With the screw replaced and everything re-seated for luck, I would have been set. Were not the FAT damaged and about twenty core filed all cross-linked. Fortunately, I had already managed to back everything up. I thought "what the bollocks" and reformatted and re-installed. Everything's back, after downloading needed drivers and updates. Well, everything apart from all that backed-up stuff, which I haven't had chance to restore yet. All in time. At least I got to finally make sure I no longer had that useless crap that Packard Bell had decided to install that I never fully deleted...
The only thing I can't get back (yet) appears to be my copy of PowerDVD. Full version, installed registered with the machine. Can I find it on the CDs that came with the device? Can I fuckery. And I can't find a place to just acquire the full version without shelling out money, which I do not want to do as I already have a fucking license for the software and I am not paying for another one. Bollocks.
Slavetrader interviews yesterday and today. Have to keep in touch just to see that they have nothing for me, the usual tripe. I'd prefer a proper job, but it looks like one of those may not be soon in coming. Bah. At east while I was in town I was able to meet up with an old acquaintance, who's been working at the gaming store here for at least six years (as that's how long the place has been open). Got a copy of Abyssals with 15% off as a "graduation bonus", so I wasn't complaining. Looks to be good shit, as well. Got to dig out the rest of my Exalted stuff as well, at some point. I have been fired up.
Unfortunately, my reading was disturbed by the return of my dad and brother from the pub. And seeing as it's his birthday tomorrow my dad was pissed as a fart, staggering everywhere and generally the two of them were being noisy, boring fucks. Not in the entertaining way of cool, funny people who happen to be merry or high and use that to their advantage, no. We're talking stumbling into door frames, swaying whilst walking, reciting of really and truly lame jokes as if they were from the Voice of Humour himself. That kind of faintly sad drunk, where everyone else knows you've imbibed your way past merry, and you're the only one that doesn't realise this. I must be weird, but the only time I can get some time alone with my thoughts and a net connection is at night, when everyone else is in bed. Them sitting in the same room being arses is not what I consider to be conductive to this. In fact, I consider it really bloody annoying, especially when I have to take a break in the middle of a particularly fun little post in order to shepherd them both upstairs to bed whilst making sure they don't fall and break anything.
Freakishly strange dream last night. I don't remember details, like I did with the other two I've LJ'd. This is more snippets. Last week of university, back at the house. Skinning up a joint that never seems to get any less smoked. Something about it all being over, a project (which seemed to be something to do with the joint) being lost. The joint was acting as a painkiller, as something painful had happened. It's probably a combination of subconscious tobacco cravings, the fact I now no longer know anyone who can sort me out with some good bud, and standard graduation anxiety. The lack of weed is really starting to piss me off, as it reminds me of one of the many reasons I really hate being home: I don't know anyone. Of the people I know at university, the nearest is an hour and a half away and I have no transport. Of the people I knew before university, I've lost contact with all but Paul. Apart from the acquaintance at the gaming shop, I know nobody here who isn't family. Fuck, if I want to go get drunk I have to go with my dad. I'm twenty two, no longer at university and have no life any more. Bollocks.
On a last note, I hate it when people I know not decide that they're going to engage in banter with me online. It gives them a warm fuzzy because they think they know me well enough to do that, and all it does is piss me off at their presumption that they have to do such without simply being able to hang around being intelligent and waiting to stand out from the crowd on their own fucking merit.
: Here's a hint -- He's not yet fifty.