M.E.G.O.

Aug. 15th, 2002 02:22 am
pseydtonne: Behold the Operator, speaking into a 1930s headset with its large mouthpiece. (Default)
[personal profile] pseydtonne
I can't read anymore.

Obviously, the above line is a teaser. It makes you say "lying, pompous fuq that Dante". It also makes a better segue than a typical whine.



Here is what I actually mean. I start reading anything not related to geek stuff (say, a LiveJournal posting or a good story) and my eyes glaze over. I cannot get myself to read anything from start to finish unless it's about computers.

I used to be a proper egghead. I read philosophical tracts for scheisse and merriment. Then again, that was high school.

Then I moved to Boston and fell in with the geek crowd. Slowly I've become incapable of a conversation that doesn't focus on electrons. It probably doesn't help that I sell cable modem service all day and I wind up saying "it looks like a phone jack on steroids" a lot. (That's what I tell a non-geek customer when I need her or him to check the back of her or his computer for the presence of an ethernet port.)

Getting good at selling probably instigated this shift. My self-esteem is rising for the first time since spring of 2001, when I'd started working at Screws&Carts (not the real name of a Fortune 100 company whose proudest products are fasteners and golf carts).

Being a toolsmith at S&C was my favorite job: people needed my skills, and I kept finding new skills to exercise and add to my resume. I did cool things, I worked with cool people, I was juiced about the product. Frankly, I should have been selling it because I would have done a bang-up job. Everyday I looked forward to going to work, just like the quality control man at a brothel.

When I lost that job, I felt severely deflated. That had been my first shot at an adult's job and I'd fuqt it up. It took longer to get that job than I'd had it. I worried I wouldn't have that adult feeling again for a long time.

Now I feel adult again. I am not doing work that's quite as cool, but I feel good at the end of the day. I am not selling snake oil -- I sell stuff that I use and I get paid to rhapsodize about it. I work with really good people. I like my boss, even! Can you say that?

My mind, normally fueled by cynicism, is verdant and fecund. I want to use this chance as a stepping stone to other careers.

Perhaps it's this desire to "get it right" that is keeping me from listening to others. I'm so determined to help myself that I can't help others until I feel satisfied. I must keep myself from over-indulgence, but I need to absorb this boost of self-esteem.

Either way, I have this desire to write better. I feel atrophied because I haven't written much recently and I've hardly edited anything I have written. That posting about Apple's Switch campaign felt vapid and unfocused. I edited this piece much more, whether or not you can discern this.

My high school buddy Sean is about to be published. He's becoming a known wit in Portland, Oregon. I seek a similar vibe, but I worry my desire will eat me before my talent can be honed.

I must ignore jealousy in my heart. I can only do this by savoring events and using opportunities. Oh jeeze, I sound like an ad for a self-help cassette. Mind you, that may not be so bad for once. I feel like I can't read, but that's a hint that I need to write.

-preparing for another incarnation, Dante

Date: 2002-08-15 08:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] teddywolf.livejournal.com
Writing is in part about the skull sweat. Being able to edit and tweak later helps a lot.

I am behind in my News of the Weak. Given my current life stresses this isn't entirely unexpected but it's still annoying.

Ah well.

We missed you last night by the way.

Date: 2002-08-15 01:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pseydtonne.livejournal.com
I wound up going out with Dave for a drink. We both needed that, after a couple hours of goofatron calls. Then i made a schmuckof myself when I learned that the 99 Restaurant will never leave a bone in a Buffalo wing (cuz they don't use wings at all -- it's breast meat). This irked me.
Sorry about that.
-waiting for Maggie, Dante
From: (Anonymous)
Dante, don't be too hard on yourself. The reason why you're not getting published is because you haven't finished anything yet worthy of being printed. You need to keep at it.

I told you before you could do it, don't make a liar out of me, Chooch!

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