The time I did nothing


Ever have one of those days? A day when you don’t feel like doing anything? I mean, nothing. At all. I’m having one of those days. Right now.

I don’t feel like playing games. I don’t feel like reading. There’s nothing I particularly want to watch. I don’t feel like going anywhere. I don’t feel like napping. I sure as hell don’t feel like doing the dishes or the laundry. I don’t, it may surprise you, feel like writing.

I could, literally (the real ‘literally’, not the ironic ‘literally’), sit here and do absolutely nothing. Nothing. Stare at the wall not moving, nothing.

Tomorrow I’d feel bad about it. Monday I’d feel even worse. I’d sit there at work thinking, “Man, I had all day Saturday to move those boxes into the closet. To disconnect the unused computer equipment and move it out of the way. I could have played games all day. I wish I could do any of that right now.”

But right now, nah, I don’t feel like doing it. Any of it. I sure don’t want to feel bad Monday, though.

So I’ll do my laundry. Not so much for me, but for the people I have to be around. If I worked from home I’d just not do it and sit around working in my underwear. Or nothing. Maybe just socks. I don’t work from home, though, so that means wearing clothes. What a fascist society we live in. But, again, it’s not for me so much as the people I have to be around.

I should write about something, though. If I’m going to go through the trouble of typing something. Let me look around. Nope, that’s not helping. All I see is crap.

I think the problem is that I didn’t get much sleep last night. I think, and this is going to sound a little sad, but I think I was so excited about getting an external SSD for my Mac that I just couldn’t sleep. It’s very small, thankfully; it could probably fit in a cigarette pack. It’s thin, so maybe two would fit.

But I’m tired right now. I don’t want to take a nap because if I sleep for an hour I probably won’t get to sleep later tonight. That’s how I am.

Anyway, while I was looking around for something to write about, I disconnected to NAS devices I’m not using anymore. Also, an external USB hard drive got moved so I could see what was on it (a 3 TeraByte drive that’s empty), and a monitor finally got socked away.

I work in the computer field but I’m sure I have more computer equipment than anyone I know. A lot of it is hard drives. So much so, that I built my own NAS and stocked it full of drives for the sole purpose of getting rid of the other two I just put in the closet.

Hopefully my electric bill will go down a bit. On the plus side, my big ugly shelf is now almost empty on top. I just need to do something with the wireless router and Ethernet switch.

Seriously. I could put a small business to shame with the junk I have here.

Maybe that’s why an iMac is so desirable to me? The idea of having one desk, with one computer on it, that’s barely noticable but for the monitor. Not this multi-computer, dual keyboard, dual mouse, three monitor extravaganza I have going on now.

One computer.


The mind wobbles.

What a shame, then, that I’m already planning on buying a new Wi-Fi router because I finally have a device that uses 802.11ac. And a 10GB switch because there’s a couple now below $13,000.00. That, of course, means buying two new 10GB network cards. Yes. Two. Seems kind of a waste for two computers, but, being single with no kids, I can afford to splurge. If I had friends I would buy LED flashing Ethernet cables just for the ‘Wow!’ Factor. “You actually paid money for these? Wow!”

I also want an iPad. I know not why. And to upgrade my computer to the new AMD Threadripper.

I know, I know, you don’t care about computer shit. I don’t blame you. I don’t either, except it’s all I got. If it wasn’t computers, I’d be buying high-end stereo equipment and insisting that “You really can tell the difference if you listen hard enough!” Or cars. I’d be spending thousand of dollars on… I don’t know. Cat back exhaust? Headers? Tail pipe tips?

I could probably make me and people who know me.a lot happier if I just spent it on hookers. Or, maybe, a plane ticket to Russia to meet some of those single ladies that want to come over to the US.

But I would hate to bring a smart, educated, beautiful woman thousands of miles across the ocean just so she could look at my networking equipment and say, “That’s it?”

That happens, right?


We all have them. Even me. I remember a lot of them, too. They mostly have the same general theme, which is being kind of lost but trying to help someone else find their way.

Dream interpretation is something I don’t usually go for. It is my belief that dreams are very personal to the dreamer and whatever it means (if anything) is something only that person would be able to figure out. Books on dream interpretation may say, for example, that water means physical sex. To the dreamer, it might mean a mortal fear of water and not something sexy at all. My therapist always wants me to tell her what I think my dreams mean. I have no idea. Maybe a book would help.

