How to Deal
Mar. 13th, 2004 02:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedeadlyhookThanks to everyone for the feedback on Just Stake Me. I've bumped up the font size one tiny bit to what I'd like to make the new standard on the current page, so if this bothers anyone, please let me know.
Today, my mood is light years ahead of where I've been for the last few days. But just for the sake of venting....
My tech woes, for those who have been following them, hit a crisis point yesterday. The old Apple G3 laptop, which was meant to be my backup while the husband needs to work on the main machine, and which we'd taken to be fixed... I found out it wasn't. Fixed, I mean. The keyboard is shot. The space bar and delete key don't work. And since we'd had the system wiped and reinstalled, it's definitely a hardware problem. And given the way I type, with endless amounts of backing and filling - which pretty much explains why the keys wore out, I guess - that particular combo of flaws renders the machine, for me anyway, absolutely useless.
I discovered this little problem only after another episode of sudden back pain - about halfway on the walk to work yesterday, was hit by a muscle cramp so severe my ribcage wouldn't allow much movement by the way of breathing. Didn't take genius to realize that I was being visited by the muscle spasm fairy because of recent stress (mentally titling hypothetical thesis "Stress and Your Body: Cause and Effect"). Struggled the mile and a half home, flopped flat on my back on the couch with a heating pad, and tried to summon up the energy to do some writing, take my mind off it. Then the laptop craps out on me.
Which was pretty much the last straw. Couldn't write. Couldn't go to work. Body not cooperating. Couldn't even take refuge in video game, as I'd reached a level where some lame boss that a co-worker and I had double-teamed to death in about 30 seconds turned out to be nearly impossible to take alone - after having my ass kicked about eight times the night before, I'd given up in exhaustion. Couldn't even read without wanting to write about it, since everything I'm currently reading is kind of topically related. Frustration had hit such a level that mid-afternoon on a bright, sunny day I was sitting there crying like a kid having a tantrum.
From the perspective of this morning, it's amazing how depressed this got me - one crappy machine failure, and all of a sudden it was like I was teenager again. Back in my teensey little hometown that I'd explored every inch of by the age of twelve, getting wretchedly used to the knowledge that I had another six years of cooling my heels to look forward to. No way out but the stereotypically miserable running away from home option, no prom date likely to be culled from the same pool of boys I'd gone to grade school with (can't count myself as a booster of small town life in this regard, sorry). That feeling of being locked in place, helpless... that's not an emotion I can deal with anymore. I had a bellyful of it then, my entire junior high/high school life's worth, and now that I'm adult with the power to steer my own ship, I've got no patience for it at all. Not being able to do the things I want when I want to do them... even a simple thing like not being able to jot down my thoughts when the mood strikes me and wow, I think I've just explained to myself why I had to quit my old job... that just drives me bugnuts. I hate being blocked. It makes me want to tear things to pieces, or weep like a widow, or both.
But here's where the "adult life" philosophy comes in. Adult life, to my mind, is all about problem solving - apply yourself to what's making you miserable and fix it. Even if solving the problem in this case was gonna cost a thousand dollars to buy a new goddamned machine... well, what's better, money or sanity? Not that I was happy about the money thing. Fuck.
Anyway, with that in mind, I set out for work again, generally seething and miserable, but couldn't think of anything better to do. Back pain aside, I couldn't deal with cycling my thoughts on the subject another damn minute, or making the hubby miserable by being sad and furious about something he couldn't fix.
Rode the bus angry, listening loud couple in the back gabbing like shallow teens in lust (she was a cheerleader and kept practicing faux cheers in a loud voice; I was itching to slap her); mood lifted slightly when the couple was replaced by a three gangsta types comparing stories about their sexual escapades and quoting from Chappelle's Show. (The leader repeated the "I'm Rick James, bitch!" story and regaled his buds about some girl who'd been hanging around lately, the only detail of which he could remember was, "She was white," which for some reason brought an amused smile to my face.)
Arrived at work to find everyone invovled in rearranging the videotape/DVD library, an organizational task I could contribute to without much physical effort; felt immensely better with something constructive to focus on and people to talk to. Co-workers are fine people and always fun. Indulged in gossip about old office. Also reliably entertaining. Got party invite for next week. Cool! Ended up taking group of co-workers to dinner with co-workers at one of our favorite places, a trendy Szechuan restaurant called "Spices" (on 8th Ave. near Clement, although "Spices II," the 6th Ave. branch, is bigger and fancier, and our usual default choice for groups, but it was Friday-night packed). Overate, but what the hell. Awesome food. Finally learned how to use that LJ meme program which had been puzzling the hell out of me, thanks to coworker Winnie - more on that later, and doubtless ridiculous meme posts a go-go to come.
Huge uplift comes when the hubby does brilliant again: realizes that he can hook up a USB keyboard to the laptop and thus solve the typing problem. Because he's a sweetie and a genius. Felt bolstered enough by all these developments that after everyone had gone home, I fired up the video game to give it another try, and surprised myself by finally kicking that boss's ass on the first try! Out of sheer desperation, had employed actual battle tactics including lots of running and dodging, and backslamming him with my big-ass morningstar... and it worked. Who'da thunk my original technique of going toe-to-toe with him and taking it on the chin might not be the best plan? (Oh, wait, that was Buffy.) Went to bed and slept the sleep of the righteous and satisfied.
