PMS is a bitch.

Last night I cried til my head was hollow and my heart was numb.
This morning, I feel like all the odds are stacked against me.

I spent a lot of yesterday in tears, sobbing my little heart out til my head ran out of tears and snot. The crying then became dry, and the sobs became more like hiccups. Finally, the hiccups softened into sighs, and misery turned into resignation.

It was Sunday night - Time to leave Beloved, time to put my life on pause, time to go back to that constant irritation; Reality.

Every time I looked at him, I realised that I wouldn't be able to look at him tomorrow. I wouldn't be able to enjoy the casual body contact, or the easy intimacy that we shared. I wouldn't be able to reach out and squeeze his hand. I wouldn't be able to feel his arms holding me close. Yeah, I know all this sounds sappy and unbecoming of a geek-girl, but every time I have to leave him, it feels like I'm dead inside.

I miss him so much that I'm starting to resent my job. I'm starting to look at everything that's keeping me in London with such hostility that I dont know why I'm even here. I've got to watch my mouth, keep a leash on my tongue so that I dont lash out and burn all my bridges and mix all my metaphors. I'm learning that London means leaving Beloved. London, despite the population of 2600million people, means loneliness.

I miss him already.

I think I've decided that I really dislike working outside of the office. Days like today make me realise that I really hate working with other people, while working with computers. Everybody has their own ways of doing the same thing, and more often than not, they're all incompatible with one another.

I've been doing TCP/IP for a while now, and while I know damn well there's a whole world of knowledge that I dont even know that I dont know anything about, I do realise that I'm rather clued-up on certain small areas. Network Address Translation (NAT) and basic TCP/IP packet structure are two such small areas.

I'm also rather stubborn. If I know something, I'm not going to back down when somebody tells me otherwise. So, that's what happened today. Somebody told me that blue was red, and that there was no possible way it could be otherwise. Two hours later, we got the network up and humming (just like it HAD been) using another persons methods. Despite my protests otherwise, mind you. In the end, I simply gave up, stepped back from the laptop and offered control of the network.

Here. *shove* You do it.

I'm back in the office now. I'm back on my desk, with my mug of coffee, and my little stuffed Tigger that sits on my monitor. I'm happy in my own little ivory tower. They dont pay me enough to fight about every small tiny detail of networking.

I hate banks.

DO NOT BANK WITH LLOYDS TSB.

They called me up to make an appointment to see my bank manager, in case there was anything they could do with my account and to hear any feedback I could provide them. I decided to accept their invitation, because I need to upgrade my account. Two birds, one stone. Or so I thought.

Appointment time: 2pm.
Time I actually saw somebody: 2.45pm.
Time my parking ticket expired: 3pm.
Time I actually got out of the appointment: 3.30pm

Achievements: No upgrade. No feedback. £40 parking ticket.

I have a Visa card through my joint account with beloved. I dont like to use it for daily use, simply because it's -ours- rather than mine. I like to use my account for my shit. Understandable, right? Right. So I want to attach a Visa card to my account, and considering they've already given me one, it should be a piece of cake, right? Wrong.

Fuckers.

So, not only did they waste my time, they have fucked my day up to the point of total confusion and chaos.

And I have a god damn parking ticket.

Today is being long.

It's not particularly stressful. It's not particularly boring. It's just long.

It started with the "I'm going to irritate the hell out of you" headache and progressed swiftly with the standard "run out of coffee" grumpiness. Of course, the whole situation isn't helped by a whole great big bunch of web code that isn't working and a lot of wrong IP addresses that have to be fixed by hand.

56 seperate files.
Over 13,000 lines of code.

You'd think that DNS hadn't been invented, or summat.

But enough of the random complaining.

I'm going to Australia in 87 days.
Not that I'm counting (2090 hours, 57 minutes and 10 seconds) or anything.

I dont like dial-tones.

The constant drone of a dial tone really sets my teeth on edge. It almost makes my eyes water. Dial tones are espeically irritating when somebody hangs up on you, for no apparent reason.

It's the height of fucking rudeness, in fact.

I wasn't selling anything. I wasn't promoting anything. I was ringing with an inquiry about a server. The one that we've been called in to fix....

"Yeah, well, you do that!" *clung* *beeeeeeeep*

Whatever the hell your mama told you, man, that was NOT the way to end a conversation politely.

Your computer is broken. I could fix it for you, but considering you're a rude arsehole, I'm going to make you wait.

See?!

Its the little people that you treat like shit who make sure your wellgroomed existance is hassle free. Well... if its up to this little person, you're existance is just about to get really really painful.

How long do you think you can survive without your email?
Dial-tone. That's all you'll be hearing.

Have a nice fucking day.

*geek, tapping away in a quiet room, tucked away in the basement*

>> ps -a | grep php*
>> ls -l /phpMyAdmin
>> ./mysql -u root -p
***ERROR***
>> ./mysql
***ERROR***
>> ps -a | grep php*
***ERROR***
>> DIE YOU FUCKING LINUX PIECE OF SHIT
***Unrecognised command: "DIE YOU FUCKING LINUX PIECE OF SHIT"

*geek starts stabbing her monitor with a blunt pencil*
ARGHHH!!!!

