Tag Archives: banality

Grumpy Old Machine

My computer is growing senile.

I’ve had the poor thing for awhile now – since 31 December 2007 to be absolutely specific. I remember the date because it is the last time I used that credit card, ever.

It’s served me well, my poor little Dell Inspiron 530S. Sure, it’s up and shit the bed for no reason on more than one occasion and required some tough love to get it going again, but overall? For a PC? For an OLD PC? It was doing fine.

Tonight though it decided to be extra dinky and weird for no good reason. Got four nasty beeps on post – the BIOS equivalent of the computer flipping me the bird. HOW RUDE. It’s a sure sign that the hardware has decided enough is enough. Most likely the RAM or where RAM meets motherboard.

So I pulled it all out and turned it on with no RAM in it at all. Two beeps on post, which is a good sign. Pulled it out again and put in two of the RAM sticks. It turned on fine. Another good sign.

Then I stuck in the other two… and the computer went batshit. Kept turning itself on and off, like it was having some sort of fit. What a drama queen. So I pulled the power and it settled down.


Wouldn’t have been weird if it had kept turning itself on and off after I unplugged it? Just sayin’. Weird.


Anyhoo… swapped the RAM around and now it is fine again. WTF, Computer? You are losing the plot.

I need it to hang on for a bit longer; I really cannot afford to buy a new machine right now. I just worry because it’s Senior Moments are growing more and more frequent and more and more extreme. It’s a good thing I keep everything on an external drive and on the webskipops. Seriously.

>So many shite CVs… pain… loathing…

>I am really good at writing a CV. My CV is excellent. This may be due, in part, because I have changed jobs so much and have had a LOT of practice and opportunity to hone that bastard.

I have also helped a bunch of others with their CVs. And it is usually for the better. They all got jobs, at any rate. Eventually.

I have occasionally entertained the idea of doing this for money… sort of a second job. And I think there would be a demand for such a service. Because there are a lot of shit CVs out there. Trust me. I’ve been reading most of them today. It is hurting me. A lot.

But I wonder if helping a shit person get a great job with a good CV wouldn’t be like helping a guilty person go free if you were a defence attorney. How guilty would I feel if I landed horrible people into great jobs?

Another blog post about not blogging? AWESOME.

>I marvel these days at my own laziness when it comes to updating my blog. I don’t know why I don’t do it more: My blog posts make me happy (I get to talk about me and things I like) and they (potentially) make other people miserable (and now even more people may be inadvertently exposed to the toxic waste that is the outpouring of my anger and hatred thanks to Buzz) if they are foolish enough to read this drivel.

For awhile there I thought I would be more likely to “blog” more when I was stealing re-blogging interesting things that I found through RSS feeds and the like. But that was a trend that couldn’t last. Pfft. I mean, by the time I reformatted and effed around with how it looked and stuff… I might as well have written my own shit.

What’s my excuse this time? I actually have two. Both of them are whiny and weak, but I wouldn’t want to have legitimate excuses or anything.

First, work makes me tired these days. I’m busy. Too busy. It’s stressful and by the end of the day, it’s draining. I’m hoping that things will ease up, but for now… well, I’m tired when I get home. It takes every ounce of energy I have just to throw myself dramatically on my bed and turn on The Simpsons. If it wasn’t for my flatmate, I probably would never eat.

Second, I have “desk issues”. The issue? I have no desk at home. My computer lives on my dresser. I sit on a stool* to use it. It is an ergonomic nightmare. So I haven’t been too keen on sitting at my computer to do things like type.

I won’t make any promises to blog more or anything. I thought about making it my Lunar New Year resolution but it’s the Year of the Tiger, not the Year of Sitting Around on your Ass Typing Crap No One Wants to Read (although that is much funnier).  I do have some things that I’ve been meaning to write about (and I have to finish the stories!) so there may be a flurry (probably along the lines of a London snow flurry, which usually amounts to just seven lonely flakes but still warrants a severe weather warning) of blog activity. So look forward to at least seven blog posts over the next little while.

*heh heh. “stool”.


This is the sickest I’ve been in so long I don’t even know what to do with myself.

I’m on week three of having flu symptoms. I may not be a doctor, but I’m going to hazard a guess here and say I have the flu.  But I haven’t been oinking so I’m going to further assume that it’s not the dreaded Swine.

