Once upon a time (perhaps last week), I was crazily bent out of shape over some garbage. Then again, when am I not bent out of shape? I was a wreck in May, June, July, August...it's par for the course around here. So what I crossed out some text in my posts and it was hard to read or something? I could sum up all of that for you pretty easily: "blah blah I need to stop liking bad boys blah blah and while I'm at it, I need to stop being crazy blah blah it sucks to me blah blah I want a relationship...oh, wait I don't blah blah I like feeling sorry for myself blah blah I need to shut the fuck up because this whiny crap is really annoying blah blah." I blame it on those pesky hormones. This week, however, I think if I was any more chilled out, you'd swear I'm high on the regular. I'm not, natch. Strangely, getting tortured by a 4-year old and holing myself in a basement on DSL did wonders for my disposition.
Recently in Yearbook Chronicles Category
I am done. Finished. I have conquered the yearbook! And I didn't have a nervous breakdown! Woo hoo!
So, I didn't sleep at all last night and I'm considering not even trying because I want to be on the bus out of this place at 10:40. I'm going to be super zombie today in New York but who gives a fuck because I don't have to leave there again!
I actually like the book again. The beginning section's kinda touch and go because that's before I got the hang of PageMaker and when the Devil Mac was only beginning to show what it was capable of. But, the rest of it -- especially the senior section and my personal spin on Wes arts, politics and events -- I have to say is pretty awesome. A totally original design. I was really on when I came up with that.
I'm considering making one more trip back (yeah, I know...that blows. But, there's something to be said for coming here without the deadline stress on my mind) to clean up my office and finally send those pictures back to people. What I really want to just go around the room with a big trash bag and throw all this shit out. Goodbye graduating seniors list! Sayonara clubs! Ciao layout and proof guides! If I wasn't so exhausted and still having to print and package up all this shit for the mailman, I'd do it now.
This is pretty sweet though. If I wasn't going to feel like shit later on and didn't have my job interview bright early tomorrow morning, I'd go out tonight and booze it up and dance the likes of which NYC has never seen. I need to celebrate this shit. I don't think anyone could possibly comprehend what a fucking massive life-eating project this book has been. Especially since I've done about 90% of the work all alone when I could've been studying, working or just unwinding because as the most high strung person I (and I'm sure my friends also) know, when I don't get my destress time, I'm the biggest craziest bitch of the East no doubt. I won't go as far and say that the book ruined my spring semester, but pretty fucking close. But who cares? I made it through and only had to talk to the school shrink about it once -- but that doesn't even count since most of that time was spent talking about what a dick my housemate was. And I didn't even have a panic attack, so I'm ahead of my directorial episode sophomore year. *shudder* Now that was an episode. So, it's all good. My summer starts today. I'm so excited!
Blah at the last post. No sleep + frustration = cranky Candicissima.
I'm experimenting with this strange and new concept: work first, procrastinate later. I'll let you know how it goes. I figure I started off the day with ATWT, so the least I can do is actually do some work in a nice timely manner.
In other news, the last proof came this morning. Somebody up there loves me today.
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.
Every original piece of the book has been laid out and sent to the printer. *whew* This has been a hellish past 7 months. Naturally, it's not over. I have about another 3 or days of proof correcting to do (which means one more trip to Middletown), but the hardest part is over. I have worked like a dog on this for way too long and I've been very unhappy that it's eaten a good third of my summer too. I feel good though. I'm going home, where tonight in honor of this accomplishment I'm going to have a big strong drink...or six. Goodbye, Middletown! Hello, The City That Never Sleeps!
Friendster's becoming a bit unbearable. A Wes person is always only a friend of a friend away. Still, I have run into people I actually like and are in NYC, adding to my offline hanging out list. Nothing wrong with that.
I woke up this morning suffocating and feeling like I was being burned alive, but more importantly thinking that I need more friends my age. 22 is a strange age to be, mostly because it's BLOWN so far. In retrospect, I enjoyed the hell out 21 because that age gives you license and an excuse to go stupid wild -- though the freedom cliche had the least do with why that year was a very good one. At 22, I'm finally out of school (for the time being) for the first time in like 18 years, kicking this independence thing up a notch, and trying (but failing miserably so far) to be a genuine Adult. The last thing I need is to be patronized or be viewed like that bouncy little puppy because I don't do puppy. Kittenish perhaps but only in moderation. 22 is "you better be marching towards responsibility, punk, and liking it." I don't know if that has anything to do with hanging out with "older" folks really, but the inevitable "just wait a few years and you'll understand" shit even from folks who have me by a year or two boils my freaking blood. I'm insecure about being young party favor as strange as that sounds. I dunno. There is no real conclusion or points to this argument. That was just on my mind.
In other news, it's time to start weaning myself away from blogging. I'm feeling anxious that my Boys Superpost is getting pushed onto the next page because I want comments on it but it hasn't really happened yet like I want. I've got just a teeny bit of an obsessive personality. If you couldn't tell already.
I need a digital camera (or at least a way to post my semester's worth of cool pics from this pesky Mac). I'm seriously considering housing the yearbook camera. She and I were inseperable for a while there. I can work her like a pro. We have a deep bond and she's made it clear that she feels she belongs in NYC with me and not hanging out in a drawer in Middletown. And that the thought of me palming some other spanking new bitch isn't something that makes her happy. We're in negotiation.
ETA: A little sad (for him) but hilarious.
*sigh* I fell off the motivation train.
I started off so well today. I woke up from this really bizarre dream involving a prof and stuff I'd rather not talking about with the thought in my head, "it's sure a nice Thursday. FUCK! It's Thursday? 12:30pm on Thursday! I have 32 pages to lay out before 7! Ack!" I didn't know I could shower and run up a hill so fast.
I was such a good girl until about 3:30 when I got hungry. Corrected my proofs and finally finished correcting this other set of 16 before running off to the "deli" for a sandwich and assorted other teeth rotting things. Almost an hour later, I'm still working on the sandwich and just snapped out of the blog surfing procrastination. I suck. But, at least I'm not melting today. Have to give myself props where I can.
The temperature sign on the bank we drove past said 99 degrees F. I'm suffocating.
I'm off to NYC through the weekend. The book is driving me mad, the weather up here sucks, plus I've run out of clean clothes. Eek!
My dear KT asked why I don't just force myself to stay up here until I'm done being that there's only 30something pages -- minus proofing and administrative shit standing between me and completion. Because being up here sucks and I just don't want to. If you spent any time in Middletown, you'd totally understand. Besides, in 3 weeks, I have laid out by myself a grand total of 64 pages, proofed 96, and alternately starved and went without sleep for a book I'm not even getting paid for. I'll skip town whenever I want.
I'm so irritated and sleep-deprived that I had succumbed to cursing out an inanimate object. Then again, it's thinking...I swear, the office computer knows how to wait for the time when I'm feeling remotely confident and secure in the work going according to plan before it starts fucking with me. Even the publisher rep who deals with this stuff all the time wanted to throw it out the window. After 2 hours of hardly getting anywhere, he said: "when this is over, we'll have to go out and get a big drink." Word.
