A Frustrating Week

This was kind of a frustrating week for yours truly

First, there was the stress of something I’ve been working on, and thinking about, and hoping for, just coming up to me slapping me in the face and saying “What were you thinkin’. Dumbass.”

Second, there was the irritation of work, its seeming decline, and how my co-worker will soon find himself on the receiving end of something large and hefty.

So, let’s go in order here, cause order is kinda nice.

For those who don’t know, I’m a writer. I’m been pluggin away at it for over ten ears. I’ve accomplished a lot and I’m pretty proud of what I’ve done. But I know there’s always more to learn. That’s where the this scriptwriting course comes in.

At a local college of some respect, there’s a scriptwriting course. They focus on screenplays, but also work on stage plays, writing for TV, radio, new media, as well as helping organize your ideas so you can pitch them and sell them. These are all things I’d like work on. Plus, being in college again would have been cool. Being surrounding, in person, with fellow creative types, striving for the same goals as I. It would have been exciting.

Notice I said “would have been.”

See, like most of you, I’m living in debt. Lovely, up-to-my-head debt. To take this course would have required me to get further in debt, and probably invest in a debt snorkel. But like many of those starving for scholarly knowledge, I applied for student loans from the Government and went to the bank to see if they could help me out.

Turns out, the Government might be able to, but nothing is certain. As for the bank, well, I’d either have to get suddenly richer, mess around with my already messed up debt, or get some assistance from people who are already further in debt than I.

Part of me knows said people (IE: family) would help me out if they could. Thing is, most of them are too busy with their lives and kids to know anything about what I’m trying to do. Rightly so. They got kids, have careers, have a life. Who am I to ask anything from them? I’m just some bachelor trying to make something out of this silly little writing thing. Little brother always dreaming beyond the stars, but always needing help in some way.

In short, unless I suddenly get richer, no college for me.


Second, the paying job that is going down the tubes.

This would be the first time I really had anything disagreeable to say about my job. It started out decent, kept me busy, paid my bills. But over the past few months/ half a year, things have been going downhill. There seems to be constant tension that stems from the fact that we don’t maintain our quality of product. This despite the fact that the head of our quality control is a stickler for details. Doesn’t matter really when the main guy pushes stuff out the door. For someone like myself who actually gives a damn about the stuff we send out, it gets frustrating.

Add to this my co-worker. Let’s call him Dick. Dick can be cool. He can be funny, has cool stories and an odd sense of humor like myself. He also likes to bitch and complain about everything. Almost everyday, before 7:30am, he has something to complain about, whether it’s the dumbass guy helping or not helping with the garbage, the lazy dudes from quality control, the snobby jackasses up front, or the incompetent boobs who make our products, he has something to say about them. When the complaint is actually legit and I tell him to talk to someone about it, he does nothing. He’s impatient, likes to screw around with people to prove his point, and easily works himself up into a frenzy of stress and frustration. Did I mention he’s already had two heart attacks? I think he’s trying for the hat trick.

All of this make for a oh-so enjoyable work environment. But since there’s no other job opportunities out there, I’m stuck.

At one point, I lay in bed, just exhausted from worrying about things and stressing about others.

Then I listen to the news. I hear about the earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand. I hear about the protests in Libya, people fighting for their freedom and getting shot by government forces. I hear about some young lad getting shot in the neck outside  Blockbuster. People who can’t afford to pay their bills. People living on the street.

So my life isn’t that bad.

I’m thankful like I should be.

But being frustrated and getting irritated by life seems pretty natural, especially if you’re a writer.

Writers, and other such creative types, can often feel frustrated and irritated by those around  us, even if they mean well. For the most part, the people around you will never really understand what you do. Family and friends will smile and look interested when you tell them about your current project, but in the end, they’ll just never get it. Your paying gig, in my case, has absolutely nothing to do with writing and when someone notices you writing, they ask “You doing homework?” or “You in school?” Most of your work is done alone with a keyboard or a pad of paper and a pen.

Thankfully, that hasn’t stopped me, and won’t stop me. Just like it won’t stop anyone reading this who has an inkling of what I’m talking about, whether it be writing or some other form of creation.

But… man, it was just a frickin frustrating week.

At least it’s over. Now I can do something productive, like writing.


Published by: Sarcasticus Rex

Sarcasticus Rex is the online name of Mark MacKinnon. A Canadian scriptwriter, writer, creator of the Infinatum (short stories, future book series &/or comics/ graphic novels), and occasional blogger. Influences range from Anime to ancient mythology to sci-fi to actual science to conspiracy theories to super-fi (superhero fiction) to social issues and anything in-between.

Categories UncategorizedTags, , , , Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s