My machine here at work is so lame. I had no idea a Sparc5 with 32MB of memory would be so slow, but here I am, having to restart Netscape for the twenty-third time just so I can switch between desktops without it taking ten minutes. And yes, I know this might just point to Netscape as being lame, but even _without_ Netscape running my machine gets slower and slower until finally in a fit of frustration I close all my applications. Then it speeds up for a while.

Oh, well. I suppose this is the price of naturally multi-tasking very fast. I get infuriated when the computer can't keep up with me.

I had a decent week, although not much of it sticks in my memory. There were no journal entries (does anyone else immediately think of Elf Sternberg? My brain has been shaped far too much by Usenet.) because requiem.com was busy being moved to Union City -- at least, the person who hosts requiem.com was supposedly moving to Union City, so I'm betting that's why the machine was down for the week.

The weekend was pretty fabulous, although in retrospect incredibly tiring. Friday night was Czr's birthday dinner, which was a touch odd due to the presence of one of his work friends. Not bad, just odd. It made me aware of how insulated my social circle is. I spend the majority of my time around people with whom I have a shared history, as well as a great deal in common. There's never any trouble finding topics for conversation, and all the in-jokes are shared, or easily explained. Taking a subset of those people and adding in someone who isn't very interested in the things we talk about made for a mildly tense situation. In the end, though, it was a pleasant evening.

Saturday I got my hair cut, spent a lot of time melting in the 98-degree heat, and then went to a marvelous Heather Alexander concert at City Lights. The room was so crowded we had several rows of people sitting on the floor, as well as the usual crush of people crowded around tiny cafe-tables. A fairly sizable number of people I knew showed up, and there were some familiar faces in the crowd from previous concerts. Heather played almost all of the songs I like, and very few of the songs I dislike. She even played Barrett's Privateers, although Czr and I did spend about thirty minutes requesting it. (Politely: we'd wait until she finished a song, then yell 'Barrett's Privateers' a few times, then see what happened.)

I'm catching up on the online journals I read; currently I'm in the middle of CJ's rant about how boring most online journals are. For some reason this spurs me to add myself to OpenPages so that I may be either publically mocked or applauded. I think I'll do that after lunch... right now I need to run out to the parking lot and be picked up by Czr so I can eat Greek food and rant about stupid people some.

Earl gets here tonight. As before, I am not really excited, despite knowing that I will melt into a delirious puddle of joy the moment I see him. This is such a nutty situation. We've got to start living in the same city sooner rather than later.