My annual review on Friday went not as bad as expected, but I was informed that I spend too much time “typing,” which is old-lady code for surfing the intarweb. No kidding, I thought, as I checked the “check this” box and signed my name. Another year in the can at the vertical plantation.
For some reason, I associate blogging with work, so it’s nigh-impossible for me to write posts at home. In fact, if I am sitting in front of my home computer and am online, it’s a sign of failure on my part, because it means I’m not doing Writing. Which I haven’t been doing much of anyhow.
I ran into a friend of mine on the train last night who described to me how she and another friend email each other a mandatory three pages of Writing once a week. Not for review, she added, but just as evidence that each of them is, in fact, Writing. That seems like a good idea. Except that I know how it’d work for me: I’d go about three weeks with the assignment, and then give up completely. And in my shame, I would likely stop returning emails and phonecalls from the other participants. And I might change my phone number. And start wearing a wig.
The truth is that Emma and I are only on week three. The output requirement has downshifted from five pages, to four, to three, to one. And I’m going to buy a wig at lunch.
Also, uh, Emma, honey, I’ll be out of the country next week. My cell phone will be out of range. I probably won’t have access to email. And I’m pretty sure all the phone lines are down right now in Nova Scotia due to a terrible storm that hasn’t been widely reported….