September 24, 1997

I'm fraying, like a high tension wire in a keen wind... the stresses that I have held and held and held, but something inside me is slipping, slowly, gaining speed, gaining tattered, shattered ends, each different, each individual pulling away from the whole...

Or maybe I'm just tired. My mind is working, but it's taking five steps in one direction before moving into another, and then that one is being taken over and changed again. I wrote 7 methods today, and only one of them is actually finished, tested, showable. I wrote four story starts and threw them all away. I got my teeth cleaned, I dug six rooms and @desc'ed none of them. I seem to start everything and then lose interest and can't get back to it.

I sound like Donald Duck. <laughter> A really hoarse, bad voice, so I called WRQ and told the scheduler that I wouldn't make it tomorrow. I will just sleep tomorrow. I had to get some of those methods out, at least conceptually while Engineer got me up at eight in the #$(*&! morning, with my throat so swollen I can't really talk. I can't really breath, either, when I actually take a look and think about it. Hm... much better. Inhalers are good for bronchitus, too, it seems. Yeesh. My back is a row of knots all up the right side. You know, these journal things are really good for me to take a good, solid look at myself and wonder where my head was.

Two more methods and I'm off the worst of the critical path, and then I can rest tomorrow and let my hair be re-blued, and we can get on with the code release that still somewhat bemuses me because I have no *clue* what's going to be happening with the division in a week, or what's going to happen after that.

Guess I'd better get working again.

©1997 by Liralen Li

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