It's all true.
Apr. 5th, 2008 07:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lprovenWhat? This rant by "Robin Hobb", AKA "Megan Lindholm", who is really called Margaret Ogden.
I mean, last week, I had this idea for a piece about Cham. I recalled it tonight. I've just got into the office, to find there are no outstanding calls open. 6:45pm, and I'm strolling into work (15min early!). Odd experience, this, in many ways - staying up 'til way past dawn, sleeping all day, stuff I'd normally do anyway, but having to do it, doing it for money. Getting woken by one's alarm clock at 4pm and having to drag onesself blearily out of bed. Watching mid-afternoon TV over breakfast cereal. Needing a coffee to get alert for the day at 7pm. (My first in this job, and not a pleasant first.)
About a week ago, I was strolling out of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
madmosh_uk's flat into an early evening in a small Alpine town. It was just twilight on a balmy spring evening; a cool breeze was flowing down off the imposing snowy peaks on all sides - in this town, at ground level, the horizon is a mile above your head. The church bells were ringing and people were strolling through the town centre - getting out of work, grabbing a last-minute look in the shops before they closed at 7, or looking for somewhere for dinner or a pre-dinner drink. It was absolutely lovely. "This," I thought, "is living, and it has nothing to do with a bloody Playstation 3."
But by the wee small hours a couple of days back when I wrote that load of tosh about 'boarding, I'd forgotten it all.
But that doesn't matter. What matters is that really, I should be using this time to turn out something I can sell. LJ is easier, more fun - but it doesn't pay the mortgage.
I mean, last week, I had this idea for a piece about Cham. I recalled it tonight. I've just got into the office, to find there are no outstanding calls open. 6:45pm, and I'm strolling into work (15min early!). Odd experience, this, in many ways - staying up 'til way past dawn, sleeping all day, stuff I'd normally do anyway, but having to do it, doing it for money. Getting woken by one's alarm clock at 4pm and having to drag onesself blearily out of bed. Watching mid-afternoon TV over breakfast cereal. Needing a coffee to get alert for the day at 7pm. (My first in this job, and not a pleasant first.)
About a week ago, I was strolling out of
madmosh_uk's flat into an early evening in a small Alpine town. It was just twilight on a balmy spring evening; a cool breeze was flowing down off the imposing snowy peaks on all sides - in this town, at ground level, the horizon is a mile above your head. The church bells were ringing and people were strolling through the town centre - getting out of work, grabbing a last-minute look in the shops before they closed at 7, or looking for somewhere for dinner or a pre-dinner drink. It was absolutely lovely. "This," I thought, "is living, and it has nothing to do with a bloody Playstation 3."But by the wee small hours a couple of days back when I wrote that load of tosh about 'boarding, I'd forgotten it all.
But that doesn't matter. What matters is that really, I should be using this time to turn out something I can sell. LJ is easier, more fun - but it doesn't pay the mortgage.
