I'm totally bitching, but what the crap, why do we insist on cramming as much junk into one day as possible?? What happened to doing good work in a reasonable amount of time and making living, and enjoying, life a priority? I literally have had 10 minutes to eat my lunch today. Dumb.
That's all, I'd bitch more but I have to go to a meeting.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Skaliticians show @ 7th St. Entry
Originally uploaded by gordonelliot
You can check 'em out on cyberspace at: www.myspace.com/skaliticians.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Office life
When I was nine or ten, I had an old computer that I inhereted from my uncle. It was pure electronic bliss. Big ol' boot discs, that only I knew how to properly use. Cobra command or something similar where I got to bomb enemy hide outs from the comfort of my side scrolling helicopter. Life was good.
As I got older I decided that, what was more fun than just playing video games I could beat, was using the sophisticated word processing software that was on this old computer. I would sit in my room during the summer, binoculars in hand, and alternately look out the window and record the important "business information" that I could gather. Pressing work was at hand, and I didn't have any time to lolligag. This of course was with the obvious caveat that I could stop and play with my pet snakes that were on the desk when need be. (They would later fall victim to a series of gruesome attacks by Sox, our cat) But life was good. The windows were open, I was word processing the crap out of everything, and one couldn't ask for much more.
Today I sit at a desk. It's bigger than the one I had then. It has no cubbies underneath for highlighters and makers. It has walls on 3 sides, and my butt doesn't get sore from sitting on a crappy wooden chair because I've got the biggest, baddest, mother f*(#ing ergonomic chair this side of the Mississippi. I have a computer that boots all on its own—no discs needed—and it has two monitors and a crazy wheely mouse, and all sorts of things I couldn't have even dreamed of then. Hell, it even has an internet connection, which in 1991 I only partially understood, but the $100 to buy a modem was cost-prohibitive.
Sadly, with all the gadgets, doo-dads and allure of "the office life", I think I would take an afternoon observing the woods behind my parent's house, playing with those dumb snakes, and feeling the summer heat ebb and flow in and out of the room through the open windows in an instant. Sometimes our dreams of the world are a lot more interesting than what it really turns out to be.
As I got older I decided that, what was more fun than just playing video games I could beat, was using the sophisticated word processing software that was on this old computer. I would sit in my room during the summer, binoculars in hand, and alternately look out the window and record the important "business information" that I could gather. Pressing work was at hand, and I didn't have any time to lolligag. This of course was with the obvious caveat that I could stop and play with my pet snakes that were on the desk when need be. (They would later fall victim to a series of gruesome attacks by Sox, our cat) But life was good. The windows were open, I was word processing the crap out of everything, and one couldn't ask for much more.
Today I sit at a desk. It's bigger than the one I had then. It has no cubbies underneath for highlighters and makers. It has walls on 3 sides, and my butt doesn't get sore from sitting on a crappy wooden chair because I've got the biggest, baddest, mother f*(#ing ergonomic chair this side of the Mississippi. I have a computer that boots all on its own—no discs needed—and it has two monitors and a crazy wheely mouse, and all sorts of things I couldn't have even dreamed of then. Hell, it even has an internet connection, which in 1991 I only partially understood, but the $100 to buy a modem was cost-prohibitive.
Sadly, with all the gadgets, doo-dads and allure of "the office life", I think I would take an afternoon observing the woods behind my parent's house, playing with those dumb snakes, and feeling the summer heat ebb and flow in and out of the room through the open windows in an instant. Sometimes our dreams of the world are a lot more interesting than what it really turns out to be.
Monday, October 15, 2007
create
Does anyone else have this: The intense desire to create, and, burried somewhere deep down the unarticulated vision of the perfect idea. Every project attempts to somehow capture this ideal, but always falls short, never able to manifest itself and give meaning to what one does. The cycle continues and the perfect project always hangs agonizingly close but never attainable.
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