Filed under: Writing
It’s almost time for school again. This week has flown by in a haze of grey and brown and puce. Just dark and unpleasant, filled with combinations of resentment, frustration, fury.
I rarely really get angry. But this week, I’ve come close. And at school, no less. I normally try to refrain from losing my temper and my composure in public places.
I’m not saying that me, being pissed off, is some big scene. But no one is really accustomed to me having a full-blown mad on, so I’m sure I’d turn a few heads (and not in a good way).
It’s just, I’m so frustrated. I’m working so hard, why can’t everyone else? That’s not supposed to sound egocentric or braggy, it’s the truth! If the team put in seventy-five percent of what I did on a daily basis, we’d have a finished book by now.
Not to be an asshole. That’s just the way it is. And I’m not dissing our previous efforts, either. I’m just saying, we need to work harder, and I’m beating myself up over it. No one else seems to give a damn.
Well, I committed to this responsibility. I guess, if no one else wants to, then I’ll find a new staff. Since apparently it’s my fault I trained them all. And they’re not bright enough to understand it, am observing that statement correctly? It’s not like they’re stupid. It’s just a complaint. “Wah, wah, I can’t do it, you told me this, you’d said that before.” Well I’m telling you differently now, dammit, there’s not really enough available time to sit here coddling you. Just get your page done, how about that.
I’m sure that reads really coldly. And bitchily. But that’s how I feel right now. Cold and bitchy. I don’t want to hate doing something that I once really enjoyed. It might be the depression of this crappy season, it might be the weight of my commitments catching up with me. Or, it could be the long-lost strictness and taskmaster vein finally strengthening and imposed itself on those I’m supposed to act as taskmaster to.
Hmm. Either way, I feel bad, but the objective is to finish things, and have the end result phenomenal.
It’s not my book. If it was, I wouldn’t care so damn much.
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