Is it still hump day when you’re only working a four-day week? Or is just the second half?
Thoughts for a day.
Target: 1200 words
Written: 1190 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Look Homeward, Angel, Thomas Wolfe
Comics: Hit-Girl v2 11-12, Kick-Ass v4 11-12
Music: It's What We're All About, Sum 41Hearing rumours all day about going back into the office, instead of the one week out of three we do now.
That is not going to do me any favours in terms of getting things done.
Work blows.
Target: 1100 words
Written: 913 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: The Last Wish, Andrzej Sapkowski
Comics: Kick-Ass v3 5-8
Music: It's Fun To Steal, Mono PuffIt’s a silly thing, isn’t it?
Miniscule chances for the possibility of something for literally, almost nothing?
Like, what? Twenty bucks and the time it took to go to the store?
Or, we could just work, and focus on doing what we love for way less money, but a way happier life. Are lottery winners that happy? Or are they harangued, losing money left and right because everyone’s at them and they aren’t business people, they’re journeymen, stay-at-home moms, office pools.
Folks whose lack of discipline has them working jobs they hate (or not working at all for various reasons, some of them completely legit) aren’t buying lotto tickets because they’re happy with their situation.
They either just don’t know how to move into a more fulfilling life, don’t know what that life looks like, or past decisions/social setup has them trapped into something less desirable, and this long shot is the only way out.
I don’t generally buy lottery tickets, but hell, if I don’t fantasize sometimes.
Of course, as I get older, I’m far more interested in stability doing something I love, and spending my time and money on experiences than things. Things are nice, but you only buy what you need.
And you don’t need most things.
But experiences? Priceless.
Target: 1100 words
Written: 1805 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain
Comics: Cyber Force v2 17-18, Velocity 2, Ripclaw v2 1
Music: Instrumental, Linkin Park (not sure where this came from, but it's instrumental remakes of Linkin Park songs. Weird, right?)Motherfuckin’ Cogeco.
Tuesday, there’s two Cogeco vans at the end of the street that pull up while I’m walking the dogs. There’s no way that’s good, and sure enough, we’re out of internet for an hour.
Not terrible, listed as maintenance on the Cogeco website.
But then…
A Cogeco tech returns around 3:30 yesterday, roots around in the box in the neighbour’s yard and boom, we’re down.
Not a big deal, right? Site reads maintenance again, probably only be for a bit. Got me out of the last half hour of work.
Except, when I look again at four, dude’s gone. Box is still open; no sign of him.
And we’re completely out.
He never returns.
So, we pulled some strings with the internet company my wife works for and whose tech department I used to run, and get ourselves a hub, but man, let me tell you. I thought I was being nice going through front line staff first, assuming they’d prod Cogeco and find out there’s a local outage.
Nope. Turns out Cogeco already booked a tech – for two days from now. So now, we’re scrambling, trying to find places to work, figure out what to do with dogs, possible sick days, etc., and knowing how this game is played, I can already see the screwjob coming.
Because Cogeco booked the tech, with no prompting from us, that means that it either is an area issue that for some inexplicable reason they’re willing to leave that way for days or they know they fucked something up specific to our line and put in early. Unfortunately, I also know our provider didn’t ask for anything, which means when things go sideways, there’ll be no recourse to escalate, because we never opened anything, even if Cogeco scheduled their own tech (who could no show on the grounds that we’re a third party and not a Cogeco client, and that any and all dispatches have to go through our provider).
To think, I know these people. I didn’t train any of them, because they were all customer service people forced into tech roles after I left, but damn, kids.
Do better.
Target: 1100 words
Written: 1030 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Trust Me, I'm Lying, Ryan Holiday (a very important book that will leave you completely bereft)
Comics: Codename Strykeforce 12-13, Ripclaw 1-2
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Did I mention no time?
Target: 1000 words
Written: 607 words, comic: Western Cradle #4
Read: Tropic Of Kansas, Christopher Brown
Comics: Preacher 53-56
Music: I Just Can't Stop It, The English BeatIt’s been five weeks since I was there, and it still sucks.
Man, do I ever prefer my cozy home office. One can practically feel the stress melting away when I think of it. Plus, I can get more done on breaks and lunches; I don’t have to try and jam it all in before I leave for work or after I get home. It’s like gaining an hour a day.
My writing only takes roughly that; it’s a great time to do laundry or dishes or prep a meal.
Why anyone would ever want to be in an office in this day and age, if they didn’t absolutely have to…
Fucking ridiculous.
(Plus, I’m actually more productive at home; I’ve too much social anxiety to like sitting in a crowd all day).
