Sugar. Mmm. Oh. Honey honey. 13 July 1998

4:33 PM: Argh.

Welcome to the Monday afternoon sugar crash. When the sound of my keyboard is the loudest thing I hear, when the only email that comes in is about how You can make a Fortune selling Plumbing over the Internet, when whatever I'm trying to do starts to have those nice intermittent kinds of problems, and somehow this all becomes emblematic of deep moral failure. PLUS! They run out of cream for the coffee!

11:22: Cold cold in there cold. Brr. This silly server became unresponsive, as if I haven't had to deal with that kind of thing enough elsewhere, and I have been fiddling with it off and on for the last couple hours while I try to get other things done here at work. It's in the employee machine room, and I guess it gets fed from the same air conditioner as the main machine room because it is see oh ell dee in that horrible suck-the-water-out-of-your-lungs air-conditioned way. The thing I hate most about working in there, though, is that the console monitor for this machine is almost burned out, and can't quite form focused letters anymore. Instant glaucoma. "Why isn't this booting? What does that say?" Why not just issue a walker and a hearing aid at the door?

I am having some age issues these days, you might have picked up on that.

"You." I keep saying that. Who am I talking to? I mean, do you the person reading this, do you feel like it's you that I'm addressing? Does it sound like I must be talking to someone else? Schrodinger's audience. It's already having that observer effect, where I do things I wouldn't otherwise have done just because I've either already mentioned them here or I dread having to talk about it in the future. Maybe that's one of the points. "He's got a point there!" I love that movie.

I'm trying to remember if there was ever a time when I was a motivated person. I don't think so. Not self-motivated anyway. Guilt, duty, a desire to please, other people can get me to do things or be a reason.

Honestly, if I were to suddenly inherit some large sum of money that made it unnecessary for me to work, I wouldn't. You always hear lottery winners saying "Oh, I want to keep my job, it's what I do, ya know." (Well not always but the cliche is familiar anyways.) I know for sure I would not do that, because it's already happened. 1992 or thereabouts, quit my job, cashed in my stock and my 401k, and lived for a year and a half burning up seed corn, getting drunk and striking out, but most of all, sleeping all day and all night. Really. It was wonderful. It's like I spent my childhood training to live in an iron lung or something, I don't know.

And no, I don't know what this has to do with anything.

One of the bad aspects of reading these other online journals is the attitude people have when they used to be lonely little hermit crabs and now they've "found someone." They know the true methods, they explain it to you, how important it is to hold onto those Special Friends that mean so much, how you should, really, just forget about that silly romance stuff, it will take care of itself. Look At Me, After All.

Hi. Uh, it doesn't work like that. Nobody knows why anything, it's all pretty random but the odds aren't great.

Maybe I should just go home now. "What are we going to do with your attitude, young man?" The nuns actually used to ask me that. They didn't really want an answer. I finally figured that out after offering a few ill-received suggestions. Why do Orange Crush bottles look Egyptian? Is there some kind of subliminal desert-heat thing going on there?

This entry is dedicated to insomnia.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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