Technology, in particular information technology, exists in our lives because they are supposed to augment our daily ongoing routines. In my context, it will be more for work and play. I am convinced that my computers are very much alive as I am because they chose the weirdest hours to go on a strike.

First it was the drivers that were impossible to find on Sony’s VAIO website. It was only through the technician that I realize the mysterious hidden recovery partition can only be activated by pressing incessantly on F10 when it boots up. It was only half way through the automated recovery when I am cognizant of the emails I ought to back up before being trigger happy on the recovery tool.

I have to email Prof. Anthony just to get another password regenerated. And he just did, at the wee hours of a boring Thursday morning.

Next, being uptight about the archives and archives of outlook mailbox files I hadn’t backed up, I searched frantically for data recovery tools which might be helpful to jump start the already deleted files on my external drive. I am keeping my fingers crossed that the files are in good shape, albeit not pinning high hopes on this.

There you see, my week of supposedly filled with studying and mugging ended up being a sleep deprived self-technician fixing two computers simultaneously. Even the dual core processors don’t help.

The most ironic part of this entire saga: both of them are branded Vista.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I opened the mailbox this afternoon.  

I misplaced my SAF11B (National Service Identity Card) during one of my cadet training days. After a year or so touring in Singapore heartlands, it finally returned back to its rightful owner. Strangely, it arrived in a ITE West College envelope which I initially thought was from the World Skills Committee.

It turned out to be my 11B. To think I spent $50 for its replacement when I discovered its disappearance. Speaking of which, replacement of official documents are never an easy feat in the military, at least at that time. Things are always slow and it took months before my replacement card finally arrived - I had to use my driver’s license to scan my daily meals and carry the A4-sized police report in a sealed bag whenever I head out of camp for exercises.

Don’t lose any of your cards, never. 

I can’t believe this is what I get out of being sensitive to the feelings of others: to be labeled as a heck care, couldn’t be bothered “friend”. I’m dumbstruck.

At this very moment, a lot is rattling up there, as I pen my words. Each of them have to be chosen carefully, with high sensitivity.

I just had a disagreement with a friend whom I think is worth befriending (even after this minor row). We initially planned for a meeting today together with another close friend of mine, but it never materialized because he wanted to clear up his work.

I got to know about his decision only yesterday, and we planned for this day earlier this week after a number of modifications to the initial plan. Sure I was irate, pissed and fuming, but still I didn’t let the matter blow up because it was a minute issue. I decided not to confront. Work is after all, more important than play.

But hell no, I can’t deny the fact that I was angry, can I? So I started pondering. I was extremely careful not to spew any form of statements that can be provoking, and I admit I was jumping at all opportunities to incite an argument. But I didn’t make the latter choice. In my mind, I was eager for an explanation, for a reason that could appease my flaming anger. I wanted to get under his skin by criticizing his lack of proper time management. I wanted to provoke him by saying all he mentioned previously were merely lip service.

But I didn’t and it was all along an internal struggle.

I know I was over reacting, but it’s partly because I have made plans to keep Sunday free. I have finished most of my work, even a submission due on Monday. I have deferred all plans to keep Sunday free because Kevin and him couldn’t make it on a Saturday. I know I was on an edgy mood because my efforts didn’t paid off and his attitude didn’t reciprocate. And the entire saga elicits in a very whinny early twenties post teenager.

I confronted him anyway a moment ago. And we ended with an abrupt end, with him signing off prematurely and me stereotyped as someone who didn’t care. Seriously speaking, I didn’t expect the strong rejoinder from him or myself being classified as a perfidy.

For so much of considerations I have done; I thought I cared.