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2001-11-25 / 6:41 p.m. ~Still Not Satisfied~ My right shoulder is sore, my right hand tingly, my fingers numb, it's my "mouse" hand, it's been raised higher than my lap, clicking, doing "mouse" things, and I'm so tired of seemingly wasting my time here, on this computer, or thinking I'm wasting time here, when this is really all I want to do, now. I went to bed at 7:00 this morning, up all night working on my new diary layout, finding backgrounds, adjusting HTML, tables, fonts, sizes, colors, color charts, clicking, seeing it as it looks, seeing it in code, doing the "older" page, thinking, changing my mind, waiting for images to download, uploading others, transferring, coding, looking, checking, obsessed, looking at the little clock in the lower right corner, all night, another hour gone by, then another, no, two. And now, I'm back, I'm still not satisfied, spent so much time looking for a Native American style caligraphic font, something in which I could write my new diary title at the top of the page, but I wouldn't know how to do that either, and I'd have to find out, go to another page, a tutorial, save it as a .gif, and add it to my page, and my right shoulder is sore, my fingers cold. What about the laundry? The dust? The carpet? The dishes? Cooking? Groceries? Reading? Am I so absorbed just so I can ignore all else? Oh good, more reasons to be angry at myself. And then reading other diaries, trying to find some that are updated, is that too much to ask? Find a good one and the person only writes from work, only during the week, take a vacation, forget about it. Days off. And the ones who've given up, and do I remove them from my favorites? They see that sort of thing, they'll be offended, but what's the point? And what's the point of the ones who list me when they've been gone for months? Ack! It's too much. I liked it better when I lost interest, when I didn't even log on in a whole day. When I didn't care anymore. And what good is a layout when my writing sucks? I've read back a few pages and I don't know what I was thinking, how could I like this drivel? It pales in comparison. Ah....I'm comparing again. Yes. Last night, this morning, as I was drifting off to sleep, I couldn't stop thinking of the tweaking I wanted to do, and part of me still wants to. I want to get into web design. I find it wildly compelling, challenging, totally creative and endless. This is so fascinating to me. But it's a time suck and I have things to do. I'm seeking balance now, and I know it's here somewhere. Just to pull off these glasses, give my shoulder, my "mouse" arm/hand a rest. I'll fall back on my other favorite pasttime, digital cable TV. So many channels, what's on?! I hate what a slug I am, and I ask have I always been this way? Is this me? Wasn't there a time when I took pride in my surroundings? When I had people over, when I entertained, when I cooked for a small crowd? Where is that me? What became of me, and how did I get here? Again, I'm sick of myself right now, and I still want to find that font I'm looking for, I can see it, in my mind's eye, I see it, and I don't want to spend 8 or 9 more hours searching, even if I do know it's here. And I want the perfect layout, but why? Who cares? I thought all I cared about was the writing, but I don't, it's the visual image too. It's the constant dichotomy that is inside of me, the words, the images, the words, the images. I'm getting off now, really, I have to, to save my soul. I have to impose limits, somehow. Or I will burn out and never want to do anything again. Cost of the War in Iraq
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