I don’t think anything makes me madder or want to cry harder than technology. The only thing that even comes close is the reflection of my haunches when I’m sitting on the bed, putting on or taking off pants. I guess it’s the powerlessness in both instances that causes so much frustration.
My sister-in-law Margaret is a marketing maven, so she’s always suggesting better ways for me to use my site. She said I simply have to get onto Twitter, which scares the bejesus out of me, and she also said that I should be doing a monthly newsletter. Bravely, I decided to try and start with a bulk mail-out as a first step.
It just sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Follow the instructions of Outlook Express and then go ahead and send to everyone in your address book. Sadly, this is just a cruel joke and doesn’t work at all. After trying a few times I had to e mail the web hosting company, which caused its own set of difficulties. ie, who is the web hosting company??
Once I’d found them, they sent a complicated set of instructions on how to set up a newsletter. Step One: Enter your User Name and Password. I just sat there, incredulous at the level of difficulty of the question. I don’t know about you, but I have dozens of User Names and Passwords, and certainly haven’t committed any of them to memory.
I wisely decided that I’m completely incapable of doing any of the setting up of the newsletter and conveyed this to the genius web designer. Unfortunately, he has sent me a list of questions that almost pushed me over the edge. I read them over, swallowed hard, and e mailed back, “Look, I need a stiff drink and then I’ll work my way through them and get back to you.”
The only reason I’m putting myself through all of this hell is that a newsletter will be another chance to communicate with the world. I’m even more ga ga about writing now that I’ve finished first-year creative writing at UBC Okanagan. Plus, it really helps to write to some kind of a deadline.
Without a deadline I find that days can go by and I haven’t written a single word. I had hoped that motivation would magically descend upon me and allow me to write a page a day. How I thought this would happen, I don’t know. I’m currently working on this idea: now that creative writing has ended, why not use that time to write?
Instead, however, I’m sure you’ll find me barefoot out in the yard, willing some plant or other to grow. Or, maybe you’ll see me browsing the aisles of a grocery store, begging for inspiration for the day’s dinner. As tough as this sort of thing is psychologically, it’s a picnic compared to what technology does to me.