Plans for the Weekend? Yes, Unfortunately…
by Melissa Bell
I know a man who hates Fridays. I’m pretty sure he would deny this if confronted. I mean everyone loves Fridays. If you work “normal” hours, you’re supposed to love every freaking Friday that comes your way because that’s what “normal” people do. Not to suggest that this Friday-hating man of which I speak isn’t perfectly normal – in fact he’s really rather quirk-free, to a point that is, at times, somewhat unsettling. He just happens to love his job so much that when that dreaded F-day rolls around every seven sunrises, it means facing two days of being unable to do what gives his life meaning and he must struggle through those hideous things called “weekends” until he gets to reconnect with his true joy on Monday. His work is his life. (And he just celebrated a birthday milestone this past week and it wasn’t a small one either. He has said he will never retire. He just can’t imagine it. And neither can I.)
Okay, so enough about him.
Me, I’m a regular garden variety fan of Fridays. But as a person who writes, it’s the Saturdays that make me anxious and depressed. Saturdays are when people do stuff like go to movies and concerts and have friends over and head out of town and all kinds of other “fun” things. Which brings me around to the fact that I’m co-hosting a dinner party tomorrow night and I’m seriously dreading it. Not because I don’t love the people who’ll be there or the menu that’s planned or the laughs that are guaranteed. It’s just that…well, I have to be honest here. I’m working on a couple of different writing projects right now and I’d really, really rather stay home and just work.
There are a lot of people who would say that is severely messed up. Chances are those people are not writing.
I believe I’m questionable company at the best of times, but I know I’m terrible company when I’m actively writing. I resent having to expend energy on any thought or conversation that isn’t about “the work”. Yes, I know. I’m a bad person. And in a social situation I feel as if my pores are oozing straight-up, 180-proof Dull and, other than my strawberry Jell-o sheet cake, I honestly can’t imagine why anyone would want me at any gathering these days. It breaks my heart to consider that my friends might actually be trying to give me a bit of social life because I just don’t have it in me to appreciate their efforts. But I can’t blame them for feeling sorry for me. I mean, for crying out loud, given my druthers, I would willingly sit quietly alone all weekend long trying to deal with a bunch of problems I’ve actually gone out of my way to create for myself. And am I going to share this information tomorrow night with my non-writing pals? Only if I want them to look at me as if I’ve just announced “But I like chemotherapy! It’s fun!”
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make dessert…
I know a man who hates Fridays. I’m pretty sure he would deny this if confronted. I mean everyone loves Fridays. If you work “normal” hours, you’re supposed to love every freaking Friday that comes your way because that’s what “normal” people do. Not to suggest that this Friday-hating man of which I speak isn’t perfectly normal – in fact he’s really rather quirk-free, to a point that is, at times, somewhat unsettling. He just happens to love his job so much that when that dreaded F-day rolls around every seven sunrises, it means facing two days of being unable to do what gives his life meaning and he must struggle through those hideous things called “weekends” until he gets to reconnect with his true joy on Monday. His work is his life. (And he just celebrated a birthday milestone this past week and it wasn’t a small one either. He has said he will never retire. He just can’t imagine it. And neither can I.)
Okay, so enough about him.
Me, I’m a regular garden variety fan of Fridays. But as a person who writes, it’s the Saturdays that make me anxious and depressed. Saturdays are when people do stuff like go to movies and concerts and have friends over and head out of town and all kinds of other “fun” things. Which brings me around to the fact that I’m co-hosting a dinner party tomorrow night and I’m seriously dreading it. Not because I don’t love the people who’ll be there or the menu that’s planned or the laughs that are guaranteed. It’s just that…well, I have to be honest here. I’m working on a couple of different writing projects right now and I’d really, really rather stay home and just work.
There are a lot of people who would say that is severely messed up. Chances are those people are not writing.
I believe I’m questionable company at the best of times, but I know I’m terrible company when I’m actively writing. I resent having to expend energy on any thought or conversation that isn’t about “the work”. Yes, I know. I’m a bad person. And in a social situation I feel as if my pores are oozing straight-up, 180-proof Dull and, other than my strawberry Jell-o sheet cake, I honestly can’t imagine why anyone would want me at any gathering these days. It breaks my heart to consider that my friends might actually be trying to give me a bit of social life because I just don’t have it in me to appreciate their efforts. But I can’t blame them for feeling sorry for me. I mean, for crying out loud, given my druthers, I would willingly sit quietly alone all weekend long trying to deal with a bunch of problems I’ve actually gone out of my way to create for myself. And am I going to share this information tomorrow night with my non-writing pals? Only if I want them to look at me as if I’ve just announced “But I like chemotherapy! It’s fun!”
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make dessert…
posted by MelBell | 12:43 am
8 Comments:
Our problems, our stresses, as writers, are no different from anyone else who has a job. They're simply specific to what we do. We should stop feeling guilty all the time, and demand a little bit of understanding. You know what the real problem for us is, don't you. We have no punch card, time card, whatever they're called. Good job, Melissa!
Oh, that sounds familiar. Especially that desire to share in the writing projects that are just oozing from your pores, but you don't dare, 'cause you've done it before and you came off as an eccentric fool. Yup, I can relate.
I can relate, too. When I'm really into a story I don't want to do anything else. I have no desire for a so-called balanced life. Causes no end of trouble at home!
ohhh...I so, so, can relate to this, my dream days are when I have uninterrupted time planned, allll my chores, the ones I feel I have to do before I write are done, anyway, I love staying home writing, I love it!! and when I'm with other people, I'm anxious to get back to it. Thanks Melissa.
Craig,
You crack me up.
It's "four lonely days in a brown L.A. haze".
By the way all y'all...
I made cupcakes with Jell-o injections, topped with vanilla frosting and festooned (yes, festooned!) with tiny pink rosebuds (real).
The chicks went nuts and the boys got all heady over the scent of the flowers.
My hero = Duncan Hines
;-P
Super color scheme, I like it! Good job. Go on.
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Nice colors. Keep up the good work. thnx!
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Nice! Where you get this guestbook? I want the same script.. Awesome content. thankyou.
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