I feel sorry for anyone who has to be in the same room as me when I'm working. Anytime I have to type an R or an F I have to slam my fingers into the keyboard contact, as the physical keys disappeared a long time ago. So, I have this strange beat I have to keep in order to keep my mind working on a narrative.
I'm working as I type this, listening to a meeting from two weeks ago. I don't want to be writing this, and it's very boring, and it is my Christmas present to myself to say this. I will get no satisfaction from publishing a story that I predict ten people will read. I wish I could write something different, but I'm getting paid to do this, and I'm going to be happy when it's done.
And I have to watch what I say. What if I got fired simply for expressing myself? My entire life would change, and I can't have that happen. I have to mind every single keystroke, every single thing I say, because I can't have anything change at this time.
And here we are in the time when families are all together and I'm counting the hours until I see my children again. That's less than 200 hours away now as I type this. I'm so excited about seeing them again and being with them. They are my everything.
Two hours later and I'm good. I'm happy to be working. Happy to do what I do. Happy to wait for my children to come home. And I will continue to hit my R and F with pride.