I keep talking about the weekend from hell, but oh, let me TELL you...
So, let me preface this the same way that a friend recently prefaced a story about him almost getting arrested: "So, obviously, I'm ok now..."
Ok, my real life friends Adam and Brad sent a message to myself and a few other designers asking if we could spare some time to help them put together a demo issue of their new publication, "Texas Sports Monthly". "Spare us a couple of hours," they say, "It will be a huge favor and we'd owe you and you'd be our hero."
I'm thinking, hell, why not. I need the experience, and they'll give me full credit, and maybe if this goes places, I'll have a reference and something to put in my portfolio that's not some old lady's missions letter. So I meet with them and I quickly realize, this is not going to go well. They have NO layout whatsoever, the demo they have is in ruins, and their logo looks like a 7-year-old created it with Crayola markers. And when I say NO layout, I mean they have 20 blank fucking pages.
They look at me with those puppy-dog eyes, and I think, "Well, in for a penny, in for a pound." I start working. I work until 2 a.m. I am no where NEAR finished, but at that point, I think I've got a good jump on the next bit.
Friday is HELL. It's been a really long time since I put in hours like that, and there were so many points I just wanted to give up and go home early from work. Work is... not bad, and I realize how flipping cushy my job is. I get paid for shit, but at least these old ladies are easy to please. Adam wants his magazine to look like Sports Illustrated.
Also, my mom's birthday is Friday, and I am TIRED. We meet up and we have a nice little shindig... for the most part. There was a few Alzheimer's moments from my Granddad that were really awkward, and I had to do most of the hustle in the kitchen, but it was my mom's birthday, and I am glad she had fun.
After that, it's back to work. And when I get to the boys' house, I find... not what I was expecting. Adam's roommate has taken my layout and redesigned EVERYTHING... I think he may have kept the page numbers where they were, but I am not 100% on that. SO, back to the drawing board, and another 3 am night. In anticipation of an out-of-place 8 am on Saturday morning... and oh, let me tell you why. The cats had peed on my bed on Friday afternoon... I ended up sleeping on the couch, and doing laundry at 8 AM. EIGHT IN THE MORNING. Before my roommate went to work. So, I get that started, and try and climb back into bed with my emergency sheets on the bed and no blanket... And my roommate has set the A/C at some god-awful FREEZING temperature... I literally cannot sleep, and when i finally doze into an REM state, I dream that I am an ice cube. A blue, teeth-chattering ice cube. I finally give up and e-mail Bradford, asking if he can send me a file I can work on at my house. He then tells me that Gmail won't send the file, so I need to come over there. I end up working over there for 4 hours, at which point I go home and get ready for my friends birthday party that's a 45 minute drive away. I get out there, and about an hour later, I realize I am so fucking tired that if I don't leave soon, I'm going to fall asleep at the wheel and drive into a ditch out in the backwoods of Texas and some chupacabra is going to eat my brain.
Saturday night, I end up passing out on the couch again, realizing that Sunday is a dreaded day that's been on my schedule for WEEKS - my best friend, who I've known for 10 years, is moving to Boston. And if you think my weekend had been for shit, his was worse. (He's moving up there with his BF, who has a internship in Mass. My beffie is making this big leap of faith, because as of right now, he has no job, his car was wrecked this weekend, and he is leaving his house to be rented by a leasing company while he rents a place in Boston. As he said "It's like the biggest, most expensive storage unit ever.") So I meet up with him and finish moving his stuff into storage, and cleaning the house, doing touch-ups, and ferrying them around, since his car had been wrecked EARLIER THAT DAY. Not a good way to start out the trip.
After getting as much done as we could, I said good bye to one of my best friends, and headed back to work on the layout. I get there, it's half done. The issue is due at noon Monday morning. I put my good little layout hat, and get to work. I proceed to layout 10 pages in 5 hours. That's pretty fucking epic. We finish the layout at 3:30 a.m., at which point I want to punch someone. I am tired to the point that energy drinks don't even work anymore, and I have to get up, at latest, 4 hours later.
