I am terrible.
I have a problem, something deep seated and so fully entrenched in my psyche as to be fused, as one… blah blah angst blah….
Okay. Truth is: I procrastinate.
‘Yeah, sure, everyone does,’ you may be thinking, nonplussed.
It gets worse.
I’m procrastinating writing. Writing! The thing that I do for a living. That writing.
Which is also rather ironic in that I am the maniac who can bang out the electronic equivalent of a magnum opus in the time it takes Britney Spears to get preggers, leaving countless email recipients reaching for the Tylenol, or vodka, or both (but please people, if it’s both stick to Ibuprofen – acetaminophen turns livers to dust) while shaking their heads wondering if I inject methamphetamines directly into my eyeballs.
I do not.
I do, however, type as fast as I think, and while at many times in my long and storied life this has gotten me into trouble when the ‘send’ button is a mere click away, the minimal amount of actual speaking I do in my day-to-day existence is taken onto the page. Fast.
Except for right now…
Yet, seeing as it’s not yet the 11th hour (I just filed for extensions on my taxes – ha ha! Four more months to procrastinate on that one. Score….ish…. I could use that money….) I’m going to celebrate this lovely, breezy spring day by rolling around for several hours on my bike… Thinking, of course, of what I’ll eventually have no choice but to write….
I am terrible.
Open bottle of merlot in hand, world renowned writer, journalist and all-around aging badass E.S.B. announced to the world that she was unceremoniously sacked from her position as development associate at —— Inc. as of April 1, 2005.
“I thought it might be an April Fool’s joke,” she explained at a press conference on Wednesday, April 6, at the Netherhouse, her Philadelphia residence. “Unfortunately, the workaholic sticks in the mud who hired me have neither the time for nor the understanding of a sense of humor.”
With that, the writer vowed her rocky journey from chain smoking art school darling to legitimate worker bee would continue on, despite this latest setback.
“I think this might be one of those defining moments, the kind that make talking heads like Katie Couric go into convulsions of ecstasy,” she explained over Yuengling at local West Philly watering hole Dahlak.
“You know, the kind where you get to lean in all serious-like and say, with wide-eyed earnestness, ‘It was at that moment, with nothing more than a bunch of degrees from really expensive private schools and thousands of dollars in student loans to my name, I had to make a choice…
“’I had to decide whether to take the proverbial path less followed, or just find another job. And, well, Katie, I had to follow my heart, my soul down the path to worldwide fame, and, no, I’ve never looked back.’”
When asked what’s next for this cheerleading captain turned bike messenger turned hellraiser, the answer is less clear. “Money’s definitely a consideration, especially since I was the third person to be fired at —— a week before hitting the 3 month mark and thus missing out on unemployment. But, I also have to think of where I want to be in one, five, 10 years, and, honestly, I’m not getting any younger, and the path to world domination does certainly seem to be getting longer!
“For now, though, I’m polishing my resume, sending out e-mails in the hopes that either a job, sympathy or free food will come out of it, and enjoying this crazy city I live in.”
And, in the interim, she’s keeping busy working on her debut novel, “Yes, I Have Done All That (And You Could Too If You Weren’t So Afraid of Change)” which promises to give that overstuffed blowhard Dr. Phil a run for his opinionated money.