Target: 1000 words
Written: 370 words, comic: Western Cradle #4
Read: Tropic Of Kansas, Christopher Brown
Comics: Preacher 45-48
Music: I Have A Pony, Steven WrightThe Christmas party of my former place of employment, which drove me to the brink, out of my mind, and into crippling debt in trying to think there was a way out of it all.
My wife still works there. It’s still awful.
On the plus side, they fired a bunch of people, so it looks like they’re paring down to sell.
So, maybe ten years of this annual reminder of workplace PTSD can be fucking done.
But not yet.
Target: 1000 words
Written: 242 words, comic: Western Cradle #4
Read: Tropic Of Kansas, Christopher Brown
Comics: Preacher 41-44
Music: I Fought The Law, Green DayI understand the impulse, from a fiction standpoint. Who doesn’t love a good revenge story?
John Wick isn’t what it is for nothing. (They killed his dog, so he spent four movies murdering everyone that’s ever been even tangentially related to the guy who did it. As a dog owner, I’ve never been more invested.)
The problem is that revenge seldom works out the way we want. The fantasy that plays in our head of getting that asshole boss in trouble with HR or having the perfect takedown of that bitchy girl in your friend group, more often than not, what happens is… nothing.
HR doesn’t care, because that asshole boss is so far up his asshole boss’ ass that HR finds him untouchable. That bitchy girl, she’s been insulting people so long, she rebuts with a brutal takedown of her own, and it has truth in it, and you’re cut to the quick. Your friends all titter, because they, too, are assholes.
Congratulations, you’ve just made your life worse.
All I’m saying is that as nice as the fantasy is, unless you’re some superheroic powered individual like John Wick, it probably won’t work out for you. Better to cut those influences without words, and move toward your happy, rather than your revenge.
Of course, some of us can’t, and that seething anger becomes all consuming, until we’re delusional about the whole damn thing.
Target: 1000 words
Written: 360 words, comic: Western Cradle #2
Read: The Autobiography Of Malcolm X, Malcolm X (and Alex Haley, I guess)
Comics: Preacher 9-12
Music: Now For Plan A, Tragically Hip (the title track is so good)For all the things I wanted to do with my life, I probably would have had to have started as a teenager.
Unfortunately, the lessons I needed to learn, the skills I had to grow (and am still growing), the mindset, the life experience, all that stuff… it unfolded a little slower than it probably should have.
Maybe I could have gone a more traditional route, and maybe I could have been content with that, but when have I ever been content with anything? In the moment, I can be, in the midst of a good meal or a great book or great sex, a nice moment in the sun while walking the dogs.
But isn’t that the only time ever?
I know it will take me probably until I’m a hundred and no longer able to function physically or mentally to do the work that I want to do, to see the places I wanted to see, to have all the experiences I’ve desired.
I probably won’t make it, barring terrific medical advances. Of course, I could live that long but the growing spectre of fascism, the threat of climate change, bigotry and hatred, the complete breakdown of both civility and the willingness to stand up for what is right, in action more than words, is likely to end this planet (or at least my life or the ability to do the things I desire to do), all that pretty well guarantees that this is a fool’s errand.
But what’s the alternative?
Giving up?
I know I’m a late bloomer, but hell. Fuck it.
There’s no do-overs, so it’s now or never, and if I die in the attempt, without making the impact I would have liked, well, there’s no shame in trying.
Only in giving up.
Target: 1000 words
Written: 1479 words, short story: Late Riser
Read: The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho (also, this has nothing to do with this book, it was garbage, like Eckhart Tolle fucked Hans Christian Andersen and their baby read The Secret on the way out - stuff like this is why people get stuck in their own heads thinking they just have think things into existence, or that all skill is just natural, instead doing the fucking work.)
Comics: Chew 42-44, Chew: Warrior Chicken Poyo (POYO!) 1
Music: No!, They Might Be GiantsI’m up earlier than I wanted to be, but so is everyone else, which kills my time to meditate and read and put on headphones and plow through a random selection of music on my way to the second coffee of the day.
And I’m thinking about time.
I’m thinking about how frozen I am; how stuck; how the only barrier to me getting what I want and being the thing I want to be is myself and this mental block, this block behind the tires of the trailer that is my mine.
My wheels are spinnin’.
Moving beyond is terrifying; there’s so many bad things going on in the world right now to stop it from ever happening, but I cannot control those. I can only control what I need to do to get what’s in my head out of my head.
It’s getting it past that that’s the real trick.
How does the world find it? Can I get it done before I die?
Geez. I guess there really was a theme to all this.
Target: 1000 words
Written: 1273 words, short story: Late Riser
Read: The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
Comics: Chew 39-41, Chew/Revival 1
Music: No, Virginia, The Dresden Dolls