April 18, 2001 at 12:32 pm
(meh)
Oh happy cheese whiz! I finally got an email from someone about submitting something readable!!! Whoo hoo… OK, so I’m easily aroused - by day I’m a cube-farmer with a hard row to hoe, and I only get to be in creative mindspace about two hours in traffic to and from the cube-farm. My evenings are spent working on content for the part-time writing gig {begin shameless plug} if you want a laugh, hiccup, chortle or derisive snort, check out the HorrorSkope I’ve written for you at 13th Street{/end shameless plug}. I really like the gig, but frankly, writing nothing but snotty horror is getting a bit tame - it’s like eating kung pao chicken every day. No matter how much I adore kung pao chicken, I’d like to add a little soy sauce once in a while, maybe dump it on fried rice instead of white rice, etc. I have to restrict subject matter which is getting kinda hard - I’d love to talk about kids and guns and blowjobs (maybe not all at the same time) but I need to make it a spooky, menacing, Hitchcockian PG-13. Sigh. So I guess it would behoove me to get off my webmistress keister and post some real content on this site for the perfumed and unscented masses to peruse. Oops, my prose is getting purple, I’d better go.
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April 10, 2001 at 11:12 am
(meh)
So I’ve landed a job as a sys admin/webmaster at the computing center for a bank. One of my team members is a bitter and pissy woman who, when she’s not expressing her anger and resentment at not being treated in the manner to which she feels entitled, is a very sweet and kind person. But when she’s on a tear, oh man, watch out! She’s the person who’s been here the longest out of all of our team, and has worked on the most projects for the bank’s extranet - she’s got the most knowledge, but her attitude is “If I had to figure it out by myself, so does everybody else!” She made a comment to me when I was trying to “build bridges” and just hang out a little to get to know her that she doesn’t have any hobbies so she can’t sit like me and dream of being a famous writer some day if a project at work isn’t going well. The comment pissed me off, but I also feel sorry for her - it’s sad to be so focused on your day job (when you hate it and complain miserably every day) that you have no outside interests whatsoever. But the remark also stung. I do have a part-time paid writing gig, I am a professional writer, and I would love to write a multi-million dollar blockbuster someday (who wouldn’t) but I also have that little demon of self-doubt in the back of my brain that decries the difficulty of making a living as a full-time writer and mocks me for having a day job that has nothing to do with my true passion. Blah, blah, blah. So I’m sitting here having a pity-party for a few minutes and venting and missing the California sunshine. I think I need some vitamin D! And a writing sabbatical. And a million dollars. And what the hell, as long as I’m at it, how about world peace… where the hell’s a djinn when you need one?
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