I’m rather pleased how amazing the flu has been to adapt. The first week just felt like a horrid cold and I dragged myself through it. I wasn’t that bad. Come the following Monday though, it hit my tummy and I felt like I was five years old again. I haven’t had a tummy ache in years and years and this one made me wish my mommy was here. It was a weird one too… if you could have a sore throat in your tummy that’s how it felt. It was really painful but at least there were no… um… “bi-products” from the stomach ache. No “output”. Which was fine by me.

By Tuesday my tummy felt better so I went back to work. I was achy and slow to respond to direct questions but alright otherwise. Wednesday was more of the same with a good sore throat on top of it. I woke up Thursday morning unable to get out of bed. I stayed there until Saturday afternoon. I walked to the store to buy some juice and soup (sick people food). But the time I got home I was dizzy and went back to bed until Sunday night.

I’m back at work this week, but every morning I both rue and lament my decision to have been at work the day before. I’m resting lots and taking vitamins, but the flu is still winning. Further adaptations this week include gummy eyes and today a bleeding nose. Awesome.

I’ve got so much work to do that I’m going to keep coming in for the rest of the week. I’m being very careful not to get my germs on my coworkers… I know that ultimately I’m not doing the company any favours if I just infect everyone else. Very fortunately, my work doesn’t include any meetings and unfortunately, not much contact with my fellow human beings other than electronically.

I promise I won’t do another blog post about my symptoms; I just wanted to share with the world how miserable I’ve been feeling and what a trooper I am. Both your sympathy for my illness and admiration for my steadfastness and work ethic is appreciated.

Here’s to having good health next week.

PS: Just for you Amelia, by “output” I don’t just mean I didn’t vomit… I wasn’t sick out my bum either.

>Fashion Failings

>I used to check out other girl’s shoes.

I’m not an overly girly type of girl and I never know what to wear. I mostly dress like I’m a six-year-old boy. So I look at what other girls are wearing to see if I might want to adopt any of it. I usually don’t. Fashion gives me hives.

These days I don’t bother checking out what other girls are wearing. So I dress like I’m six. I’m okay with that.  I’m sure everyone else is okay with that. Why would I want to wear a pair of Uggs with leggings and something that could either pass as a shirt or a dress anyway?  Not my lack of style, babies.

My new habit is much more nerdtastic: I now check out other people’s gadgets.

I almost wish that was a euphemism for something more interesting, but it isn’t.  I check out people’s phones and laptops and cameras. I sometimes feel superior. Sometimes I feel envious. In that way, it is a lot like checking out other people’s outfits.

Every month I wonder where my money goes. I certainly shop a lot less than other girls. But I’m beginning to realise that the new external drive and Windows 7 I’m scoping out this week are much more expensive than a couple of shirts at Primark.

Calling Dr. Freud

I rarely sleep well on Sunday nights.

I think it may be a throw-back to being a kid… you run around like an idiot all weekend and on Sunday night you didn’t want to go to sleep because you were staring down the long, dark tunnel of another school week. And I liked school.

I’ve always resisted going to bed. There’s a line in a song by Arcade Fire that sums it up for me: ‘Sleeping is giving in, no matter what the time is.’ It’s as though I’m worried I’ll miss something fun if I go to sleep. I felt that way when I was five, I feel that way now.

So I trick myself into go to bed. I know you are supposed to have a bedtime routine, but if I do that I end up throwing a tantrum and asking for glass after glass of water and yet another story so I don’t have to go to sleep (meaning that happens now, my moms wouldn’t let that happen when I was five). Instead, I very quickly turn off the lights, dump all my clothes on the floor and jump into bed before I even know what happened.

Yah, I fall for that. That I’m anywhere near intelligent is mostly a myth. I have to trick myself into going to bed by pretending I’m not going to bed until I’m in it. And it works most of the time. Freaking genius, I am.

So it was last night, but I at least had the good sense of doing my non-routine at about 10:00pm so I’d get a decent sleep. Or at least, that was the plan.

For some reason my sleep last night was plagued by horrible nightmares. And not just nightmares… it was like I was awake (I wasn’t, I was dreaming that I was awake) and thinking about these horrible things and getting progressively more upset with myself because I wasn’t sleeping. Even though I was.

But that’s not why the call for Dr. Freud to analyse my dreams last night. Most of them I don’t even remember this morning, despite being certain that I would last night. But there was one image that persisted – one that actually made me shudder this morning when I recalled it.

Not saying that dreams come true… but I do think what we dream about sometimes expose how we are feeling or what we can’t let go of subconsciously in a metaphorical or symbolic way. Like if you dream that you are being chased by Frankenstein but can’t move your legs, it may mean that you feel paralysed in your job and your boss communicates by grunting (or something like that).

