I'm not getting my computer to work right.
My computer is freaking out. I can't get Internet Explorer to work properly every so often. The WalMart website will not load and does in fact cause IE to lock up utterly. Of course, the WalMart site is not Opera-friendly to the extent that I would like it to be, so I can't upload any of the digital pictures that I wanted to try to print with their service.
I'm not going to the gym.
I wanted to start getting fit. For many reasons. Berta sent me a message today about making an appointment for a doctor checkup, which is probably a good idea, but I'm putting it off. In fact, I'm not really doing anything because I can't concentrate on anything. I'm not even concentrating on this. It's on the periphery while I listen to music. (Powderfinger - Waiting for the Sun)
I'm not working.
As I said, I can't concentrate and so there is nothing being produced here but what you read. Yesterday, I described the entire project that I'm trying to complete to Berta in about an hour or so. I even had visuals. But today I have nothing and the nothing is growing into a whole lot of nothing. I think it's the Coke rotting my brain. It rots everything else. Maybe. Anyway, I'm switching to Cola Turka soon so I can turn into a Turk.
I'm not thinking about kittens.
You might think that's a reasonably good thing, but I'm also lying. I'm thinking a lot about kittens. Black kittens with green eyes that focus on me as I move around. So I suppose either way you look at it I am doing something.
I'm not feeling good about politics.
Do I like Bush? No. Am I a democrat? No. Do I want to see the technocrats in this country (I'm one of those) go down the tubes because the government doesn't know where the "On" switch is? Not really. Do I want to be sued by the RIAA because of something I may or may not have shared with someone else? No way. Dean? Please.
I'm not finishing LTS.
Oh, I intend to. I really intend to.
End of August, right?
I'm not reading fast enough.
I'm only on page 128 or so of Choke. Chuck Palahniuk is perverse. Stay away if you don't want to be completely offended. But then, the offense is everywhere. Anyway, every time I pick up the book I can feel my attitude shift into reading mode- I need to complete the book. I'm just not going fast enough. I need to read 15 more books before summer is over. I've got a lot of catching up to do.
I'm not getting the stinking D&D 3.5 books.
I refuse to waste my money on them. I saw them at the store. They are fundamentally unchanged from the 3.0. Similarly, I refuse to play by literal 3.5 rules, as I'm not going to have someone else's book shoved in my face every time I say that a spell/effect is supposed to work one way and the "new" rules say something different. I just don't care. I'm not going to write the editor of any magazines to get approval for these actions, either. I'm more excited to play Nobilis than 3.5. I'm more excited to play Unknown Armies. I'm more excited to stick my arms up to my elbows into electric cheese graters.
I'm not leaving work on time often enough.
I keep finding things to do at the end of the day that keep me there forever. Maybe it's because my caffeine supply runs out and start to think coherently. Maybe it's because I'm not getting into work at a reasonable time in the morning. Most likely the latter. I'll have to start kicking Berta out of the bathroom in the morning, as she's starting to pick up my bad habits and that will just have me getting to work too late entirely. But I'm not doing that, either.
I'm not as thrilled about summer as I should be.
Am I known as an outdoor person? No. So why should I stand up to other outdoor peoples' standards? I shouldn't. And I don't do that. But it would be nice to get out of the house now and then. And where is there to go? Yes, I can start doing all of those wonderful casual outdoor activities. Going for walks. Sign me up for old age right now. This whole paragraph is a metaphor for the spring in my step being about two blocks behind me. That last sentence was a metaphor in itself. The prior sentence was not metaphorical in the least.
I'm not going to Uno's for dinner tonight.
I really want one of their crappy no-sauce pizzas. With tomatoes.
There are some other things I'm not doing, but one of them is that I'm not telling you.
