As a human, certain things annoy me, and certain happenings frustrate me.

As a writer, those same things and happenings also always challenge me. While the human me wants to whine or complain or throw a fit, the writer me wants to step back and analyze and create something valuable from the experience.

I perceive most everything in my life from both of these perspectives. Even in my most human moments, my dispassionate writer self is standing in the back corner, just watching … thinking … looking for some new angle to be explored.

But through all of life’s fights and failures, insults and injuries — all of which give me at least some small drip of fuel as a writer — one thing stands out as a source of extreme annoyance and frustration that routinely leaves my writer self a writhing, hysterical, helplessly human mess:

reCAPTCHA

That’s right … reCAPTCHA. The squint-inducing internet anti-spam program that spews out nonsensical alphanumeric sequences and demands that I, a human, prove to it, a robot, that I am not a robot. The cruelty! The twisted logic!! The extra clicks!!!
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