2002-10-04 8:06 p.m.
The Colo Is A Hoover To The Soul
Part of the reason I haven't been updating as often this past week is because I've had Diary Survivor on the brain. I've been frantically trying to catch up on 12 diaries, 10 of which are completely new to me, and probably thinking way too hard about the first Immunity Challenge.
Also, baseball. Yay, playoffs. The A's are up 2-1 and that makes me a very happy camper. The Angels are holding their own against the Yankees and the Cardinals could eliminate the Diamondbacks, which makes me even happier. An A's-Cardinals World Series might be a better idea than A's-Giants series, because some of you may remember what happened last time we had a Bridge series.
But the real reason is that evil place known as The Colo. This picture manages to fully capture the spirit (if not the true appearance) of colo. It's an environment intended entirely for the comfort of machines and not people. It's noisy, dry and cold. It chaps your lips, frizzes your hair and makes your skin itch. It's a long drive from the office, through traffic that might be fine and might be awful, and there's no way to tell in advance which you'll get. And it's where I've been spending lots of time lately, sealed away from joy and sunshine and kindness and love. (Actually, that's not a bad description of my job as a whole right now.)
Just being there can suck the life out of you. Being there and having to make endless tweaks to a machine, each of which requires a 20-minute reboot to take effect, can make your brain dribble out of your ears. Being there and knowing that there are many, many other things you could be doing with your time? Let's not even go there.