Strutting and fretting my hour upon the stage
Bonus points for you if you know that line.
I've been working crazy overtime since just after Halloween and mostly feeling pretty OK with the flow of the new routine, until last week – and then my mind finally got too full and started spilling over the top, and ever since I've been sort of just floating along on the river of mind sludge ... Finally, today, able to see the end of it, as we are scheduled to go to press by the end of this week. After which I plan to spend a solid weekend on the beach and in the ocean, letting the waves wash away whatever old words and pictures remain in my brain & open up some space to just let it rest there, empty, for awhile, on the sand.
The last three or four weekends I've done basically nothing but sleep the entire day. Well, I've been on a few good hikes. Yesterday I hiked about six miles in very steep terrain and that felt great. Today my muscles are a little sore and that makes me want to do even more. Soon.
At work there was an announcement a few weeks ago that my department would be hiring a staff writer – a content manager, actually, which is not so much about real writing but more about blurbage and keeping track of lists of the various features of things like industrial air conditioner ducting and pH testers and ten thousand different kinds of plastic nursery pots ... Anyway, I found myself struck feverish (literally sweating a bit, on my forehead) with jealousy that there might be an actual writer in the department, besides me – and at the same time I realized with a little bit of a shock that I really don't want to ever go back to working as a writer.
Somehow there is a part of me that thinks "being" a writer is better than "being" a designer. Weird. I think it's because I think you have to be smart to be a writer, and not as smart to be an artist or designer ... and being smart has always been a big part of my identity – the identity that was given to me as a kid in the gifted and talented program, who got to take special classes out of the school building and work on fun things like writing, casting and producing a puppet play, and making a super-8 movie, and learning Japanese bookmaking techniques, and going on field trips to hear political speakers in some huge colosseum ... while other girls were working on being pretty and popular. Which I secretly would have dearly loved to be.
Anyway, it was weird to notice that about myself. But it's true – my mind seems to be not what it used to be, these days. Maybe I'm getting lazy. Or maybe it really is just the effects of overwork. Or maybe I'm forging new neural pathways that look like pictures instead of words ... Creativity was also part of that identity, and I liked (and still like) that part more than the smart part, when I really think about it.
In any case, as it turned out, my even bigger concern about this position was that the new person might end up making more money than me. Shocking! But I am beginning to care about things like that. So I talked to my boss and offered to take on management of the big project that's been going on for-freaking-ever – which I feel I've already been managing unofficially, although I'm not sure the actual project manager would see it that way. Or maybe she would. I know she hates the project and will probably be thrilled to hand it over (I hope). A few days later my boss said he likes the idea, and that I will be getting a bigger raise than usual next month, to make sure that I'm getting more money than the new person.
Which seems like kind of an embarrassing thing to make a fuss about, but I don't care – I'm glad I asked, and I can use the money. And I'm glad I don't have to be a writer anymore.
I've been working crazy overtime since just after Halloween and mostly feeling pretty OK with the flow of the new routine, until last week – and then my mind finally got too full and started spilling over the top, and ever since I've been sort of just floating along on the river of mind sludge ... Finally, today, able to see the end of it, as we are scheduled to go to press by the end of this week. After which I plan to spend a solid weekend on the beach and in the ocean, letting the waves wash away whatever old words and pictures remain in my brain & open up some space to just let it rest there, empty, for awhile, on the sand.
The last three or four weekends I've done basically nothing but sleep the entire day. Well, I've been on a few good hikes. Yesterday I hiked about six miles in very steep terrain and that felt great. Today my muscles are a little sore and that makes me want to do even more. Soon.
It seems like I had something to say when I started writing this post ... Now, it turns out, not so much.
Maybe later.... [pause]
OK, I remembered what I wanted to write about.
At work there was an announcement a few weeks ago that my department would be hiring a staff writer – a content manager, actually, which is not so much about real writing but more about blurbage and keeping track of lists of the various features of things like industrial air conditioner ducting and pH testers and ten thousand different kinds of plastic nursery pots ... Anyway, I found myself struck feverish (literally sweating a bit, on my forehead) with jealousy that there might be an actual writer in the department, besides me – and at the same time I realized with a little bit of a shock that I really don't want to ever go back to working as a writer.
Somehow there is a part of me that thinks "being" a writer is better than "being" a designer. Weird. I think it's because I think you have to be smart to be a writer, and not as smart to be an artist or designer ... and being smart has always been a big part of my identity – the identity that was given to me as a kid in the gifted and talented program, who got to take special classes out of the school building and work on fun things like writing, casting and producing a puppet play, and making a super-8 movie, and learning Japanese bookmaking techniques, and going on field trips to hear political speakers in some huge colosseum ... while other girls were working on being pretty and popular. Which I secretly would have dearly loved to be.
Anyway, it was weird to notice that about myself. But it's true – my mind seems to be not what it used to be, these days. Maybe I'm getting lazy. Or maybe it really is just the effects of overwork. Or maybe I'm forging new neural pathways that look like pictures instead of words ... Creativity was also part of that identity, and I liked (and still like) that part more than the smart part, when I really think about it.
In any case, as it turned out, my even bigger concern about this position was that the new person might end up making more money than me. Shocking! But I am beginning to care about things like that. So I talked to my boss and offered to take on management of the big project that's been going on for-freaking-ever – which I feel I've already been managing unofficially, although I'm not sure the actual project manager would see it that way. Or maybe she would. I know she hates the project and will probably be thrilled to hand it over (I hope). A few days later my boss said he likes the idea, and that I will be getting a bigger raise than usual next month, to make sure that I'm getting more money than the new person.
Which seems like kind of an embarrassing thing to make a fuss about, but I don't care – I'm glad I asked, and I can use the money. And I'm glad I don't have to be a writer anymore.
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