Unfinished Tales
Yesterday, I had enough of my machine at work. I typically need Photoshop, IE, Netscape, Lotus Notes, and Arachnophilia running all at the same time at work. Although my NT doesn't typically crash at all, it's been straining under my abuse of its system. I think it had the last straw when I tried to open a folder of images on the server. It just went "augh!" and closed all the folders that I had open.
I tried opening that folder again, which contains a much-needed graphic file and it did the same thing.
I stood up, openly declared, "I've had it with you." and stomped towards the other side of the building where Infrastructure keeps its people. I found the Infra-guy (that's what we call them because all the Infrastructure consultants are men) that is in charge of giving my new machine and, although I had tons of work I still had to do, told him, "I'm free whenever you are to get my new machine."
"Now?" Dani asked.
"Yes, now. My computer just crashed on me because it doesn't have enough memory to handle what I need it to do."
"Okay, let's start moving your files to your new machine, then."
I hooked up my new machine to all my peripherals, which surprised Dani, since it is typically their job to do that sort of thing. Then he remembered that my father is an Infra-guy too and I knew how to do it. Somewhat. He double-checked to make sure I hooked up everything properly.
It took me about two hours to move my files from my machine to the new one and delete all the old files from the old machine. I also had to have the programs that I work with regularly installed on my new machine. Two hours that I should have devoted to the project were put into getting my new machine and monitor up.
But it was definitely worth it. On my old machine, I would open Photoshop and sometimes, the machine would freeze up halfway through because there weren't enough memory resources for it to open. Now, it opens in less than 5 seconds. My new monitor is huge and I've got the screen resolution over 1600 across. Lots of workspace for me. I had to remove all of the origami I had attached to my old monitor and I haven't put it up on the new 21" yet. Even today. I was just so busy with this Soda Company That Must Not Be Named(tm) project. Monday, I'll take the time to do some beautification. And to take some pictures. My cube is the liveliest in the office and I'm really proud of my decorating.
---
Yesterday on the M42 from 3rd Avenue to Port Authority, I saw a woman board the bus. She wore a leopard print dress and a black coat with a fur-lined collar. A matching beret was tipped slightly askew. She wore a babushka-esque face with matching sullen frown.
What made me notice her was her bag.
She had two of them. One was fur-lined, like her jacket. The other was a small, crumpled grey Sax Fifth Avenue bag containing around two dozen roses.
They were gorgeous roses and very unusual. A dark blood red, but intense like red velvet with edges of black. I kept trying very hard not to look at the woman and stare at these roses. I held my book closer to my face and deliberately pointed my head downwards to it, allowing my eyes to drift over to stare at the roses.
The woman next to this babushka loudly voiced, "Those are beautiful roses! Wherever did you get them?"
They started a conversation that I couldn't make out, being at the opposite side of the bus. The babushka did most of the talking, and she mumbled. The loud woman would loudly go "Mm hmm." or "Wow, is that so?". It kept distracting me from my book. I wanted to read, not to have my curiosity killed repeatedly.
The woman's stop came and the babushka gave two of her roses to the woman as she was leaving. I was so envious that I was thinking about going over to the babushka and striking up a coversation to get one too! But my shyness overcame my desire for a black/red rose that I dipped back into my book. This time, its waters got me and I didn't even notice when the babushka got off the bus. Somewhere before my stop.
---
I finished the perks of being a wallflower on my commute to work this morning. It was very good and both uplifting and sad at the same time. I didn't exactly understand the ending, so I asked gabby to explain the ending to me. We discussed the book the night before and she said that there was a "surprise ending". Once I got to the ending, I think I didn't read the epilogue carefully enough to understand exactly what happened. After talking with her and rereading it again tonight, it dawned on me and I had to slap myself about it. I kept thinking his surprise behavior was directly to his simpleminded outlook on life and the discussion with his teacher that he was a "gifted" person (read: a genius). I kept thinking, "is he a savant or something?"
Perhaps I was dozing off when I read the key sentences. In any case, I got it now and it's good. Read it. Especially if you're the type that enjoys books in a journal/diary format. It reminds me of a dramatic The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole and it's a short, fast read. I'm interested in reading more from Shephen Chbosky.
So, I knew I needed a new book to read and I went over to Barnes and Noble before getting my sushi lunch. I picked up American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. They didn't have any books by Chbosky and their copies of House Atreides weren't on sale. I've seen the book before. The guy on the cover caught my eye because I think he's supposed to be seen as suave and debonnaire. Instead, I think he looks like Val Kilmer and is completely unattractive.
I've started reading the novel and I'm finding it to be very difficult. This is primarily due to the excessive style of the narrator. Patrick Bateman, the voice in the novel, seems to not only have an extremely observant eye, but goes into an inordinate amount of detail.
Evelyn stands by a blond wood counter wearing a Krizia cream silk blouse, a Krizia rust tweed skirt and the same pair of silk-satin d'Orsay pumps Courtney has on. Her long blond hair is pinned back into a rather severe-looking bun and she acknoqledges me without looking up from the oval Wilton stainless-steel platter on which she has artfully arranged the sushi.
-- American Psycho Bret Easton Ellis
The narrator spends an entire page discussing the components of his electronic home entertainment system. He then spends four pages describing his morning routine of shaving and moisturizer and the other fine skin and haircare products he uses. I find the interaction with his friends extremely droll because they don't seem to talk about anything I find personally interesting. Most of their conversation centers around fashion requirements (you must wear this with this) or trying to identify people at other tables. I'm up to page 50 now and there's only subtle hints to his madness. In other cases, I would have given up the book by now, but I read a tasty review a few days ago about how good the book is.
We shall see. I'll give it to page 100 or so.
---
This is a thank you to sammy. She's extended an offer to me to send me her copy of American Psycho since I mentioned it. Little did she know that I already had purchased the book. I'm extremely flattered by her generosity.
