9 July 2001
3:13 AM: Yep. Three years now. And what a long walk down a short pier it's been. Look how much has changed! Look how I've grown! Oh, the drama!
Things and people come and go and stay and leave, but mostly the things stay and the people leave. And as Anya put it, "After wreaking vengeance for the third or fourth time, you think 'My goodness, young lady, maybe you're doing something here too!'" Only, not being a young lady, and no vengeance daemon.
But gosh, I'm sure it will all be different soon.
6:32 PM: Sometimes, it really sucks to be An Knowledge Worker. Filing I could do now, or lifting of not very heavy things. I could count things. But this -- ! I have to think, I have to plan, I have to conceive of structures and then implement them in code. I can't do it. I stop looking around the room at nothing that's here, and look at the screen, and my mind absolutely freezes up. Like being on a high-dive board. Without the junior high PE coach to send someone up to push you off whether you like it or not, which is good and bad.
You know, that really doesn't make any sense at all. I'm afraid to work. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Wouldn't it be better to have something to think about? Not how it's working out, though. Very strange.
Tonight - Air at Warfield. Yay. Yet another ticket to scalp. Nobody wants just one ticket, because they are not dateless wonders like Your Narrator. Zzzzzzzt! Ow! Zzzzzzt! Ow! Zzzzzzzt! Ow! Is there some kind of pattern here? Naah. Zzzzzzt! Ow! Zzzzzzzzt! Ow!
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
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The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.