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Saturday, August 10, 2002
1. Make List.
I was going to make my weekend to-do list at work yesterday morning, but when my boss was called away I suddenly had to fill in for all his meetings. And field a couple of emergency projects. And try to do my regular work as well.
So I planned to make my to-do list last night, but by the time I'd eaten and finished talking on the phone for a long time, it was late and I was too wound up to concentrate. So instead I took a big glass of red wine with me into a very hot bubble bath and soaked for quite a while. Very relaxing; I haven't done that in a long time. The evil upstairs neighbors even cooperated and stopped rearranging furniture for a little while.
So now it's very late, and I'm nearly ready for bed, but I'm left with a nagging question: What was this "to-do list" thing, again?
Did I mention it was a really big glass of wine?
03:00 AM PST (link)
Friday, August 9, 2002
Is This Considered Blogwhoring?
Was it incredibly hot in San Francisco last night or was that just me? Did I see something flash in the northern sky or was that just my eyes? Will I know anyone tomorrow night besides one of my blog-daddies? Did I hear multiple voices over there? And don't we all sometimes need a moment alone?
05:15 PM PST (link)
Thursday, August 8, 2002
My Mood Swing Goes All The Way Around.
More quiz fun, maybe based in real science, maybe just pop psychology; hard to tell from the book they're based on. Who cares, it's fun! Try the Power Program Quizzes to test your response to various behaviours governed or influenced by the
I've noted that my territoriality occasionally crests sharply, usually also during or just following a peak of sometimes) irrational rage. (I try not to bite, but I've been known to fail the food guarding test.) I usually blame hormones—I'm still not convinced that Irritable Male Syndrome isn't just a convenient cover for being moody jerks, but there might be something to it.
And occasionally I don't actively think about sex. I think they call that "sleep."
05:53 PM PST (link)
Wednesday, August 7, 2002
I Just Want To Focus On My E. Coli.
So much for that nice healthy salad. A big sign was posted over the salad bar I went to today, that basically said: "Our romaine lettuce is grown and packed in California, so shut up." (Reminds me that there's some romaine in the fridge to be probably thrown away. Not because of the recall, mind you, but because it's wilty and didn't taste that good.) I really shouldn't habitually visit the FDA Recalls and Safety Alerts page. While it's an important service, let's face it: it's just more fodder for my paranoia.
On the other hand, I'm finding that, maybe all this salad is paying off, like for these guys. Not to stereotype here, but...a straight guy I work with asked if I've lost weight. If straight men can notice a difference in the way my pants fit, something must be working.
It's either that or the E. coli.
"I was very hungry, but I still have tendency to put on weight. So this is why I really hope that I catch malaria, because that is really good way to lose weight quickly—malaria and dysentery."
11:26 PM PST (link)
Tuesday, August 6, 2002
Staying up late while on vacation is one thing. Seeing four in the morning while riled up from many hours cursing at imaginary digital adversaries, however, does not lend itself to a particularly creative day at work. I knew this last night, and yet, here I sit nursing my coffee and still trying to remember what it is I do for a living.
Someone I wasn't fond of working with left the company while I was on vacation. When I think about it, I feel relieved, and then immediately feel a little guilty for feeling relieved. I'm nothing if not self-flagellating.
Nothing is better for overly-inflated self-esteem like cutting a pimple while shaving. It looks awful and lasts for what seems like weeks—I've felt like apologizing to people who've had to look at me lately. Although the embarassment of that is rivaled by the sudden realization that not only was the last haircut you got not very good, but that it's grown out in ways which simply cannot be controlled by styling gel. And also by the realization that your fly is open and your black clothes don't match. I would blame that on my late night but I did both those things yesterday too, so I think that's just early senility.
Chris does a nice job describing Monday mornings, but there are few words to express how cruel is the Monday after a vacation. I'm putting myself back together all right; but if someone would kindly point me at the exit, I think it's time to go back home.
07:08 PM PST (link)