July 24th, 2004

old school hacker, bug

The System is -- oh god.

So the Old Lady Monitor was overseeing me signing in to the computer and the new system. Sheeeeeeeit. That's like the blind leading an experienced mountaineer up the slopes of Mount Doom in Mordor, people...

And, predictably, like a blind guide up Mount Doom's little mission ... doom.

Evidently I did something wrong (I asked Windows not to remember the login/password, and not to ask me about it again) and this made it so that I couldn't log in. Clearly. And I'm also dating Britney Spears, and Sean Connery is consumed with mad unrequited lust for me. I sat firmly on Naomi and "admitted my mistake" and it turned out that the IT person to ask what my login and password were was not around, so I couldn't log in, and I went back on the phones for the rest of the night.

We are, evidently, trying this again Saturday. Today.

My toes are on flaming-hot Tabasco-fire with anticipation.
  • Current Mood
    *facepalm*
ieee coin

Proper Slack

All technical difficultiesseem to have been resolved. The Lunatic logged in successfully to the happy little .asp pages that are the UI for this new system. Even slowed down in trying the new stuff, I was zooming and clicking a little too fast for the Old Lady Monitor. I discovered the alphabetical anchors and clickd right to the relevant section -- and was scolded for scrolling down and was taken back to the top of the page so she could show me the links to the bits of the alphabet. *eyeroll*

But all is going very well. I love the new monitoring system. It has the name, you enter booth, job, supervisor, you enter text comments, you click radio buttons for rating attributes, and it tells you hen time's up. *snogs system*

I can now mock Darkside again.
  • Current Mood
    smug
tricircle

Announcement: the head-breaky.

Remember the head-breaky that I wanted so badly to tell everyone, but just couldn't, because it wasn't my news to tell and also other people who hadn't been told needed to hear first?

Well.

As of this just past Tuesday, marxdarx and sorcha007 are officially engaged to be married, ring and everything. The Little Fayoumis is ecstatic. After I got done screaming with unanticipatedness, I started screaming with general glee. shammash is still disgruntled at having been part of the treasure hunt to find the ring -- his part in it involved wearing a sign with a clue to the next stage of the hunt.

Tentative wedding plans put the wedding sometime this fall or winter, and me as the (old) Maid of Honor. If the minister of choice (an old family friend) cannot attend, I may well wind up officiating.

So that's the head-breaky.

Darkside was told today, so now that that's happened, I get to announce it to LJ...

Nobody tell Sis's mom, 'k?
running, bomb tech

Someplace to be Writing

The conventional writer's dream is of a tidy space, with plenty of light, plenty of paper, plenty of writing implements, and a wide inviting flat surface on which to employ the one against the other. There is a view, there, a nice inviting window framing landscape or cityscape, and the room is proof against unwanted noise. Writer's heaven, right?

It's a solitary hell to the writing Lunatic. The writing Lunatic is in the middle of a fray, almost the more noise the better. The writing Lunatic has a notepad, or laptop computer with a wireless uplink, or one of the infamous three-ring binders. Ideally, if I wanted to really write, I would be stretched out full-length on a couch or the floor, propped up on my elbows, headphones on and mood music blasting in my ears just ever so slightly above the buzz of local conversation. I sprawl on the floor writing, occasionally rearranging myself with utter disregard for the safety of objects around me, cackling with glee as I write something that I particularly like (especially when the characters are having a horribly angsty time), occasionally pounding my head on a nearby shoulder if they just won't do as told.

My writing thrives on social contact. I take everything in, and while I'm processing, kick out the stuff that was in the back of my mind, sometimes flavored with the current ambiance. Papers scatter around me, I post to LJ frequently with the latest updates on the mindspace, I bounce ideas off friends local and distant, and I write. I write, I edit, I revise, I cackle madly as the old ideas line up anew and finally click into place with each other, and I write.

I want the peace and quiet for reading. I need near-silence and no distractions. I can fall into the book's world better that way, sink into a cushioned corner on my back and lose the world for hours. A good book can pull me in through noise and crowd and laughter and fun, but I prefer the silence, so the world won't pass me by while I'm lost in the pages.
running, bomb tech

Phone with Darkside

Had a nice chat with him today. Almost an hour. He was gaming, and I was sharing things that I didn't even know I was going to be sharing. The man is pursuasive.