Journal Entry

25 July 2001 ... A Bad Day
My frustration knows no bounds.
#1. I had a bad day at work. No big deal... but then...
#2. I discovered someone stealing my bandwidth has also stolen a poem I wrote a few years ago. (Unicorn) And then, I'm in the middle of writing an impassioned email about the poem thing when #3 occurs.
#3. Fiasco the Second dies.

#1 Bad day at work.

My partner has been sick and has not showed up for work at all this week. I've been booking along, quite happy to be alone. But today, they decided I was getting behind and needed some help. So they gave me a helper. Fine, except now I've got the stress of explaining everything I do to my helper, plus I have to waste even more time correcting her mistakes.

cheri shakes her head. And then there was this little incident with a circular saw. Let's just say, I came really, really, scary-ly close to having a major accident with the saw. "Be careful with that thing." um, okay.

#2 A stolen poem

I came home, took a relaxing shower, ate some food and got online, not planning on doing any serious surfing. I checked out my web site stats. Now, normally, my journal directory will have the most hits, followed by the issues directory. Today, right at the top of the stats was almost 300 hits to a graphic on my unicorn page. And only one or two hits to the page that displays the graphic.

No big deal, I think. Someone is stealing my bandwidth, and I can fix that by simply changing the graphic to say something mean like "Bandwidth theft sucks." I download my raw stats to find out where the hits are coming from. When I visit the site, a public forum, I discover that not only is the person stealing my graphic, they have also cut and paste my poem and put someone else's name as the author.

You know. I just cannot describe the emotions that ran through me when I saw my words with someone else's name on them. My disappointment in the human race goes beyond words.

So, I'm working on fixing the "problem"... I changed the graphic from a pretty unicorn to some words that say this person is stealing my bandwidth and has stolen my poem. Then I email the person whose name written as the poser author. Then I start emailing the forum owner, and then...

#3 Fiasco dies

I start cursing. Dies, dies, dies. I don't mean a simple blue screen or an Explorer death, although I did get a few of those. I mean complete Windows registry failure, and so many blue screens after the reboot Windows never shows up again. Ha.

I take a step back. Breathe. I decide to start over. I reinstall Windows. Crashes in the beginning of the install. Try that a few more times. Breathe, breathe, breathe. It's no good.

So I turn on the old computer. While I do a "FORMAT C:" on Fiasco. I am not exactly sure what files and programs I have just lost off my C drive, but at this point, I don't care... My poem is much more important than that worthless super computer.

I have sent a few more emails concerning my poor poem. There's nothing more to do for that, except wait for some responses. The new computer awaits a clean install, and who knows how it will handle that: I will worry about it tomorrow, I suppose. And work, well, I've got two more days before the blessed weekend.

I might survive, but I'm not looking forward to it...

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