Thursday 8 July 1999

At work things were pretty hectic. All data were finally transferred to the new server, but we had to set up printers and stuff anew, and make one-time passwords and help the users. So I empowered my two fellow computer guys to run around and do the routine work. I feel good now. And we got the system up and running before closing time too.

Workplace music of the day: Love To Love You by "The Corrs", from their CD Forgiven, Not Forgotten. I heard it on the bus yesterday - almost the only place where I hear radio other than news. And then I remembered that I had heard a CD by The Corrs this spring at SuperGirl's. That was a newer CD, but it was not bad.

Not the greatest day, healthwise: During the day I've accumulated a headache, sore throat, and finally overexcited bowels. Yay. Of course, too little sleep and running around all workday without food is not a receipe of great health. Luckily, minor health issues don't influence my sense of well-being, really. When it gets so bad that I fear death or disability, I feel pretty bad. But until that, I tend to retain my slightly "high" mood, a diffuse feeling of satisfaction with life.

Judging from various factors I've seen listed, I should be pretty low. I don't have a warm marriage - in fact, nothing remotely like a marriage at all. (On the bright side, this means no divorce, ever...) And I had a rather bleak childhood. My parents were great, but I did not play well with other kids and in fact they tended to bash and kick me routinely. Since then, I generally don't trust humans; this is not considered predictive of a long, healthy and happy life either. To top it all off, I loathe my workplace and generally try to avoid telling people where I work. So you'd think I'd qualify for a severe depression.

Actually, I tend to feel great. I feel that there is just nothing like being me. I love it, I glory in it. Looking back on my life, there are things I am ashamed of, not too rarely either; but all in all, every turn and twist of my life seems meaningful on the larger scale. As if all things, even my stupid mistakes, somehow conspire to push me in the one direction where I would feel most satisfied. It is a joy that does not come from riches (though I am not poor by African standards) or from the esteem of others. I just feel so happy that I'm me, I would not want to swap places with anyone, rich or poor. Strange, huh?

I guess this means there won't be space for my long reflections of possible improvements to the successful basic capitalism model, or my thoughts about diamonds and friends holding hands. But you will all surely survive just as well without. Now it's sleepy time here. Bright blessings to all my friends.