Nothing broken…


No foul…


Nothing lost…except a bit of time.


No foul…


Why am I still tense then?


So I swam, against current, through a river of shit this week, struggling against the sluggish-sucky-stinking-slimy slick of this school’s heavy inertia’d bureaucracy, and had to leap a mighty feces fall, the climax of BS, today.


The easier thing about Eureka (and everyone complains about the bureaucracy of their school) is that no matter how disorganized the system was…there were only so many places the buck could get passed, only so far it could go, only so much rope to hang…




But this place, larger than Eureka and part of a larger family of schools, has uncharted wastelands, copious vacuums for the happy little buck to dance and frolick and shit on your parade.


Finding ANYTHING out (like why your account is frozen and you can’t sign up for classes) takes a minimum of five offices and a week.  No one has the answer.  Every one has a piece of an answer and you kind of have to put it all together – archeological training without the degree.


You have to take this exit exam so you know about paying back loans…you have to fill out this I-understand-the-laws-of-gravity safety sheet by Student Life (so you can’t sue them for forgetting that you can’t leap off of roofs and bounce to safety). Then you have to read the “Gravity-Safety-Brochure, to make sure that you indeed do understand that you can’t jump of off roofs and bounce ot safety.   And it’s safety this and monitor that and wouldn’t you know if I’m snuggled safely in a blankey of forms and brochures.


Never mind the paper cuts kid.


I have imaginary friends I still keep around…to brutally murder (thus keeping real folk safe), for just such maddening situations.


Then, today, I had to take my computer in (the whole tower).  This year, the school requires anyone who wants to hook up to the net, to put all this safe guarded, squeaky clean network software on our computers (so they can limit our activities and “keep track” of what we do online).


That, right there, disagrees with my stomach.  But I go in.  Hours later the stuff is finally on my computer.  I’m still not fully unpacked, still don’t have all my classes figured out and I have to do this.  I get back to my room.  I log on the network (like I’d do on one of the library or lab computers) and I’m on as my school network account…only…like the lab/library computers, I don’t have access to MY programs/games/files/music.

”Where’s my shit?”


“Where’s all the writing I’ve ever committed to computer?”


“WHERE, for the love of monkeys, is my THESIS?!?”


ARGH!!!!!!! !@@!#!@#!@#!@#!@#


I tried logging off and turning my computer back on…but there was no getting on the old way…I had to log on under a name.  This computer wasn’t originally mine…I didn’t know if it used to have a password or what the “name” was or if I’d changed it when I’d gotten it a few weeks ago.  The program also slowed my computer way, way down, freezing it for half minute intervals constantly, slowing my investigation, trying to stop me.


They took my computer away from me.


OK…no prob.  I went to System Restore, to bring my computer back to a time before the devil network, erase the beast.  Then…the computer does a funny thing.  It tells me I am not “authorized” to commit this act, that I should speak to an administrator.  I’m not authorized to use my own F*&%ing computer!


And where’s my thesis?


The computer gave me no answers…as it wasn’t really mine anymore.


That’s when I typed the post that was originally going to go on my journal today.  It consisted mostly of swear words, invented swear words, curses, something about wishing the children of the programmers and administrators would eat their wombs, and other bits of hateful creativity.  At some point I paused…and…rather than finish and send it, opted to throw an object across my room and into a wall, and take a walk (several times) around campus.


I came back and, after much trial and error, found a way to get on my computer and erase all traces of the evil network.  It’s gone.  I’m not putting it back.  Maybe they’ll shut the internet in my room off, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it (and any tech trolls living under said bridge better watch the fuck out).


Bah.  I didn’t realize how wound tight this week has made me until today.  Anger usually passes over me pretty quickly – rain off of glass.  But it’s still nestled and chirping in all my extremities.  I don’t want to get off on a righteous, rebellious rant…but this is no good.  People give up freedoms for the appearance of safety.  They want control of my computer?  My workstation?  My plasma filled cauldron of word witchery?  Fuck that.  They can pry my keyboard from my cold, dead hands – and I swear to Plato, Cerberus, and all the shades of Limbo, that I’ll find a way back into my body so I can smash them over the head with said key board…and then they’ll have a keyboard wielding zombie on their hands and what are they going to do…



…I’m going to try and sleep now.