First off, I want to share my excitement about having registered for the DC Rollergirls Derby 101 Clinic! Yes, I paid 12 bucks I can ill afford to have my ass kicked for 2 hours. Maybe all the masochism jokes we level at E on twitter are pointed in the wrong direction….
Also, apropos of absolutely nothing, I look wicked hot today. Figured it’s never a bad plan to revel in that.
My computer, at 8 am yesterday, decided it didn’t need USB ports. It had already been having issues with the monitor, where if I left it off for an hour or longer, it would blink on and off for several minutes. After a sufficient number of blinks, it would stop if I hit the start key, but it had to go for a bit-just hitting the key right off was useless. I know when the ports went out because I was able to use my keyboard, suspending the blinking, then I got up and left the computer, then came back and could not use my mouse. I assumed the CPU was occupied with other things and I’d deal with it later, but when I got home, it was still borked. Checked other ports, checked other devices, changed the batteries in the mouse and keyboard (they’re wireless)…got nothin. So I dunno how regularly I can update when not on my lunch break.
Work has been a little frustrating today; I want to do my job, and keep getting told I can’t, for one reason or another. I have pressure to do certain things from the same people who say I can’t do them. Very frustrating. I will have to figure out how best to handle it.
It’s Tuesday, so here’s that poem I wrote last week:
Sometimes when I lay my head down
I catch a hint of your scent.
If I try to wallow in it, burying
my nose in the pillow or the sheets
it is gone, a ghost too weak to haunt my dreams
let alone my reality
but if I relax and let it
wash over me
it grows bolder, cavorting about as if it were a puppy
with a favorite toy.
The longer it lingers, the more I notice
the phantom pressure of your back against mine
as though you were there curled up
as we so often fall asleep.
I want to reach my hand back to the top of your thigh
resting it there as I do in life
the pressure as reasuringly there as if
I were not alone under the sheet
but I know if I do, the illusion will burst
a delicate soap bubble shredded into rainbows,
the flame out, only smoke remaining, rising,
curling up by the ceiling until it reforms as
a new fragile sphere
particles of smoke suddenly bursting into wings
a rainbow of delight
that could have lulled me to my rest
had I only let it.