storyrainthejournal: (yoruichi-light)
If you practice a petty tyranny of time over me, dayjob (in the person of the head of editing), I will spend those last twenty to forty minutes of the day reading or writing or dancing around listening to music or doing crosswords, because I'm no good for editing any more at that point in the day and I will not report it to you every time I want to slip out a little early. I'm a grownup, I get my work done. I must have a small bit of freedom. I must.


The environment at this job is not particularly supportive or condusive to productivity; the pay is not great; there hasn't been a raise for three years; the state is dull and retro in the worst of ways.


So I will continue to take what bits and scraps of rebellion and freedom I can and I will not stop, because it is ridiculous. I do the work, I do it well, I dress (more or less) appropriately, I come day in, day out. You cannot ask more of me. Or you can, but you will not ever get it.


I thumb my nose at you, petty dull tyranny. I la perruque in your general direction. I will write my novels on your time (and still get my work done and done well). I will write surreal and wonderful stories on your time. I will communicate with my kith and kin. I will tweak your frigid nose and remake your straight jacket on my days as an endlessly changing wardrobe of fanciful frock coats and flying jackets, magic robes and traveling vests, pantaloons and dancing shoes.



I hate you, you know, but I will not let you confine me or break my spirit. And when you do, I will rise again, over and over and over again, stronger, more devious, ever rebellious, and burn your cage to the ground.
storyrainthejournal: (fable)
(please forgive me, oh friends who have no interest in this stuff, there's some other stuff after the asterisk)

A salient quote from this Salon article on the idiot's shithead's  asshat's speech last night (which I didn't watch, thank you; I'd end up smashing the tv and I like to watch other things on my tv--in fact I watched Criminal Minds after that and thought it very fine).

Most Americans know that the economy is in trouble, even if they don't quite grasp how close we are skittering to a major meltdown. But what makes some of us maddest is to think that the people who have benefited most from the culture of deregulation and hands-off government that are supposed to be the watchwords of the Republican Party will be the recipients of one of the greatest disbursements of government largess in history.

Yeah, I'd have to say I'm pretty angry. I'm not, in fact, scared at all. Just angry.
*
Anyway, that's all very boring, really. The sky was beautiful last night, with haunting colors lucent in the west until well after the sun was down, and the air smelled crisp and sweet in the early pre-dawn this morning. There's this older, white lab dog that walks with his or her owner in the early mornings, very well behaved and off the leash, while the woman's other, little dog, is leashed. The lab always looks up at me, just a sort of acknowledging nod. I love that dog.

I have the office to myself today, both the other editors out, which means at some point I will surely put on my iPod and dance around the room like a loony bird. There's a lot of jobwork to do, of course, but I hold out hope for a bit of writing time.
storyrainthejournal: (seagrass)
Not the newest news, but still, smart dust, cool beans.

In other technology news, I managed to feed my tax return check into an ATM machine that then told me the transaction was cancelled yesterday evening. Last year the check was direct deposited; not sure what I did differently this year that it came in the mail. Customer service at the credit union assures me the deposit will be properly credited to my account despite surly malfunctioning machine behavior.

Miles to go before I sleep tonight, in terms of busy here in yobland, determined to scratch out a little on Deep T. in between that busy-ness, and lots to do tonight before I catch the airport shuttle before the crack o’ dawn tomorrow morning. I always find leaving, and preparing to leave, stressful; and the cats are generally very offended at the appearance of the suitcase. But once I’m at destination, sister and mother content, beach and hot tub…these are good things. Flying into Burbank instead of LAX this trip, which is new for me. Will meet the sister there, flying in twenty minutes after me, rent car, and head for the beach. Wheee!
storyrainthejournal: (tinyumbrella)
In which our heroine managed to get up a little closer to the target time and write before coming in to the yob, and then to scribble on her plot outline and notes thereto and think on some questions also pertaining, while at the day yob.

And still get all her yobwork, and some extra curriculars of yobwork, done.

I still wishes I was independently wealthy. Yes, I does precious.

Hey, look, I went from heroine to Gollum in three short paragraphs.

I owe [livejournal.com profile] douglain a meme. Tonight, my pretty.

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