This is the first holiday that I have had in a long time where I wasn’t stretched incredibly thin, trying to get that one last photo shoot finished and delivered, or picking up some holiday hours at the homebrew supply store. Simplifying my work schedule was a last ditch effort on my part to give myself the opportunity to get to New Year’s without having a nervous breakdown. Although I had anticipated this holiday season being easier on me, stress-wise, my workload has lightened up, but my mood hasn’t.
I begin to wonder if being a general malcontent is all it’s cracked up to be. I mean, sure who doesn’t love the perfectly timed snarky comment, or the instant eye-rolling when bombarded by holiday cheer, in all it’s syrupy glory? But, if pressed just a little bit, the real truth of utter self loathing comes out. Not that I’m comparing myself to successful comics and writers, but it seems like any one in those professions that’s successful seems to have the same inherent self-deprecation. Why is it that mine seems to out of place?
Being a cranky-pants adds much needed humor to my usually abysmally boring day. Working in my chosen field can be tedious, not to mention leaving much to be desired in terms of some of the individuals that I must interact with. It’s not their fault that I find them boring, but just as the tiger cannot change his stripes, neither can I expect people who are dicks to stop being so simply because I’ve noticed. That said, there’s no harm in poking a bit of gentle fun in order to get through what would otherwise be a spirit-crushing experience.
I postulate that there is no such thing as the perfect job. Instead, each employed experience is a ratio of bullshit to money, and how much one enjoys their job is reliant on a low bullshit to high money ratio. However, those jobs are quite few and far between, so most of us must settle for something a little less than ideal. Even being self-employed has its drawbacks, knowing that you’re completely reliant on your ideas, drive and motivation, not to mention skill, in order to scratch out a living. I would further contend that doing what you love, expecting funds and success to follow is naive if one expects to continue loving something once the internal motivation (that it’s fun) is now converted to an external one (something I’d be willing to do for money).
So, all things considered, I have a pretty good gig, in spite of the less than stellar aspects that slowly kill off my brain cells one by one. Although if I hear one more person say, “Hey, at least you have a job!” I fully intend to counter, “Hey, at least you’ve got legs!” as if pointing out that I’m employed should be an uplifting thing, when it’s really a statement of the obvious. It’s not like you’d walk up to someone without a job and say, “Hey, you know what you need? A job!” and the light bulb will go off and they’ll be all like, “Oh my god! That’s what I was forgetting! A job!” and off he sprints into the night to rectify the situation.