Once I was a moderately attractive, minimally successful blogger with a career track in mind. I had a plan of action on what I wanted to write and when I'd write it. I had a 5-year plan. I bought one of these. I had a goal.
Now, all lost in the repetitive clicking of F5. F5. F5. F5.
I can't concentrate at work. My boss will be talking to me and my eyes slowly drift to see if the Twitter tab has a (1), a (2), or dear God, maybe even a (5) because that means something has actually happened! Maybe Ilya finally si- ...no, it's just Wyshynski commenting on someone else's tweet. Goddamn you, Wyshynski, and Goddamn your pithy remarks!
My family hasn't heard from me in days. I feel closer to the random people who post things like, "Ilya's going to sign in New York and announce it the same time LeBron announces he'll sign in New York for maximum marketing opportunities!" than I do my own mother. She's no longer my family. They're my family now.
My love life has dried up. A girl will chat me up and all I can think is, "I wonder if Ilya signs with New Jersey, will we trade for Rolston? No, that doesn't make any sense. Gagne? He's kind of injury-prone but it might be worth it. I wonder how Lecavalier is doing..." I'll see her talking but all I hear is, "Kovalchuk Kovalchuk? Kovalchuk, Kovalchuk Kovalchuk Kovalchuk. Kovalchuk!" I scream, "Get away from me you Siren!" and I run, run as fast as I can. I hear her say, "Kovalchuk you, Kovalchuk!" over the howling wind.
My roommate comes home and hears a frantic noise coming from the living room. He finds me, disheveled, old editions of The Hockey News scattered around, an XBOX controller in my shaking hands. "What the hell, dude? What's that smell?" he says. "I've traded Ilya to the Kings in NHL 10," I squeal with delight. "Now I'll always have him. Take a look!"
My roommate peers at the screen, but it is black. "Umm, dude, there's nothing on."
"Don't be crazy, Ilya's mine... forever! Hold on, I just got a tweet! 'Capgeek reports that Ryan McDonough's cap hit will be $1.3!' Let me consult my charts and see how this affects the Kings' chances!" I pull out a ream of loose paper as my roommate flees from the room.
Now I'm sitting in a padded cell. They tell me I'll get help here, that I'll be far away from Ilya Kovalchuk. They tell me I'll be free. But I can never be free. Not until I find out where Ilya has signed.
F5. F5. F5.