Weekend update time. Overall, it was pretty good. I got to hang out with some other Volunteers on Friday evening/Saturday morning, and then I headed up to Radomir for my host mother's 65th birthday (it was on Thursday, but I wasn't able to get up until Sat). Social time, Bulgarian language practice, free food (yesterday and this morning)... It wasn't Thanksgiving, but it was a decent enough substitute.
Once I got home, however, things weren't so hot.
Expected: Having to restart my computer because it froze up.
Unexpected: Said machine refusing to boot up after the restart.
Good: It's still under warranty.
Bad: I don't know as of yet whether any data can be salvaged.
So, it could have been worse, but it's more than slightly irritating. The fiction I was working on is saved to my flash drive, and most of the stuff I was going to use for class similarly backed up. My music, however, may be toast (having to start over with that would irritate me rather a lot), and the living allowance survey that I was filling out for Peace Corps may be toast as well (this is bad, because such things are used to calculate possible living allowance increases).
Tomorrow after work, I'm going to go to the store-type place, and see what (if anything) can be done. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to salvage some data. If not, I'll get a new hard drive, and I'll have to start re-installing/re-acquiring stuffs. Joy.
More updates as things progress.
Later, flipsiders.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Ten Miles From Nowhere, There's A Story That's True
Hope everyone had a good Turkey Day and is appropriately stuffed. It's certainly been odd, being away from friends/family today. Also, it's very odd to be working today (in addition to yesterday and tomorrow). It wasn't as if I expected today off, but it's one of those things that doesn't really hit you immediately. Just one more reminder that I'm living the ex-pat life.
On the plus side, I got to talk with a lot of people via VOIP-type programs. Thus, I am thankful for the internet. It brings me horror and mental scarring, but it also allows me to remain in close(ish) contact with those I hold dear. And so, friends, family and assorted others, to you I raise my glass. I likely won't see most of you in the meat for well over a year, but that doesn't change the importance you all have to me. If anything, it makes you guys even more important - an emotional anchor, of sorts. Having a point (even in the abstract) that I can call "home" is one of the things that helps me deal with all the stress of being thrown into a completely strange situation, and having contact with friendly voices from the past makes looking into the future that much more doable. So, thanks.
Please pardon the sap. I'll get it cleaned up before I post again, I promise.
Later flipsiders.
On the plus side, I got to talk with a lot of people via VOIP-type programs. Thus, I am thankful for the internet. It brings me horror and mental scarring, but it also allows me to remain in close(ish) contact with those I hold dear. And so, friends, family and assorted others, to you I raise my glass. I likely won't see most of you in the meat for well over a year, but that doesn't change the importance you all have to me. If anything, it makes you guys even more important - an emotional anchor, of sorts. Having a point (even in the abstract) that I can call "home" is one of the things that helps me deal with all the stress of being thrown into a completely strange situation, and having contact with friendly voices from the past makes looking into the future that much more doable. So, thanks.
Please pardon the sap. I'll get it cleaned up before I post again, I promise.
Later flipsiders.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Man I Had A Dreadful Flight
Warning - Stream of consciousness to follow:
Tired for no reason I can see. Not a stressful day, nothing worth reporting, really. Just... tired. Can't think, but at the same time, can't sleep. Weird sort of insomnia state, self-hypnosis with no real point. Borderline.
Borderline what? Depression? No. No self-recrimination. No self-destructive thoughts. Thoughts slow. Glacial. Getting colder here. Snow on the mountain. Going to be good for skiing soon. Can't seem to use explicit subjects. Non-standard grammar; English isn't pro-drop.
Why does grammar come up now? This makes no sense. Am I internalizing it? Internalizing is only good when it comes to language. Emotions shouldn't be bottled up. Am I bottling something up? Too many questions. No answers forthcoming. Irritating. Like a mental itch that I don't know how to scratch, or even how to ask someone else to scratch it for me. Sleep would blot it out.
Can't sleep. Should, but can't. Dunno why. Circular. Neverending circle, bringing me right back. Is there a point? Should be. Maybe look at things sideways? Doesn't help. Lines. Lines of thought, like breadlines, unemployment lines. Neurons marching in formation with no end in sight. Craving release, freeform thought. Dreams blurring, faces running together. Wax and the face of God, exploding for box-office gold. Smoke and mirrors, bread and circuses.
Haven't made bread since I came here. Need to change that. Warm crust, soft inside. Person or food? Food is consumed; people renew, share. Flow. Water. Lava. Love.