My dreams start in public places. A restaurant, maybe. Or an open air flea market. I’m usually alone. Sometimes my dad is there and I talk to him for a little while. Sometimes, I know my wife is there but I can’t see her. Or I can’t see her face. She’s never near me, though.

At some point I start walking and trying to figure out where I’m going. Usually trying to find an exit. The surroundings gradually change. A big shopping mall might turn into a small town tree-lined street, for example. It’s never a sudden change like walking through a door. Somewhere along the line I’ll meet someone else (usually a woman) who is also lost and I’ll invite the to come along with me. Every once in a while I’ll be attracted to the woman and start thinking about making advances. Suddenly, they will have a significant other. Seriously. Even in my dreams I have no luck.

Then the alarm goes off and I wake up.

One time I dreamed that there was a door in my (very small) apartment that I never noticed. I opened the door and found the ‘rest’ of my apartment. It was huge with at least two floors and a fireplace. I can’t even tell you how annoyed I was when I woke up and realized that I wasn’t missing 3/4 of my apartment.

Make of that what you will.


Most of what I know about anything comes from television. I don’t mean things like… Well, I’m not even sure how to describe it. Let’s say general life things. What I get from television is more of a… unusual knowledge. Trivia, sort of. It’s probably not even what I’m supposed to take away from what I’m watching, but there you go.

My dad was a fan of the classics: The Three Stooges, The Marx Brothers, the “Road” movies with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, and more. He encouraged me to watch them and, probably, like them. So much so that when I was young (say, 7 to 9 or so) and the local station was playing a Marx Brothers movie at midnight or 2AM or whatever, he would wake me up if I asked and let me watch for fifteen minutes until I fell asleep again.

I don’t know anyone that would do that for their kid, especially knowing the youngster would just fall right back asleep again. There were a lot of reasons to love my dad, and that was one of them. I don’t think he ever knew just how much that meant to me.

Anyway, one of the things that would crop up occasionally (aside from all men wearing hats, ice being delivered to the home and other things that we don’t really think about these days) are ‘mail order brides.’

Mail order brides tend to crop up in westerns. Women from the East coast moving out West to marry some guy they’ve never met. The man would, from what I can tell, select a woman from a catalog and then they’d write letters back and forth until it was agreed that they’d get hitched. I’m not really sure what the woman got out of it or why they would sell themselves that way.

One day, I wondered if they were still a thing. Do women still list themselves in a catalog in the hopes of getting married? It turns out that some do. Technically, I guess all dating sites are sort of mail order bride/groom sites. Women from different countries can be part of a ‘dating’ site in the hopes of moving to a different country and getting married. The first few that I found were set up to match Ukranian women to men in the west (what a coincidence). In this case, though, it was western countries and not the Wild West.

I looked at a few profiles and saw some very beautiful women with college degrees and what sounded like very good jobs. For the most part, they could speak several languages (with English being one of them). It was at that point that I realized that I really had nothing to offer these ladies except for a ticket to America. I mean, they were pretty, they were smart, they had good jobs. Coming here to marry me would be a step down.

So, my idle curiousity sated, I forgot about it for several years. I was married twice to women that could only be described as mentally unbalanced. I mean that in a very serious sense. One of them was only slightly off, but the later one was bi-polar and, probably, suffered from borderline personality disorder.

Since then, I’ve been alone. I don’t get out much since going out alone doesn’t excite me. I have no friends, so there’s no one to go out with. I work in an industry that is primarily (and stupidly) male so there’s no one to meet. I’ve been signed up for dating sites but I’m hesitant to make the first move. Most of this stems from a fear of finding another person like my second wife because that was the most trying, and worst, time of my life. I could literally write pages upon pages of what I went through. I am still deeply damaged by that time and I don’t even realize just how deep it is.

But I’m alone. And it sucks. So I started thinking about those Ukranian mail order brides again. Would it be such a terrible thing? Even if they’re sole purpose in latching on to me was to get citizenship here, at least I would know that up front. Maybe if I married young enough and kicked the bucket they would get my life insurance and have a fairly decent time of it. That wouldn’t be a terrible thing, would it? They would get a foot into the US, and I would have a reason to go out and show them all kinds of things, have dinner, watch movies, and who knows what else. Because I’ll do all those things for someone else, I just won’t do them for me. That would be something, right?

Unfortunately, it would involve taking trips out of the country. I don’t have a passport and I lost my love of flying when the airlines decided they should pack people on a flight like cattle and then treat them like shit by staying out on the tarmac for hours at a time with no regard to life, limb, or sanity. Maybe, though, that would be good for me, too.