January 5–8, 2002 — No shortage of euphemisms

The last time I had a four-day journal entry to write, it ended up being 1800 words long. It took me over an hour to edit it because I kept getting so bored with what I’d written that I couldn’t correct more than one sentence at a time. (How I miss the days when I didn’t care about things like “editing”, when my journal entry was ready to be posted so long as my word processor didn’t underline any words in red. To, too, and two were interchangeable, and if anyone complained, I would just say that it was more “real” like that. Of course, now I get embarrassed when I go back and read those entries again, and even more so when I realize that they’re still online for just about anyone to read, but it was much easier to write them at the time.)

So the good news is that I couldn’t force this journal entry to last 1800 words if I tried.

I’ve spent the last four days feeling sick and sorry for myself, in that order. Everyday I wake up and think, “Maybe today will be the day when my runny nose will only last for the morning. I’ll be able to actually get something done during the afternoon!” And everyday I end up sneezing and nursing a box of Kleenex until I force myself to go to bed early, knowing that I won’t fall asleep for hours no matter what I do.

It’s really not as bad as I’m making it out to be, of course, but I’m more than a little bit disappointed in myself for having become completely unable to get anything accomplished. I’ve been spending most of the day staring blankly at my computer screen, occasionally lying down and staring at the ceiling when I need a break. I feel and act like I used to feel when I was working in an office: completely soulless, drifting between Web sites dedicated to computer processors and hating Microsoft, praying that one of them will have updated since the last time I checked. After several hours of this, I would try to get something done. And then, after ten minutes of productivity, the cycle would start again.

In my occasional blips of conscious effort, I managed to update my résumé, and I wrote up a professional-sounding cover letter to apply at Ikea with. Given that I wrote the cover letter on Sunday and that I still haven’t handed it in, though, I don’t know how proud of this I should be.

On the job front, I’ve decided to apply to Ikea and HMV tomorrow. And I’m emailing Shona with my résumé, which she’s going to give to a friend at Indigo (where she used to work). My sister has almost convinced me that I should try for a full-time job, and I’ve almost convinced myself that she might be right. But in the somewhat likely event that I won’t be able to get anything but part-time work (if I’m lucky), I’ll be more than willing to settle for that.

Outside of being sick and spending a lot of time on ICQ, not much has happened over the last few days. The release of the new iMac was probably the most notable thing that’s happened, and if that’s not depressing, I don’t know what is.

Regardless of what anyone says, though, I like the new iMac. It looks cute. And it made me want to watch that short film by Pixar again, the one with the little desk lamp that chases after a ball. (Which you can conveniently watch online if you’ve no idea what I’m talking about.)

I guess that’s about it. I’ve promised myself that I will hand out my résumés tomorrow, so I’m going to try to stick to that regardless of my health. Three hours of hitting my head against the wall in the dark awaits...