So end of frustrating day. The world feels a fine place again (current political rages excepted). I feel inspired all over again. Yay.
Today, my mood is light years ahead of where I've been for the last few days. But just for the sake of venting....
My tech woes, for those who have been following them, hit a crisis point yesterday. The old Apple G3 laptop, which was meant to be my backup while the husband needs to work on the main machine, and which we'd taken to be fixed... I found out it wasn't. Fixed, I mean. The keyboard is shot. The space bar and delete key don't work. And since we'd had the system wiped and reinstalled, it's definitely a hardware problem. And given the way I type, with endless amounts of backing and filling - which pretty much explains why the keys wore out, I guess - that particular combo of flaws renders the machine, for me anyway, absolutely useless.
I discovered this little problem only after another episode of sudden back pain - about halfway on the walk to work yesterday, was hit by a muscle cramp so severe my ribcage wouldn't allow much movement by the way of breathing. Didn't take genius to realize that I was being visited by the muscle spasm fairy because of recent stress (mentally titling hypothetical thesis "Stress and Your Body: Cause and Effect"). Struggled the mile and a half home, flopped flat on my back on the couch with a heating pad, and tried to summon up the energy to do some writing, take my mind off it. Then the laptop craps out on me.
Which was pretty much the last straw. Couldn't write. Couldn't go to work. Body not cooperating. Couldn't even take refuge in video game, as I'd reached a level where some lame boss that a co-worker and I had double-teamed to death in about 30 seconds turned out to be nearly impossible to take alone - after having my ass kicked about eight times the night before, I'd given up in exhaustion. Couldn't even read without wanting to write about it, since everything I'm currently reading is kind of topically related. Frustration had hit such a level that mid-afternoon on a bright, sunny day I was sitting there crying like a kid having a tantrum.
From the perspective of this morning, it's amazing how depressed this got me - one crappy machine failure, and all of a sudden it was like I was teenager again. Back in my teensey little hometown that I'd explored every inch of by the age of twelve, getting wretchedly used to the knowledge that I had another six years of cooling my heels to look forward to. No way out but the stereotypically miserable running away from home option, no prom date likely to be culled from the same pool of boys I'd gone to grade school with (can't count myself as a booster of small town life in this regard, sorry). That feeling of being locked in place, helpless... that's not an emotion I can deal with anymore. I had a bellyful of it then, my entire junior high/high school life's worth, and now that I'm adult with the power to steer my own ship, I've got no patience for it at all. Not being able to do the things I want when I want to do them... even a simple thing like not being able to jot down my thoughts when the mood strikes me and wow, I think I've just explained to myself why I had to quit my old job... that just drives me bugnuts. I hate being blocked. It makes me want to tear things to pieces, or weep like a widow, or both.
But here's where the "adult life" philosophy comes in. Adult life, to my mind, is all about problem solving - apply yourself to what's making you miserable and fix it. Even if solving the problem in this case was gonna cost a thousand dollars to buy a new goddamned machine... well, what's better, money or sanity? Not that I was happy about the money thing. Fuck.
Anyway, with that in mind, I set out for work again, generally seething and miserable, but couldn't think of anything better to do. Back pain aside, I couldn't deal with cycling my thoughts on the subject another damn minute, or making the hubby miserable by being sad and furious about something he couldn't fix.
Rode the bus angry, listening loud couple in the back gabbing like shallow teens in lust (she was a cheerleader and kept practicing faux cheers in a loud voice; I was itching to slap her); mood lifted slightly when the couple was replaced by a three gangsta types comparing stories about their sexual escapades and quoting from Chappelle's Show. (The leader repeated the "I'm Rick James, bitch!" story and regaled his buds about some girl who'd been hanging around lately, the only detail of which he could remember was, "She was white," which for some reason brought an amused smile to my face.)
Arrived at work to find everyone invovled in rearranging the videotape/DVD library, an organizational task I could contribute to without much physical effort; felt immensely better with something constructive to focus on and people to talk to. Co-workers are fine people and always fun. Indulged in gossip about old office. Also reliably entertaining. Got party invite for next week. Cool! Ended up taking group of co-workers to dinner with co-workers at one of our favorite places, a trendy Szechuan restaurant called "Spices" (on 8th Ave. near Clement, although "Spices II," the 6th Ave. branch, is bigger and fancier, and our usual default choice for groups, but it was Friday-night packed). Overate, but what the hell. Awesome food. Finally learned how to use that LJ meme program which had been puzzling the hell out of me, thanks to coworker Winnie - more on that later, and doubtless ridiculous meme posts a go-go to come.
Huge uplift comes when the hubby does brilliant again: realizes that he can hook up a USB keyboard to the laptop and thus solve the typing problem. Because he's a sweetie and a genius. Felt bolstered enough by all these developments that after everyone had gone home, I fired up the video game to give it another try, and surprised myself by finally kicking that boss's ass on the first try! Out of sheer desperation, had employed actual battle tactics including lots of running and dodging, and backslamming him with my big-ass morningstar... and it worked. Who'da thunk my original technique of going toe-to-toe with him and taking it on the chin might not be the best plan? (Oh, wait, that was Buffy.) Went to bed and slept the sleep of the righteous and satisfied.
So end of frustrating day. The world feels a fine place again (current political rages excepted). I feel inspired all over again. Yay.
