I FINALLY GOT A NEW COMPUTER!!!

Oh Yeah!

I had to do that in all caps because that's the kind of jubilation I'm feeling! Don't think it didn't cost me! Picture this: I'm in Circuit City armed with 5 gift certificates (for a total of $150), two credit cards with meager available balances, and one debit card shaking in its boots. I've waited over six months for a new computer (give or take..some time). I've gone through the bends as I withdrew from my nightly use of the internet, and made it through. But now, with just a few days before my birthday, I couldn't wait any longer.

In the computer aisle, I paced back and forth in front of the displays like a caged tiger. I read each description, I compared harddrives and memory. I took out a pen and scratch paper and wrote down the five "contenders" to see them all on one sheet to compare even further. And twice, I asked a different male workers to help me, and both times, I was given that "oh, you're a woman" look and snubbed. Fucking male sales clerks. This has happened to me the past three times I've been to Circuit City. I love CC, but their male staff sucks rocks. Finally, I convinced one young guy to help me -- idiots -- if they only knew when I come in there, I come in to buy and I'm ready NOW. "Omar" was kind, and I explained my predicament and started out by handing over my 5 gift certificates. One by one, he scanned them in with a flourish. By the fifth one, the computer started gagging, claiming there were too many methods of payment. Oh shit, I still had the two credit cards and debit card to go! The total was about $650 (with a $50 mail-in rebate, i fucking hate those), and the gift cards still left $500 to go.

Omar then had to scoop up my spent cards and march back to the cashiers to exchange them all in for one big fat gift card. He came back, and once again swiped the card through with a flourish. "Okay, here we go," I said, handing over my turquoise Capital One credit card. "$175 on that one." I said, as he swiped away. Then I handed over my credit card which colorfully displays Van Gogh's 'Starry Night' (which, despite its overexposure on dorm room walls, I like due to the fact that it was painted while he was in an asylum). "Another $140 on that one," I said.

Finally, I handed over my debit card -- the real money, the money that was going to keep me alive for the next 15 days. I winced. I knew that I was setting myself up for another 14 days of tired cereal and completely non-existent ant social life, which I'm really okay with, but what I do not have is the back-up of a small credit card balance when I run out of "lunch money," and for some reason, not eating lunch seems to be something I am incapable of, no matter how poor I am. Even if I have a fantastic job, I look forward to lunch with a hunger (excuse the pun) that overtakes me. It's something I truly enjoy. Cereal for lunch is not an option.

ANYWAY, I came prepared. I brought my clanky luggage cart, which has a tendency to collapse upon itself at inopportune moments. But I knew I may very likely be subwaying it home with the computer in tow, and the cart was essential. At the customer service pickup window I strapped the baby down carefully and marched off, trying to look dignified, but as usual, feeling a little bit odd.

Then, off to get the monitor. Where? Well, from WORK of course! Never mind that it was about 9pm at night, bitterly cold, and I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched by cops the whole time. You can't help feeling guilty when you're wheeling out a monitor out of a place of business late night on a Saturday. It just LOOKS bad. Again, I tried the dignity thing as I walked backwards, slowly wheeling the now very precariously-stable cargo. I knew, I was not going to make it on the subway like this (knowing me, and of course, I do KNOW me, I knew the subway would jolt, and the monitor would catapult off the cart and crash to the ground. It would have! Trust me!). So, without much cash, I wheeled my booty into a McDonald's, the only place with a non-rape-you ATM fee (99 cents). I got looks, but fuck them! I got my cash, and got in a cab.

Oh yeah, and let me just say for the record, that I had permission to borrow the monitor from our IT director!

After a surprisingly speedy ride home, I spent the next two hours alternating between setting up my computer system and involuntary orgasms. Yeah, that's how happy i was to get this thing I'm typing on now. And if you can't tell, just look how much I've written in the past 24 hours, shit, in the past 8 hours!

And now, I have no excuse not to write, except for of course, my lifetime fight with crippling procrastination. Inspiration hits me like a lightning bolt (like now), but is just as fleeting, so I try to take advantage when I can. The rest of the time it's quite forced, which is rough (just ask my MA thesis which languished for a year waiting for those bolts of lightning).

Yes, I still want to write a book, and although my confidence in my own capabilities waxes and wanes on a daily basis, I have to at least try to finish A book. I think if i could just finish one book, the sense of accomplishment would deeply fulfill me. My MA thesis is nothing to strut about; it's a simple paper on agriculture in the Philippines during WWII. But completing that, and then defending it, remains to this day one of my proudest, happiest accomplishments. I think a book would far surpass this. I just want to write something GOOD, not just something. I'm terrified it will suck, and I'm terrified that I'll try to write substance and end up with a chic lit novel. Trust me, I love reading chic lit, but that's not what I'm trying to do. Well, only time will tell, and I ain't getting any younger! I feel that lightning bolt fading away...