The task ahead of me today is changing the public records of all of the books that will be on reserve at the Biological Station so that they say "Spring 08" instead of "Spring 07." Thus, I am hiding in my office, putting it off.
My monitor at home is completely busted. I turn it on, it flickers for a couple of seconds (just long enough for me to see the crazy hot picture of Evangeline Lilly that is my wallpaper) and then it goes black. In the 3.5 years I have owned this computer, this is the only problem I have encountered - and I take pride in that. But I have no idea how to get it fixed.
This is why I need a boyfriend. Because this will probably go for a long time without getting fixed, because I don't need my home computer. Just as I have gone months and months without a screen in my bedroom window. And half of my curtain rod hanging off of my wall because one of the screws popped out. I could very easily take care of these things myself. But I just don't care to. And boys like to do things.
Speaking of boyfriends, suddenly all of my housemates have boyfriends. Even the crazy ones. It's very strange, and it makes me feel like a creepy old cat lady who lives on the third floor.
But this computer malfunction is good, I think. I've been feeling a little too technology-addicted lately (she typed furiously into her blog ). I hate that I sit at a computer all day at work, and then come home and automatically sit down at my computer and do the same stupid things online that I was doing at work in order to pass the time.
I'm reading this book called "Against Happiness", and it's all about this author's struggle to accept the fact that he just isn't one of the shiny happy masses. Definitely something I can relate to. But it's also just amplifying my pessimism, which isn't a good thing at a time in my life when I'm trying to decide what exactly will come next. Much better to be hopeful and positive at times like these, I would think.
Sometimes I look down, at realize that what I'm wearing is terribly inappropriate for work. Much more cleave on display that I expected. But, this does play in to my grand scheme to get fired from this job for something awesome, like sexual harassment. If I'm going to leave anyway, might as well go out in style. And by 'in style' I mean 'enveloped by pending sexual harassment litigation and retraining orders.' Naturally.
Graduation is on Saturday. And consequently, I feel weird, and old, and kind of miserable. You know, I think it's this time of year. Something about the pervasive feeling of things coming to an end, maybe. For at least the past three years I have spent a few days in the early spring staring serious life crises right in their beady little eyes. Something tells me that this trend will continue for years to come, and that I ought to just get used to it.
I'm off to take the airs with my roommate, she's stopping by to visit me and take a stroll. Then, I will get back to my dull, meaningless, utterly routine day.
(cue Debbie Downer theme song.)
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