ok, seriously, wtf.
i was always under the impression that holidays were supposed to be a relaxing time. a time to lay back, enjoy the fruits of the year and prepare for the coming madness of january. maybe have some of mom's ungodly awesome red velvet cake, maybe enjoy one of the lovely napa cabs i sent her from the napa trip last month. relax, hang out, enjoy the season and listen to "fairytale of new york" about 1,000 times.
oh no. not in the least.
i have been so insanely busy. excluding arranging the move from redondo to hollywood (a chore in and of itself, because moving is among the most rotten things a person has to do, especially when it's a mere six months removed from the last time it was done), i'm lead dev (fuck, when am i not? this seniority thing sucks) on a huge gig at work that has become a complete and utter clusterfuck for the most rotten of all video game clients, i have 4 freelance clients driving me fuckin crazy to finish their shit ... xmas shopping, flights, cancelled flights because of deadlines, dropping 1500 bucks in the long goddamn run just to get home and see my mom, getting bitched at by mom for coming in later than i had initially planned ... oh yeah, and the whole move thing, which includes cleaning, packing, scheduling, gotta detail the harley so the chrome thats been beat down by this hellish salty air doesn't go to shit when i ride it to hollywood, fix shit les destroyed here before i go (thank god i used to residential repairs in slums my dad would rent out back in the day).
oh, did i mention the clients and the close to 20 grand on the line to finish their shit? yeah.
ugh. imma need a goddamn vacation from my vacation. i was standing in the elevator today, goin down for a smoke, and the WEIGHT of all the work came crumbling the fuck down on me. like ... so much of my time is spent sitting right here pecking out fucking actionscript and SQL queries - i barely get to play music anymore.
i'm gettin a goddamned fucking swore-i'd-never-do-it electronic drumkit for myself for xmas because i HAVE to write drum parts before i can write anything else. 15 years as a drummer in bands has flip flopped the traditional writing methodology for me. but since i'd be evicted in seconds if i set up the ayottes and rocked the fuck out for real in ... well, any apartment ... my only device is to get one of those rotten things. i blame john bonham. i wouldn't play so hard if it weren't for him. i need the dynamic of drums to come up with rhythm parts; and without rhythm parts, i got no melody and without melody, i got no lead and i got no vocals.
eight hundred leaf-tables and no chairs? you can't sell leaf-tables and no chairs. chairs, you got a dinette set. no chairs, you got dick!
ugh.
at least i have booze.
i was always under the impression that holidays were supposed to be a relaxing time. a time to lay back, enjoy the fruits of the year and prepare for the coming madness of january. maybe have some of mom's ungodly awesome red velvet cake, maybe enjoy one of the lovely napa cabs i sent her from the napa trip last month. relax, hang out, enjoy the season and listen to "fairytale of new york" about 1,000 times.
oh no. not in the least.
i have been so insanely busy. excluding arranging the move from redondo to hollywood (a chore in and of itself, because moving is among the most rotten things a person has to do, especially when it's a mere six months removed from the last time it was done), i'm lead dev (fuck, when am i not? this seniority thing sucks) on a huge gig at work that has become a complete and utter clusterfuck for the most rotten of all video game clients, i have 4 freelance clients driving me fuckin crazy to finish their shit ... xmas shopping, flights, cancelled flights because of deadlines, dropping 1500 bucks in the long goddamn run just to get home and see my mom, getting bitched at by mom for coming in later than i had initially planned ... oh yeah, and the whole move thing, which includes cleaning, packing, scheduling, gotta detail the harley so the chrome thats been beat down by this hellish salty air doesn't go to shit when i ride it to hollywood, fix shit les destroyed here before i go (thank god i used to residential repairs in slums my dad would rent out back in the day).
oh, did i mention the clients and the close to 20 grand on the line to finish their shit? yeah.
ugh. imma need a goddamn vacation from my vacation. i was standing in the elevator today, goin down for a smoke, and the WEIGHT of all the work came crumbling the fuck down on me. like ... so much of my time is spent sitting right here pecking out fucking actionscript and SQL queries - i barely get to play music anymore.
i'm gettin a goddamned fucking swore-i'd-never-do-it electronic drumkit for myself for xmas because i HAVE to write drum parts before i can write anything else. 15 years as a drummer in bands has flip flopped the traditional writing methodology for me. but since i'd be evicted in seconds if i set up the ayottes and rocked the fuck out for real in ... well, any apartment ... my only device is to get one of those rotten things. i blame john bonham. i wouldn't play so hard if it weren't for him. i need the dynamic of drums to come up with rhythm parts; and without rhythm parts, i got no melody and without melody, i got no lead and i got no vocals.
eight hundred leaf-tables and no chairs? you can't sell leaf-tables and no chairs. chairs, you got a dinette set. no chairs, you got dick!
ugh.
at least i have booze.
if you need help moving or something, i'll see who i can wrangle up.
try to stay calm, mang. (: