Well, this is an entry that I wrote in word about a week ago with the intention of posting it the next day.  By the time I got around to it, blogdrive was down, so it got delayed a little longer.  So now I'm posting it.  In a bit I'll take out this intro and backdate it, for sake of accuracy in the thought-time correspondance.  But, oh, I'll stop blabbering now, here it is, from a week ago:

     I got a new laptop computer yesterday, for a course I’m taking at a local college.  It’s a Tablet PC, so something of a novelty, and my sister has been enthralled by it for the past three and a half hours.  I just made her turn it off because, even though it’s illogical, I couldn’t help feeling that it needed a rest.
      I’m not using it right now-I haven’t set up internet yet and likely will wait a bit longer to do so, as I am leery of letting I be killed by a virus in its first week of life.  Computers are like children in the seventeenth century: often die so young.  That was a random thought that just came into my head as I was writing.
      But anyways, I am using my old computer because it has internet and the keyboard’s easier, and it is what I know and am comfortable with, even if most of the time I don’t love it.
      On the internet right now and it bothers me because it means that should he wish, he can’t call me.  But it pleases me too, because when I get no call from him, I have a reason.  A reason, that is, that can satisfy me for a little while longer, keep me sane a bit longer.
      Without a reason, I get anxious and angry and restless and then I bang on the piano and try to find the tunes of songs I wrote long ago which might not fit exactly in words, but in emotion come close :
                                     The rock that never came
                                      The world never ended
                                      Impact Imaginary
                                       Somehow still left us winded

                                    ....just an end to all our dreams
                                       nothing is as it seems...
     and when I cannot find the tunes, I scribble random bits from one or another on my whiteboard, never breaking at lines, just covering it furiously in messy black text and when it’s full, orange slashes through it all, before I fling markers away from me, to prevent any more.  Oh no, please no more.
     I don’t understand it, really.  I always thought I was rational, and I came to the conclusion long ago that I was the friend.  Never know that I would ever be so far from satisfied with that.  Never saw it.  No one else who knows me ever would either.
     I guess life as surprises around every corner.
     Strangely, but maybe not so much, what soothed me was installing the software on my new computer.  Formulaic, with each step telling you what to do.  How often I wish that more of life was like that.  But then again, might that be boring?  Still, a little help from time to time would not be unwelcome