This I type from Argo. Yes, Argo. The once mighty machine (and perhaps again to be) that broke down roughly six months ago. But a fried PCI bus does not a dead computer make. The processor itself can still run, along with the AGP video, the hard drive, and a couple sticks of old memory. It's just the part about talking to the rest of the world (or any other peripherals) that makes this PC almost useless for general use.

I'm guessing I will probably find a way to get this synced (via a temporary hard drive transplant) within a few days. I think I'll bring Rygel to my dad's new place after work on Friday, and keep him there for the weekend. What happens after that is a blank slate.

It is now nearly 3am. Earlier this evening, last night, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, I attended Hacking Society, and had a most enjoyable time while I was there. I left early, before official closing time even arrived at Caffe Sole, as I felt an incredible wave of sleepiness wash over me, and I knew I would be wise to heed it. That was 6 hours ago.

I woke up a little over 1 hour ago. A natural awakening. I felt ready to begin another day, although I noticed that there was no light coming in the window yet. Must be getting close, I thought. I raised my head and looked at the clock. When I saw that it was only 01:30, my heart sank.

If we didn't have a server install scheduled for tomorrow morning, I would have taken a sleeping pill, despite how much I hate them. But I'll need to be alert at 9am.

I know now without a doubt that I have taken a rapid, unexpected plunge into the danger zone, with regard to my mental stability. Everything that was happening a few weeks ago (or months? can't link right now) applies double now. Danger, not inevitability. Caution, not panic. That is what is required.

I woke up relatively early yesterday morning too, despite having been up late for the past several nights and early in the mornings, and no daytime naps.

I have a headache now. It's been growing. The longer I go without shutting down, the harder it becomes to do so. Eventually, the box will explode. I am the box.

My mind is on the verge of overclocking itself, with a stream of thoughts so rapid and diffuse, millisecond by millisecond, each so fascinating as to merit an entire essay, that it could quickly far exceed the physical capability of the musciles in my hands to type them, resulting in the appearance of a discombobulated jumble for anyone who tries to read it. That's the first stage.

When the volume of thought becomes so dense and compressed that not even a cursory summary can be expressed with the speed at which the mouth is able to form words, that's generally when it's time to look forward to a long stay in an institution.

This is what we call mental illness.

I am reminded briefly of a scene from Contact. The climax. When Dr. Arroway's journey to the stars comes to its full fruition. She discovers the magical shores of Pennsecola light years away from Earth. Is that where I am going?

I'm tempted to pull out the DVD and watch it right now, but I shall remain focused.

I will indulge in a little Nightwish, however. I'm glad I purchased a physical, pressed copied of at least one of their discs, which I can play on my 6-year-old discman without being tied to a PC with a working soundcard. (Yeah, one of these days when money gets really good, I'll splurge on a portable ogg player. But for now, the trusty Panasonic still does nicely.)

I need kleenex. My eyes and nose have decided to turn themselves into a fucking fountain.

[Bitscape leaves, returns with paper towels as a suitable substitute.]

A more mundane, honest way to say it would be that I just started crying profusely. No real reason. It just sort of happened.

Unstable, this one is.

I am SO goddamn tempted to keep writing, because I haven't even really gotten started on the bulk of the stuff I wanted to put in here.

But now that I've gotten a little bit of release, I feel that there might a chance at getting a few natural hours of sleep before daylight. A chance, not a certainty.

But either way, I need to rest my head. Perhaps I shall remember a few of the best of tonight's thoughts to write later. But there's also a strong likelihood that they might all disappear before they are ever recalled again.

It's a chance I'm willing to take. 8 years ago, I wouldn't have made this choice. Nor even a year and a half ago. But now I know.

Hello world. See you on the other side.