I work from home.
I haven’t always worked from home, and I didn’t plan on it. Reason why? I absolutely suck at self-regulation. Sure, I maintain a non-fatal diet and a reasonable exercise regimen, but that doesn’t count as work because they are also governed by crippling insecurities (win!). I need that mean boss giving me the side-eye from across the room, or else I’ll never get anything done.
My work-from-home-work is also boring, and about humans. Did I mention I like science? The branchces of science that make me tingle inside are also those that make people sick and lead to creative acts of terrorism (Incidentally, my most favouritest science – it’s epidemiology by the way – provided the story-line to a movie where Gwyneth Paltrow dies. Ha! Suck it, you overpriced-tray-selling-husk!).
I am qualified in science, and in business. Not HR. Not humanitarian law. Definitely not politics, because if there was one thing I wish I cared about but just physically cannot, it’s politics. There is no hugging, or psychoanalysis, or social investment involved in my university degree. Nada! (I mean, all of that stuff is wonderful. It just can’t be done by me because I would ruin it.)
Which is why I end up avoiding my face-melting work assignments until midnight and I am off my face on coffee, ritalin and maybe some of the Chardonnay that I left by the sink yesterday.
I like to think that some of my best work is done at this point, where hallucinations, creativity and productivity all merge into one big work-storm and voila! genius is born. Like Sherlock Holmes, or Dr House!
But then, I take a step back and look at what I am actually doing. A snapshot, if you will.
1. I am looking at pictures of Australian Shepherd puppies. Imagining getting a second puppy is my crack, at the moment. Along with browsing MLS listings in Maine.
2. I am stoically making my way through a bag of very, very dry pretzels. Christ, why are they so fucking DRY.
3. I am reading various blog posts on various blogs, trying to find ones about husbands or boyfriends, because I’m masochistic in that way.
4. I am sending emails and texts to people who are probably all asleep, or angry at me because they were asleep. I don’t know why, but around this time of night I develop an insatiable need for attention. Probably because I’m so tired that I start to think I’m legitimately funny.
5. I am perusing Facebook (read: stalking people). It’s making me feel old. I should be partying it up and instagramming pictures of vintage sunglasses, not crouched on my bed alone, trying to fake my way through making a pie-chart out of the worst kind of non-numeric data because my boss thinks pie-charts are “easy to look at”. I want to crawl back into the safe poor-people place that is academia, and get another degree.
6. I am listening to the sweet sound of nothing, because music is making me feel anxious these days. I’m overly sensitive to sounds, so if my iTunes is accidentally put on shuffle, and plays an angry or sad song, I occasionally immediately respond by becoming angry or sad. Or nervous. Or horny. Whatever.
I don’t know what any of that is, but it sure as hell doesn’t sound like genius. It could, however, be genius in it’s larval form (!), just biding it’s time while it matures fully.
Then again, now I’ve started looking up images of larvae on Google, and it’s making me feel like an extremely nauseated, impulsive non-genius.