I’ve been terribly swamped at work. In addition to the project from hell, last week my colleagues and I stayed until 1am trying to get another project uploaded to meet the unnecessary demands of our client department, and I think I’ve been mentally trying to recover from that all week. Having to bring work home over the weekend certainly didn’t help either.
Technically it’s not all that bad. Crunches this tough happen rarely in my job, probably only once or twice a year, but when they do happen, it drains me something fierce. And yet, I find myself focused in a way that’s hard to obtain under less immediate deadlines. So yes, it has its plusses and minuses.
The problem this time, though, is that the project from hell was really from hell, my own personal version. I’m not a designer, I don’t want to be a designer, so giving me 22-27 hours worth of image manipulation is going to make me a very bitter and resentful person. Unfortunately under these circumstances, I procrastinate like a champion, a huge failing of mine and one which I can’t seem to correct – if I hate it enough, you’ll have to hold a gun to my head to make me do it. In this case, the gun was a looming deadline that (I thought) needed to be met. And yo, I met it. I pride myself on meeting deadlines, even if I have to turn somersaults and work all weekend to do it.
But to find out that I did it all wrong? 27 hours worth of wrong? Gah. I’m feeling broken, and not a little angry, both at myself and at…others.
September 14th has my permission to end now. I’m ready for Wednesday.