Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Deviant SchadenfreudeUnited States Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
Needs Premium Membership
Statistics 183 Deviations 4,781 Comments 27,212 Pageviews

Activity


a dumb-ass stomachache deter me from writing!

I've been at my new job for almost a month now. Some people have told me it is my Shiva-given right to complain and bad-mouth the places at which I have worked (or work currently), but my common senses are tingling and Tina doesn't like to dwell on the negatives, for they swallow you whole and I've found myself to be the worst company when I'm dressed to the nines in negativity. Other people are fantastically good at reminding you of things like that. I work in close proximity to some who complain quite frequently - which I don't criticize in and of itself. There is a sense of solidarity that seems to string together this diverse group of suffering individuals when they speak on their sucktastic experiences. But, as with anything, moderation is key.

That wasn't my point. (If Tina sewed like she talks, she'd struggle to complete a stitch.)

Today was interesting.

I remember my sister saying she hated that word. "It doesn't mean anything," she had said. I don't know if she feels the same way now, but she was kind of right. Here - and quite often, these days - I use "interesting" to mean that one could note how awful I felt and say that I had a bad day. But stress isn't simply (and completely) bad and, I'll say this: I haven't been bored since I started. I'm always learning, I progress (remember more, need my notes less, am faster, more efficient) every day. My hours pass by quickly. I'm doing what I wanted to do for a while (that is, work a full-time desk job that pays a decent wage, so I'm not breaking my back - at times literally - for a pittance). None of the stress I've felt thus far competes with how grateful I am for the job at all.

And now I find myself enjoying writing (although I do it while fighting a painful stomachache), waiting for another interesting day. (Why Saturday will be interesting is something I am less apt to share in a public medium. Regardless of my present lack of readership. ;B)

I think shame is what I felt when I returned to NoVa. I hadn't given my life much thought. But feeling uncomfortable makes me feel like I'm moving in some direction, even if it ends up being the wrong one. (And what is "wrong", anyway?)
It's been a while, no?

In that time, I've grown a lot and I see that you have as well. I've dared to socialize at least five times since we last met. Which I find a great deal more daunting than rock-climbing. Maybe part of that is because the rope and harness give me a sense of safety whereas, with people, there isn't that same reassurance of safety.

(Perhaps not coincidentally, I feel like I'm in my teens again, as I write here. The flat swaths and wash of grey seems to echo my tendency toward the melodramatic. If I were to describe my dinner to you, it'd sound like I found myself something of a deep and suffering poet.)

It's been a while since I've written anything that isn't correspondence. I miss it. I miss it more than drawing, of which I have also done very little. I thought the decline in productivity started at school, but I'm finding it might have been a growing shadow for much of my life. And navigating my way out of the forest of thorns is going to be an interesting journey.

(And, as is my inclination, I am tempted to document this journey in some way.)

At present, Tina is... (I legitimately forgot and had to do the math) 29. Which is, funnily enough, a number I associate with one of my favorite cousins, growing up. (That is, I don't have a favorite anymore.) In my head, she's still 29, unmarried, and doesn't have a son. And I am the tyke with leftover ice cream money in my denim jacket, failing to swing from monkey bars and wondering if not telling her about the extra change makes me a bad person.

Only in the last two years, really, do I feel like I've really learned how uncertain everything is. I've also learned I hadn't given my life much thought. Which is fine, when we consider that thing about everything being rather uncertain. I've moved (I think) four times in that time. It's back to the drawing board with me, both figuratively and literally.

I have a handful of story ideas in my back pocket. Crumbled up notes, half of which I can't read but keep "just in case." You'll see.

If you're not having a wonderful day, have one of mine. For all the obstacles you face, I hope your journey is interesting.

deviantID

LEADloaded's Profile Picture
LEADloaded
Schadenfreude
United States
While I am sleeping, somewhere out there an artist is creating a beautiful work of art. When he or she is sleeping, I will be trying to do the same.
Interests
a dumb-ass stomachache deter me from writing!

I've been at my new job for almost a month now. Some people have told me it is my Shiva-given right to complain and bad-mouth the places at which I have worked (or work currently), but my common senses are tingling and Tina doesn't like to dwell on the negatives, for they swallow you whole and I've found myself to be the worst company when I'm dressed to the nines in negativity. Other people are fantastically good at reminding you of things like that. I work in close proximity to some who complain quite frequently - which I don't criticize in and of itself. There is a sense of solidarity that seems to string together this diverse group of suffering individuals when they speak on their sucktastic experiences. But, as with anything, moderation is key.

That wasn't my point. (If Tina sewed like she talks, she'd struggle to complete a stitch.)

Today was interesting.

I remember my sister saying she hated that word. "It doesn't mean anything," she had said. I don't know if she feels the same way now, but she was kind of right. Here - and quite often, these days - I use "interesting" to mean that one could note how awful I felt and say that I had a bad day. But stress isn't simply (and completely) bad and, I'll say this: I haven't been bored since I started. I'm always learning, I progress (remember more, need my notes less, am faster, more efficient) every day. My hours pass by quickly. I'm doing what I wanted to do for a while (that is, work a full-time desk job that pays a decent wage, so I'm not breaking my back - at times literally - for a pittance). None of the stress I've felt thus far competes with how grateful I am for the job at all.

And now I find myself enjoying writing (although I do it while fighting a painful stomachache), waiting for another interesting day. (Why Saturday will be interesting is something I am less apt to share in a public medium. Regardless of my present lack of readership. ;B)

I think shame is what I felt when I returned to NoVa. I hadn't given my life much thought. But feeling uncomfortable makes me feel like I'm moving in some direction, even if it ends up being the wrong one. (And what is "wrong", anyway?)

AdCast - Ads from the Community

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconthe-danemen:
The-DaneMen Featured By Owner Oct 14, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
Tina - 

I know that I've contacted you before. 

Are you still making comics?



David 
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconquaddie:
quaddie Featured By Owner Mar 31, 2013
Thanks for the :+devwatch: :)..
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconanonnim:
Anonnim Featured By Owner Mar 23, 2013
Gina Torres and Sanaa Lathan kiss art please!
Reply
:iconprincesskilvas:
PrincessKilvas Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the watch!
Reply
(1 Reply)
Hidden by Commenter
(1 Reply)
Add a Comment: