Stare at the clock in the left hand corner of my screen. 3:25.
Stare at Photoshop. Try to coax out ideas that won't come.
Stare at clock in left-hand corner of screen. 3:50.
Continue staring. 3:51.

Open Illustrator. Actually listen to lyrics coming through headphones. Wonder how Paula Cole got so damn weird. Realize that you're opening a program but don't know what good you can do with it when it opens.

3:52.This is what it feels like to be totally overwhelmed. This is what it's like after you've been here for seven hours, having only stopped for five minutes to eat a burger. This is what it's like to have come in, worked all day, and done nothing but fall further behind than where you were at the end of the day before.

Thus, the journal entry. It would be delusional of me to think that the next ten minutes I give up to organize my thoughts would have any chance of me getting caught up on this day.

Courtesy of Brad:

Looks like my wishes for a quiet weekend are probably not going to be granted. I was thinking that this weekend might, at last, be the quiet one I've been wishing for. Kat will be in Atlanta, Heather in D.C., Jess in England. Jeff will be recovering from finals, Andy and Sean will be out of pocket, and everyone else could just heed the N/A sign on ICQ.

Then, of course, tonight, my computer decides to throw out signs of impending doom. I know it's time to do a wipe and reinstall—it doesn't mean that I have to like it. I think I'll be using the laptop for computing until I can get my main machine sandblasted and reorganized.Sigh. But, it happens.

A sign of how my day is going to go today, and a quick flash of dry AndyWit[tm] to boot. I had a coupon for $50 off of a large order at Amazon.com. That, and free shipping. I only had a few days to do it before the coupon expired. So I was going to order myself a Handspring—because, quite frankly, if there was a person with a busy enough life and enough to-do and to-purchase lists that could use a PDA, I'm that person.This morning, I had a flash of insight:

Sigh. Time for one of those moments where I look up and say, "Not again. I'm not laughing, dammit."

Another email from Mom tonight. This one had words that I've known that I would hear someday: "The doctor told us yesterday that [your] dad has some spots that have shown up on his lungs, so we are scheduled for more surgery Dec. 26 for [a] biopsy on them."

Both of my parents are heavy smokers, and have been so for as long as I can remember. It's not necessary for me to say the word; you undoubtedly know what I, the nonsmoking child of two chain-smokers, have on my mind.There are other things this could be. It is true that my father has had pneumonia several times, and this could be scar tissue resulting from those illnesses. He was also exposed to asbestos during the 1960s; this could be a reaction to that.

It's official—we're going to Dragon*Con 2001. According to Kat and Heather, we will be working as part of the TechOps crew that helps run the Con. Eeep. When I talked to the hotel today, they said they were mostly full. Hard to believe when the Con isn't until Labor Day weekend of 2001, but then again, this is a huge convention.