want to, can't do ·
12 April 06

Man I feel so unproductive. I keep getting positive comments back, or comments of support about me doing well for someone who’s only been around for two days to do the shit, but even so I still feel so unproductive. It seems I can’t dish out anything decent, and I feel I know CSS well enough. Dreamweaver for me is the obstacle, and the other obstacle is creating a site that is corporate friendly. I get bored of looking at the same tired old colours day in and day out, hour after hour. Today was a case of looking at pictures of old people all fucking day.

I like old people, don’t get me wrong, but having to stare at every geriatric face with a smile the size of a melon was starting to freak me out. I had visions of meeting such people on a boat that led to nowhere and they all would ask whether I would like any candy. Well, thank you, I wouldn’t like any fucking candy from your scary asses. I think the day started okay to be fair, I called my friend around 8am but the bastard was still in bed and had overslept, sod law being what it is I stood outside in the cold wet for about 10 minutes for his lazy ass to get out of bed.

Life is tasting bitter right now. My friend even stated categorically that I shouldn’t look so depressed

I thought I had quit smoking but I ended up buying 10 Marlboro Lights any fucking way, and thought what the fuck am I doing with this shit in my hand. Still I bought the fucker and inhaled that sweet, sweet nictoine, tasting the ash flavour, smelling that yaking smell on my fingers and feeling the rush of the tine flowing through my river of veins. Yeah baby, that’s the shit right there.

My main whine is that the work I did today was relatively shit for what I know I’m capable of doing. I’m still getting my head around using Dreamweaver to be honest, though I’ve picked up like two lines of PHP that will come in handy and offer some insight into what PHP can do, which is pretty nifty if you ask me. Though to be honest I think their usage in this case is pretty redundant, although I see where my friend is coming from, I don’t see any relevant use for it in their current situation.

I spent the first morning working on a design, then scarpping it towards the end of the day because we just couldn’t get the look right. Then my friend gave me another fucking design, and lo and behold I was working on that, but before long fucked something up, tried to fix it only Dreamweaver wouldn’t except it would it? Fucking great I thought, another nail in the coffin of a wannabe web developer. I kept being reminded that I was only two days in, that I needed to give myself a chance to trial and error before I got things right and the design aspect would come to me eventually.

That didn’t help of course because it simply acknowledged my belief that my work was underwhelming and offering no real substance. What the fuck am I supposed to do though? The person I’m replacing worked for them for three bloody years then walked out on them, and has accumulated so many skills he knows PHP inside out and now is onto ASP.NET. How the fuck am I supposed to compete with that? They expect me to have a site ready within a few days, and eventually within a day or two. I can’t deal with that shit.

I like old people, don’t get me wrong, but having to stare at every geriatric face with a smile the size of a melon was starting to freak me out

Add to which they keep fucking telling me that I’m on board, and that I’m part of the team now. It’s good to have me there, we go back a long way and all that fucking tired old jazz the lonely old man plays at night when everyone’s sleeping and just wants him to shut the fuck up for one night at least. But no, that lonely old jazz player keeps playing that sweet jazz until the birds start shitting on him and he gets Avian flu and dies on the floor, cluthing his throat and wondering why he didn’t take the advice of fair people just trying to sleep.

Life is tasting bitter right now. My friend even stated categorically that I shouldn’t look so depressed. I wasn’t even trying to give that impression. My state of mind at the time was that of being cool and collected. At least now I know cool and collected for me is a case of worry wart or manic fucking depressive. What a coincidence that I have magic capsules that deal with that shit too, isn’t it? Then they started complaining all day because I farted so often. I mean excuse me for exhaling, but it’s called trapped wind for a reason, and it has an escape route that is quite common to all.

Plus the fact my friend took me to a curry buffet that was about as much a buffet as Jesus Christs last meal with his bitches. There was some bread, there was water and lots of greasy crap. I exhaled plenty and sure they killed a few people in the room ten times over, and all the dead people in their graves rose up and said, “What the fuck?”, but what the hell is a guy to do after he’s had a greasy curry. The funny thing was that for all that complaining my friend did about my gas, he ended up with severe stomach pain and thought he was getting food poisoning. So I had the last laugh. Bastards.