So the most disturbing part of my dream last night? I had a lot (no, a LOT) of nails, needles, pins and other small, sharp things embedded in my skin all over my body. Or I assume they were all over – they were definitely in my arms, legs and face. I was pulling them out of my arms. And although it didn’t hurt to have them in there, it stung to pull them out. It was also kind of satisfying to pull them out (even though it was all stingy) – they came out easily but left small bumps where they had been.

So, that was my night. Dreams that I was awake and thinking about stuff like the above. Dreaming that I was awake and thinking these horrible thoughts and chiding myself for not being asleep. Asleep and dreaming that I was awake and reminding myself that I would be tired the next day because I wasn’t asleep.

Well, Freud? What the hell does that mean?

The Turbotastical Tales Challenge

>So I was thinking to myself: What should I blog about? And I came up blank. Utterly and completely blank.

I wanna blog, I do. But my idea bank is as empty as my money bank. So I was thinking you could help me.

Write one random sentence in the comments – any sentence – and I’ll write a story with that sentence in it and post it here.

This is something I used to do with my students when I was teaching and feeling too lazy to give them an actual presentation topic. They were often the best (and because it is me you can assume that by “best” I mean “most amusing”) presentations those little monsters ever wrote.

I’ll accept any sentence from anyone but I can’t promise I’ll a) write the stories in the order that the sentences are left, b) write anything interesting to read, c) acknowledge the sentence at all if left here by Stefan and/or d) refrain from deleting any sentences out of the comments that would lead to me writing a Penthouse Forum-esque story (unless that’s what I’m in the mood to do).

If anyone (read: my moms) doesn’t want (or understand how) to leave a sentence in the comments, feel free to email me (my handle is jodiwankenobi and Google handles my mail) the sentence and I’ll do it that way.

If no one leaves a sentence I’ll continue my banal blog posts about banal banality or worse; I’ll have nothing to write about at all. I mean, now that I don’t have poop on my walls or anything… I’m low on subject matter.

Let the games begin!

>Unnecissary pants parts

>So last week I bought myself some new underpants. And I have to ask: Is there any feeling the world quite as nice as putting on a new pair of underpants?

More to the point, the pants I bought were red and white boy-style shorts from American Apparel and they are deliciously comfortable. However, I don’t find the penis flap on the front of them entirely necessary.

In fact, I don’t think for me it is necessary at all. Yah. I don’t need that.

Way to blog, turbo

>I’ve been neglectful of my blog writing. I’ve been busy. Or something.

I’m better at writing stuff in the blog when I’m having a laugh… and the chuckles aren’t quite so thick and frequent as they once were just now.

I’m mostly just in a very uncertain spot… not sure how work is going, not sure how the new flat is going, not sure of other things I don’t wanna talk about. You shush.

Lots of things to think about these days and not a lot to write about. That’ll change. My brain will burn out eventually from the thinking and my mouth will start working. I believe that’s one of my greatest weaknesses… that my brain and mouth never work at the same time.

My hope is that April will be a brighter, more sunshiny month with promises of good stuff to come.

>Banal blog entry week continues


So, cooking in my apartment is difficult. I only have approximately 3 square inches of counter-space. I lack most of the apparatus necessary to cook anything decent. If I turn on the “oven” (and I use the term very, very loosely – it could either be considered a fairly kick-ass toaster oven or an extremely poorly endowed oven) the elements go out. I lack certain culinary skills. I call heating up a frozen pizza “cooking”. You get the picture.

I’m happy with no microwave oven, but as I’m eating at home more and more often, I find myself wishing I had a toaster. Because I’m eating more toast (bread is cheap). A toaster would make my life so much easier.

The problem when I “cook” is that I don’t pay attention. I have the attention span of a gnat. I start cooking and then I get distracted by something else – often by something shiny. And then I forget I’m cooking something and this leads to disaster.

Sigh. Most of the food I eat these days is either undercooked (I de-stove it before it is ready to ensure I won’t over cook it) or highly overcooked. Which means my house always smells like burned toast. Because I forget that I’m toasting something until I smell it and it is black on one side and still bread on the other. Ew.

I wish I had room on my counter (note: not counterS, counter. There is but one counter in my place. A little one.) for a toaster. Or I wish I had someone around to cook for me. Cooking for myself is balls. I bet someone else would rock at cooking toast. And then I wouldn’t even have to get up out of bed to eat it, let alone to cook it. That’d be cool.