Happy when writing

Bring it on, bad days.

Give me your shitty talks with supervisors and screwing up paperwork every 10 minutes.

Give me shitty customers with no respect of us minimum wage people who make up 90 percent of the work force who of course have nothing better to do than deal with your shitty problems while ruining our day in the process.

Give me the 13 day work weeks with no overtime pay because overtime starts at 48 hours, not 40.

Give me stocking shelves for 5 hours straight, while your eyes start to cross, your shoulders hurt and hey, haven’t I picked up this same box of band aids 15 times because the stupid box is so misshapen that it keeps on falling over and falling over and falling over.

Give me every condescending tone and obvious statement that people think I need to hear.

A couple of my favourites; you just have to be more careful, it’s easy you just have to put this box here or you know it would be better if you did it this way.

You can give me all these things and I will understand that this is not forever. I may have to repeat this blessed mantra to myself every five seconds to keep myself from going insane and driving a pen through someone’s eye socket but deep down, I know.

Give me all of this and I know I’ll be okay, because I know who I want to be.

I cling to that, hold it tight to my chest and will it to stay with me.

Somedays I’m holding on tighter than yesterday but give me one email pitching a story and I am back in the game.

Give me one interview with that guy about that thing and I feel that drive again. That reason I went to school for this. That reason I stay up until 3 am just to make a deadline. That rush of typing that last sentence and knowing that the work is going to pay off.

You can give me all that bull shit because I will go home and be able to write about it. Put my feelings down on the screen and feel like I am creating something. I’ll pound away on that keyboard until my fingers ache and my hands are stiff and know that all this will keep on going.

No matter who pays my bills, no matter how exhausted I am by the end of the day, no matter how many shitty people come into my life, I’m going to pick up my laptop, open those emails, search for those stories, talk to those people and stop at nothing to make it all right.

Stop at nothing for the day when I can quit and live off something that I love.

The pounding on the keyboard,

The 3 am writing sessions,

The chats with strangers,

Those glorious deadlines.

I love it all.


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