AccessNovember 18, 2004
I'm sick. And I have to go in to work early tonight. Bleah. Why the hell isn't it Friday yet?
I am so annoyed. Our brilliant webmasters at work have adjusted the reading levels again so that I can't go to any sites that are related to typepad or blogspot or livejournal, to name just a few, and I can't access bloglines anymore, either. Because, you know, all you knitters write about sex so much. I wish you would quit posting all those naked pictures of yourselves. Sheesh. Pervs.
Our webmasters really are quite stupid, you know. Seriously. I do more complicated things on a daily basis to my computer, and I ain't no computer hacker. Things like spyware make them scratch their heads. Firefox? What's that? Maybe if we block access to all sports pages (goodbye, AIDS Marathon home page), we'll solve the virus problems. Perhaps if we prohibit all websites about "Hobbies" (goodbye, Knitty.com), we'll make our workplace safer. Please.
Now, I know I'm lucky to have access to the internet at all while at work. But it's a necessary perk. If you can't read the internet, there is no humanly way possible to stay awake at four in the morning when the radio is silent and the phones aren't ringing and you've said all you can say to your co-worker without going deep into the gossip bowl. Knitting is not enough at four in the morning. Writing is not enough. Hell, jumping rope wouldn't be enough. I have seen people pass out in the middle of a sentence. It's not pretty.
So. That is to say this: I will be commenting less. Much, much less. I choose to restrict my computer time at home to respectable levels. Sitting in front of four computer screens full-time makes me sensitive to spending much of my personal life in front of my computer at home. I'm writing, too, and that's just more time in front of the screen. I can't bear much more.
I'll still browse. I'll still access my bloglines at home and skim all my favorites (and good lord, do I have a lot of 'em). But don't feel badly if you hear from me less, please please please. I don't love you any less, I swear. And iffen you wanna chat, drop me a line. Or if you write a great post and want me to read it, write me and tell me. I'll still be around, just not as visible.
But this cheered me up:
Rebecca, late of marathon completion herself, sent me a bag o'goodies to get me over the rough spots. And look! There's a bag of foot stuff to get my poor feeties over the rough spots, too. And blister band-aids! And chocolate! (That's all gone now.) Bless her heart.
Bless all your hearts. I hope you all know what your readership means to me. I've met the best, most wonderful people through this little blog, and I see and read the world differently every day because of you. I am blessed.
And I have jelly-bellies to eat. Excuse me.