random nonsense.
Feb. 18th, 2002 06:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enteleinmy fingers are cold, my office is cold, it's not that cold out
the night has fallen, my fingers are cold
I need to get myself into a routine that does not involve so many hours of sitting stooped in this chair, writing and re-writing, and building websites and moving pictures of art around. I spent two fucking hours today just trying to get the computer defragmented, after many hours of the computer not working properly at all.
I wish I had a laptop.
I watched the little status bar on the defrag screen turn bluer and bluer, as the little red rectangles of scattered discontent were relegated in clicks and hard drive whirrs to better hard drive sector pastures. For some reason, I really like watching computers defragment. The joy has been lost with the defrag utility in Win2K, but oh, to see screen after screen in Windows 95's little aqua blue squares, page after page, and then gaps being filled in, like some sort of gleeful autistic automate Tetris game. Meditation in the new millenium.
I cleaned out my metal file trays on my desk, cramming receipts and ATM slips into paper envelopes and jamming them into the file cabinet, under the folder makred "Bank."
Someday, I will move the receipts into the bank statement envelopes to which they belong, chronologically, but not for now.
I have 8 dollars to my name. I feel sick to my stomach. I am OK. I am not OK. My cat has cancer. Of the face. Chow Mein noodles seem like a good idea for a snack at first, but quickly become a bad idea as the blandness and heaviness settle into my stomach like a big ball of clumpy noodle gunk.
Hello hello hello, I am slowly coming back to you, rising up to the surface because I need some air, I need to remember you, I need to write you back. Your mail is in my inbox. I have been neglectful.
I am not that bad of a person.
the night has fallen, my fingers are cold
I need to get myself into a routine that does not involve so many hours of sitting stooped in this chair, writing and re-writing, and building websites and moving pictures of art around. I spent two fucking hours today just trying to get the computer defragmented, after many hours of the computer not working properly at all.
I wish I had a laptop.
I watched the little status bar on the defrag screen turn bluer and bluer, as the little red rectangles of scattered discontent were relegated in clicks and hard drive whirrs to better hard drive sector pastures. For some reason, I really like watching computers defragment. The joy has been lost with the defrag utility in Win2K, but oh, to see screen after screen in Windows 95's little aqua blue squares, page after page, and then gaps being filled in, like some sort of gleeful autistic automate Tetris game. Meditation in the new millenium.
I cleaned out my metal file trays on my desk, cramming receipts and ATM slips into paper envelopes and jamming them into the file cabinet, under the folder makred "Bank."
Someday, I will move the receipts into the bank statement envelopes to which they belong, chronologically, but not for now.
I have 8 dollars to my name. I feel sick to my stomach. I am OK. I am not OK. My cat has cancer. Of the face. Chow Mein noodles seem like a good idea for a snack at first, but quickly become a bad idea as the blandness and heaviness settle into my stomach like a big ball of clumpy noodle gunk.
Hello hello hello, I am slowly coming back to you, rising up to the surface because I need some air, I need to remember you, I need to write you back. Your mail is in my inbox. I have been neglectful.
I am not that bad of a person.
