Even though I was able to post a couple of times last week, my access was still really sketchy, and getting online was mostly just luck. The Time-Warner guy came out today and fixed everything up, and then after I fooled around with my wireless router for about an hour, I was up and running again.
You might think that I have all kinds of stuff stored up, what with not being able to post and all.
But you would be wrong.
In fact, I barely even sat down in front of my computer. Believe it or not, there were actually many contributing factors as to why I stayed away from my desk. One of them being, of course, the lack of internet access. Sometimes itís awesome to sit down in front of a computer, fire up the word processing program and some tunes, and just hammer out the words until you canít keep your eyes open. Actually, thatís always fun. What I should have said was that sometimes it happens like that.
Other times, it doesnít. Iíll sit down at my computer, try to write, realize I got nothiní, and screw around online until either an idea pops into my head or until Iím ready to not be at my computer anymore. More often than not, thatís how it works. Also more often than not, Iíll get an idea of at least something to write about. It doesnít have to be good, as long as it gets the words out of my system.
Because, as Iíve said many times, to many people: I have to write. Iím not sure if itís an addiction or a necessity; does it fall into a class with drinking booze and smoking cigarettes, or is it more like drinking water and breathing air? I honestly donít know.
Would I die if I didnít get to write? I doubt it. But life wouldnít be the same, thatís for damn sure. The best analogy I can come up with only works if youíre a guy, I think. You know the term ďblue balls?Ē
Thatís what itís like when I donít get to write, kind of. I get all pissed off and I sort of hate the world, and I really just need a release. The pain isnít in my testicles, thoughóit feels more like itís in my brain. But itís that same kind of throbbing, achy, hurts-no-matter-what pain.
But thatís only when I donít get to write when I want to, or when I havenít done it in a long time. Generally, I just write because I think itís fun to write. And none of this is neither here nor there.
I was talking about why I havenít been at my desk. I didnít really feel like writing, to tell you the truth, and I didnít have the internet to keep me glued to my chair until I did feel like writing.
Also, I seem to have screwed up my back somewhere along the line in the last two weeks. I doubt itís anything major, but after sitting down for too long, it starts feeling like thereís a rusty rod inside my spine, and my legs start to ache. Also, bending down kicks my ass.
My princess dropped a baggie on the ground the other day, and then just reached over and picked it up. I realized that I was jealous. It was odd being jealous of such a stupid thing, but after two weeks of pain every time I try to lean over, sit down, or stand upÖshe just made it look so easy, you know?
My point being, I havenít really felt like spending a lot of time in a chair lately, either.
Lucky for me, I just got a bunch of books from Goodwill the other day, so I had tons of stuff to read. Quick asideóopened one of them and realized that it had been signed by the author. Not super-cool, I realize, as half the fun of having an autographed book is getting it signed yourself, but it was still kind of neat.
So I burned through my stack of books. Iím almost as bad with books as I am with foodóif itís good, I have a hard time stopping. Of course, my back was killing me, so I had an excuse to hang out and not move.
Thinking about it now, I realize that youíre actually pretty lucky that I havenít been able to post anything lately. Iíll bet itís almost the exact opposite of entertaining to read posts about a guy who has nothing to say except for that his back hurts really bad.
Which is sort of what this one is, huh?
I rest my case.