Skip to content

Read the column

Man, do I ever lack motivation right now. This is one of those cases where being aware of the problem does nothing to enable you to solve it.

The main issue is that I am exhausted. The weekend absolutely ended me.

Friday night, I was yanking handfuls of my computer out, preparing to install all the new pieces, when I got a call from Christina Zepeda, of all people. She, Brett, and Zach Powers (all high school people) were at Finn McCool’s and wanted me to come join them. Since I hadn’t seen Christina in literally two years, I pretty much had to go see her. Besides the fact that I really hate Finn McCool’s, it being one of those bars where the music is so loud that normal conversation is entirely infeasible, the visit went well enough. But then, as everyone was getting ready to leave, Brett solicited me to provide shelter for the other two that night. “My house is really dirty, and there’s gonna be people moving around in the morning and stuff.” Sounds reasonable. What I soon realized is that Brett’s actual motivation was to pass of responsibility of Zach, who was rowdy beyond words. When I finally managed to get Powers (he and I both went by our last names in high school for obvious reasons) out of the bar, I found he had smuggled two pint glasses and a plastic container of ketchup out with him. As we walked north up the Ave, he sprayed the show windows of every store we passed with ketchup, and nothing Christina and I could say would stop him. When we were cresting the hill at 17th, we got into an argument over whether he knew where my house was, and we bet $6 on it. To prove that he did, he took off running in the opposite direction, ignoring Christina’s and my calls for him to stop and giggling maniacally. Sure enough, after Christina and I had been home for around half an hour, she got a call from Powers asking for directions, then again twenty minutes later. Finally, he called to say he had found the McDonald’s, so I told him to stay put so that I could fetch him. Naturally he didn’t, and by the time I got outside he had passed my building and was walking down the street, pushing a shopping cart, shouting “Musgrave!” at the top of his lungs. Keep in mind it was almost 3 a.m. at this point. I finally got him subdued and put the both of them to bed.

Saturday night, I assembled and set up my new computer (which kicks serious ass, by the by), then put some serious work in towards my final short story, which I turned in Monday.

Sunday night, I did nothing but write my story until 6:30 a.m. My final cigarette break of the evening was in time for dawn. Thankfully, Nathan and his project partners for OS were up as well, camped out with their laptops in the living room, so we shared some laughs and a pizza around 5:30. In fact, I beat them to bed. I woke up at 10 to bus to the office to finish writing my story, and barely managed to do so. I finished writing at 1:45, finished converting to Word (from emacs) at 2:00, and finished proofreading at 2:20, as the class was starting. At that point, I just had to print 20 copies for my classmates and get to class in time to distribute them. The only problem: my story is 30 pages long (a three-quarter record according to the instructor). I did the math and figured out that the print job wouldn’t finish before the class let out at 3:50, which is a bad thing. My solution was to remotely connect to various other machines on campus and print 5 copies here, 5 copies there, all in parallel, and then run around madly picking them all up. I made it to class with nearly twenty minutes left. Success! I’ll know tomorrow what people thought of it.

Is anyone else going to Sasquatch Fest on Saturday? Let’s caravan.

Posted in Musings.

0 Responses

Stay in touch with the conversation, subscribe to the RSS feed for comments on this post.

Some HTML is OK

or, reply to this post via trackback.