Yes, I'm still alive, though it's not from want of hoping. Having a virus on the machine isn't the only reason I've been offline, I've just been so tired I haven't wanted to bother. (And the flashing ads on the bottom right hand of this screen here at Easy Everything aren't helping matters). I'm having some problems seeing things. Obviously, it's just a matter of getting an eye test and stronger glasses, plus going to the dentist, so my teeth can be peered at and rectified ... but these are symptoms of growing old(er), which I don't like. I don't want to be like Dorian Gray, or rather, I don't want the bad things associated with it, but I've always been able to pass for 10 years less than my real age at least, and now I'm looking my age and more. I'm even wearing lipstick and face cream, though it will take a lot more before I put on eye makeup (which irritates my eyes). It's not that I'm afraid of death, because I realised that would happen a long time ago, but it's the long, slow path down to decrepitude that scares me.
I'm really lonely, too.
Of course, I know what to do: go and find a new social life, stop whining, pick myself and start all over again. After all, I may be no oil painting, but who is? Everyone has imperfections and emotional luggage. And, at the very least, I could do some studying, since my first assignment is due in 8/1/02 (the second, due in February, is so far untouched and unthought about).
And if I can't do that, I can have a gingerbread latte at Starbucks while I look at the pictures from the office party (an Abba Tribute Evening). I think I may need that drink to recover from the shock of seeing my boss dancing, me in black leather, my conservative colleague in a Hawaiian shirt, the fuddy-duddiest man in the company having women crawling over him (or, as my other colleague says rather sourly, women always go for someone safe, no doubt a reason why they totally ignored him).