Mckay's Personal Diary 1

First October Entry

by Elfkin

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/ase/elfkin/diarym01.php
Summary: Rodney tries to get comfortable with keeping a journal

October 6th: 2004 19:30 hours

I wonder Carson, since I am sure you are going to be reading these, why you would not just interview us all once a month for mental instability. Why eat up my precious time? '

I am a genius anyway. We are all a little...unique. A monthly assessment of my mental status would have to take my remarkable IQ into consideration. It would also have to feature mitigating considerations such as my hypoglycemia and my other special needs.

And before you tell me I really don't need as much sugar as I eat... I like sugar. I need sugar. I am distinctly hypoglycemic, no matter what Sheppard says. So there.

And before you tell me I am a bit high strung. (Sheppard roles his eyes when I start talking too fast.) I like caffeine. I need caffeine. A mind whose neurons fire as fast as mine, requires stimulants to keep up regular synaptic activity without depleting resources. Sue me.

Now...where was I? Oh yes. Why don't you just do psychological evaluations on all of us on a monthly basis? Surely wasting my time externalizing into a laptop computer about the burden of being the foremost intellect on Atlantis is not productive use of my precious time. The average Human being lives for only about 657,000 hours and you know what? I SOOooooo do not appreciate you wasting any of my eminently precious hours from that meager allotment filling out this pointless journal.

That being said, I suppose it beats answering some lame set of questions meant to determine if I am functioning normally on a mental level. Of course I am not. On a MENSA rating, I think my title is Lord God of the Universe! They want sperm samples, for Cripe's sake! I. AM. A. GENIUS. I can't, therefore, be held to the same standards of normal functionality in terms of mental stability.

But I'll stop lecturing you. While I am sure everyone else is just pleased as punch that they have to write in these things, I am not. I have made that clear. And I certainly am not one to beat a dead horse, or anything.

So. what happened in my week that I think is noteworthy?

Well, I would like to point out that I think I am a reasonable man. I really do. But I will never understand overt rudeness. I mean, I may be straight forward, but I am never impolite. (Don't laugh, Carson. I am not rude. I am merely precise...in a slightly abrupt sort of way...at times... Oh shut up, already!)

Anyway, Cavanaugh is just plain asking for it. Dr. Burns is an Ex-Navy Seal or some such crap. So for Cripe's sake, why would Cavanaugh whistle "What do you do with a Drunken Sailor?" every time Burns walks by? Is he asking for one of those scary 2-second murders all the special ops guys say they can do? One postulates that maybe Cavanaugh has suffered some kind of neurological impairment? Of course, this is Cavanaugh..How would we tell if he did?

I think Cavanaugh messed up the other day, though. He did it while I had Major Sheppard in the general lab looking at some new items that had come in. Now, the Major may seem to most people to be kind of... simple. I know better. And I saw those intense brown eyes shit ever so momentarily to Cavanaugh's desk the moment he heard it. (And don't ask me why I know the Major's eyes are brown. So I Sheppard watch. Get over it. It's not like he notices.) A second later Sheppard was flitting those eyes at Burns to catch the small stiffening of his shoulders as he walked by. And for just a second there was that narrow, keen look to the Major, paired with that delicately raised brow. And I just know he has logged away the "Drunken Sailor" song in his mental butt kicking list. Cavanaugh is dog poop one day. I know it. Not that I'll miss the prick. What was Elizabeth thinking bringing him along?

Of course, this is the woman who picked Spanky the Magic Arsenic Merchant as our resident chef! Okay, so everyone else calls the man Chrysnbon. I still can't call him by name. The things he does with food are..like. the only things in Canada that will actually get you the death penalty.

Ow! Damn! There goes my back again, Carson. I know I pulled something in my back supervising the cleanup of my lab this week. I called Major Sheppard in to work with me on a new item we found and it went haywire. First piece of Ancient's technology I have ever seen him lose control of. Scary shit. It was like having you in the lab. The damn thing was buzzing around like a flying bocce ball on amphetamines. I think it freaked out the Major. He left my lab pretty quick. Note to self.. Have him work with anything remotely aerodynamic on one of the promenades.

Let's see.. What else?

Not sure.

Other than that there seems to be something wrong with my sleep schedule of late. I keep dreaming of the Major...And melted caramel. And I keep waking up kind of...ahem... At attention, if you take my meaning. Are you sure the ATA gene therapy doesn't have any untoward side effects?

Speaking of ATA genes. This evening I got a request from Major Sheppard to borrow that flying ball that destroyed my lab the other day. He said he wanted to try to figure out why it went all haywire. I told him to come to my lab tomorrow morning and I would sign it out to him so that he could take it outside and work with it. I reminded him to make sure that someone from the research department was there with him to keep notes on his experiment. He requested Cavanaugh. Which I thought was really odd. But whatever.

Anyway, I guess I have invested my allotted amount of journal time this my week, drawn ultimately off my life. I hope science finds these of use one day, cause otherwise they are a complete waste of a good hour.

Did you know that if I spend one hour a week doing this, for the rest of my life, then I will probably burn more than 2,500 hours of my life doing journal entries. Think about that.