Haha, I lied, I'm writing again ;P
I know the busier I am, the more I post. It doesn't work for me logically, so I usually post a note when I'm so busy that I'm not likely to be around, but somehow, I always end up back here. Surprise :P
I am not reading though ...much.
I had an entry hastily-written this morning. It griped about the play (which was silly-- don't worry, everything's fine; and no, I won't be sharing), was sad about M's diverticulitis (it's back), and bemoaned my own physical exhaustion and ennui.
In short, it was icky.
So, let me tell you about the green door instead.
You may already know about the Writers. My life is a sitcom. It has its moments of drama, but mostly, it's funny, though in a bittersweet way. It's always funny, even when it's sad.
The theatre I work in most often is a rehabilitated fire station, built in the 1890s. By its cobblestone driveway is a big green barn door.
The green door is where I sit at night after rehearsals.
I sit there to let my car warm up. Or so I say. But truth be told, I'd probably sit there if I had a brand-new car.
I sit. And I soliloquize.
And the green door always listens, and the green door never judges. And no matter how funny my life may be, the green door never, ever, laughs.
I just got in from outside. I gazed for a moment at a maple seed. Such a miracle. So amazing. Such detail-- thousands of little veins so perfectly intertwined to create a masterpiece of aerodynamics, a perfect autorotating helicopter, encasing a payload of an awesome tree in clean, tiny, code.
And there were hundreds of them, scattered. The wind tunnel that is the office door had accumulated a pile of them, mixed-in with assorted trash.
I'm having an existentialist moment.
What's the point of it all, anyway? Is there a point? Does focusing on the point remove one's self from the dance of life in such a manner as to negate its purpose? Is there a purpose?
Does the answer to that question, or even the question itself, matter one bit?
What about that question? How about this one? And what about...
Humans are nifty machines. One of the things they're best at is pattern-recognition. So adept are they at it, they seek out and find patterns where none exist. And yet... they will go to great lengths to deny the existence some of the bigger patterns. Funny creatures, humans.
We canceled our RoadRunner and the 'net went down at work today. Guess who's the unofficial sysadmin?
I was told everything was set up and working fine with our new DSL provider. DSL modem wasn't even connected to the network. So I found some CAT-5 and plugged it in. Then I went into the firewall and changed all the DNS settings etc.
A third-party set up our router/firewall configuration, and it seems... unusual. But I put everything together in a way that should work, and still no 'net.
I tried everything. And then I tried everything else. Still no 'net. Am I so stupid? What am I missing?
Turns out, there's a problem with the actual phone line. There's evidently been a problem with the line. The DSL provider just didn't bother to tell us.
[insert frightening primal gutteral yell here]
Bad enough to not have internet on a regular day... but when we're prepping for a big teleseminar? Bad. Very bad.
Nothing like a real-life problem to distract one's self from philosophical puzzles :)
Internet's back up now. Once the phone company fixed the line, everything automagically connected! I feel so very smart and geeky.
Today promises to be insane. Workworkwork - run errands - go grocery shopping - put away food - meet Linda for dinner - go back into work - do teleseminar - go home - see April - have drinks - collapse into bed.
Tomorrow is more work craziness, followed by rehearsal. I'm definitely looking forward to rehearsal.
Friday is the meeting of the Birthday Club-- Mike's birthday, actually. We're only a week apart :) Looking forward to that, as well.
And Saturday, I'm back to sanding, spackling, and changing my mind about colours for the living room.
I'll see you on the flip side, my friends.
Back to work I go.