Because I refuse to condemn this blog to creaky, ill-mechanized Tumblr, I couldn’t just hit reblog to share this commentary from Doree Shafrir today.
I’m skimping on context, but this says it all:
One of the most irritating things in the world is meeting a dude who’s like, a lawyer or a banker, and when he finds out you’re a writer he’s all, “Oh I’ve thought about being a writer” or some variation thereof, as though “being a writer” is just something you one day decide to “do” as a “hobby”; I know I have ranted about this before but it is so, so, so condescending and ultimately devalues what we do, because you know, it is actually WORK, and I wouldn’t dream of going up to someone with another job and being all nonchalant like, “Oh yeah I was thinking if this whole writing thing doesn’t work out neurosurgery might be cool.”
Don’t condescend the writers, guys and girls. The hardest writing looks - and reads - the easiest.
Around this time a year ago, I slowly grew to love a friend of mine.
We met through a friend of a friend and mostly talked on AIM. We really talked - on and off for hours a day, five days a week. We’re both insomniacs, so we’d even Gchat from home afterward. Eventually, we started hanging out more in real life. I was surprised to find him as funny in the flesh as I did on the computer.
For months, other friends convinced me that he must really like me to spend so much time chatting. I thought that was probably true. But no one ever said, well typed, anything about it. It would’ve been so easy to just ask via computer and save face.
No one ever did.
Sometimes we’d get into deep conversations about love and life, and a little message would flash at the bottom of the window. It’d say my friend was typing… It would say it again and again, and I’d start to get really curious about what message that empty box would soon hold.
And then it would be a single line.
How could that have taken so long to type? What hadn’t he said?
What story were we trying to start, afraid to enter or return?
Who was the comedian who had the bit about hating a job so much that he or she would hide in the bathroom, pretending to have diarrhea?
Because that’s a pretty low point - shirking work duties in favor of hanging out with the office toilet. Especially if it’s a single unisex bathroom. I’ve been in an office like that, and it didn’t take long for me to become familiar with the unique poopsonalities of each of my co-workers.
My latest Hunch blog post isn’t about poop. Sorry. But it’s about work, which can be shitty indeed.
Most Hunch users like their job sometimes. Definitely on weekends and national holidays.
I looked at the data and tried to figure out what really determines if someone enjoys their job or not. It’s not just about money, benefits, or office environment.
Check the post out here or by clicking on the chart above. Please leave comments and share it with your friends.
Tonight I have free tickets to see Maria Bamford do a Comedy Central taping. Unlike many comedians, she doesn’t strike me as an angry person who’d be annoying in real life. Yes, she’s a bit nuts in a David Sedaris way. But she’s droll, lovable, and equally silly and smart.
Over the last few days, I’ve been watching some YouTube clips of her past shows. Come watch my favorites with me:
I think winter has finally pinned me to the ground and stuck its cold, wet finger in my ear. I’m so tired of snow, short days, and having to wear layers.
I’ve also been hyper-sensitive all week. Don’t tell me to cry you a river. I already did.
