two in the afternoon. Or 13:37, if you prefer. It isn’t that I look at a clock every few minutes all day every day, it’s just that somehow my brain knows it’s 13:37 and I look at a clock. I don’t know why this is, and I know I’m not the only one.
If I’m at my computer or on my phone when I notice, I’ll often tweet “13:37”. It happens usually a couple of times a week, sometimes more often, and occasionally a follower or two will retweet it. Or they’ll notice the time and I haven’t (or haven’t been able to tweet it when I have noticed) and tweet “13:37” at me instead.
It’s a silly game.
Thing is, it’s more than just 13:37. It’s 1337 in general that I notice a lot. You know how the human brain tries to see faces in more abstract patterns (like clouds or toast)? I’m like that with 1337 and numbers. Serial numbers, telephone numbers, barcodes, all sorts. Even file sizes (like 1337KB) and, more frequently than you’d imagine, number of unread emails. You can imagine my glee when I bought a video game on eBay for a winning bid of £13.37. I enjoyed that experience even more than playing the game. Probably. I can’t even remember what game it was.
Why 1337 though? Well, in ye olde internet dialect, 1337 is a corruption of Leet, itself a deviance from Elite. I never went in for 1337-speak in any way aside from ironically, but for some reason those digits stuck in my head and now actively look for exposure.
I know what you mean. I’ve never used leet-speak anything other than ironically either, but there’s something about 1337. It’s like a sort of geek gang sign.
I remember I once saw “1337” written on a wall. I think I took a photo. I’ve no idea who wrote it, still less why; leet-speak and grafitti somehow don’t seem to go together, and it’s always possible it was someone commemorating the start of the Hundred Years’ War, or (actually just about within the realm of possibility, come to think of it) the relief of Stirling Castle, but hey… I thought “leet”, as I’m sure anyone of taste and distinction would, and felt a strange sense of connection with whoever it was.