Mark Atwood (fallenpegasus) wrote,
Mark Atwood

Bitching and Moaning

Nothing but reruns and dontwanttonights on the ReplayTV.

Piano practice until the notes and lines swim in my vision, and it starts sounding worse instead of better. Just do that every day, and it would sound decent for the salon in April

No bills in the mail. That was nice.

A friendly coworker lent me his Firefly DVD set. He bought it on my recommendation of the show. It has 4 unaired episodes (curse you Fox, curse you to heck). I would like to do a Firefly marathon, but not tonight, not alone.

I wonder if I could bittorrent down parts two and three of Read or Die rapidly enough to be worth the effort?

Some dishonest waste of space out there has my computer. I only had my name all over it, and all over the PCMCIA cards, and my business cards in that case, and my name and phone number in the notebook it was with. It has my notebook. It has my journal from my Christmas trip. It has the cables for my camera, and for my music box. I want it back! And I want to take a tire iron to the shithead that took it. But I will be content with just getting it back.

It's too late to call the east coast and talk with JudyG.

The only consistent way to provoke a comment into my LJ is get political. And I have less and less heart for the fight.

I had a brainstorm for one of my personal opensource development projects, and to get out of the house, so I went back to the one `net-connected workstation I have access to now, and as soon as I sat down, my brain fuzzed up. I'm starting to really hate this cubicle. I'm starting to hate cubicles in general.

My legs are weary, from my hips to my soles, from the skin down to the bone. They're going to hurt on Friday, I know it. Why do muscles have to be torn and stressed to be strong. We don't have to abuse our teeth to make them hard. Whoever prattles on about "the perfection of the human body" hasn't taken a close enough look.

I have both The Headache, and a headache.

I need a hottub. And a massage. A good one.

Why am I so jumpy, grumpy, and pissy?

*lightbulb* (dig through garbage)

The free-sample "energy snack bar" I got at the supermarket this afternoon when buying lunch?

It was, indeed, full of peanut butter.


That doesn't make me feel any better.

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