duck-shaped pain


3 January 2001
The Instinct For Self-Preservation

Despite all my efforts to the contrary [1], my presence was required at work yesterday. I mean, someone had to sit there for four hours watching ScanDisk do its thing on the office computers, so why shouldn't it be me?

My level of computer knowledge is extensive in some areas, scanty in far more. Still, at the last few jobs I've had, I've somehow acquired the undeserved title of The Person Who Can Make The Computers Work Again. This is an okay title to have when the problems you have to solve day in and out are things like mice becoming unplugged from keyboards and people accidentally turning off their power strips ("…and then the screen just went BLANK!").

Sometimes, though, things happen and you have no idea why. The genius, I guess, of being The Person Who Can Make The Computers Work Again is that people will just get out of your way and let you do anything you want to their machines, no matter how odd it looks or how long it takes. There's a lot of random tasks that can be performed under the guise of "fixing" a computer – I just haven't found a way to explain what problems I hope to solve through playing solitaire.

So far, so good this year. I almost never make any resolutions (except those that I know I'm going to be able to easily keep: one year, my resolutions were to buy more CDs and sleep more, both of which I handily fulfilled), but I did this year, feeling much more self-improved than usual.

So, they are:

  • To write for at least 15 minutes a day, either here or in the paper journal

  • Update this here thing at least close to daily (yeah, I missed yesterday, but I didn't make the resolution until this morning, so I'm safe)

  • Get off my ass and move out of town

  • Figure out how to cook a decent steak

  • Rid myself of the enormous stacks of half-read magazines I own

  • Return library books on time

And, old favorites returning for another year:

  • Buy more CDs

  • Sleep more

Pretty scant, really.

[1] Damn pajamas.

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