Overflow and cow rapture

Mucin is more than spit
Today, I recommend that you pay no attention to what follows because I'm under the heavy influence of drugs and a head cold which has filled my sinuses and all other available space in the vicinity of my head with mucin. God, I just hope it's not mucin IV - a bad prognostic sign for some cancers.

Today is my second sick day - in about 3 years - I checked my records. I've not taken an official sick day in a while and damn it, I'm going to enjoy this one. That is when I'm not feeling giddy nor light-headed. How light-headed? Why, I dipped into my overdraft inadvertently today because I paid the city taxes from the wrong account. Time will tell how much CCS will charge me for this - especially since I was in negative cash flow for only a few hours. Mind you, it was a very effective wake up call when ID woke me up with a discreet buzz and green glow to tell me that CCS had sent me a message warning me that my account was below my set minimums, and even worse, that there was a negative balance. Unfortunately, I went back to sleep again and when I woke later, more interest, payable to the overdraft overlords, I'm sure, had accrued.

Woolliness doesn't mean undefined does it?
I confess that today I'm out of sorts. Out. Of. Sorts. Yesterday at the apogee of the cold's effects (I see a cold as something which orbits around one with waxing and waning tidal flows of mucin), there were at least 25 e-mails from work about another application for an application due that day. To make life even more miserable, there was also a last-minute request to write a one page for a core resource - this was also to go into the application for an application (AFAA, aka LOI, or MPWOTE - most probably waste of time and effort). I had to do it, however, because of guilt. GUILT. The great motivator of life. This is sad, that so much of my life is motivated by feelings of guilt, and the realization makes me even more out of sorts. Nonetheless, I did scrape something very woolly and undefined together and sent it off with my best wishes. Now we wait. And wait. And. Wait.

Triage - not just for the ER anymore
Last week was depressing because I was subject to 5 rejections from various odd bods. In fact, at least 2 weren't even read, and were rejected on principle. I hate it when people do things on principle, when really, what they should be doing are things that Please. Me. That's how the way the world should work. If the world and life were to operate on that principle of pleasing me, and only me, then life would be dandy because things like poverty (not defined as median household income) , war (defined as people killing each other for no reason), or excessive consumption (defined as anybody who tries to make you buy something which you don't need or want) would not exist and we'd all be happy, content, and have warm fuzzy feelings for one another. Or not - because warm fuzzy feelings are highly inconvenient and more often than not lead to poverty, excessive consumption and war. I present to you DeBeer's dictum that an engagement ring should cost 3x your monthly salary, and Helen of Troy. See? Warm fuzzy feelings are the bane of our existence.

The other thing I would outlaw right away were I to King of the World, are people with loud voices who talk for the sake of talking. There is one such person sharing the space with me, and she punctuates everything she says with a nervous giggle that blasts through the air like NASA trying to make their latest jet-propelled device break the sound barrier twice over. I'm trying very hard to be tolerant, but it's not easy when you're rejected 5x over and feeling out of sorts. Still, I shouldn't take it out on her because it's bad karma. Bad. Karma. Must. Remember. Because I need all the help (whether evidence based or not) I can get  to continue for another 11 years.

The rapture of being cow-like
I also read an article that Dr. J posted about a cowpocalypse wherein cows were called to Rapture, and people wrote in to complain, but the rapturous cows (hard to imagine cows showing signs of rapture, but there you are) were really an example of how concious computing might be the answer to the early onset dementia and lack of attention caused by too much time online - whether it be caressing your device, being online at work, or posting bits and bobs on your favourite social network to justify (and dare I say, aggrandize) your own little, little, little existence. Before you take umbrage to what I've just written, I'm just as guilty of this - ahhh, another piece of evidence showing that guilt really does drive me and my little, little, little motivations. Be that as it may, I shall now aspire to concious computing. This doesn't mean that I plan to curtail my little, little, little presence on the digital domain, but I shall do it with greater consciousness. From now on, every thing I post will have even more meaning than before. Yes, that's the answer - all that I do will be with full intent - everything that I think, write or do will be dripping with significance. Except that it's up to the observer to figure out the significance - I don't have to explain myself, and after all your interpretation of what I say between the lines will say more about you than about me.

Then again, I'm at the apex of the pharmacokinetic curve of drixoral dispersion so all bets are off as to what happens next. After all I did warn you in the beginning.