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2002-04-04 I woke up last Wednesday believing for all the world that it was Friday. Why is my brain so cruel? I'm sitting now with a subwoofer between my feet. It's not the subwoofer for my new receiver. It's actually the one from the living room. But it sounds pretty good with these speakers. I find that I like to turn it up to maximum and play music with heavy bass, but with the source volume down low. I rest my feet on top and feel them quietly go thump. I really need to schedule some time off from work. I feel like there are so many personal things I'm behind on and could try to catch up on if I just took some time to do them. But I know that it never really works that way. Around Thursday of my week off, I'll finally look up and realize that time has started to run out and I've only checked "Organize Porn Bookmarks" off my to-do list. This weekend I went to Movie Club with the boyfriend. During the month, a group of his friends all go to see the same movie, and then they get together to discuss it one evening. We had some good conversation, even if one or two of the people had somewhat bizarre interpretations of the film. Are you sure we saw the same movie? You saw "Monsters' Ball," not "Monsters, Inc.," right? The woman who hosted the event lived in a loft space converted from an old Catholic High School. It was kind of interesting that, in a lot of ways, you could really see what the old classrooms would have been like, and how the mostly untreated stairwells differed from the stained wood and polished brass numbers in the carpeted hallways. The conversion to apartments worked a lot better than you might think. The space was big and mostly uncluttered, with handsome modern furniture and lots of empty space, which made me mad. Empty space gets me terribly jealous. I'm 31 years old; I have a 'professional' career (however casually I treat it.) Shouldn't my room look less like a college dormitory by now? When can I let go of the plastic milk crates�which I've had since college�into which I stuff my socks and underwear? Is anyone going to notice that I've thrown away the dusty tchotchkes they gave me from the overflowing shelf of plastic toys and Lord of the Rings Glass Goblets? Do I really need books on VRML and Photoshop 3 at arms reach, if at all? At the same time, there wasn't much personality in her place. Several mounterd college degrees dominated her kitchen. There were quite a few pictures of other people's children on the fridge, in frames, on occasional tables. I couldn't tell you what was in her CD collection besides what she played, nor what she had in her bookcases. Can I find a happy medium between unpopulated Pottery Barn Catalog and rats nest? Hmm. Not so much bass in "Fortune Presents Gifts Not According to the Book." The big Oh-My-Oddness projects at work are moving at glacial speeds towards completion. We're in the bug-testing cycle, which is terribly boring to me, and because of the scope and "brand importance" of the projects, the review phases take a long time. I'm just tired of looking at the hulking monstrosities already. They're pretty enough, and the sites themselves are functional albeit not ground-breaking. But I'm weary of reading the same headlines and subheads over and over again and looking at the same pictures. Maybe I do just need a break. I've been up much too late every night for the past few weeks. Looking for private time, I guess, and only finding it in the wee hours of the evening and the morning. Trying to put a little empty space in my daily schedule, I guess. I realize I've bought into the myth that every moment must be filled with doing something, though I sabotage myself by derailing my writing by playing shockwave games, get distracted at work reading Weblogs, spend hours making playlists for my 30 minute walk home from work. I mean, I could be organizing my porn bookmarks, or something.
2003-03-29 - Moving Notice |
