Today I suffered a nervous breakdown. I woke up at 6am intent on tackling my memoirs, but like any other day this month, procrastination and all these neighborly distractions drove me away from duty.
from the birds squawking in the morning, to the settlers next-door hammering nails into wood, and then to the lady across the street with her whipper-snipper tearing up the concrete, there was never a moment’s silence. Inevitably, it compromised my work.
This street has turned into a nightmare almost overnight, and to think that people used to complain about my stereo being too loud. About the only person that didn’t contribute to my stress attack was the little girl splashing around and screaming “Daniel” from across the fence. She hadn’t been swimming in her pool lately, so knock on wood she never does soon.
Fighting Noise With Noise
Anyway, the whole street’s escapades were pissing me off. I was so stressed that the slightest sound sent me in a moaning slump to the floor. That is, until I fought back with what they all loathe, music, and lots of it.
Hell hath no fury like the writer disturbed. When finally snapping, I was like the incredible Hulk. From there on, there was no mercy. None of them would have had a clue about my bitter thoughts, but the whole neighborhood would have known when my house was one big quake of aftershocks.
My backyard neighbors would have had a loud taste of raw rap from my computer speakers while the lady out the front would have found it hard to hear her own annoying whipper-snipper with the thumping roar that came from my tweaked stereo.
I never recovered after this, but revenge was sweet.
Uploading Content To My Website
About the only reward was when finally being able to upload to my website, but it was only a small victory in this long, laborious slug. The small inroad had me dancing around to the likes of “Billie Jean” but ironically; the celebrations were a bit too premature. The host server, which resides in the United Kingdom, and with the conversion rate between countries tripling, as a result, would have ended up costing me an arm and a leg.
Now it seems cruel to have welcomed success so unsparingly but hey, you learn from your mistakes. Delegation is such a pain in the ass though. I tried to transfer my domain name to the new host more than a dozen times, but for some reason, maybe Murphy’s Law, the details never left the Australian registry. That’s why setting up shop with an Australian host seems simpler. Gone will be the stress of delegation. What’s more, all the money will stay in our sun burnt country.
Anyway, that was today, an afternoon sound-off with the neighbors and an evening of website enhancement and delegation. I never smoked and subsequently never got a headache, but it never helped the writer with his memoirs or with my need to be social.
Azalea was never online and it was a similar scene with the rest of my downtime. Sure we are in the middle of my weekend but sadly, the only mirth in my day was in those few minutes when dancing to “Billie Jean”. So, with all its restrictions and crushing truths, it was, by and all, an unproductive day.
Diary Of A Mad Chaos is a daily diary written from March 1996 until today, of which individual books and book series have been created, namely “The Lost Years” an exploration of young, entwined love, the “Wubao In China (猎艳奇缘)” book series which provides an extensive comparative analysis of the cultural differences between Eastern and Western societies, and the book titled “Foreigner (华人)” an exploration of race relations in Australia.
