I can’t wait to be well again. I’ve been sick all this week. Of course you know I had my wisdom teeth out last Friday. I felt fine on Friday and Saturday. On Sunday, however, I started to really hurt. And then there was Monday, when I thought I was going to die. I woke up with the worst headache since the one that sent me to the hospital four years ago. It was a sinus/migraine headache coupled with the pain in my mouth from the missing teeth. How can a missing thing cause so much pain? Someone should ask that of what’s left of my widsom.
I spent a lot of time throwing up Jello and Sprite on Monday. I prayed to God because I thought it was going to be my last day on earth. I went back to work Tuesday, but felt queasy. I went in Wednesday and left early after throwing up. I tip-toed through Thursday, feeling constantly nauseous. Thursday night I had evil dreams. Friday I felt slightly better, but still the headache and slight nausea lingered.
The oozing from the empty, lifeless sockets did not do much to calm my stomach. Some people who have had their wisdom teeth removed are familiar with this oozing of which I speak, while others are not. If you are one of those who does not know what the frig I’m talking about, then God bless you and be on your way.
For those of you familiar with the primordial ooze, you can sympathize.
I wish my writing process at work was like my writing process for my blog or journal. When I write for me, it just flows out and I have to underthink, as opposed to overthink. I tend to be wordy and say too much in a journal. At work, on the other hand, it is a very different story. It is unfortunate that my bosses can see me, because I’m sure they think I’m insane.
What I do is this. I type up my notes for the story. Then I stare at them for about 10 minutes, twirling my hair and appearing to think very hard. I try to write a lead. I hate it and write three other "optional" leads. I consider whether I want this to be a preachy, sermonizing feature story or if I want it to be a fluff piece. Then I write some of the body. I cut and paste and move stuff around 50 million times. I agonize over the minutest of wording. Is minutest a word?
Then I take a break and sum up: I’ve written two sentences. I go to the bathroom. I check my e-mail. I scrape some of the dead skin off of my sunburnt arm and apply Vanilla Bean Noel lotion. I walk up to the front office and socialize. I come back and write another sentence. I twirl my hair and stare in the general direction of my monitor so it looks like I’m thinking about my work, but I’m really thinking about the odds of someone haunting my chair in the night hours.
In this fashion, it takes me a good week to write a story.
I’m thinking when I am healthy again, I’m going to love my job. And life too, by golly.
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