please wait.

< back | up | next >

25 july 1997

4:29 p.m.

Dear diary, I'm beginning to think there's a conspiracy to keep us apart. I can't talk long, because at the moment I'm sneaking some online time from someone else's computer (a Packard Hell, but beggars can't be choosers). Specifically, a client's computer. It's no big thing. Eight pages, content and images provided, for $75. It's all casual hire -- no general excise tax stuff or anything. Just a personal check for hopefully no more than three evenings of work. Hell, the closest thing to a contract I have is an e-mail instructing me to "Make it pretty." Fortunately they also paid in advance. They're an upstart downtown law firm. Frankly, though, I wouldn't care if it was the Christian Coalition... the money spends the same. I think this baby's going toward a Zip drive. Or the repair bill. After months of zippy, perfect performance, my computer decided to take an unscheduled vacation. I'd hit the on switch and get the cheery chime, but the screen would only flash for a split second before everything would go dark. The wonderful people at MicroAge (who apparently think "We open at nine" leaves twenty-minutes of leeway) say it's probably just the power supply. It'll take a minute to fix... but it'll take four working days before anyone's even going to look at it. And I believe the labor is a few grand an hour... rounded up to the nearest hour. It's getting to the point where I don't care about the cost, though. I miss my baby. And my monitor and keyboard sitting at home alone look like Larry and Curly without Moe. What's more, when I came home yesterday my body unleashed every ounce of adrenaline in a panic before I realized I hadn't been burglarized. Though I didn't see Jay there, the "Friends of the Library" book sale was still worthwhile. There were at least fifty hardcover copies of "The New Our Bodies, Ourselves." The computer pile was good for a few smiles. I particularly enjoyed thumbing through the user manual for Lotus 1-2-3 version 1. They had references on DOS 3.3 (the last version I ever willingly worked in) and BASIC programming on the Amiga. One book was titled, "New Careers in Robotics," and had a picture of a stainless-steel, boxy android on the cover straight out of 60s sci-fi. The most amusing artifact I found in the place was a Pop-Up® Book on Menudo. I thought it was hilarious; Derek thought I should get counseling. In the end, I didn't buy a thing. With the temperature in that cafeteria, though, I had to have lost at least five pounds. Casual web design work, I guess, isn't that hard to get into... The guy who hired me said he'd given references to some of his friends, who seemed interested. Word-of-mouth and reputation isn't quite an ad in the Weekly, but it's a start. Thing is, it isn't going to pay the rent... or feed me for that matter. So, I'm still looking for a "real" job. The full-time webmaster leads look dead; one company is struggling just to hold on to its office space, the other... just gives me creepy feelings. I got called in for an interview at the Tower Records at Kahala Mall, but I don't think I did do too well. I'm not sure if I want to jockey a register on my feet all day, anyway. A handful of other places -- most at Ala Moana -- sound like they're still looking for people. A couple even have commission scales... provided I survive six months on the job. The hunt continues.