I’m tapping at my laptop for the first time in a few days. It’s been downright unpleasant to write lately and I decided that something needed to be done. To this end, I backed up my computer then reformatted my hard drive. After meticulously reinstalling only my most essential software (Mac OS X and iLife), my heart sank.
Same old problems flared back up. Dog slow. I continued working the problem and have finally accepted that I need professional help.
Complicating matters is the burning sensation I feel from NOT writing. Note pads are not an option. Moving my blog to Phillie is also not an option. I need to be mobile when I write. I need to sit in coffee shops and muse and futz and tap away.
In the meantime I’ve been doing other things. Sat on my balcony yesterday soaking up the sun with a beer in one hand and a box of leftover pizza in the other. Pretty damned perfect moment.
Didn’t have anything pressing to get to either. Phillie was in the midst of a two-hour render, so I was already, technically speaking, being productive at work.
Finally used my new gym membership too. The fire alarm in my building went off at 8pm. I finished up some things on Phillie then set him to work on another render. The fire alarm goes off every four months or so, and only once was there actually a fire (elevator motor on the roof overheated). Usually someone’s kid is the culprit. Never did find out the cause of this last one, but regardless, the opportunity to hit the gym presented itself.
And now after re-reading everything I just wrote, I’m asking myself what the hell this burning sensation to write was all about. Clearly nothing profound was lurking in them thar paragraphs. The balcony was pretty cool, but otherwise it was just me bitching about my computer.
Just what am I doing here anyway? This thing started off as a travelogue through Romania a few years back. Re-read those early articles to a friend the other day. Every day was an exotic new adventure. My day to day life in Regina has a different emphasis.
But then again, maybe not. All I do is write about my day and my thoughts about the day. Doesn’t matter where I am or what I did. My laptop problems go beyond inconvenience. It affects my way of being. It affects my freedom to express myself in the way I choose to express myself. A big part of my life has emerged dysfunctional and needs addressing. I guess putting THAT into words is what I’ve been burning to get out.