Too old for this shit
One of my employees had a dream that I sent a Teams message to the ED group.
“Fuck it, I’m out.”
Interesting that this is someone’s subconscious.
I told him his dream may come true around review time. He knows reviews are just one more thing to write.
What I didn’t say is it may come true when my boss roasts me for not doubling content output.
Content that, when I did it, was getting no traction because no one knew it was there. No clicks, no sales … NO POINT.
I was telling my employee about the previous me. And how I didn’t like the version of me that was doing all the things.
I made mom sit at home alone all day. I worked nights and weekends. I talked nonstop about work and the lazy MFers who weren’t working as much as me.
(I wonder if Don’t Treadmill On Me gets these same discussions. I fail to quantify what goes on over there. But I do know that role is commissioned. But not, say, the person who picks winning trades.)
Now, I give my evenings and weekends to me. Other than all the goddamn emotional labor I put in thinking or worrying or — gee, I don’t know — TAKING CALLS from my editors in different time zones.
Yesterday was Friday. I wrote three articles.
One I would have written anyway. Two were bonuses.
I don’t expect a thank-you for that.
No one will even notice unless they get mad that I wrote about Hunter Biden. That’ll get me a love note.
But hey, it’ll be noticed, right?
Also, I wasn’t kidding about hating that version of me.
I feel good that I ramped it up and met the moment.
I also spent from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. curled up in a goddamn fetal position on the couch.
Not blaming anyone. I wanted to do it, I did it, and now at 8 a.m. I can finally feel the stress leaving my body.
I have so much more work to do today. This is what always happens.
Now my weekend will be intruded upon with boss’ weird idea for the monthly newsletter I spend more effort trying not to hate than I spend on cleaning my house.
But first … Practical Magic 2 with my witches! And margaritas in a blender.