Wednesday, September 21, 2005All The Little Shit
I don't know what's going on, but it seems like all week things just haven't been going right. Not big things, mind you -- on a larger scale, things are still fine -- just the endless little stuff. I try to go see the college nurse, but she's out for two days. I try to go up to the media lab to get myself a portable hard drive checked out, but the lady who runs it is out all week with the flu. I try to schedule some editing time, but nobody's updated the sign-up sheets in a week, so I can't. I try to get one of the IT guys to help me with the hard drive problem, but they're apparently out of their fishbowl for seven out of eight hours every day. I try to get a book for my academic work, but it ends up going to the wrong address; I try to correct the error, but the customer service system keeps throwing me error messages. I try to contact a person about it, and they refer me back to the dysfunctional system. And so on and so on, for days now.
Each of these things in itself is merely annoying, no big thing, nothing to get upset over. But as they accumulate, the temptation to lose one's shit grows and grows. Someone told me once that when lots of little things start going wrong, it's because something wonderful is trying to be born into your life -- the nuisances serve as a distraction to keep you from sabotaging your own good fortune. That would be nice if it turns out to be true.
And now I've got hippies singing Simon and Garfunkel songs under my window. Not to me -- this is no serenade -- I'm not even sure who the hell they are, or if they're students here or not. They're just there. Singing. Badly. While I try to study.
On the other hand, people have been coming up to me all days, saying "happy birthday!" This is weird, because it's not my birthday -- I've still got a good month and a half left in my 20s, and I don't want to be rushed through it. Not that it's objectionable to have people wish me a happy birthday, regardless of whether it is or isn't actually my birthday, it's just strange. Especially considering that for the most part I've never talked to these people, and I've never told anyone what my birthday is -- from my perspective, this phenomenon is completely spontaneous. I can only assume that they've got me confused with someone else.
And the turkeys were back yesterday, all ten of them, pecking in the grass right under my window. There's a big stand of yew or juniper or something like that right next to my window, so it's popular with birds, which I like a lot.
I've had a couple of really long blog posts simmering in my mind, but I'm trying to hold them back in the hope that they're more a symptom of my repressed need to communicate -- and therefore, if I keep it bottled up and let the pressure build a bit more, I can focus it all into academic writing, which would be vastly more beneficial to me than posting on this blog. Not that y'all aren't important to me -- you are -- but I don't get any credit for you.
Speaking of which... I've got work to do. |