Monday, 31 May 2010
Friday, 21 May 2010
Thursday, 20 May 2010
It's official. I heard the news today from my boss, via SMS text (yes, I'm that important): starting the beginning of June, I'm back on full-time work! Now I have to re-adjust to working a full five days as opposed to four. To be honest, I don't relish the prospect, though the pain will be marginally softened by extra money. Having more time to myself has been, all things considered and despite my vexed personal life, more than welcome. I'm a spiritual guy at heart, so please don't be misled by my recent admission to retail-therapy. Believe me, money is not that important. I shall miss my mid-week micro-sabbatical. Sigh.
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
I'm the victim of that common but futile attempt to fill a void in one's life by purchasing "stuff". Some folks eat, some become manic, and others, like myself, buy gadgets. We're all trying to do the same thing though, that is, take our mind off what's bothering us.
Tuesday, 18 May 2010
I couldn't go to work today, allthough, "couldn't", may be too strong a word. If I'd steeled myself, I'd have made it; but do I want to spend two and a half hours travelling, along with 8 hours sitting, when my bowels are operating on a hair-trigger, my head is thumping, and my bones, muscles, sinews, and my cells too, are aching?
It's not all bad though, for is it not true, every cloud has a silver-lining? Apart that is, from those without, like cheap curtains... but I digress. Something good happened.
I had a "moment". An instance of inspiration which, on reflection could have gone wrong, but which nevertheless, I chose to act upon.
My action? I gave the lap top a single, and as an Irishman might say, tump!. It resolved my "trapped cd" problem... or, as I might say, t'werked.
Monday, 17 May 2010
Revelation: I can be stupid. Yes, it's true, there's no use in protesting (do I hear strains of, "no way... tell me it's not true!") I'm confessing to an dumbness that ranks amongst the best of the blunderers.
In this life, it's an asset to have the commonsense not to go poking your hands, fingers, head, or anything else, into a slot, hole, or any opening in which you're not sure of: a) it's appropriateness or, b) of what lies inside. Today, my blunder is of the former sort - why on earth I blithely stuck it in, I don't know, but I regret it now, and I have to pay the price.
Hands up all of you who are aware of slot-loading cd drives, as opposed to the drawer kind? And hands up all of you who are aware of smaller, 80mm cds, as opposed to the standard 120mm? Well, let me tell you, nay, warn you... don't go poking your little disc into the slot kind... you'll be disappointed. It will go in, but that's all. No whirring, no humming, no playing, no nuttin! It's as if it "doesn't touch the sides"! So, how can you expect an appropriate response? But it gets worse - the damn thing, though it slides in all too smoothly and easily, it cometh out not!
Good news, my My 12" Apple Powerbook continues to work, but future cd-ripping to itunes is threatened. To resolve the problem, I've an appointment with the "tecchies" at the local Apple Store, "Genius Bar".
I'll feel like the small boy in the doctor's surgery, you know the one, he's there to have the glass marble removed, the one deeply embedded in his nostril.
Sunday, 16 May 2010
I failed to get inspired. However, I did perspire; though not due to the weather, although it was warm; instead, the perspiration was due to the exceptionally large hot-dog complete with fried onions and smattering of West Indian Hot Pepper Sauce.
I've little else to say. Most of my thoughts are dull, personal, and way too abstract to be of interest here. It's a confidence issue. I need to wrest myself out of my head and get back into the real world. Not for the sake of the blog, but for the sake of my sanity. Still, baby steps, eh?
Next week, I'm going to mix Pepper sauces. Is there no end to my derring-do?
Thursday, 13 May 2010
I've found leaving my self behind is the most liberating feeling. All the self-labelling that personal identity consists of, is gone. All the rules I impose on myself take a back step. I'm not such an such a person with such and such beliefs, I'm more fluid, more understanding, more tolerant perhaps. A better person?
Maybe there's an object lesson here in how best to be, or at least, how to aspire to be. The problem is though, the return journey. I have an inkling now of why I get depressed on arriving home. These days I want the outward bound journey to last forever.