A Month of Sundays
Oh, how I'd love to have something for you, you Monday-comers, you of big hearts and bigger hopes that this will be the week I finally get my shit together after a year's worth of weeks'n'months (and more) of looking at it (my shit) scattered about and thinking, alternately and/or simultaneously, "ACK. EEK. UGH. MEH," after which I go find a closet to hide in and shut the door and try to still the sound of the tick-tick-ticking in my head.
This swamp I'm in, it's made of letters and punctuation marks and diacritics from languages I haven't spoken in years, although thank god I'm still not speaking them now--just reading/writing them--because Google, it is ever at my fingertips and yet still not on the tip of my tongue, the latest version having been implanted in my iBrain and connected to the hypoglossal nuclei, which Google tells me is (maybe? possibly?) the part that controls tongue movement in humans. (And then I wonder, "If the right half of the brain controls the left side of the body and vice versa, does that extend to body parts that sit, more or less, right down the middle, like the tongue?" If I lost half my brain function, say, would I only be able to do half a kegel? Any neurologists in the house?)
What I mean to say is that I'm mired in freelance work, but I'm currently at Phase Two of...Not Too Many More(?), and the ultimate goal is $$$$ and time to spend with my boys, and so I'm persevering. It's a crazy job, this dressing up (figuratively) as a Microsoft Paperclip and trying to give helpful suggestions to someone who says she wants them but may not actually. Someone who may not care what is "correct" or "preferred" or a "real word" in this (or any) language. But someone who is paying the bills, even if she ultimately tells me to take my red pencil (figuratively, as I'm editing online) and shove it where the sun don't shine (goatse excepted). (Note to our moms: DON'T GOOGLE "GOATSE." Trust me on this one.)
And that which you have just read, my friends, is why friends don't let friends work on Sundays.
< cerebellumsplosion >
Fin.
This that you said -- "It's a crazy job, this...trying to give helpful suggestions to someone who says she wants them but may not actually. Someone who may not care what is 'correct' or 'preferred' or a 'real word' in this (or any) language" -- this I understand all too well. Daily anxiety as editor at government job. Nicely put, you!
It'll be over soon!
Good luck!
Oh I had to google it because I kept hearing the term (why?) and thought I had an idea what it meant. Turns out, NO, I DID NOT. I need a scrub brush and some bleach for my brain.
I hope Moms trust you and do not google it. Shudder.
"And then I wonder, 'If the right half of the brain controls the left side of the body and vice versa, does that extend to body parts that sit, more or less, right down the middle, like the tongue?' If I lost half my brain function, say, would I only be able to do half a kegel?"
Yes.
This is when I want to be Oprah so I can say things like, "Here. Let me pay you lots and lots of money to spend time with your family. Rather than reading poorly spelled tripe why don't you take my jet to the Bahamas and take cute pictures of your kid in the sand."
I'll keep you posted on how my Be Oprah plan goes.
I so need an iBrain.
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Would you want to consider swapping links?