writing woos and woes

woohoo! i feel so accomplished!
by the time i published last night- this morning?- well, yesterday morning now, since is after 1.30am- i'd figured out (mostly by asking the blog-happy-hubby) how to include links, so i had one within the entry and one successfully added to the sidebar section- of course, if you reading this, chances are you already discovered that. but i'm proud.
and since i did so well last night, i decided i should maintain and make sure i wrote tonight.
however, after a whole day of staring at this screen, searching online for somebody (anybody!) willing to pay me to write something (anything!) i'm sick of this damn keyboard, my hip flexors ache from the awful position i been sitting in, and i'm grumpy about the fact that people who apparently can't spell the word 'writer' seem to be having better luck at getting paid to write. and this isn't even about the short fiction languishing on my hard drive that nobody will publish thus far; i expected that to be one stop short of murder, getting my collection (or even individual pieces) picked up- but i looking for gainful (and meaningful) employ here, not just trying to pacify my ego by managing to convince a publisher that short fiction may actually sell.
and is not like i don't have the experience and ability. but instead, every day i open up newspapers, magazines and books to misspellings, pitiful grammar, and a saddening lack of style, knowing that i could do it cleaner and better- and have before, but it seems that walking away for awhile is a signal to the world that you let go, never to return.
i admit, this is the long-day-of-fruitless-labour-grump talking, but what's the point of a blog if i can't be pissy and rant in it, right? exactly!
over it now. i'm back to being pleased with myself for my blog progress. i actually should confess that the other thing making me so proud of myself is that this is the best i've done at maintaining a journal since my mother read my 9-year-old diary and i vowed to never indulge in that crap again. naturally, everybody who's known me over the years as a writer expected that i kept a journal and indignantly rebuked me upon discovering that i didn't- what kind of writer doesn't keep a journal? but i refused, even when college courses required it (another confession: i made those up the mornings they were due, scribbled frantically for an hour and still got great grades, which suggests that professors don't know the difference anyway, which validates my opinion about journaling- some may like it but it's useless for me because i'm just not invested in chronicling my daily ass-wiping...although maybe i'd be willing to chronicle somebody else's...)
all of which is to explain that i haven't been this diligent about something that's neither work nor personal creative project in almost 20 years. but then, that may be because i'm telling myself this is a personal creative project...
hope i haven't set my standards too high with this initial zeal...
walk good.