Well, the previous entry was written last weekend, but I've been offline all this week due to technical issues. Not a connection problem this time, amazing though that may be. Nope, this was a problem that reduced my whole desktop to a paperweight, until I could get a nice technician with more knowledge than myself to come take a look at it. It was a simple problem, so long as you had potential knowledge of the solution.I suppose we might say that's true of all problems, hm?
Which, I guess, would mean that I don't have anywhere near enough knowledge about the girl I spent last week with, because this week I'd have to admit my problem with her didn't seem that simple. Well, actually the problem was still simple, but I think there's that potential knowledge of the solution problem.
Or at least, there was. Something I'm coming to remember about myself, which may well sound somewhat weird to some who may wander here: I am a writer, because writing is what I do. In that sense that we all do something, that we're all meant to do something, you know?
There is something for each of us at which we are in all our uniqueness better than anyone else, living, dead, or not yet born. However small it may seem in the grand scheme of things, this we know we are meant to do, because in doing our truest work we come closest to truth ourselves.
So, you know. If my computer's working, and I can write? I'm cool.
