I've been looking for an apartment near work so I can put an end to my 70-mile commuting days and nights spent in the company hotel. As much as I love freeloading off my parents and employers, I need my own place. But, despite my best efforts, the Internet is making this search more difficult than it should probably be.
Do you know how many real estate search sites are out there? 50 gazillion, approximately. And all these sites require accounts and log-ins. And none of these sites share property listings. And all of these sites are driving me crazy. And I'm betting none of these sites are willing to pay a decent psychologist to help me work through the issues this is creating.
And so I ask, what are you good for, Internet?! You complicate things! Everything might be just a keystroke away, but that's part of the problem -- everything is just a keystroke away...in a bazillion different places! It's scattered willy-nilly all over the place, without any organization, rhyme or reason. What's the good in that? Who does that help? NOT ME, that's who! Now, stop being so frustrating, Internet, and get out there and find me an apartment!
March 28, 2009
March 27, 2009
File under: "Things I Should Do But Probably Won't."
I have to start writing more.
No, let me rephrase that:
I have to start writing more of what I want.
At work, I've got my requisite daily allotment of articles that I need to churn out on an every-other-hourly basis. After researching, writing and editing these stories all day long, I don't have much creative steam left at the end of the day. In fact, I think I've lost my ability to manufacture anything even remotely resembling "creative steam" because the type of writing I do is entirely non-creative and more a matter of mass-production. ...Unless, of course, coming up with different words for "concert" and "tour" counts as being creative.
Example:
Trek, journey, jaunt, circuit, venture, outing, run.
Event, performance, show, gig, set, session, jam.
WHERE'S MY PULITZER?
(Please note: The requisite number of articles is entirely a figment of my imagination and product of the fact that I am a guilt-induced laborer who must complete a certain amount or level of work each day, no matter how long it takes, for no other reason than I Must. But I've repeated this number at work so frequently that it has become more fact than figment. And that number is "four to five," which is technically a range, but I'm not a technical person. Yes, I am. That was a lie.)
I want my passion back. More than that, I need to remember what my passion used to be, find out where it's locked itself away on this long-term sabbatical from my life, plead with it to come back to me ("I need you -- please!! Don't leave me! Can't you see what a mess I am without you?!"), and then torture it into submission until it is once again fast in my keeping.
That sounds kind of hot, actually.
But no, not that sort of submission. (Although...)
Once I get the "writing on a regular basis" thing down, the next thing to work on is "writing with a purpose." And then, "ending what I start." I like to think that I used to be somewhat adept at concluding things, but my whole life has become a bit open-ended. And, writing what I know (or as I know), my personal narratives have developed a tendency to drop off abruptly without underlying causation or overarching summation.
Maybe I can't rein in my writing until I also lasso in some of the straggling loose ends of my life... Naaaaah. Too difficult. That would probably require decisive action or at least some sort of conscious effort. Strike that. Instead --
Maybe my "style" should just become open-ended and subjective. Does that make me post-modern or a just lousy writer?
No, let me rephrase that:
I have to start writing more of what I want.
At work, I've got my requisite daily allotment of articles that I need to churn out on an every-other-hourly basis. After researching, writing and editing these stories all day long, I don't have much creative steam left at the end of the day. In fact, I think I've lost my ability to manufacture anything even remotely resembling "creative steam" because the type of writing I do is entirely non-creative and more a matter of mass-production. ...Unless, of course, coming up with different words for "concert" and "tour" counts as being creative.
Example:
Trek, journey, jaunt, circuit, venture, outing, run.
Event, performance, show, gig, set, session, jam.
WHERE'S MY PULITZER?
(Please note: The requisite number of articles is entirely a figment of my imagination and product of the fact that I am a guilt-induced laborer who must complete a certain amount or level of work each day, no matter how long it takes, for no other reason than I Must. But I've repeated this number at work so frequently that it has become more fact than figment. And that number is "four to five," which is technically a range, but I'm not a technical person. Yes, I am. That was a lie.)
I want my passion back. More than that, I need to remember what my passion used to be, find out where it's locked itself away on this long-term sabbatical from my life, plead with it to come back to me ("I need you -- please!! Don't leave me! Can't you see what a mess I am without you?!"), and then torture it into submission until it is once again fast in my keeping.
That sounds kind of hot, actually.
But no, not that sort of submission. (Although...)
Once I get the "writing on a regular basis" thing down, the next thing to work on is "writing with a purpose." And then, "ending what I start." I like to think that I used to be somewhat adept at concluding things, but my whole life has become a bit open-ended. And, writing what I know (or as I know), my personal narratives have developed a tendency to drop off abruptly without underlying causation or overarching summation.
Maybe I can't rein in my writing until I also lasso in some of the straggling loose ends of my life... Naaaaah. Too difficult. That would probably require decisive action or at least some sort of conscious effort. Strike that. Instead --
Maybe my "style" should just become open-ended and subjective. Does that make me post-modern or a just lousy writer?
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