So, I survived the first week of this new job. Now, I’m on to the second. It feels like an eternity since I started.  I almost feel like I don’t remember what life was like before this. That’s a little bit of an exaggeration, but you get my point.

I have been writing like a speed demon this week. It feels so good, and I have been surprised at how easy it’s been. I’ve been holed up in my apartment for a week, with just me and my computer and my cat, churning out words.

There’s something really fun about sitting around all day making up imaginary people, imaginary places, imaginary conversations. I just sit there all day, well into the night, playing with these characters. Making them do weird stuff, funny stuff, and then I throw in a car chase here or there, or a vandalism incident. Whatever. These people’s lives are at my whim…hehe…

At at some point, you think, enough. It’s time to be an adult now. But then you realize, this is your adult reality.  And it’s totally valid and there is nothing wrong with it. And you tell yourself, “Seriously? I get paid for this? Shouldn’t I be at a job somewhere, wanting to blow my brains out in a cubicle?” Nope. This is it.

But then the pay check comes in, and you’re like…well, it pays the rent. So, what can I say about that? Then you go back and make up more imaginary people.

How the hell did I get so lucky?!