powered by SignMyGuestbook.com

rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Mac attack

That computer that Iíve been talking incessantly about? The one with the new operating system? Well, it doesnít have the new operating system on it anymore. I reverted back to the old one because I couldnít take it. It was making me nuts!

For 12 hours, I couldnít print, I couldnít make pdfs. And I had no font management system (because that software package was newly incompatible)! What the hell am I, a graphic designer, supposed to do without the ability to communicate my ideas via paper or electronic means? And without type?

Thatís why I had to go back into my cave and get cozy.

Iím sorry this is so boring.

While I was freaking out about my system, I realized that Iíve been using some applications for over ten years: Mac OS, 14 years; Adobe Illustrator, 12 years; Adobe PhotoShop, 11 years. See why Iím so crotchety?

Donít even get me started on key commands that change from one version to the next, new ďfeaturesĒ that are useless memory cloggers, old features that are retired, interfaces that get uglier and more lowest-common-denominator than ever before... ooh, it just makes my blood boil.

So glad I reverted back to system 9.2.2. A couple of deep, cleansing breaths and...

Yesterday, we celebrated our anniversary. We never do because weíre usually side-tracked or in a funk, but I decided that since we didnít do anything special for eachother on our birthdays, we should at least mark the occasion of our first, official date (thatís how I calculate the anniversary. A wedding is like the prom, and the prom is just a big fancy affair where your date is paramount, right?) Not that weíre married, but I know some people think the anniversary should mark the first kiss, or the first time two people acknowledged eachother. I think itís the first time you each decided to spend time together, and itís just convenient for me that I remember the exact date.

Anyway we saw ďLost in Translation,Ē finally, then had lunch at Toast. I liked both. I actually cried at the end of the movie, just two little tears--plink, plink--onto my cheeks. I even sat through the credits because I didnít want it to end. Leaving the theater was so strange, because we were at the Grove (which we, and lots of other people, call The Groove, and youíll see why in a sec) and they have piped in music for your shopping pleasure (ok, a few seconds.) Itís surreal. The entire mall is designed to look like Quaint Disneyland Main Street America of Yesteryear with a dopey trolley that goes up and down Main Street, and fountains that are ďchoreographedĒ to ďdanceĒ with the ďmusic.Ē Iím sure Iíve complained about this before. How could I not? Itís prime rue-madame bitching material.

Where was I? Ah yes... the movie, fleeing the mall, eating lunch. When we got home, I turned on my computer and just broke down. Terence made me move my tantrum to the bedroom (so that I could flop on the bed and kick and pound my fists and scream into pillows, and most importantly, be out of his way) and after about 5 minutes, I fell asleep.

Maybe all this tired and cranky baby needed was a nice, long nap.

8:54 a.m. - 2003-10-01



previous - next

latest entry

about me





roll the dice

other diaries: