Plotting My Escape

The whole “leave the full-time job and go freelance” thing is a long and arduous process. A process that’s making me pretty kooky. Bouts of crying, irritation of the bowels, resentment of everyone and everything… The fact that my desire to do this coincides with a time when I’ve been out of school for a year and maybe should move out of my house also doesn’t help. I need money the most when I have the least amount of respect for the way I earn it.

I’ve resigned myself to the amount of time this will take, and I’m going to try to let everything full-time job related roll off my back like I did for the first few months I was here. It was always my fear that I’d let the opinions, words, and actions of the people I work under affect my sense of self. I let them for a while, and that’s why it seemed to me so urgent that I get the fuck out of here, but if I can be more aware from now on I can conquer it.

I’ve just got to figure out a way to do good thinking and writing even after editing dull material all day. More caffeine might kill me. For the past couple of months I’ve had the idea that someone punching me in my face really hard would do the trick. You know, a good after-work punch in the face to get the adrenalin going and the creative juices flowing. (I hope my brother doesn’t read this.)

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