"Never put off until tomorrow what you could do the day after tomorrow just as well." - Mark Twain
"I was supposed to write a blog based on this quote three weeks ago." - Me
I have a hard time getting out of bed sometimes. Every morning. And the problem is not my cavernous studio, nor my deaf ear, nor my love for PBR on a Wednesday. Rather, it is the interloping sea gull of an alarm that comes squawking into my subconscious, a vicious reminder of everything that seems futile about the day that lies ahead of me - an insipid attack on my delicious sleep, one that I feel I must defend myself against with the help of an adorable little button who goes by the name 'Snooze.'
MAH MAH MAH SAME SHIT DIFFERENT DAY.
Five minutes of bliss, then -
MAH MAH MAH MAH AND SAME SHIT MEANS OPEN FINAL DRAFT WRITE A SENTENCE STARE AT THE WALL PICK A SCAB WONDER IF YOU'LL EVER WRITE ANYTHING GOOD AGAIN.
Oh. Thank God. Five more delicious min--
MAH MAH MAH MAH AND WONDERING IF YOU'LL EVER WRITE ANYTHING GOOD AGAIN MEANS GETTING DEPRESSED AND MAKING YOURSELF FEEL BETTER BY GOING TO THE STORE WHICH MEANS BUYING PUDDING CHIPS AND SALSA BECAUSE YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO SHOP LIKE A GODDAMN ADULT.
Snooze! For the love of Pete! Snooze! Damn it! Who's the asshole that set this thing anyway?!
That asshole is, of course, me.
Because I'm self employed (or unemployed, for those of you who live outside of Los Angeles) which means that everyday I work for a boss who is so critical and micromanaging that I constantly feel compelled to defy her by slacking off behind her back.
She's such a stress case. She acts like the work we do is ridiculously important, and is always on my ass about why I haven't finished a project on time. She's borderline abusive - calls me lazy, unproductive, slow, and I just want to tell her "Lady, calm down. This isn't the E.R. We're writing jokes about the Kardashians here."
And nothing I ever do is good enough. Every premise I write is met with an eye roll, every set we listen to with groans of displeasure.
Frankly, I'm sick of her shit, and I've started doing something about it.
This juvenile work we do is comically close to her heart, so I sabotage it every chance I get. Pilot idea she's been dying to outline? Punchline she needs to streamline? I replace these stimulating, gratifying projects with the most mundane activities imaginable. Entire afternoons are spent tweezing toe hairs or looking for Hypercolor shirts on ebay as she stews over why we haven't heard back from that Lit Agent.
Just like most bosses, she's better at giving orders than executing them. Half the time she's barking demands at me, I find her 'brainstorming' on Facebook or 'taking a five' to jerk off. It's laughable that she even considers herself a real writer.
I know it sounds like I'm in a terrible work environment, but she's not awful 100% of the time.
She understands that I am a 'non-traditional worker' and can actually be pretty accommodating. She'll let me get 'a little high' sometimes in the morning, if I promise it will help with my writing, and our office dress code is simply 'pantsless casual.'
We have far fewer of those annoying midday work birthday parties than most folks. You'll only see a sheet cake around these parts a couple times a year: once, when it's her birthday, and her family sends one, and once when we have our annual 'Congratulations, Tess. You've Tricked Yourself Out of Being Successful, So Eat Up!' party -- which is actually pretty fun, because there's always lots of booze at that one.