Quiet Rebel Writer

Friday is a time to wind down and reflect on a good week. But it’s also a time to get a little huffy. It’s rant time.

Usually I enjoy a good Friday rant with a tasty Friday cocktail. Due to the swiftly approaching arrival of my partner’s parents for the weekend, this afternoon is sans liquor. His folks are cool, but since I get verbose, cuss-happy, and inappropriately affectionate with a few too many cocktails, I’ve put the kibosh on this activity. So maybe it’s because I’m seeing very clearly (and am quite aware of that fact) this afternoon. But I started thinking about things to rant about, and curiously today’s frustration is directed not to the outside world, but right back at myself.

So join me, won’t you? A rant against myself, in the form of a letter.

Dear Me,

Hey. ‘Sup. Cool.

So I like you. I do. But there comes a time in every relationship when you’ve got to get past the fakery and shoot straight. That time is now. And you’ve got some qualities, peculiarities you might say, or general asinine behaviors, that drive me up the freaking wall. So I’m just going to come clean.

What’s up with the procrastination? Really? You’d really rather clean the effing litter box than get started on that article? You’re sure that instead of working on that marketing plan which is due in a few hours you really need to trim your toenails? I get it. Sometimes the energy just isn’t there. You’re a writer, you can’t force it, blah blah blah. Get over it, wussy. Sit your ass down at your desk, work for an hour, then take a break. Rinse and repeat. That’s how it works.

Since we’re talking about working, which ideally brings money in, here’s a news flash about the cash situation. You’re 30. You’re not 12. You should have learned by now that credit cards are not magic money. You have to pay that shit back. True story. It was understandable when you were a college kid, broke beyond broke, and manna came from heaven in the form of a credit card offer. Now you know the effects. Stop, you moron.

Let’s switch gears slightly. It’s coming up on summer. Remember last summer? You had a terrific run, with a big long slew of clients and lots of cool projects. But let’s not forget the hours you put in. The tears of frustration at impending deadlines. The sloppiness you may have indulged in. So here’s the thing: know when to say no. It (supposedly) works for drugs and alcohol, and applies to this very situation. You’ve been in this long enough now to know your chances of making it are good. You don’t have to take every single project that comes your way, especially those clients that are less than ideal. Say no, dammit.

One last thing. A bit random, but useful. I know you love words. Words are great fun, as is evidenced by our world-famous (or at least known to a few people) word porn. You love words, so branch out. “Sweet” and “awesome” are good, coolly ironic exclamations and descriptors once in awhile. Use them too much and you either sound old-trying-to-be-hip-with-the-tweens or afflicted with Tourette’s. Easy does it, baby.

So that’s it. I know, you may feel a little teary right now, but suck it up. This was good for you and you know it. We might have to revisit this in a few weeks. But until then, can I have a hug?

Sweet.

Love,
Me

That was sofa king awesome. I feel a little bruised and battered (and slightly schizophrenic), but cleansed. That me, she’s tough.

Who knows – maybe we will revisit this in a few weeks. Until then – any rants you need to direct at yourselves?

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