Friday, June 28, 2002. Entry #173

I'm getting really sick of all these computer problems.

All day long our IT ninjas would announce that the problems were fixed, and then I would test it out and it would collapse. Eventually, I simply got access to our live server and made the most important changes there, as it certainly looked like we wouldn't get access to the production server all day.

It's just so damned frustrating. It's not like I could even get any other work done because I kept going back and having to test the system. I didn't accomplish a single task all day.

I hate that.

The hardest thing in writing, for me, is to write when I'm feeling frustrated.

You'd think that, with all the free time I had at work today, I'd be able to devote some to a great long post, all witty and clever. No such luck, I'm afraid.

My muse deserts me when I'm frustrated or annoyed or upset. It's only when I'm hyperactive or giddy or feeling really silly that I can sit down and spew out a great post.

That's one of the reasons I will certainly never be a professional writer. I can't make writing work. It's been harder and harder to produce anything here since I determined I would meet my 175 posts goal.

The part of me that is writing for you doesn't want to write unless I have something to say. Unless something cool has happened, or I've been feeling introspective enough to dissect my mental processes for you, it's just not interested in extended time at the keyboard.

The part of me that is writing for me says any writing is progress, and it all goes towards improving my skills. Then again, that part of me is distressed when I can't seem to write anything beyond a pedestrian whine about not being able to write.

Much like this one, in fact.

My favorite writers all say that to be a writer you have to write. Not very original sentiments, for certain, but that doesn't make it one bit less true. If you want to write, they all say, you have to sit down and write.

Writing is my diversion. In a lot of ways, it's an escape to me, in much the same way as I would read a book or see a movie. It entertains me, and gives me a thrill.

On days like this, it makes me feel much more the dilettante though, just dabbling at being a real writer.

One Year Ago Today: I was still on hiatus, but in 1820, the tomato was proven to be nonpoisonous.

Mom Rating: 1 out of 5. Mom thinks I can do a lot better than this.

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Take me home, big fella