Waking Up On the Anti Side of the Bed.
I feel as though I'm kind of living in a very similarly decorated but ever so slightly different world lately. Kind of like all of a sudden, I woke up and my furniture was all moved two inches to the left. It's been one of those weeks.
Yesterday one of my favorite pairs of comfy shoes, these old Doc Marten mary janes I have been wearing for years, chafed me to the point of blisters after walking only two blocks. It was like they didn't recognize my feet anymore.
Since Monday I've been working my ever-lovin' ass off, twice as hard and twice as long as usual, because I am now the de facto boss back here in the Pit (when I put it that way, I kinda feel like evil Mario throwing barrels at Donkey Kong...). I haven't put in fewer than 12 hours in a day here at work thus far. And yet, I'm still somehow much happier. I suppose that being willing to work much harder when no one is around to tell you that you never should have been born in the first place shouldn't be such a mystery, but.
Suddenly I'm being treated like a total Grown Up here also. I've been dragged into management meetings, taken frantic calls at midnight from our publisher, been asked to make a million and a half judgment calls and have had to hold the hand of just about every (much older) coworker I have at least once this week, and it's only Wednesday. I'm used to being the barefooted, ignored adolescent graphics monkey who sits in the corner and wears her headphones without distraction all day long, just slaving away. Having people acknowledge my presence is weird.
I've found myself with very few people to talk to, as of late, and - maybe because I'm already down in The Well as it is - the social isolation feels more like a Bubble of Safety and Serenity than it does lonely. I'm entering an Inert phase, I think. Turtling. Withdrawing. But maybe that's just because the people who have become important to me have all kind of been filing in and out of my Bubble as they please lately, I don't know.
I heard yesterday that Perú is currently suffering from a sudden CHOLERA OUTBREAK, in Cusco, no less, that has only just been recognized by public officials. Its primary symptom? Long bouts of intermittent diarrhea that just won't go away. Somehow I am not nearly as frightened by this revelation as I really, really should be. My own symptoms have slowly improved but are not yet completely gone. Maybe I have The Cholera. It would at least be a romantic and dramatic way to go out, right? UGH.
I've perfected the art of being Eh and Fuck-Yes and Love-Puking and Hell-No-ing and dorky and suave and timid and authoritarian all at the same time. How do I manage that??
Clearly, 'Contrarian' is a title I will need to add to my resumé.
Yesterday one of my favorite pairs of comfy shoes, these old Doc Marten mary janes I have been wearing for years, chafed me to the point of blisters after walking only two blocks. It was like they didn't recognize my feet anymore.
Since Monday I've been working my ever-lovin' ass off, twice as hard and twice as long as usual, because I am now the de facto boss back here in the Pit (when I put it that way, I kinda feel like evil Mario throwing barrels at Donkey Kong...). I haven't put in fewer than 12 hours in a day here at work thus far. And yet, I'm still somehow much happier. I suppose that being willing to work much harder when no one is around to tell you that you never should have been born in the first place shouldn't be such a mystery, but.
Suddenly I'm being treated like a total Grown Up here also. I've been dragged into management meetings, taken frantic calls at midnight from our publisher, been asked to make a million and a half judgment calls and have had to hold the hand of just about every (much older) coworker I have at least once this week, and it's only Wednesday. I'm used to being the barefooted, ignored adolescent graphics monkey who sits in the corner and wears her headphones without distraction all day long, just slaving away. Having people acknowledge my presence is weird.
I've found myself with very few people to talk to, as of late, and - maybe because I'm already down in The Well as it is - the social isolation feels more like a Bubble of Safety and Serenity than it does lonely. I'm entering an Inert phase, I think. Turtling. Withdrawing. But maybe that's just because the people who have become important to me have all kind of been filing in and out of my Bubble as they please lately, I don't know.
I heard yesterday that Perú is currently suffering from a sudden CHOLERA OUTBREAK, in Cusco, no less, that has only just been recognized by public officials. Its primary symptom? Long bouts of intermittent diarrhea that just won't go away. Somehow I am not nearly as frightened by this revelation as I really, really should be. My own symptoms have slowly improved but are not yet completely gone. Maybe I have The Cholera. It would at least be a romantic and dramatic way to go out, right? UGH.
I've perfected the art of being Eh and Fuck-Yes and Love-Puking and Hell-No-ing and dorky and suave and timid and authoritarian all at the same time. How do I manage that??
Clearly, 'Contrarian' is a title I will need to add to my resumé.