past performance no gaurantee of future results
This keyboard tray supposedly has some sort of locking mechanism, but sometimes it just decides to collapse on me. It's very disconcerting to be typing along happily and then just have your keyboard fall into your lap. le sigh.
Is it weird that I get a little bit excited and happy when I see a rat? I like to see rats or mice on the street or in an alley, just trundling along and minding their little rat business. Doing their little rat thing. Hey, they don't know they're vermin. I don't particularly want the rat in my house or running over my leg, but it's kind of cool to see them outside, every once in a while.
I am in a fantastic mood today, sort of. Even if a bit distracted.
Whenever I get...not depressed entirely, but moody and introspective, I have a very particular set of symptoms. The weirdest thing is what happens to my vision. I get fascinated by minute things. The grain patterns in wood. The quality of that warm orange light as it slides around and drips off all the surfaces of my car, around sunset. The twisty patterns of black tree branches. Even my own pale, scratched-up hand poking out of my sweater sleeve. When I'm happy I attend more to the macro view, on grayer days it's the tiny things that seem incredibly important.
Come to think of it, all my favorite toys as a child had the same sort of hypnotic, trance-inducing quality. I used to like to ride my tricycle in a circle, or that ribbon on a stick thing, and I was addicted to this wonderful thing called a Lemon Twist. It was a loop of rubber that fit around your ankle, with a short piece of rubber off of that and a plastic lemon (why a lemon?) at the end that had some sort of pebbles or other noisemakers inside. You'd skip over the lemon and get a rhythm going. I could do that for hours. There was also one with a counter on it that counted how many times it circled. Awesome. And let's not forget Sit and Spin, and Lite-Brite, which for me was always less about the artistic process than it was about the incredibly satisfying thunk of those pegs as they pushed through the black paper.
Mkay, now I feel the need to spin around in my office chair until that same sort of dizzy transcendence is achieved.
Is it weird that I get a little bit excited and happy when I see a rat? I like to see rats or mice on the street or in an alley, just trundling along and minding their little rat business. Doing their little rat thing. Hey, they don't know they're vermin. I don't particularly want the rat in my house or running over my leg, but it's kind of cool to see them outside, every once in a while.
I am in a fantastic mood today, sort of. Even if a bit distracted.
Whenever I get...not depressed entirely, but moody and introspective, I have a very particular set of symptoms. The weirdest thing is what happens to my vision. I get fascinated by minute things. The grain patterns in wood. The quality of that warm orange light as it slides around and drips off all the surfaces of my car, around sunset. The twisty patterns of black tree branches. Even my own pale, scratched-up hand poking out of my sweater sleeve. When I'm happy I attend more to the macro view, on grayer days it's the tiny things that seem incredibly important.
Come to think of it, all my favorite toys as a child had the same sort of hypnotic, trance-inducing quality. I used to like to ride my tricycle in a circle, or that ribbon on a stick thing, and I was addicted to this wonderful thing called a Lemon Twist. It was a loop of rubber that fit around your ankle, with a short piece of rubber off of that and a plastic lemon (why a lemon?) at the end that had some sort of pebbles or other noisemakers inside. You'd skip over the lemon and get a rhythm going. I could do that for hours. There was also one with a counter on it that counted how many times it circled. Awesome. And let's not forget Sit and Spin, and Lite-Brite, which for me was always less about the artistic process than it was about the incredibly satisfying thunk of those pegs as they pushed through the black paper.
Mkay, now I feel the need to spin around in my office chair until that same sort of dizzy transcendence is achieved.