(no subject)
I'm bloody tired. My inner workaholic has started to come out of the woodwork, keeping me at all hours of the day and night, when I don't need to be anywhere near the office. Around 2pm, I thought I'd stop by the school while picking up a can of Raid and see how my new superstar photographer is doing with her first assignment. The store's sold out of residual insecticide, and the photographer, Maria, has been, shot, and gone. Well, she shot the game. With her camera. There's no one floundering in a pool of their own blood on the hardwood of the volleyball game she was covering. So, since I was on campus, I thought I'd stop by the office and upload some pics.
As I'm leaving the office just after midnite, I'm starting to wonder what the hell's wrong with me. I didn't stop for any breaks, save for a couple trips to the bathroom. By the end, I was feeling so braindead I could hardly piece together a sentence. That being said, I wasn't working on the paper--rather, I was working on a book on the history of the paper. I could have left at any time, but I knew that the second I walked out the door I'd be riddled with pangs of guilt for not giving Robyn (the boss) a greater effort. I wasn't even being that productive, but still, something was being accomplished by my hands, which was more than nothing being done at an abandoned computer.
Now, if only I could learn to turn off this ability to work for 10 straight hours without a break. It's handy to know I can do it, but I don't think my body really appreciates it...
As I'm leaving the office just after midnite, I'm starting to wonder what the hell's wrong with me. I didn't stop for any breaks, save for a couple trips to the bathroom. By the end, I was feeling so braindead I could hardly piece together a sentence. That being said, I wasn't working on the paper--rather, I was working on a book on the history of the paper. I could have left at any time, but I knew that the second I walked out the door I'd be riddled with pangs of guilt for not giving Robyn (the boss) a greater effort. I wasn't even being that productive, but still, something was being accomplished by my hands, which was more than nothing being done at an abandoned computer.
Now, if only I could learn to turn off this ability to work for 10 straight hours without a break. It's handy to know I can do it, but I don't think my body really appreciates it...