Naked, Cold, and a Homophone

It feels strange to be writing on so naked a machine.  Even my ephemeral school desktop has more held over documents than this new laptop. 

I can finally get to Word without the doomsday countdown warning my inability to access word files in any reasonable sort of way.  After an hour of chat with the nice Eastern MS Office tech, I found a tab that would’ve gotten me around a need for an email address in under three seconds.  Now I’ve a background download working at a snail’s pace through the salt flats over this guest-service aether-net, a thing I won’t shut down out of worry over social faux pas, even as it eats my power.  It is the action Pann G. suggested I take.  Wouldn’t do to disregard his advice after we’d had a conversation.

It’s damnable cold here.  In the state as well, but I’m referring to this coffee shop.  The only open table was one by the ill-insulated door. It doesn’t even have an outlet, other than the aforementioned one for humans.  Call this stress testing Lenovo batteries.

My phone has made me paranoid, I carry the chargers for both this and that every (both) times I travel with them.  I think I’ve sadly become a member of that generation unable to endure boredom, short attention span spurred on by quick edits and over-doses of pseudo-facts.  At least I read.  Meditation helps.

I went to yoga yesterday for the first time in two weeks.  I was happy immediately after, regretted my attendance after that, and feel improved today.  My spine still isn’t situated quite right but I’m tired of waiting.  I am not the sort for patience to do much good.  Kung fu tonight.  Maybe I can punch my way to health.  I’ll go lightly on the  kicking this time.

I’ve got scant few things due for school.  This semester still hasn’t begun.  I can’t blame the drugs anymore, I’m off any that might alter my chrono-sense.  I was late with one paper.  There’s only been one paper.  I’ve another with a blurry date that probably should have been finished already.  I’ve got the editor’s introduction to write for From the Fallout Shelter.  I’ve got outlines and future papers I could work on, but still, closer to spring break than the start of the semester and there’s been nothing to break me of my sense that I’m just biding time until the twelve year enlargement of a four year process comes to an end.  Then a year, then grad school.

There are other things with which to preoccupy myself.  The depression isn’t so rabid with my having slept and repaired but it still hunts.  I can’t throw full on into kung fu or I’ll damage something again.  I might return to lifting, but the same applies.  As for the other exercise, the lack of school dates should give me time to write outside of it.  I do feel connected to writing again, though doubt over the quality of my fiction given its publishing snubs somewhat sullies the expectation.  There’s a competition deadlined friday.  Another the week after, one two weeks after that and one a month after.  I don’t have the space or the freedom to mire in anything long-form, but six short forms should suffice, should fit the short temper and short attention span.

This is not a post.  This is a consciousness streamed rant, and for that I apologize.

Better posts to come.

The future looms.

Dun dun dun!

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