Yeah, Pretty Much… | Microblog
This Image ain’t far from the truth.
My friends tend to think that all i do is fuck about. And i think that i’m a fucking genius sometimes, but in reality, i just sit in front of my laptop staring at the screen waiting for the next word to form in my mind so i can write it down and wait for the next.
The family however, they seem to think that books write themselves and that i don’t need to sit here day after agonising day, because they always seem to think i have lots of free time on my hands. They don’t seem to mind interrupting my flow by either walking into my room (and seeing me sitting in front of my laptop apparently doing nothing) or shouting up the stairs until i answer, their voice getting louder and more agitated. Because i work from home, doesn’t mean that i’m not working at all.
I try to explain what i’m doing and that by interrupting me every five minutes doesn’t help, but i usually just get, “Get out there and find a proper job.” By which i think they mean a job that requires me to wake up at the crack of dawn, spend over an hour on a bus, work my arse off for nine hours for shit pay, then spend over an hour travelling home, and be too tired to do anything except collapse in front of the tele.