First thing, I've been chewed out (in a very informal, polite way) for the terribe crime of being bored at work. Or rather, how I used that time. Apparently I should have spent it looking through the system at work that I will be testing (when the coder gets off his arse and does it) despite the fact that I know the system from running through it last week. That or I should be constantly revising my test plans, something that I finished within an hour of getting in to work. What was my misdemeanour? Writing a forum post. Admittedly, it was 2000 words on the magic/magick thing for some slacker who hasn't yet read MRev, and it was an hour of constant typing, but even so. The afternoon was spent sneaking furtive reads of /.. I even had the chance to submit a story, but no sign of it so it's probably not been accepted. But what am I to do at work when I'm limited to technical websites and can't even write? Boredom is fucking with my mind and I cannot — will not — allow myself to be bored.
That and disconnection. People around me, people online, drifting away. Finding time online less and less fulfilling so spending less and less time online, so I get less and less time to speak to them so there's less and less reason to speak to them. Which sucks. I'd like to say that I could do what I used to a year ago, spending upwards of 18 hours a day online, but now my time online's all I have to myself. There's no option of not being online, as the only people I could go out with are my family (who I am fucking sick of) and the people I work with (who I do not know well enough to want to socialise with). So the world finds itself drifting offlne, and I'm the hoary old bastard that it's leaving behind, sat here with my old-fashioned long hair (so early 90s), my old fashioned eyebrow piercing (so turn of the century) and old fashion sense (all-black Goth was so mid-80s), nursing my old-fashioned internet addiction. Cherishing the seconds I get to myself and cursing myself over the friends that've vanished or will soon. The old drunk sat at the back of the pub thinking it's still his day even though his mates are long gone and pints are no longer an old sixpence each.
Yeah. I need something to sort my head, and soon.