Pout

I need to take a minute to pout. I realised I was first pouting when a person sitting next to me at the library, a complete stranger, said, "Wow. I've never seen someone actually pout like little kids do." After a hefty glaring, I realised that yes, my lower lip was protruded, quivering dangerously. And so my story begins.

I have a paper due at ten am. It is currently 4pm and I am approximately half finished. It will not take much longer, but my goal is to be done by 5.30pm in time for class. I don't like writing when it's dark out. Usually, I can do this with no problem. I hole up in the library with my legal-Napster-like-program blasting some Bright Eyes (perfect for studying) and go at it. Well, today, I had to get my keys out because they have my removable drive on which my entire life is saved. As I was getting it out of my purse, I saw the piles of Fijian sand still stowed away. Pout. This time last week? Asleep on a hammock in the sunshine, waves splashing at my feet. Today? Writing a stupid paper for a stupid class for a stupid degree. (Feeling a wee bit bitter today.)

Then, I am typing away at a mad pace when my computer just turns off. No warning, nothing. Off. Well, after hitting the on button and muttering strong enough to make sailors blush, my computer is up and running again. I lost about half a paragraph, but that's it due to my incessant clicking of the "save" option. I start typing again, and my computer shuts off again only about ten minutes later. After resisting hurling my laptop down to the floor below me in front of the tech guy's desk, I took a walk to sooth my anger. After the third time of such spontaneous shut down, I went down to the tech guy who proudly proclaims, "Prolly a virus!"

I have had three viruses this year already. I have two different virus detectors, one of which updates itself, then runs a check every morning at three am. I also have spyware that I run on a weekly basis if I'm not feeling too paranoid, otherwise two or three times a week. I do NOT have a freakin' virus. He pokes around my computer for approximately two life times and says, "Nope, nothing obvious. Hope it doesn't happen again." Ever cool, calm, and collected, I said, "You'd better hope not. Or I'm using your computer to write my paper while you figure out what's wrong with it."

So, now, here I sit, convinced that my Napster-like program is malfunctioning, convinced my computer will shut down on me again, convinced I will be writing til the wee hours of the morning. No music, no Fiji, no fun. Just me writing for ages in the dull library noise that I detest. So my lower lip protrudes a little bit; so sue me.