Thursday, 13 April 2006 | This is 2006

A couple weeks ago my department moved into new offices, on a new floor. The floor is still being built, and at any given moment, I can hear a chorus of drills, hammers, Steely Dan boombox, and syrupy New York accents. I like that the workers are still here, roaming around, making jokes, filling the air with the smell of wood chips, and adding chaos to the uniform beige that emanates in all directions, like a drab khaki supernova.

I've started to learn a little bit about their respective personalities, or at least which ones are extroverted and which are introverted. The guy with the nicest smile wore a new shirt today, the first time he's done that, I think, since we moved. A few of them noticed when I changed my hair color (it's red now), acknowledging the change as a matter-of-fact, or simply to make sure they weren't crazy. I've been wondering what they think of us, the ones who spend their days sitting, staring, typing. I imagine that they're not remotely jealous, and that perhaps they even take pity on us. It makes me feel a little embarrassed.

...

Unlucky with pricey new technology: after sending my Nikon D70 to the shop twice (it's fine now), I'm now onto seemingly major Powerbook problems. Mechanical things that break are overwhelmingly frustrating to me, mostly, I think, because I don't remotely understand what goes on inside their little bodies. (I like troubleshooting software, but I don't even know where to begin when it comes to hardware.) Faulty machines turn me into a caveman, making me want to shrug, hit the offending technology with a big wooden club, and throw it away. Yesterday, instead of giving into that feeling, I spent an hour-and-a-half at the Apple Store genius bar, waiting for them to take my laptop off my hands and disassemble it in their more civilized way. I should have it back in two weeks. (sadface.)