Today was rough. I have tendinitis in both my wrists, the product of working eight hours a day at a computer with no other duties but to edit the copy. Spent a year with doctors and physcial therapy before they decided, meh, you just have to live with it.
And today my wrists hurt. BAD. And this is before I’ve even left for work, and eight hours of wrist torture.
Days like this, when I am in pain and angry and frustrated and just so fucking tired of it, that all I want to do at work is put on headphones and not interact with anyone, just do my job and go home.
But copy desks don’t work like that. It’s a big collaborative process. You need to be able to hear what is going on; people need to be able to get your attention. You can’t tune it out, because you can’t do your job.
And so days like this are the rare ones that I am glad I have a long drive to work in traffic, because I can listen to music, cranked all the way up, and sing at the top of my lungs and just vent. And 45 minutes later, I arrive at work, and I am calm. I am still aching and angry and frustrated but now it’s at a simmer, not a boil, and I can do my job.
Today I just put The Gaslight Anthem, my favorite band, on random. I know all the words. I know all the notes. I can rock out completely, which is what I need. And one song popped up, “We’re Getting a Divorce, You Keep the Diner.” One verse, an echo of the Dylan song “It’s All Right Ma, I’m Only Bleeding,” was perfect for how I was feeling, the perfect mantra for days like these:
It’s all right, man.
I’m only bleeding, man.
Stay hungry, stay free,
And do the best you can.