today, after nearly three years of writing for a living, i am wondering why in the world i am writing for a living. i woke up at 2 am and the dread sunk in:
i have to go back to this place in the morning. and tomorrow. and the tomorrow after that.
a writing job has killed my desire to write.
a writing job has killed my creativity.
a writing job has killed any thoughts i had that i was, in fact, creative.
but then i wonder if it's just the place i'm in.
two years of chaos (which is oddly where i thrive)
two years of second-guessing (which thrives in me, but isn't healthy)
two years of frustration and no direction.
two months of micromanagement.
at least two full days worth of ulcers and tears and a racing heart.
i think mandatoryfun.com is like a bad relationship, but i can't really leave because i didn't get any other schooling.
some days it's tolerable and i forget that i want to leave. some days it's so unbearable i can't imagine staying another ten minutes (much less eight hours).
Jesus, show me what to do. and if it's becoming a forest ranger or spending minimum wage days making cookies and cakes, that's just fine by me.
rant over.
Monday, January 25, 2016
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