So what is going on? Well, job-wise, such pressure, latent, hidden pressure, most likely one of the key molders of that horrendous knot lodged in my upper right shoulder blade. It is quite strange, the way that I have been handling the responsibilities, most of the time wondering how in the world I am at the fore of representing the company at these meetings with millionaires and their asshole lawyers, but then again looking around the room at these millionaires and thinking what a bunch of idiots, sniveling, is the word, sniveling idiots trying to underhandedly squeeze every drop from their “guanxi”. No, that’s a bit harsh, fine, skip the sniveling, just idiots does the trick. Guanxi, big fricking deal. It is rather annoying to sit there sometimes, as Mr. Millionaire Number One asks me if he is being too GREEDY. WHAT?!?!? “Um, yeah, Mr. Millionaire Number One, you are a greedy idiot bastard. Now back to the process…” Millionaire Number Two fills in with an aside, dramatically sprung in a lowered voice, “Yeah, I actually have the money to fund this thing, but we’re trying to get some legitimate support…” “You mean for this illegitimate bullsh*t guanxi-based bullsh*t operation?” Things not to say to clients. Hmph. So meaningless, but then what is? I like the fact that I am sitting there, rounding out the table with so few years of experience, as old as most of their daughters, trying to enforce some sense of credibility with nothing but ideas on organization. Organization, hah! It’s all a crock, really. Comical crock of sh*t.
I can sit here and lament and complain, but at the end of the day (banker phrase, beware) is there anything else that I could be doing with my life that would be more fulfilling? Writing, great. But who’s to say that what I write is trite stuff that will never be interesting to anyone other than my inner heehee self. Writing, great. But who’s to say that if I have a job that is writing-oriented I wouldn’t be bored out of my mind?? Doing interviews, seems fun. Reporting on restaurants, events, movies, even? Nah, I don’t think so. So then what? I don’t know if I have enough in me to create, to innovate writing that’s worth reading. Just don’t know.
