I'm in self-induced stupor.
Having a bad hair day.
Eyes threaten to fall onto the keyboard.
Flirty SMS from a 40 yr old, somebody tell him to go get a LIFE.
The one bright spot in Matto's day, 'Bend It Like Beckham', tonight's show and loadsa caramel popcorn.....wheeeeeeee
Just indexed the whole load of data; correspondence, quotations, content, copy, project reports, ALL the crap.
Hopefully, my successor shouldn't end up calling me Monday morning in the middle of my dreams.
For at least a week after Saturday, I don't want to hear the phone ring and be asked if the project is on track..
I want to FEEL like I don't have a job:)..
There used to be a time when I'd have actual nightmares about artworks having grains and clients rejecting design after design. Complete graphic, word by word, perfect renditions of 'Scenes from my SAD life'. Days thankfully long gone. Took me some time to stop panicking over every contingency. Learnt to chill and say that it ain't worth THAT much.
Moderation mah child, Buddha was a wise guy.
My mom doesn't understand what I do. Not since the last three years anyway. How do I explain what a degree in communications entails? Or what a design agency does?
My Dad's a chemical engineer. I knew about paraxylene when I was eight and buffer tanks long before that. I grew up thinking a factory was the coolest place to be.Every month I'd bum a few pellets of some convoluted chemical off his desk. I knew what he did. Manufactured some vague element that could be spun into cloth. Touch, feel, see, believe...
I sell logos, and strategy and reach and recall.....Ughhhhhhhhhh.....Not any more..
It's trickled into mah life.
I have multiple phone voices,
'Agency to vendor, when the hell are ya gonna deliver',
'Agency to client, Oh I'll love you till the end of the earth',
'Agency to client again, waaaah, where's the money',
and 'Mom, stop asking me if I'm eating right'.
At any point of time, you'll find one of these in high alert.
My mission for the week, to find my voice.