Today I had to give a presentation on how to use a program I'm not particularly fond of, and pray that I'll never have to implement in my area. Sometimes I feel like a sell-out, but hey - for the record, it worked as expected and did what I asked it to. The developers deserve kudos for a job well done. It's just slow, and that isn't the developers fault. Using this product to image a machine versus the solution we're currently using is like comparing snail mail to e-mail - both will deliver most of the time, it's just that one is WAAAAY faster than the other. I'm still trying to figure out why I was the chosen one to stand in front of all the other LAN managers and give the presentation - surely it's not my wit and style ;-)
Here I stand again, speaking to an empty room. My thoughts aren't worth the cyberspace they would take up if I cared to tweet or post to Facebook, but here I stand anyway. I had no idea how long it had been since my muse had forced me to write. I used to write almost daily, poetry mostly, when I was younger and believed that someone cared what I had to say. I wanted to be e.e. cummings or T.S. Eliot or anyone who seemed to be so comfortable in his own skin to pour out his emotions onto a blank page. It took me a few years to realize that the writers who filled my pantheon of literary deities were not that comfortable after all, but wrote because not writing was more painful than the spilling of emotion. So I think I will take up my keyboard once more, wade out into the battle, and write.
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