Yes. I have solved this particular problem. I've found that it helps to have mysql installed, if you wish to run it alongside php. D'Oh!!!

My head is about to explode.

Phone: drrrring drrrring
Me: Hmmm... *sniff*... *blink*... *roll over*

Phone: drrrrring.... drrrring
Me: *blinkblink* Wha? Oh Holy Crap.

Me: Thud. Fumble. Crash. FUCK! Bam. Ouch. Damnit. Splat.
Me: "Hello?"

I like mornings, but whoever decided that they should exist so early in the day needs a good ass kicking. The phone rang at stupid o'clock this morning, which caused a near disaster as I tried to navigate towards the ringing object in the kitchen.

Me: "No.. you didn't wake me up."

Now, when anybody ever asks me that question, 9 times out of 10 I will happily lie my ass off, and try to convince the other person that I was awake, and not curled up comfortably in my bed. Why is that?

Me: "I was just about to hang out the washing." (why can I not think of anything CONVINCING at 6am?)

As luck would have it, it wasn't even for me. Agony. I am possessive about my sleep. I am the eye-twitching neurotic psychopath that would guard my sleep with a rifle, if I wasn't already unconscious. Strangly, I'm always very polite on the phone - even if I've just been dragged from a heavy coma just to answer a wrong number.

So, that was the beginning of my day. Typical, really.

Feeling really dark at the moment.
Like I want to kill something, watch it bleed.

Looks like the Engineering Department has fucked up my enrollment. In this mood, I'm just as likely to walk into z block with 20 kilo's of fucking dynamite and blow the place appart.

I shouldn't say that, as I'm just as likely to get nabbed for fucking terrorism than anything else... but GOD DAMN. Do they have to fuck up every single little detail?

Big Business

I'm not even in this business yet, and already I'm sick of it. I'm the meat in the sandwich that is Ringbearer, and Flexinet. Flexinet are basicly PAYING for the whole of Ringbearer, yet Ringbearer are too frightened to agree to the 50% ownership by Flexinet.
By rights, it should be 100%, but I'm not about to get up on my soap box. If they're willing to arse around for the next 4 weeks, then Ringbearer will simply fizzle away into nothing.
The everybody looses everything.

*thud*

So, now I'm sitting in my PJ's, waiting for the other three (yes, one has already pulled out) to arrive online so we can have a chat about everything. Also, Dr J doesn't seem to be returning my ICQ messages, so I guess I'm on my own.

Money corrupts everything.

Gee... I wonder if I'm salami, or plain old chickenloaf? Soooo the meat in the sandwich...

In other news, I'm still trying to figure out what I'm doing this semester Uni-wise. There's a few options:
Telecommunications Principals, Web Publishing, or Data Management.

As its my last semester ~ever~ I'm looking to do idiot courses that I can sleep through and still pass. I will be spending most of my time on my project as it is...

About to go and see Hippy Boy to try and get some intelligent input from him. (I may be asking a little too much, I think)

Doyle.

turn down the sun

So, this morning, I wake up fairly bright eyed, and moderatly bushy tailed. Shanagh, whom I had personally put to bed, was feeling the residual pain from the previous nights activities.
Ha. Ha. Sucked in.
What I didn't realise was that I was still caught up in the euphoria of drunkeness. I couldn't feel the pain, simply because I hadn't remembered to.
And then, my brain started working.

"Do you remember going back to the Club?"
"Do you remember having to tuck Shan away after the Club didn't let her in?"
"Do you remember getting that extra $20 from the ATM?"
"Do you remember going shot for shot with Matty?"
"Do you remember getting home?"

Negative. Over.

I did, however, remember sitting up and realising I had just had a fantastic nights sleep, purring on top of a pair of drunkenly folded socks. How did they get there? Did I assume that the Sock Gnomes were going to attempt to pilfer them through the night, or did I simply take them off and stuff them under my head out of some drunken whim? Alas, I think the answer is lost and can be reliably locked away with the millions of other drunken secrets.

And then with the pain.

I'm now in a world of hurt. If my head is anything to go by, I think I drunk about 14 litres of Vodka, and then gargled with about 7 bucketloads of sambucca. I know I'm the one whos soley responsible for the world of hurt that I'm feeling, but I find myself trying to pass the blame off to somebody else. Perhaps it'll make the pain feel a little easier...

Matty - for convincing me to do Sambucca shots.
Wethers, or Watchers or Smithers, - for making that hideous premix vodka jet fuel shit that was on happy-hour prices last night
Mr Noname - who bought me an alcoholic drink.
Shanagh - for allowing me to put a mattress on her floor.

Bah. And a big fishface has to go to whoever it was who tried to ring the mobile phone which was sitting next to my head. Not appreciated. I'm sure whoever it was that you were trying to call is perfectly OK, and didn't really need/want your conversation at that ungodly hour of the morning. I know I sure as hell didnt.

Not today.

