Abandon Text!

W. H. Auden once said: "Poems are not finished; they are abandoned." I have been abandoning writing projects for many years, since only the pressure of deadline and high expectations ever got me to finish, or even start, anything of merit. This blog is an attempt to create a more consistent, self-directed writing habit. Hopefully a direction and voice will emerge.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

The thrill of victo- ! Shit.

Today was the sort of day that led me astray into bad work habits. I stayed up late last night trying to fix up a program, in a desperate lunging attempt to regain a customer's confidence. I worked until my brain ceased to function, around 1:30 pm. I solved some difficult problems, the sort that leave you muttering to yourself, "I'm a genius." I crashed on the couch, and came to again around 4 am. I continued to work until 6:30 am, still obsessing over code and missing my optimal blog window. I did manage the rest of my morning routine. While everything wasn't perfect, the client was impressed with the progress we had made and very upbeat and positive. When I finally get off the phone around noon, my arms are raised in victory, and I go off to take a brief nap.

I cruised through the afternoon. Another customer had some issues, but I solve them fairly quickly and came off looking like a hero. I'm starting to think that I'm actually really good at what I do.

I take the kids out for ice cream after supper. As they run around a grassy field, smudges of chocolate around their lips and bundles of clover-flowers in their happy fists, I'm thinking that life couldn't be better. Only mild exhaustion clouded the experience. I went from good-tired to not-so-good tired to man-I'm-wiped in the space of an hour.

More phone calls came. More issues, more things to fix. But by that time I was too tired to care. I worked hard, won the day, and feel like I deserve to crash. Except . . . man, I didn't write this morning. And now my brain feels like it's been put in sidewise. Have I sold a little bit of my soul for another fleeting thrill?



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