One might wonder why I bothered going into work at all given the pain. Part of it is because migraines are not particularly infrequent for me, coming about once or twice a month, and I can't afford to put my life on hold every time one comes along, while creative output is absolutely out of the question when I can't think. Brainless office work is a decent compromise, even if it does add to the pain load by forcing me to deal with such tortures as lights and ringing phones, both of which feel somewhat like hot pokers shoved into my skull when I'm all migrainey. Another part of it is a feeling of responsibility for the headaches. If I lost weight they would be less frequent, I know that from experience. I don't want to give in to an infirmity of my own making and I want to remember how much the whole experience hurts as a motivating factor. Finally there's the issue of masculinity. I have a natural high tolerance for pain, and I don't like being the kind of guy who gives in to it no matter how great the agony. Despite, or perhaps, my lack of success with women and my sensitive/thoughtful guy credentials I like to cling to these vestments of masculinity. It's a way of saying that just because the ladies aren't exactly lining up at my door and just because I don't care more about car engines than Shakespearian sonnets it doesn't mean that I am totally rejecting traditional primordial maleness.
Of course it comes with a price, and as I said today sucked. I did a lot of menial shit very poorly as my concentration drifted in and out like Tara Reid trying to memorize lines for a cameo appearance on some shitty TV show (I assume that's her next career step after starring in uberbomb "Alone in the Dark") and I watched the clock a lot. I did finish my boss' script and I gave him some more notes on it, but not being sharp I wasn't able to express myself fully and I left some things out. He seemed appreciative and interested but since he acknowledges that the script still needs work I feel sort of rudderless as a critic. To nail it too hard, which is my tendency, would be pointless because it's not done. I think I did a decent job of showing I know what I'm talking about as an analyst without coming off like the obnoxious arrogant blow hard asshole that rpeate has come to know and love. Good work me. I also came up with a ridiculously commercial script idea of absolutely no artistic value that I am thinking of actually writing up a treatment for, just as practice. The problem is that it's so commercial that if done properly I might actually be able to find someone to hire me to write it, and then I'd have to throw myself in front of a train. This might be doing the world a favor, in that it would avert the inevitable migraine based shooting spree, but it would probably hurt a whole lot too.
Decisions decisions. I think I'll go pass out now. Fat Actress was a shallow shallow shadow of Curb Your Enthusiasm which made it better than 95% of what's on TV. If everyone thinks I'm gay, does that mean I can get a job in TV? Y'all suspect me of being a closeted queer after that masculinity stuff (not to mention the fact that I ask this question as regularly as aunt flo visits anorexic Paris Hilton, which is to say about once every four months) right?