I want to type. But I can’t. My hand hurts too much. There’s too much more of it to do tomorrow, too.
My last day. And I’m going out making some awesome contributions to our future. Because that’s what team players do, until the bitter fucking end. And I don’t make $3 million for 82 games a year.
I digress, and since I have longterm-probably-arthritic hand problems flaring up, it ain’t good, really. So nights like these are bad for writers.
But it’s my last sleep before my last day. I’m all shook up inside.
I’m scared. Excited. Optimistic. Curious. Scared. Excited. Scared. Excited. Eating chocolate. Igettosleepineverydayhowfuckingawesomeisthat. Scared. You get the picture.
So much has happened. Some people want me to teach them how to cook. (I kinda rock it.) Northern Voice 2010 has selected my “How to Screw Up Your Personal Blog” as a presentation this year, so I’ll be giving a 30-minute speech, my first big engagement, in five weeks. “Hi, people who can give me work and pay me, I’m awesome, and here’s what you need to know — ” But I’m tweaking it still. Bear with me.
And a bunch of other little things have happened.
Unemployment looms, but I am NOT leaving to go into the Big Nothing. The Big Unknown? Fucking right. Big Nothing? Ahh, fuck off, it’s nothing of the sort!
You see, I want to write.
It’s been a whirlwind of a million miles an hour since Thursday.
And, um, through the scary-fear-madness of it all, can I just tell you a little secret? I’m enjoying being myself this week. This “Yup, been to the rodeo before, pardner” attitude about all this surprises the hell out of me. Somewhere along the way, I accidentally became this chick. This tough and “bring it” chick I always sort of wanted to be and was working toward being I’ve, like, accidentally become HER.
I’m fucking loving it, too. I’ve worked hard for this moment of calm. This day of auspicious weirdness. I’ve worked real fucking hard.
So. I want to write. But I can’t.
Here, take this virtual smile :) as a consolation prize for checking out this posting.
Better luck next time, sailor.