I have written more than my heart can stand for the past three days. Saying I was happy to have had the job interview, then writing thanks that they didn’t pick me; writing a positive review of a plugin and about a developer who was so sweet and gracious and unlike most of them who act like their customers are stupid; holding my tongue/pen/fingers to thank another developer about a different plugin who was a total shit, trying to rise above my desire to tell him that; like I told my daughter to when her ex husband used the family therapy session about her daughter with an eating disorder to rehash his litany of hatred for her and how she alone is the cause of all his misery and of the daughter’s disease and how she stole everything including his family away from him and has caused him to have the affair that was the tipping point that initiated their divorce after (what I hear) was four miserable years out of the 20 that they were married (longer than I ever have been); and trying to write some kind of consolation to her when she said she was leaving, giving up on her daughter who said she wanted to live with her father and not go home to her mother’s home after staying in treatment in Bellevue for four months and after starving herself for two years; then my boss who asked me to give her a few check boxes and some finite guidelines for exporting images that I need to use on our website, finite that can’t be achieved, and me making a spreadsheet of answers, the size that no printer could print, to try to explain it.
Why can’t we all live in the present, or failing that at least live in the question, and get along and not have to have one person be at fault and another turn tail and run away from her family and another ask the un-askable? Why do I feel responsible for all of them? Why can’t I just get one more little job doing what I’m good at so I can pay my bills and eat too? Why do plugin developers think their customers asking for help are stupid when it is obviously their own inability to answer the question?
This is the kind of writing I have done for the past three days. I am tired of writing and I want to knit and cut my hair and eat steak.