It’s not bad yet or anything, but it’s not good. The computer migration that I was doing for myself which had been lightly botched (which is true, it wasn’t bad) is now less good. Because my efforts, now refocused with correct methods in mind, are still not working, and I am opting to no longer blame myself.
Something isn’t quite right. And I can’t put my finger on exactly why. I thought I might have had it wen I found a single file deep in the user caches that was tripping up proper system migration but… the Migration Assistant claimed it had done itself correctly, had not.
Now what?
NOW WHAT?
That was not all.
Here’s a vague bit of thought for you. Sometimes people as questions that are meant to be benign but they might just somehow come out funny or creepy or something. It happens.
But if you happen to gave a question that you don’t mean to be creepy but the fact of the matter is that it just is and while you don’t mean to be there’s just no two ways about it well… you’re just shit out of luck aren’t you.
Aren’t I.
At least I think it is.
I switched my computer to a new primary drive. In a sense this is like having the computer new again, except the old computer is still somewhere, data intact. If one carries out such a procedure, often times they will not just want to leave everything behind – they’ll want to take some things or everything with them to the quazi-new computer. I know I did.
So I went ahead and didn’t. I suppose my intent was to weed out worthless junk by starting fresh and pulling over what I wanted either knowing what that was off the top of my head or else grabbing it as I found that to be necessary.
Oh but that’s not what I really wanted. I really wanted to just switch to the new drive. But I managed to make a really simple operation difficult.
Everyone makes mistakes. We all make those little foibles. But transferring data happens to be my job. My full time job. It’s what I do. It’s what I figure out how to do when people don’t know how or think it’s impossible. (I also offer an extensive wealth of knowledge about all things related and many things not.)
Point is I come home at the end of the day and proceed to do for myself what I do for others all day and… Mess up. Not badly, but I think it’s at least fair to say.
Funny really.
Oh. And I’m smarter than management.
That is all.
I didn’t get around to seeing it in theaters. It looked good to me but the reviews started coming in panning it and it just didn’t seem like it was worth it, especially when movie prices are edging on 11 dollars a ticket.
The movie is Hancock. I heard from most sources and people who saw it that it was rubbish. But seeming now that it was out on DVD and BluRay reminded me that I had wanted to see it and now it was available to be seen at a much less substantial fee.
I laveled this a review but it’s not too much of a review, since all I really have to say is that it didn’t suck. I liked it. Phenomenal American Cinema classic? Probably not. Would I have regretted paying 11 dollars to have seen it? Probably not.
Hancock. Good movie.
It’s one of those things you never really think will happen to you. I am unsure of the usage of the phrase ‘happen to you’ because it reallys doesn’t involve me at all but it is applicable all the same.
I saw a sign posted at the diner tonight advertising an ‘emergency fundraiser’ for the benefit of a severly injured volunteer firefighter from a local town. I might have glanced, might have missed it all together if it hadn’t said emergency. Before I could really wonder about the concept of an emergency fundraiser I recognized the name if the injured.
It clicked surprisingly fast. The party in need was a man who had married a girl I’d been friends with some while ago. She had cut all contact with me around the time of her wedding. Never really a reason that I was aware of or made aware of.
I wasn’t sure it was the same guy. Well, I was sure…but wanted to verify. The sign offered the details I needed. Young wife, sixteen month old daughter. For it to be a coincidence was nearly impossible.
I wanted to say something to her. To offer sympathy and support. But should I? It was a long time ago. I am mostly very bad with periods of time but … We hadn’t talked in almost two years.
Too often have I gotten myself into trouble. But I never learn. It just seemed like something I should do.
So I sent her a note. I was surprised to find I couldn’t remember her maiden name. Again, no concept of how long it had been. Eventually I figured it out, and sent a note offering thoughts and prayers.
And she replied quickly. The sentiment was most appreciated.
Good. Hard to fathom how such a gesture could have gone wrong but… well I’ve seen it happen.
To the fireman’s fast and full recovery. To his wife and child. The best.
Today promises a great deal of arduous and tedious work at work. My pessimistic outlook on our schedule projects me being at work in thirteen hours time and leaving in about twenty five. Yes it looks grim. However I’m hoping my new plan for multiple machine imaging (reduced task duration through restoration and migration integration) will allow us to have the sensation of only two thirds the work.
A guy can dream can’t he?
I was thinking, later, and I got an old stab of that hopelessness. Mind you it is completely unrelated (at least consciously) to work. I don’t like that uve had two since discontinuing the one medication. Best to keep track. Also I was dizzy today. Additionally I’ve been having sensations of a kind of feeling where I’m conveying my thoughts to another and I know what it is I’m doing but then immediately after it seems as though I’ve done something and a different sentiment or feeling has been conveyed – a negative one, despite the message’s actual content being right. Strange I know.
I was thinking just now if I’d ever pick up writing again in the near future. I was thinking of where I could pick up if I opted to do so. Robot Story seemed like a likely prospect. I had ideas floating around in that field and while I did for many stories in many fields, Robot Story seems like it’s the most probable. The most possible. The most accessable.
I don’t know. Nothing’s happening yet.
For something like the past three years (I’m not quite sure. I haven’t kept very careful track.). I have been using two common prescription drugs to combat my thirteen year standing major depressive diagnosis. Or however it should be worded. Over the course of thirteen years it has not been a solid run, no, of course not. There were many of the ups and downs a person could have all worked in there. But considering the consistency of this latest stint it is remarkable that the dry lackluster stability of the past while has led to the discontinuing of one of said drugs. It was postulated that it could be beneficial in light of the fact that I have a staggering, resounding lack of ambition and motivation to do much of anything. I’m perfectly complacent in my relatively low paying job where it seems that corporate policy prevents proper, decent (monetary) recognition of my actual worth.
Come to think of it I don’t think I’m very complacent at all. But I sure appear to be. Mostly because I’m still there. Well, I believe I like what I do.
I like who I work with.
And when I’m there sometimes I don’t like doing what I’m doing. And sometimes I do. I suppose we all have days.
Of course we all have days.
The point of it all us that there hasn’t been some kind of breakthrough yet. It’s been a few days. Sometimes if I missed or skipped a dose (supreme laziness) there sometimes would seem be an edging onto some kind of other, even opposite, space where things were clearer and I’d actually have bursts of inspiration and almost … Almost do something.
Almost. But not quite.
It’s be nice to do something. I think I used to do things.
I used to have a field. And I used to do things in that field. I studied that field for three and a half years academically and spent thousands of dollars studying on my own. Frightening but true.
What do I have to show for it? A portfolio of shit, one pro bono success, these thousands of dollars of resources that I absorb like a compulsive fiend and then do nothing with.
And this.
Inspired by but not necessarily relating to John Millhaus Cusack.
And I must move to the UK. Or Poland. Have you seen the (admittedly top of the top) women that are coming out of those places?
As per usual nothing much is going on. Pretty much just working. Today there was a fair amount of trading of lunches which was no big deal but is actually very amusing in retrospect.
I bet that’s the wrong form of whose.
But it’s not… who is… so maybe I’ve got it right.
I can’t tell. I’m cold. I’m probably getting sick. I’m feeling irritable.
Snappy.
I question. Should I be excused?
I don’t really think so. I don’t let myself off the hook. Even if in the end I should. That’s part of the sickness.
Slow day at work. Slow slow slow. Bored. Not the normal bored either. It’s that worse kind of bored, the kind where even if you have things you could do, you just don’t want to. You’re too bored to even go ahead and occupy yourself. Partially because any of the things you could be doing you shouldn’t because there are other things you actually should be doing but you just don’t feel like it.
Buh.