Princess & the Flickering Screen

SFPSFPSFP.

You wanna know what that is? Me trying to be demure and not actually type shit, fuck, piss. Excuse my freaking French.

But then my heritage is French.

Am I upset about global warming? Yes, but that's not why I'm going to rant. The concurrent meltdown of our economy? No. No, and no.

I have been doing library work all day on the PC they sent me because my work iBook died (as all you weary readers remember). Actually, the work ibook isn't actually dead: it is on life support. I've got a vise with a Kerr canning lid on it to keep it running. If I had an actual workable computer of my own, I'd take a picture and show you.

But I don't. And my eyes hurt sooooo much after a day on this freaking computer. (At one point during the day, tongue planted firmly in cheek, I said to Mario, "How do people live like this?")

I didn't tell you that I did go and buy another laptop. Mario sold some of his old magazines and we got enough to buy a used computer from someone on craigslist. I won't go into many details except to say it was a weird experience. Okay, I'll say a little more. The woman first said the computer still had Applecare. It didn't. Then she said it was 18 months old. It was three years old. And she said it was in perfect working order. BUT the screen flickers, which we didn't notice when we picked it up. So I can't use the freaking thing. And and and, she didn't have the disks right then and she kept complaining about being a single mother and we have to be quiet because you'll wake up the baby and I'll look for the disks later. And later, when we called and asked for the disks, she accused us of harassing her! (With Apple computers you can't do anything without the start up disks--can't get your mail, can't put in your preferences, can't even change the town on the weather so you can get weather for your own town--the horror, the horror.)

Upshot is, we have five computers in this house now and I can't use any of them!!!!! So we're going to sell the one we just bought--if anyone has any money left to buy it--and then that's it. I'm computer-less.

I'm trying not to panic about all this. I'm going into that scary place. How will I make a living? How will I ever write again? (Yes, I can write on legal pads but my words will have to go into a computer eventually and I ain't got the bucks to hire anyone to do that!!!!)

Panic, panic, panic.

My problem is that I do very well on vacation. Once I'm home, I don't do so well.

On the upside, I got an art piece into the juried art show here in town. And next Saturday I'll do a reading at my library to kick off Ruby's Imagine. And there was a nice article in the paper about me. And I got into Kindling Words next spring. (I wonder if I'll be writing by then?)

So I'm not sure when you'll hear from me again.

I'm thinking maybe I'll go out into the world and wander. Become a mystic. Why? Because I like the sound of mystic rather than bum.

Last night I dreamed of leprechauns. It was grand. This dream was filled with men. I was getting married. But things were going wrong with the wedding plans and were out of my control. I was in a...panic. And then there were these leprechauns. (Did you know that the Irish god Lugh was probably the "model" for leprechauns? The god of light. And leprechauns were the treasure keepers. The guards of all that was precious. I guess in the dream I was the treasure.) They were dressed like men in my dream but I knew them for what they were. And when I thought all was lost and I wasn't going to get my wedding, the leprechauns and the other men, headed by my man, the man I was going to marry, came to show me they had arranged everything. I was going to get my wedding, my ceremony, my ritual outside under the trees. And my man kissed me, this beautiful, short, silver-haired man. What a kiss.

Just thinking of it makes my panic fall away. I just have to let all this useless stuff go. Swim with the Old Mermaids. Dance with the leprechauns. Ahhhhh.

Okay, maybe I won't become a mystic. I actually don't think it's a viable career path.

Maybe politics.

I shall go upstairs now and see my husband. He's annoyed with me because I won't let him look for another computer for me. I can't let another computer into this house until we rid ourselves of some of the ones we have. I'm afraid they will keep multiplying in the night when we're asleep.

Off I go.

May You Compute in Beauty!