Computers are odd. Or maybe just the programs are.

Yesterday, my home computer downloaded one of those "update packs" that Microsoft pushes at us periodically. And then, when I got home in the evening and turned it back on, it had totally reconfigured itself - my wallpaper was gone, most of the programs I have on the desktop had been moved. And worst of all, Firefox was totally changed - the "skin" I use was gone, all of my bookmarks were gone, and worst, all of the auto-remember passwords (like for Flickr) were gone.

I actually went through the (extra-laborious, because my spam-catcher caught the @yahoo.com e-mails at first) process of resetting my password (And realized that my "favorite restaurant" - which was the trigger question - is no longer in business and I have to think of another).

And now this morning, everything is back the way it was before the "update pack." I'm not looking a gift horse too much in the mouth, but if I had known the stuff was going to come BACK, I wouldn't have worried or mess with the password reset. And redoing the skin. And redoing WOT and the other add-ons I have.

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I'm closing in on the toe of the "simple socks" I'm knitting.

I haven't been home much this week and that is sad. Part of it is that at work, it's full-tilt boogie time, and that, combined with the fact that I have more than a few students who need almost more cheerleading or hand-holding than I'm capable of giving, means that I take more work home with me these days, and I'm more exhausted when I GET home.

I feel like I've probably lost my knitting readership anyway, because of lack of pretty pictures of finished objects. (I'm trying to stave off one of my periodic spells of "I suck at everything"/"I'm trying to do too many different things and I don't do any of them 'well enough' to attract the sort of attention I want")

(Part of my frustration with the "cheerleading" or "hand-holding"? When I am in a position where I need it, I don't feel like I really have anyone I can turn to for it. Part of that not-wanting-to-look-needy thing, but also part of the that-sort-of-thing-just-isn't-done-in-my-profession thing.)

Maybe I'll have a new pair of socks by the end of the weekend. I don't know. I do also need to clean the house up, and contemplate if and when I'm going to decorate for Christmas. And see about the windows. I still want to do that. But I also have another exam to write, and five more soil samples to sort through.

And, I have to admit, finding an hour a day or so to practice piano does cut into my knitting time. But it's important to me, so I don't want to reduce the amount of practice.

I think some of the "issues" I have about "I'm probably losing my entire readership because I'm being boring or not providing the content they want" are just another manifestation of my people-pleasing issues; that I need to be able to say to myself, "I want people to read my blog because they like how I write, not because I give them knitted eye candy or I provide free patterns or I have exciting contests or whatever. And if they don't read, that's fine, then this is just my personal diary."

I think of the old fairy tales where the prince or princess disguises themselves so that they will find someone who likes/loves them for who they are and not for their position in the world. But - and I realize this is perhaps not the nicest part of my personality - but if I were a princess and there were people who liked me (or at least treated me well) because I was a princess, I wouldn't sneeze at that. If people liked me because I was otherwise "popular," I think I'd be OK with that. (Like the old t-shirt: "God, let me prove to you that winning the lottery won't change me.")

All a legacy, I think, of having defined myself as an unpopular child. (Whether popularity in school actually exists or not is a question for debate; most everyone I've ever talked to about it as an adult claims to have been an unpopular child).

And yeah, somewhere deep within me is the remnant of a child who would give away her new Barbie (not that I was that big a fan of Barbies) to a friend who told me, "If you don't give me your Malibu Barbie, I won't be your friend any more." While I wouldn't - figuratively speaking - give away my Barbie these days, I'd still probably think about it before rejecting the request. (But who knows...I still might give the Barbie away. I do have to be careful not to let people use me.)