Tag Archives: writing

If writers stopped writing about what happened to them, then there would be a lot of empty pages, or, when Fallout 3 arrived

3 Feb

 Elaine Liner said that. I’m not claiming to be a writer, but would like to struggle against the phenomenon of text speak and indecent punctuation and write like hell even if I myself mess up on grammar and punctuation every now and then along the way.

So, I will tell you the story of the late night, the new arrival, and the laptop.

It was late one evening last week, and I decided to change my password on my laptop. It had been Pioneer 8 after the space shuttle, but after I played out (in my head) an awkward incident where I tried to explain that I wasn’t a fervent religious alcohol abstainer to a computer repairs guy, I decided to change it.

I even went and wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget it. I went to sleep, watching Amelie (to satisfy my need to feel cultured), and left the laptop switch off.

Joy of joys, next day, Fallout 3 arrived in the post. I couldn’t wait to play it, and went and grabbed my xbox controller and switched on my laptop. It asked for my password. I reached for the paper I had written the password down on, and copied it out.

Incorrect password.

The letters stood like a beacon of lost hope and despair. No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t accept it. I used my old password, misspelled my new one, did it with Caps Lock on, did it standing on my head. Nothing. Just Incorrect Password. And disappointed my with my controller and new game.

Three days, a small slow netbook, three USB sticks and lots of tears later, I have failed to boot my laptop from a password reset USB. I believe I may have broken laws in five countries and skirted close to it in a few dozen more, given the reputation of programs that reset laptop passwords.

And I still haven’t being able to play Fallout 3. Sure, I have Ubuntu on the same laptop and that’s fine, but Steam won’t work for me properly on it.

FML.

 

Why I have a physical phone book

11 Nov

I have gone through a few phones in my relatively short lifetime. None were replaced while in good working order, so I usually lost a fair chunk if not all of my contacts each time. So I came up with a solution. Write them down on paper.

It’s time consuming, archaic, not as tidy and alphabetical, ect. But they don’t vanish (unless you’re the type that loses things very easily)! I’m converted. So next time I change my phone, I’ll do my best at first to transfer all my contacts, but if all else fails, I know I have a backup copy safely stored in my desk drawer. It’s also great if your phone ever dies at an inconvenient time and you need a number. A notebook doesn’t stop working if you haven’t plugged it in recently.

That notebook above is what I’d like to have. Instead I have a garish, ugly hardback little notebook. At least it’s difficult to lose…

Anyway, I was thinking of running a giveaway once there are a few more people visiting this blog, and once I’ve found a super-cute, fashionable little address book that will add to your outfit (since you will probably carry it everywhere once you realise how useful it is). Leave a comment down below if you thing this would be a good prize (and if you’ve seen cute address books for sale anywhere!), or if you’d prefer something a little different, and tell your friends to come visit and subscribe so we actually have a decent number of entrants. Thanks!

Stories are my drug

11 Nov

I’ve always had a long and fairly spectacular list of things I want to do. You would know some of these if you knew me better, such as being a rich mechanical engineer (emulate Tony Stark as much as is humanly possible, and then some), being an astronaut, being an author (maybe finish that zombie story…). Others you probably wouldn’t know about, such as following ballet and jazz as a career, being a travel writer, and being a ninja. I’ve always been in a bit of a rush, because it seemed to me like I’ve an awful lot of stuff to fit in, and not that much time. I wanted to know about everything, and tore through books at the rate of knots from the moment I could read, subconsciously trying to cram in as much as possible before my ticker tocked its last.

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