I try to like my job. I really do. Most of the people are great. Some are not so great, but that's just life, and I can accept that. It's just that with these latest shifts of power, I don't feel very capable, and my opinions and knowledge are being questioned and tested on a daily basis. I'm tired of explaining why an out-of-the-box HP PC is better than a home-built ASUS POS PC. I'm tired of explaining that laser printers are not ever going to be the best choice for printing these friggin' claims. I'm tired of fighting the same battle every day and never feeling like I'm gaining ground. I'm weary to my soul right now, and there's no end in sight.
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.
Comments
Why hire and pay people with Expertise if you're not going to listen.