I figured out the graphics controller problem this morning. I happened to be returning an email when it shat out on me. The computer itself would still work, it�s just that there would be nothing but the monitor testing itself and I would be unable to see what the hell was going on on the screen. So, thankfully, I know enough keyboard shortcuts to be able to restart it that way. It pays to be a big geek girl sometimes. By the time I had gotten my internet connection back up, XP asked me if I wanted to send an error report, and seeing as early on error reports did nothing useful, I waffled over sending it, but ultimately decided to. The XP help center sent me to Intel and Intel gave me a driver update to help fix the problem. Apparently, it was an XP/Graphics Card incompatibility issue and not Luke�s video games as I had originally been so quick to snap at him about. Now that it�s been installed, it seems to be working just fine and at a higher resolution, no less. I�m trying to adjust to everything being so much smaller, but I think I like it like this. I�m not going to go to the Andy extreme and make it so small that I have to press my nose against the screen to be able to read anything. Why a guy who is nearly blind as it is would want to set his resolution so high as for that to be necessary I cannot comprehend. I�ve found in the past 2+ years that I�ve been so exposed to them, that boys can be very dumb indeed.

I�m all giddy, having been informed that I would be receiving a spot of mail from Australia this morning from my wonderful friend, Shann. He knows I love Secretary and seeing as it�s just coming out over there, he saw something that I would like and wants to mail it to me. I do so love surprises. Shann has been a friend of mine for so long and I love him so dearly, it�s a shame he�s all the way over there and I�m all the way over here. It would be nice to meet somewhere in the middle and actually be able to converse in person. He�s a wonderful sounding board and fount of knowledge, I can go to him with anything and he�ll be supportive and have something of use to say. He�s sort of like an older Luke, only with an Australian accent, a wife that�s not me, and a gorgeous little girl.

Our friend Muppet IMed me this morning to ask me yet again what our phone number is. I don�t� know how many times I�ve already told him what it is and he�s either written it down incorrectly or just plain forgotten it. I told him and then asked for his since he very recently moved into a frat house for the summer and possibly beyond. Believe it or not, he made it so that the last four digits spell his last name. Cheeky bastard. Before you scoff at his being in a frat, it�s not your typical party throwing, sorority banging, asshat deal. It�s an engineering frat and apparently is fairly distinguished. Andy�s dad was a member back when he was in school.

Speaking of Andy, his last day of school until his summer mini-semester was yesterday. He doesn�t technically graduate until August, but the ceremony is creeping up and, Christ, is he depressed. He�s been eating poorly, sleeping 14 and 15 hours a night, and the more he complains, the more I try to help. He doesn�t want help, though. He stopped getting shrunk two years ago and stopped taking his meds and now he just falls into depression and stays there like it�s a friend who gets him into trouble but he doesn�t want to hurt feelings by telling it to fuck off. I�m ready to wash my hands of the situation and do what Luke does: quit trying. Give lip service. Change the subject. Do something to make him shut. The fuck. Up. He won�t talk about it as much when Luke�s around and chooses to let loose on me. I neither want it nor need it, but am compelled to try and give him a hand, knowing full well that he just wants to bitch and moan about being the poor little rich boy whose parents will support him as long as he wants them to because they�re old and he�s the only child they have left together since Sarah decided to throw in the towel stinking of being the adopted kid.

It makes me want to kick him, but all I can do is say that it will be better, that he�s young and can still do whatever he wants to because who gives a shit if he makes mistakes, that mistakes are what being young is all about, learning who you are and who you�re not and what to do and not do. Old people made mistakes when they were our age, they�re fine. I am so through with all that regret and angst shit. For the most part, at least. I get down, but I don�t spend time thinking about what I could have done differently in the past. It�s mostly about what happening now. Spending so much time in the Past and worrying about the Future makes you miss Now. That won�t change anything.