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2001-12-13 / 11:49 a.m. ~Being Here, Now, and Thinking of the Future~ It�s cold and raining, fog is hanging low over the trees, it�s really a lovely, wintry looking day. Inside it�s cozy, and lately I actually feel really comfortable here at work. Almost like I�d rather be here, listening to the women talk about their lives, plans to go dancing, or shopping, etc., than be home with my computer calling out to me: �Just check your email, it won�t take long�just look and see what the girls wrote about you today�just visit that Bitchfest site, just for a minute, it won�t hurt, you won�t feel a thing�. My home PC has turned into one of those evil machines from some Sci-Fi movie. What�s that movie with that British actress, the one where her computer rapes her? She�s the one from �Shampoo��oh, it�s sleazy, I�ve only seen a little of it�oh well. I can�t think of it right now. I�ve been trying to decide what to do. Do I leave Diaryland? Do I start another diary? Do I try to write a book instead? Do I have a diary without a guestbook, like Bobby Burgess? Can I delete the current guestbook, the url? I�ve written to tech help at Signmyguestbook.com, but I�m thinking that may be Andrew, and he never responded after the last couple emails I wrote him. We�ll see. I feel I don�t want to write in that thing anymore, the girls didn�t get what I was doing. I was being sarcastic, trying to be funny at times, trying to create a weblog there, a new diary in the guestbook, sort of, and quote them too, but it wasn�t going over well. I meant well. I wanted to vent, to let them vent, to point things out, to clear things up, but, well, it didn�t work. I have these problems on the �net. I don�t play well with others, I�m horrible in group situations, in general. I�m much better one on one, but even then, especially on the �net, where my sarcastic wit is totally lost, I suck. I�m not kidding, I know this to be true. So, what�s the answer? I shouldn�t have an online diary, I think. I mean, is there a point in writing a diary for just four or five people, knowing who they are, not asking anyone else to read it, no strangers surfing on in�? Face it, I can never unlock this thing. One or two of those girls will be waiting for just such a moment, I know this, they are total freaks, and they will sit at their computers day and night, keeping a window open, one with my diary in it, just waiting for it to be open again � no, I�m serious, it�s really bad, you can�t believe how incredibly bad this has become � and once it�s open again, next month, two years from now, they�ll jump in, read it, misinterpret it, and criticize it, all the hell over the �net. One of those web designers will create an �I Hate Joleen� web site. You doubt met? Oh my, have you been paying attention? The one, Inez/Starli, wants to put her fist up my ass. She said so. Sigh. Really, I just let out a big sigh. I�m sitting in my cubicle, it�s 10:28 a.m. My radio is on, my favorite college radio station, but I�ve turned it down so low I can barely hear it. I really don�t want to disturb anyone. I can hear Penelope�s radio, softly playing in the cubicle in front of mine. There is a poinsettia in the corner, at the top of our cubicles, Penelope�s and mine, where they join, I see it above my monitor, in my peripheral vision. I can look out an emergency exit door, through the mini blinds there, and see the sky, white and gray, raindrops dotting the glass. It�s quiet, the phone is not ringing, I�ve processed my initial paperwork, just waiting for more. At my break, if there is an internet PC available, I�ll upload this entry, check my email, and more than likely find something upsetting waiting for me, someone else wrote something in the guestbook, someone wrote nasty email, someone did something, someone else can�t let go. I�ll be stressed, again. I had initially deleted everything about the auction from the guestbook, and removed the HTML for the entry box! I figured that would end it. Really, and I was so freaked out when I looked to see two entries, �bitch� and �grow up�, both anonymous, within minutes of each other, in a guestbook with no way to leave an entry. Freaked out. I still don�t know how they did that. I added it back, and well, everyone knows the rest. I�m not embarrassed, nor ashamed, nor guilty, just tired, stressed, aggravated, irate at times, just pissed at others, sad sometimes, sometimes very depressed, and overall, more than anything else, frustrated. I live my life frustrated, in general. Last night�s �Felicity� was really heavy. Noel is really struggling with his life, his focus, his direction, and his unrequited love for Felicity. Felicity is struggling with losing Noel as a friend, and Ben as her lover/boyfriend, Javier is struggling with living on Felicity�s couch, breaking up with his husband, Ben is struggling with his studies, and his breakup with Felicity, whom he obviously still loves intensely, but now he�s slept with another woman, so maybe he feels he�s gotten back at her for sleeping with Noel. But Felicity is so strong, it makes me sick, no one is that strong, how is it that she deals with everything so calmly? It�s not realistic. I want to be her. Oooooo, tonight is a good TV night, �Survivor�, watch people be stupid on national television, I love reality shows!, then the finale of �Amazing Race�, the best reality show ever, I think, and then �CSI�. If only I can go home and not turn on the PC, not be so curious I can�t help myself. I have to find a way to wean myself away, to not just let go of one bad situation, but focus on just writing, just updating the diary, if that�s what I want, maybe checking email and reading my favorite diaries once a day, er, maybe twice. That sounds good. The rest, the investigating, the wondering, the suspicions, but no answers, no resolution, no, it�s unhealthy. It�s very, very bad. I was thinking yesterday�I wish my brother had never given me that PC. I would never have bought one for myself, I don�t want to afford it, I won�t charge it and pay interest, I won�t save for it, I never would�ve gotten one, I�d be like a Luddite, continuing to shun computers, the internet, cell phones, DVD players, etc. I�d stick to my ancient VCR, my phone with the cord on it, throw the cordless away, I�d watch my digital cable, but that and electricity would be my only concessions to the modern age. To technology, the scourge of humankind. I think I�m going to aspire to live as a hermit. I want a nice home, fully accommodated, with electricity, my ancient VCR and stereo, and digital cable. But I won�t work, I�ll stay home, I�ll write, I�ll go out into the wilderness to observe nature, I�ll have a pair of binoculars for watching birds and large animals off in the distance. The small animals scurrying about the forest floor, the prairie grasses, will become my friends, I�ll live with two or three cats, Norma and Gladys, and one or two more. I�ll acquire a down-on-his-luck puppy, or a large, mutt-like stray, maybe two, we�ll romp in the wilderness. I�ll be a regular Marty Stouffer, maybe documenting all I see not just in words, but with a video camera, another concession to the modern age. During the afternoons I�ll paint the clouds, flowers, trees, at night I�ll watch only the best television shows, then read for hours, play nighttime games with the animals. I have actual work to do now, not much, but it�s enough to distract me from my future plans. I�ll get to them later. I�m being here, now. Cost of the War in Iraq
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