Personal Worst
Seal the record books! I have just written the world's longest email. My student Kalliope sent me an outline for a science-fitcion story she's working on - either for a comic, or, (more likely given its scope) a novella. It arrived last week, right in the middle of my putting all my free time towards friend & houseguest Putnam's web site. So I told Kalliope that I'd get her some feedback the next day.
Then some work stuff took over, as the small school bus manufacturer we represent told us that they were changing both their name and complete graphic identity with only 24-hours to get a page reflecting this new name/look to a 2008 Calendar they'd reserved space in. And that ate up some serious time and all of my good nature. So I told Kalliope that it would be a couple more days. She said, "sure, no problem."
The weekend was my alone time with Yesenia, and you've already read how our planned anniversary trip to Rhode Island became a day shopping around Rockland and doing home repair.
Tuesday: many work things to do, including all-new product sheets for the bus client - due at the printer this Friday, so that's almost a leisurely deadline - plus an ad for a Toyota dealer, and four new radio scripts. I told Kalliope: I'm sorry. She said, "Okay."
Today: 11 AM meeting that took me out of the house until 2 PM. Got home and found out that the Toyota dealer wanted a completely different ad with a new direction. Revising and/or redoing work I've thought of as 'done' is extremely difficult for me - childish, I know - so it's kind of ludicrous that I ended up in advertising. If ever there were a field defined by endless, often pointless, and sometimes non-sensical revisions, it would be advertising. So, I struggled with the revision, sent it back to the client, and saw that I had an email from Kalliope, which again assured me it was okay, and she could wait.
At that point, the guilt kicked in and I put everything else aside and wrote her my response to her outline for a story about a universal intelligence and how mankind starts gumming up the works. My response and suggestions reads like Phillip K. Dick after have been sleep deprived and forced to re-read his entire oeuvre using the Evelyn Wood method, then view all of the films that have been based on his work, including Total Recall and Paycheck, and then made to write a critical compare/contrast review for High Times while simultaneously whistling Bach's Krist Lag in Todesbanden in four-part harmony and parallel parking a semi.
Seriously. Maybe I'll excerpt a few parts for you if the Rambler gets a bit thin in the next couple of days, as I expect it will. I don't think you'll thank me. Perhaps you'll send flowers.
Lord knows what poor Kalliope will think about it.
D.
Then some work stuff took over, as the small school bus manufacturer we represent told us that they were changing both their name and complete graphic identity with only 24-hours to get a page reflecting this new name/look to a 2008 Calendar they'd reserved space in. And that ate up some serious time and all of my good nature. So I told Kalliope that it would be a couple more days. She said, "sure, no problem."
The weekend was my alone time with Yesenia, and you've already read how our planned anniversary trip to Rhode Island became a day shopping around Rockland and doing home repair.
Tuesday: many work things to do, including all-new product sheets for the bus client - due at the printer this Friday, so that's almost a leisurely deadline - plus an ad for a Toyota dealer, and four new radio scripts. I told Kalliope: I'm sorry. She said, "Okay."
Today: 11 AM meeting that took me out of the house until 2 PM. Got home and found out that the Toyota dealer wanted a completely different ad with a new direction. Revising and/or redoing work I've thought of as 'done' is extremely difficult for me - childish, I know - so it's kind of ludicrous that I ended up in advertising. If ever there were a field defined by endless, often pointless, and sometimes non-sensical revisions, it would be advertising. So, I struggled with the revision, sent it back to the client, and saw that I had an email from Kalliope, which again assured me it was okay, and she could wait.
At that point, the guilt kicked in and I put everything else aside and wrote her my response to her outline for a story about a universal intelligence and how mankind starts gumming up the works. My response and suggestions reads like Phillip K. Dick after have been sleep deprived and forced to re-read his entire oeuvre using the Evelyn Wood method, then view all of the films that have been based on his work, including Total Recall and Paycheck, and then made to write a critical compare/contrast review for High Times while simultaneously whistling Bach's Krist Lag in Todesbanden in four-part harmony and parallel parking a semi.
Seriously. Maybe I'll excerpt a few parts for you if the Rambler gets a bit thin in the next couple of days, as I expect it will. I don't think you'll thank me. Perhaps you'll send flowers.
Lord knows what poor Kalliope will think about it.
D.
posted by Dave Kopperman | 11:52 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home