Wednesday, October 31, 2012
You wake up at 10:30 or 11 or even 12 and you feel guilty about it. You have a cup of coffee and you look at job postings but there is nothing new from yesterday. You check your email, you check Facebook, you try and IM friends with jobs and get impatient when they don't respond promptly cause they have actual "work" to do. You tell your friends you are bored and they tell you they are jealous and you feel guilty for bothering them at work. You sit down and re-read what you wrote yesterday and you hate it, but you try not to get discouraged. You read "The Savage Detectives" by Roberto Bolano and pretend you can tell why people think he's a genius. You read "The Savage Detectives" by Robert Bolano so you can impress people by saying you're reading Roberto Bolano. Most of your friends have no idea who Roberto Bolano is so it's just a waste of time.
You think about going to a cafe to write but that would include having to buy something to drink or eat. Buying anything makes you feel guilty because your bank account doesn't refresh the way it used to every month. Instead you stay home and eat sandwiches and cheese and you don't eat salad because you are lazy. You feel guilty about not eating salad. You want to exercise but before you exercise you have to get some writing done. So you sit down at your computer and surf through three dates of back-dated posts on On No They Didn't. You feel guilty for wasting time. You open up your writing file and start writing and you write a couple pages and it's all shit.
You have a notification on Facebook. You check the notification. One of your friends is sent you an offer for Southwest airlines. You open the job postings again and you apply to at least three. You find one job posting at a company you really like but they won't even look at your resume because you don't have enough experience. You are in a weird in-between world of over and under qualified. You check your email, Obama is asking for $37 dollars. You delete the email. You feel guilty for deleting the email until you get another one in five minutes. You delete that one, too.
You pet your dog and wonder if she is as bored as you are. You think of taking her to the dog park but you're supposed to be writing so you don't. You laugh when you think back to the times you were in a job you hated, and all you wanted was to quit to stay at home and write. You think about your story again. You love your story but you aren't writing it well. Your thoughts aren't translating down to the page. You're writing a bunch of nonsense and you know you'll eventually edit it all out anyway.
You think about going somewhere, but then you think about how much gas that trip would take and you stay home. You wait for a reasonable time to turn on the TV. You made a rule that you aren't allowed to watch TV until the late afternoon. You turn on the TV at 4pm and wait for your husband to come home. You watch The Real Housewives of New Jersey, The Real Housewives of Atlanta, The Real Housewives of New York and yesterday's episode of Sons of Anarchy. You knit while you watch these shows. Your husband comes home at seven and you have already spent three hours in front of the television. You are almost done with a really ugly orange scarf. You spend the entire rest of the evening in front of the television. You will stay up until 2AM reading "The Savage Detectives" by Roberto Bolano because despite having no idea where the story is going you can't put it down. You decide there might actually be something to this book. You fall asleep. You will do the same thing tomorrow. You will feel guilty about it.