It’s a lovely fall afternoon here in downtown Vancouver, but I have so many ass marbles that objects are closer than they appear. What’s worse, none of the ass marbles are really significant enough to truly be a problem: they’re just a series of annoying little frustrations that individually don’t mean shit but all together make KIMLI SMASH and pout and stomp around on my tiny little elf legs and then fall down because I shouldn’t stomp in heels.
Among my many tiny problems:
- I think the hard drive on my iMac is failing. I had a catastrophic OS failure in August, but things have been fine since the drive was wiped and everything reinstalled. Unfortunately, something bad is going on again and this time I fear it may be hardware related .. but that’s okay, because there’s an active recall on my machine: drives have been failing, so Apple is replacing the HDs on a whole series of iMacs. I’ll have to do the whole reinstall thing again, but that’s okay (I’m not as neurotic about it as I was with my Windows machines). So why the ass marbles? Well, my iMac is heavy and Apple stores are always in the very middle of the mall, nowhere near an entrance. WAH! Carrying my expensive compu-device in for free service is tiring! Poor, poor Kimli.
- When we took the Mini in to exorcize the ghost in the machine, they pulled our stereo adapter (the device that allows us to charge our phones and listen to mp3s). The manufacturer thinks the device might be faulty, so they’ll send us a new one if we return the one we have. Ed, for some reason, is taking his sweet time returning the thing – which means there is no music in the car, or even worse, the RADIO. I fucking hate listening to the radio – banter enrages me. Ads make me punch things. Commercially viable music is mostly terrible, and the reception is bad all over the place. I don’t know why Ed hates me so much that he’d rather see me suffer the horrors of morning DJs than put the exchanging wheels in motion, but here we are: car trips are torturous. If Ed doesn’t send that thing in soon, I’m going to install a karaoke machine in the car and provide my own musical entertainment at the top of my lungs.
- The third marble is a little larger: I have no passions. I’ve been doing some soul searching for the last little while in order to ferret out the funk I’m in, and I’ve realized it’s because I do not have a “thing”. For the last forever, I’ve had a “thing” in which I was completely passionate about: casting, crafting, corsets, cannibalism, video games, snails, writing, being a public nuisance, international espionage – and while I still enjoy all of those things, I’m not soap-box-passionate about them. Living a passionless life is not something I would wish on anyone, and I feel a little odd knowing that there is nothing I can consider my “thing”: how do I describe myself to others? What if I had to fill out a Playboy Playmate Profile – what would I say are my turn-ons? I don’t KNOW, and I don’t like it. I need to find a new hobby, or have an affair, or come up with a whiz-bang business idea. Something. I miss soap boxing about things that make me incandescent with feelings, instead of just radioactivity.
- I have a headache.
- I miss having adventures with my friends, but they are all very busy having adventures with one another and not me. I need to make some new adventure-minded friends, but I don’t know where to find them or how not to be weird and off-putting in new group (um, or any group) situations. There has to be a place somewhere for me, but I haven’t got the foggiest idea how to locate it (I miss Google Maps).
November is a bleak month. Let’s have some fancy times!