That Entry I Didn’t Sit Down to Write, But Did Anyway

[imood mood at time of entry: annoyed]

So I’m sitting here wishing that the library was still open so that I could finish my fic that’s overdue and is still going. I meant to dip a *little* into the Severus/Sirius back story, but it went on for a bit and the library was closing down. I fucking hate not having a home computer anymore. I can’t do any of my typing. I haven’t written a real journal entry in more than a month because of it.

Even when I am online at the library, I am usually just stopping by or too frazzled to truly sit down, compose my thoughts, and write. I might have been able to do that in the past, but I’ve been spoiled by having a computer of my own to complete my writing assignments. I’ve been spoiled by having a computer I can turn on in the middle of the night and just type to my heart’s content for as long as I need to to get out whatever it is I have to say.

But thanks to flippin’ Bob and his lovely electrician, my computer’s dead and so is my ability to indulge my Muse when it decides to come around. Any artistic person knows that when inspiration hits, you have to act in that moment or you will never capture it again. Sure, you might remember the words you wanted to put down or the image you wanted to bring forth or the music you wanted to compose, but it will never be the same. It will never contain the same passion and spontaneity that an in-the-moment piece of work will hold.

So instead of me being in my own home, I’m sitting in this shoddy lobby that’s too loud and too bright and has computers that don’t allow for word processing. Hell, they don’t even read my Flash Drive. What good are computers that I can’t write on? True, there is the wonderful world of Internetting, but when I need to write in a word processing file, what good is the Internet going to do me?

*sighs*

There are also the lovely residents of the lobby. Tonight, there’s is the obligatory weird/crazy/gross guy trying to hit on me while he talks to himself. There is the bitchy assistant that won’t let me use a perfectly good computer that usually isn’t used by anyone. This is with the exception of a few people that are staff member or the staff member’s fuckin’ kids. And not nice kids either, these are the snotty-nosed kids that will hog a computer for hours just because they can. And if you’re on the computer they want to use, they will bug you until you get off so that they can use it.

I have said it many times over, I fucking hate dealing with people and their bullshit sometimes. That includes myself. I get tired of Me just like other people. That really shouldn’t be surprising.

I was thinking on my way to work this week, like I’ve done many times before, about writing an entire book about the people I run into. About hostesses that hate people and can-do managers that are nut jobs and popcorn sirens that are there to lure you in (which was supposed to be a long ago journal entry in this journal) and just everything.

I wish that I had a quiet place to read my saved-for-later fics and a place to simply escape the endless days that I spend at work. There are times when I will work a week straight through. I kind you not.

Of course, I always need the extra money, but I don’t need the stress of stupid servers and crazy managers and stuck up customers that drive me crazy. I don’t need to feel tired all of the time and hurt so much that I literally can’t move. I don’t need an annoying family that doesn’t work, but always asks me for my money and eats up all of my food. I don’t need to pay bills that I am not the only one accumulating. I don’t need a lot of things, but the thing I don’t need the most is my own defeated attitude that comes from being worn down all of the time.

This is not the entry that I sat down to write, but I am glad that I stuck with my pattern of veering off my original course onto something else. True, I can’t post this in my LJ, but then again I don’t bother posting “serious” entries there, because I mostly have fandom people friended there and they tend to stay well away from posts that contain anything of substance, unless you are debating the treacherous ups and downs of fandoming. Only then are they interested in debate and discussion.

It is sometimes sad, but I suppose that LJ is simply more of an escapist paradise of sorts instead of the sort of journal that I always wanted it to be, like the one I have here: an honest account of things that I see and think and feel. That reads like the goopiest smoop and self-serving drivel about my journey to self-actualization, but there it is. That’s why I keep these journals, to write down somewhere the extraordinary and mundane things that happen to me.

Speaking of which, I had a couple of exciting things happen to me. I made my first purchase off of eBay to mixed results. It’s sort of put me off and proved my suspicions about eBay being a horrid place right. I got nada in the customer service department, which I always look for when spending my ‘hard-earned money.’

Nothing will quite piss me off like being ignored or treated badly when I am giving a company money that I worked my behind off for. I spend long hours at my job, and although it pays the best that I’ve ever been paid and it is relatively easy to do, it’s still not totally effortless. It can be back breaking and tedious and irritating and a million other things. So when I get some snot telling me that the can’t help me or I end up ignored altogether, all the while having someone email me on a daily basis demanding money, I end up peeved.

I just had a look at the eBay Feedback feature. Apparently, if you submit negative or neutral feedback, they force you to take a tutorial on leaving feedback. Buwahahahahaha!!! That is the funniest thing ever.

So, I simply put in the answers I knew that they were looking for and clicked on to leave my negative feedback.

Oy. The lobby will be closing soon. I didn’t even get a chance to finish writing this entry. I’ll try to swing back by to post again. I hope that everyone is doing well.

As always, I’m still just,

Danielle