M.E.G.O.

[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

Comments

[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