� 2001-2006 by Shiloh
�
I'm beginning to see a new side of computers that I nnneevver wanted to see or imagined existed. They are like tempermental children who refuse to cooperate on a whim or when they don't like something you do.
Case 1: I don't know if this is a prob with the Internet or how my computer runs. Or whatever. But my favorite search engine has become a nuisance. I don't know what happens or what is going on, but when I try to move on to a seperate server/site it displays a 404 error message for Google, saying the url I'm wanting to move to "is not found on this server."
Dduuhh. Of course it's not on this server. You're Google and the server the site I'm wanting is on Dland! Now, why can't you switch over like you normally do? I finally had to empty my history to see if that worked any. Unfortunately, it didn't right away, but as I eventually got where I wanted to be, I guess I can't bloody well complain. Can I?
Case 2: Dad's computer doesn't want to read certain CDs in the CD-ROM--namely Aubree's Sims game. A blue error screen kept popping up and the puter acted like it was freezing up. This was after Aubree tried operating the thing, which, unless it's a program she is familiar with, isn't a good thing. Not wanting Dad to find the computer in that state, I messed with it until the computer was working again. But it fought me as I did so.
I miss the days when these things were new and worked mostly when they were supposed to.
Once online again I hurried and added yesterday's entry I had been in the middle of when we were kicked off. But now I'm here and have dwindled down on what to say next...
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* How oft when thou, my music, music play'st,
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap,
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand.
To be so tickled they would change their state
And situation with those dancing chips,
O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
Making dead wood more blest than living lips,
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
~William Shakespeare, "Sonnet 128"~
* I came across this sonnet while browsing through my Shakespeare tome before Lit. class and loved it. The imagery is so vivid, I can see this swain wanting his mistress' touch and kiss, envying the instrument she plays and can almost hear the lilting music coming forth.
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moon phase |
