rue-madame's Diaryland
Diary
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Mac attack
That computer that I�ve been talking incessantly about? The one with the new operating system? Well, it doesn�t have the new operating system on it anymore. I reverted back to the old one because I couldn�t take it. It was making me nuts! For 12 hours, I couldn�t print, I couldn�t 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? That�s why I had to go back into my cave and get cozy. I�m sorry this is so boring. While I was freaking out about my system, I realized that I�ve been using some applications for over ten years: Mac OS, 14 years; Adobe Illustrator, 12 years; Adobe PhotoShop, 11 years. See why I�m so crotchety? Don�t even get me started on key commands that change from one version to the next, new �features� 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 we�re usually side-tracked or in a funk, but I decided that since we didn�t do anything special for eachother on our birthdays, we should at least mark the occasion of our first, official date (that�s 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 we�re married, but I know some people think the anniversary should mark the first kiss, or the first time two people acknowledged eachother. I think it�s the first time you each decided to spend time together, and it�s just convenient for me that I remember the exact date. Anyway we saw �Lost in Translation,� 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 didn�t 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 you�ll see why in a sec) and they have piped in music for your shopping pleasure (ok, a few seconds.) It�s 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 �choreographed� to �dance� with the �music.� I�m sure I�ve complained about this before. How could I not? It�s 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
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