It's been another intense couple of days. My computer, my beautiful computer has refused to start properly. There are various theories being bounced around but none have been proven. Oh, the anxiety of it! Especially when I've set myself new tasks to learn, new projects, all requiring access to the internet and email. Alongside the gazillion photos that need to be sorted (I hate not being on top of my photos). And my dad, expert and problem solver extraordinaire is away for a while. We've been talking by phone quite a bit and with his help, I've run a scan for the quality of the backup, restored to a known good point, reinstalled software, followed my nose around Windows Vista and waited for it all to come good. But no, not unless I'm missing something obvious, which is completely possible. It has taken hours and hours. Anyway, to cut a long and tedious saga short, I've decided to operate in safe mode for a while and to do what I can't do on my computer on G's. Like upload photos. Which may well involve using sneakernet (walking) to transfer them across. Lucky I can. Because I want to get back to chipping away at my projects and reading blogs and writing. The very thought of being computerless (except while on holiday which I suppose I'll cope with) just makes me want to cry. Pathetic, I know.
Anyway, I've managed to set safe mode so it looks OK. The photo editing software is working, as is the internet. I've lost emails back to mid January but that's OK I guess. I'll catch up.
These pictures are from the unsorted file and were taken early one evening before the crash, down by the Merri Creek. Gerard was chasing Grace, who was very interested in ducks and the water. I was looking at every rustle in the grass worrying about snakes and taking pictures of the pool. The council meeting was an interesting process to see. I think it's going to be a big fight.
All of this has come at an interesting time in my recovery from the mania. Mostly I'm fine. But still not quite ready to trust myself out in the world. It feels a bit like in the old days, when I'd enter a vigorous dance floor and there would be this time before it clicked, a time when I felt all arms and legs. Really clumsy and overly self conscious. Some people can jump right into a dance floor (or kitchen) but I always had that sense of dislocation at the start. Of course, some dance floors never clicked but then life is not a party, so I wouldn't want to push that analogy too far.
I don't know if I'm over reacting when these computer issues bring me to the verge of tears (more than once), or if being nervous at a council meeting is normal for me. Something about this pool issue really gets to me in an emotional sense. My outer shell has not quite reformed and the hall of mirrors effect still lurks in the background occasionally. Not nearly as bad as it was, more like the odd shimmer than a full on halucination. It's still hard to relax or switch from one task to another and I could easily sit here well into the wee hours with the tap, tap, tap. Being obsessive. Have I filled my life too full or with the wrong things? Yep, that's the hall of mirrors effect again, because really there are just little spaces here and there where I really get to choose. Time that would be otherwise spent watching telly or something. The rest is full with family life and working and the business of life, like eating and sleeping and going to the supermarket. My doctor thinks I'm doing well, citing improved sleep, returning to work, calmer moods, but she says I have to expect that full recovery will take time. Just as it would if I'd broken a leg or something. I know. Alright. Bedtime. Blogreading tommorrow.