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.
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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.
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