I can’t believe I’ve been up here 5 days. I don’t think I’ve really accomplished much until now besides taking the proofs out of the envelope, glancing at them, throwing them on the desk, forgetting about them while I surfed the net, looking at them and marking them up for 5 minutes, then putting them back on the desk, downloading mp3s and going to the mall. My only consolation is that I haven’t spent a lot of money for a change.
I’ve also decided I hate the book…or rather, all the proof corrections I’ve done before. It sucks. Shit’s not lined up, it looks bad, I’m just annoyed. Am I going to stop the printing process to do it over? No. Especially since the publishers can’t get their shit together long enough to not lose my shit. I think a good 45% of the stuff I’ve sent has been either lost in their possession or corrupted by this devil Mac. I’ve gotten a headache by trying to do a whole bunch of shit, so I can go home later today. And I don’t think that’s happening. *sigh*
To add joy onto my shit mood, I think there’s one proof they forgot to send. You know what that means? No? Well, let me tell you: one more trip back here. Fuck. In retrospect, what the hell was I thinking when I signed up for this? Oh yeah, I remember: I need a project to distract me from putting my attentions away towards Hawaii and I like publishing type stuff, so how bad can it be? Famous last words. I’m a notoriously bad judge of workloads and I don’t handle stress well, so I definitely should’ve known better.
Ah well. Too late to complain about it now. I can cap off my horrendous demoralizing year with a book that didn’t kill me no matter how rough patches were. This project parallels my Wes experience of soul-crushing despair, exhilarating successes, mind-numbing banality and precious jewels strewn among the waste. At the end, it’ll just be done and I earned it — though my effort throughout varied and it shows. As I did various times for the past four years, this is an occasion to suck it up and deal because the sooner I stop fucking around, the sooner I can walk away. Perhaps after a nap though.