Larva? No. Non-sequitur two steps removed. Two steps... even bigger leap? Mars? More?
More what? Thought's lost. Feel lost. Know what I'm doing, where I am. Wherefore lost? Convoluted plots; not on TV. Living it. All mental, ping-pong in the mind. Solitaire table tennis; small white sphere of light/sense, paddle of self, table of world. Constant pinging the IP address of reality - eyes, ears, nose, skin, tongue. Sense it, learn it, know it, understand it, change it. What is it?
It - infinitely malleable, singularly specific. Model for reality? Ni!
Live to tell the tale. Live the tale. Be the tale. Not making sense again. No checks on rambling, wandering. Sensorium desert. Not quite 24 years wandering. Too much metaphor, not enough meaning. Bah.
Later, flipsiders.
Tired for no reason I can see. Not a stressful day, nothing worth reporting, really. Just... tired. Can't think, but at the same time, can't sleep. Weird sort of insomnia state, self-hypnosis with no real point. Borderline.
Borderline what? Depression? No. No self-recrimination. No self-destructive thoughts. Thoughts slow. Glacial. Getting colder here. Snow on the mountain. Going to be good for skiing soon. Can't seem to use explicit subjects. Non-standard grammar; English isn't pro-drop.
Why does grammar come up now? This makes no sense. Am I internalizing it? Internalizing is only good when it comes to language. Emotions shouldn't be bottled up. Am I bottling something up? Too many questions. No answers forthcoming. Irritating. Like a mental itch that I don't know how to scratch, or even how to ask someone else to scratch it for me. Sleep would blot it out.
Can't sleep. Should, but can't. Dunno why. Circular. Neverending circle, bringing me right back. Is there a point? Should be. Maybe look at things sideways? Doesn't help. Lines. Lines of thought, like breadlines, unemployment lines. Neurons marching in formation with no end in sight. Craving release, freeform thought. Dreams blurring, faces running together. Wax and the face of God, exploding for box-office gold. Smoke and mirrors, bread and circuses.
Haven't made bread since I came here. Need to change that. Warm crust, soft inside. Person or food? Food is consumed; people renew, share. Flow. Water. Lava. Love.
Larva? No. Non-sequitur two steps removed. Two steps... even bigger leap? Mars? More?
More what? Thought's lost. Feel lost. Know what I'm doing, where I am. Wherefore lost? Convoluted plots; not on TV. Living it. All mental, ping-pong in the mind. Solitaire table tennis; small white sphere of light/sense, paddle of self, table of world. Constant pinging the IP address of reality - eyes, ears, nose, skin, tongue. Sense it, learn it, know it, understand it, change it. What is it?
It - infinitely malleable, singularly specific. Model for reality? Ni!
Live to tell the tale. Live the tale. Be the tale. Not making sense again. No checks on rambling, wandering. Sensorium desert. Not quite 24 years wandering. Too much metaphor, not enough meaning. Bah.
Later, flipsiders.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Breathe Out So I Can Breathe You In
Oh, man. So, I just made this and sweet Jesus is it delicious. It needs a lot of salt and pepper, for me, but you get a hard, smoked cheese grated on top of it, maybe some chives... Nummy. It was accompanied by a nice salad (lettuce, cucumbers, mushrooms, carrots, bell peppers, chives and herbs tossed together with olive oil, salt, pepper, oregano and basil, topped with kiwifruit and balsamic vinegar) and some red wine (I had to bootleg the sherry by combining red wine with amaretto).
In other news, the strike is finally and at long last, over. This means that I have work as of tomorrow (though I have no regular Tuesday classes to teach), so I'm pretty happy about that. Additionally, I'm supposed to start teaching a twice-weekly class on Tuesdays and Thursdays for unemployed adults.
That's going to be interesting, to say the least. Beats the hell out of sitting around wondering what's going to happen next, though.
Ok. I'll have more tomorrow, but now, it's after midnight and I'm in desperate need of sleep.
Later, flipsiders.
In other news, the strike is finally and at long last, over. This means that I have work as of tomorrow (though I have no regular Tuesday classes to teach), so I'm pretty happy about that. Additionally, I'm supposed to start teaching a twice-weekly class on Tuesdays and Thursdays for unemployed adults.
That's going to be interesting, to say the least. Beats the hell out of sitting around wondering what's going to happen next, though.
Ok. I'll have more tomorrow, but now, it's after midnight and I'm in desperate need of sleep.
Later, flipsiders.
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