Thursday, 16 September 2004 | The Machine

I've suspected for a while that my state of emergency was perpetual (always being busy and never saying no). But when you're in the middle of it, it's hard to see beyond the present, beyond the next few items on the list. I am convinced, however, that the stress I feel at the moment is elevated a notch above Lisa-normal, a level that almost hurts. Kind of like if I were strapped to The Machine in The Princess Bride.

Today I ate my lunch while pacing on the sidewalk and discussing web-related code into my cell phone for half an hour, flour from the white dusty bread decorating my face and phone in powder puff fashion. Breakfast was eaten in the glow of a computer screen, and dinner was a slice of pizza on a moving subway, catching crumbs in a brown paper bag.

Part of the problem is my impending vacation, as everything needs to happen before next Thursday, when I leave for Mexico. Suddenly I will have no computer, no projects or appointments, and no social obligations—nothing but the psychological dust that's stirred up from having slammed on brakes. I'm curious to see how that goes.