Computer Woes

Not three days ago, I opened my laptop (a beautiful HP Envy that my next-door neighbor aunt gifted me a few years ago) to the screen cracked on the top center. To make matters worse, there was also (no surprised to anyone) an LCD leak. That’s about a $250 fee to fix, as one of my former kids told me (I think he was giving me the minimum price for parts and repair, because other people told me that it’s just cheaper to buy a new laptop). I asked Meester Binx if he could fix the dang thing, but he only told me that he was in possession of glue. Asked our IT guy (the assistant, not the actual IT guy), but he gave me an unsure shrug. Asked another coworker, and he said that it was a possibility for him, but he seemed unsure. Great.

As much as I love venturing into the DIY aspect of things, computer maintenance isn’t something I’m comfortable with. After searching online for the replacement screen, watching YouTube videos on replacing cracked screens, and window shopping on Amazon and Best Buy, I settled on just purchasing a Chromebook and getting on with my life. Because who needs fancy things like CD/DVD drives? I settled for an inexpensive Samsung item, skipped into the store this morning and felt crestfallen at the size of thing. Much smaller than my former netbook that I owned ages ago. Remembering all the crap that piece of shit machine gave me, I opted out of the decision.

While getting a bigger version of the Chromebook wasn’t out of the question, I felt torn. There were several “on clearance” items up for grabs that were around the same spectrum of the Chromebooks before me. So why pay the same price and get less when you can get something that’s worth it?

While I’m not married to HP as a brand (I’m in bed with Samsung currently), the best one was an HP Notebook. Without Microsoft Office because I don’t like the idea of paying a yearly subscription. Besides, I have Google Docs, LibreOffice, Hemingway, and (my favorite) FocusWriter for all my writing and blogging needs.

It will take some adjusting to a smaller laptop. I’m just glad it’s n0t painfully small.


The Problem of the Puer Aeternus

My mind is killing me. On the one hand, with Sertraline in my system, my mood’s improved significantly. While scientists haven’t found a cure (to my knowledge) for innate cynicism, I’m not as angry after work as before. Also my dips are spread apart (two since I started taking the pill in March), so that’s something to cheer for. But I’m still scatter-brained, if not more so. An idea popped into my brain (around the same time I started taking the pill) and, nearly two months later, I’ve not written one word on the subject. I have, however, taken A LOT of notes on the matter. I’ve used my journal more times in the last three or four weeks than I have in the three years since I started it. While I’ve ultimately decided that left pages are solely for note taking, I have filled quite a bit of the daily thoughts right page. And both sides are related to the idea that I had while reading (you guessed it!) the side effects to Zoloft.

Because at the tail-end of 2015 I decided to dedicate 2016 to exclusively reading science fiction, horror, fantasy, and speculative fiction, I’ve been reading A LOT of Lovecraft mythos and any related texts. A story here. A story there. And the more I left myself drift into the world, the more the idea was fed. And while I don’t have one single clue where I want this idea to lead, I do know that a story (or several) can come of it. Revision, I’m told, is the greatest thing a writer can do to his stories, and a lot of my old tales and back burner ideas are coming to fruition with a twist.

And while journaling gives me a sense of control of my ideas, I wish I could focus on a project at a time. That’s not, sadly, how my mind works. I’m brainstorming stories, poems, essays, and the layout of my and Shaun’s backyard garden. Trying to figure out how to finance the renovations that my home so desperately needs. Trying to figure out if getting a manufactured house is a better deal. Figuring out if I’d actually use a bench swing in the backyard, right smack in the middle of our garden, beneath the large mesquite tree. I’m looking into things that would help my kiddo learn his letters, his numbers, his shapes, and improve his speech. I’m trying to make this blog more interesting, but I don’t have a niche and I don’t think I’m ever going to have one. Is that so wrong? I’m paying to keep my journal public. Let’s face it though, none of this is edited or matters to the average reader. Most of you just come to read the old posts about Bailey Jay or Izzy Hilton (only to be disappointed by the fact that none of those posts have to do with porn).

Then there’s work. And I don’t really want to get into the cha-cha-changes happening at [redacted] because my level of apathy has reached all new heights. I haven’t heard a single word about the other library job in such a long time, I’m sure that it’s just a pipe dream. I’ll start looking for employment in other venues because I don’t know how much of the dramatic bullshit I can take (well, when it involves me).