Being a girl can really suck. Its a world of fun, for 70% of the time... however, the other 30% is spent living dangerously close to the edge. Blokes call this PMS. Its when a usually happy girl turns into the Ice Queen Mega Bitch, and goes off into the world looking to start WW3. I dont quite understand this, as the logical side of my brain is telling me that when you are in that much pyhsical and mental pain, you should seek the closest available hugging person, and crawl up and ask them to make the world better.

Alas, its simply not the case.

"Could you pass the stapler"

Fuck off and get it your god damn self.

I just cant comprehend it.

Apparently, I'm not quite that bad, but tend to be a little argumentative on points that I'd usually just let drop. I'm told that its usually about silly things, like, whether or not to put garlic in the stir-fry, or what type of coffee is the nicest at 5am. Personally, it feels like the world has just dropped onto my shoulders, and nothing is going the way I planned it. I assume all of the females out there will know what I'm talking about, but, for the benefit of the male audience, I'll try and capture my own personal views on the issue.

Most of the time I have a nice little emotion regulator that keeps everything in check... but, when its Narky Day, that little regulator spits the dummy and heads to Vagas. It feels like the world is just a little too much. Everything is amplified. You're emotions are dangerously close to the surface, and it doesn't take much to make everything just seeth through. Its just so easy to loose your cool, and just flip out. I cry for no apparent reason. I yell at inanimate objects. I get frustrated when little things dont work, and the RSPCA should be alerted to my Mouse Abuse. (computer, not rodent)

The only thing that pacifies Me: The Stress Monster is... hell.. I dont fucking know. How the fuck am I supposed to bloody know. If I wanted to prognosticate about mythical things, I'd look up Grimms fucking Fairy Tales. Dont look at me in that tone of voice! I dont appreciate this bullshit that you're putting me through...~ ARGHHHHHHHH!!!!

(actually, the answer changes. Could be a bath, chocolate, cuddle, sleep, soft pillows, a banana milkshake, a good song, or even a nice walk by myself.)

Oh... and a big headsup. NEVER... and I mean it with all the compassion and pity that I have in my heart... NEVER EVER ask a girl if she's got PMS. Even if she doesn't, it will only serve to get you slapped, and or, labled as an asshole for the rest of the week.

I mean it.

Ashes to Ashes.
When Taffy, our family Labrador, died when I was a kid my family told me that she'd gone to "Doggy Heaven", where she could chase sticks and cats to her hearts content. There was enough water for her to swim in, plenty of plastic hoses that she could chew up, and she would be given enough food to make her the happiest dog in the world. They made it sound like paradise, a place I wouldn't mind going to myself someday.

Yet, it was all a lie. Its a nice daydream that they tell kids to stop them feeling like shit. Told to stop them mourning some tiny little animal, and sending their little minds into turmoil.

Sometimes I wish that the curtain handn't been lifted, and I could just slip back into that naive existence. I wouldn't have to deal with death, with violence, or with hefty phone bills. Instead, I could sit here and honestly believe that Fish#34 is swimming in the Ocean in the Sky with all his fishy friends. He's up there, flipping his tiny orange fins, waving at me from Fishy Heaven.

However, the bubble of childlike innocence was popped along time ago, and I'm fully aware of what has happened to my poor pish. Quite simply, he died a horrible lonely death. From what I can tell, he died of heavy water poisoning from the shithouse Toowoomba water supply. His little body is still at the bottom of the tank in a strange parody of life.

His mate, Fish#33 died a few months ago, and he's been listless and unhappy ever since. I half expected him to curl up his fins that instant, yet... he battled on. He continued to sit at the bottom of his little tank, looking out at the cruel world. I should have got him a friend to play with. I should have got him a bigger tanks. I should have left his water the way it was. I should have told him how much I loved him.

So, now I'm fishless, and very sad.
The little guy had been the longest surviving fish since my college days. He was well over 2.5 years old. He starred in a few home videos, and was a talented mime artist. He could mime along to Frank Sinatra better than any marine creature that has ever graced this earth.

He didn't have a name, as it was considered bad luck to name fish. So, here's to you Mr Nameless Orange Fish. May you find happiness in the Big Ocean in the Sky, and have heaps of fun with all your fishy friends. You were a great little guy, and will be missed.
All my fishy love,
Jac.

yap yap yap yap yap..... SHUTUP
Well... seems like Telstra took the easy option with the modem issues. Instead of speeding up the phone line like they should have... they slowed down my modem to 28.8k. not all that bad... and a shitload better than it was... still... from 56k to 28k.. is a big jump.

I have the biggest headache.. Could be from mum trying to talk my ears off, or could be because its so stuffy in this room... or it could have something to do with my sinus infections/mysterious headaches from last week.... in any case... I'm not particularly fond of the stabbing pains through my jaw, nor the throbbing at the base of my scull...

Headaches should be made illegal, and forbidden.

*UGH* just took an aspalgin thats supposed to help the head. PAH... I hate disolvable tablets... they taste like ~ugh~ I dont know what they taste like... but its gross..

Anyhow... I'm off to go and see if I can find some more icons for CO.
Later.