Today just seemed to be one of those days where everything got under my skin and nothing went quite the way I would have liked. When I get in those moods it’s often hard to see positive in much of anything. But, I have to. Because I promised myself 36 days ago that I would. And here we are.
I leave for vacation tomorrow so work this entire week has been even more hectic than usual, as I’ve had to do this week’s work and next. That, combined with the fact that I’ve had some outrageous, unrealistic requests that I’ve had no choice but to fulfill. I took several things home today and at 11:30, am just finishing the last of it. Reminds me of college the night before a big paper is do. At least I’m getting paid.
But that’s not what I’m thankful for. A large part of my job involves writing. Most often, it is very business-formal and not fun at all. A cocktail of corporate jargon and overused PR phrases. The “bottom-line” and “state-of-the-art” fill in the blank chase me in my sleep. As a little girl, I was afraid that a monster in my closet would get me, now, I fear the zombies turning me into one of their own.
Every once in a while, I get to write something that is really fun. It’s usually not important – a paragraph on an invitation, a thank you letter. I guess it probably sounds like something to be depressed about more than thankful, but in all honesty, it is fun to write something that people enjoy, even if it is a phrase or a paragraph or a letter with someone else’s name on it. I whip out a lot of quick material because I’m dominated by deadlines. Taking work home isn’t necessarily fun, but I spent an hour writing a letter that I really liked tonight. Only 400 people or so will ever have the chance to read it, so if I’m lucky, maybe 50 actually will. But it’s something I’m proud of. It’s good to feel good about something that I wrote, even if no one else will ever know it was me.