Time Heals All Wounds.. And Then Kills the Patient
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Morning
Morning
Sun Dec 2 11:07:03 2001
I sleep with the machines
Topics:

I am at work. I've been spending hours making the systems happy. Don't worry -- on weekends I'm supposed to be at work :) There's a lot of ugliness on the systems here. Their previous manager wasn't really a sysadmin, and did a lot of things that I need to clean up. I guess a company does need to reach a certain size in order to need a sysadmin, but the first sysadmin to come along really has a heck of a job.

Last night was my second time spending the night here. It was more comfortable this time -- I arranged the pillows better. I still have a tendency not to go to bed when my shift is over because there's more stuff to do, but it's leaving me very tired now. Last night before I went to sleep, I was alone for about 5 hours. And I'm alone now too. It reminds me of the way I used to live before Martha and before I had pets. Just me, the soft hum of many computers, and a lot of empty space. Endless hours roll on by. Well, except it's bloody cold here. They need to keep it this cold -- the server room often has heat problems, but I am far too cold for comfort. I must remember never to wear a Tshirt again on a night where I sleep here. I can feel that cold death in my bones, my skin, my blood.

And then, after I glance at my laptop, I see, in bright orange letters in the middle of the screen, "GAME OVER". The interesting parts in life, definitive of who we are, is in interpretation. Grand patterns, like my crystal rationality, the deceptive but beautiful religious mind, the chafed flower mysticism, the tiny golden bell of buddhism (unrung). And then the small patterns, the posturings chosen. Do you make bets with yourself wagering invisible decisions over small things? Do you need to drag yourself along by constantly rewarding/punishing yourself over motivation? Do you have something of any kind to prove? What smells/flavors in experience do you choose? Do you know how you can relax? Do you think about thinking? Do you regret? What kind of a wrapper do you wrap yourself in?

I chuckle inwardly, although I guess I don't know what an out-loud chuckle sounds like, and maybe that wouldn't even be me to chuckle out loud. GAME OVER. Is it another false prediction? Maybe it means that my dreams of being a CogSci researcher are dead. My life already turned astray, my potential missed. Perhaps in a sense, I have been dead for years, my desired death after Martha achieved. It's just words on a screen, part of a Missle Command screensaver, Pat. And yet it is amusing to let it lead me figuratively down a path so many take seriously. When you focus on things in a life-grand sense, it's easy to be reminded of them by trivialities. Perhaps I have the opposite problem that the mindless hordes do. Perhaps every time they start to think deep, a trivial association in deep thought pulls them back out and reminds them of the practical, something they need to do or someone they need to see. I advise you to keep your plate as clean as possible. Arrange life so you have as little to worry about at any given moment as possible. This is the second reason not to lie. You need to keep track of two paths, and that's hard.

That's all.