inkgrrl's inkblog

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?