So, I make it home, with the only obstacle being a really long train that stood between me and my bed. Work was awful, I was tired, and all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and die. I think I may have said that at some point.
If you skip all the details of the story, just read this. I learned two very important lessons this weekend.
By the end of all this, I hurt. I hurt in places I didn't know I could hurt, like the tops of my feet, and my knuckles. I remember being able to do this so easily when I was in college, and that was only five years ago. Now, I feel like a creaky old dinosaur skeleton, like the T-Rex, with his little tiny arms and giant head.
As the Muppets say, "Ain't nothin' to it but to do it." There were SO many points when I wanted to give up. SO many points I wanted to just fall down and collapse and say "NO MORE." I think I cried twice, both times in my car when no one could see me. As I said before, I HURT. But there were also so many moments when I looked around and said, "No. Another person might give up, but you can do this." I hope to hell I was easy to work with, because many of those moments came at 1 or 2 a.m., when Adam or Brad would look at me and say, "Can we try it a different way." Or say, "Ok, I know you think you're done, but we have one more page of content." And I did. I may have grumbled a little, but I did it. I never said no.
Ultimately, I don't think I'd do it again, but I know that I can if I have to. The other thing I learned is that I have to learn to say NO. Because other peoples' problems aren't my problems. I am not capable of saving the day all the time, nor does anyone want me to. I can't just swoop down and fix it. So yeah. I'm going to take care of myself now, since I've been doing such a crap job at it. I didn't eat a decent meal for days, and I think I'm getting sick.
Now, my next project is a little more selfish... I'm working on taking a vacation. Anyone want to join me?
Ok, my real life friends Adam and Brad sent a message to myself and a few other designers asking if we could spare some time to help them put together a demo issue of their new publication, "Texas Sports Monthly". "Spare us a couple of hours," they say, "It will be a huge favor and we'd owe you and you'd be our hero."
I'm thinking, hell, why not. I need the experience, and they'll give me full credit, and maybe if this goes places, I'll have a reference and something to put in my portfolio that's not some old lady's missions letter. So I meet with them and I quickly realize, this is not going to go well. They have NO layout whatsoever, the demo they have is in ruins, and their logo looks like a 7-year-old created it with Crayola markers. And when I say NO layout, I mean they have 20 blank fucking pages.
They look at me with those puppy-dog eyes, and I think, "Well, in for a penny, in for a pound." I start working. I work until 2 a.m. I am no where NEAR finished, but at that point, I think I've got a good jump on the next bit.
Friday is HELL. It's been a really long time since I put in hours like that, and there were so many points I just wanted to give up and go home early from work. Work is... not bad, and I realize how flipping cushy my job is. I get paid for shit, but at least these old ladies are easy to please. Adam wants his magazine to look like Sports Illustrated.
Also, my mom's birthday is Friday, and I am TIRED. We meet up and we have a nice little shindig... for the most part. There was a few Alzheimer's moments from my Granddad that were really awkward, and I had to do most of the hustle in the kitchen, but it was my mom's birthday, and I am glad she had fun.
After that, it's back to work. And when I get to the boys' house, I find... not what I was expecting. Adam's roommate has taken my layout and redesigned EVERYTHING... I think he may have kept the page numbers where they were, but I am not 100% on that. SO, back to the drawing board, and another 3 am night. In anticipation of an out-of-place 8 am on Saturday morning... and oh, let me tell you why. The cats had peed on my bed on Friday afternoon... I ended up sleeping on the couch, and doing laundry at 8 AM. EIGHT IN THE MORNING. Before my roommate went to work. So, I get that started, and try and climb back into bed with my emergency sheets on the bed and no blanket... And my roommate has set the A/C at some god-awful FREEZING temperature... I literally cannot sleep, and when i finally doze into an REM state, I dream that I am an ice cube. A blue, teeth-chattering ice cube. I finally give up and e-mail Bradford, asking if he can send me a file I can work on at my house. He then tells me that Gmail won't send the file, so I need to come over there. I end up working over there for 4 hours, at which point I go home and get ready for my friends birthday party that's a 45 minute drive away. I get out there, and about an hour later, I realize I am so fucking tired that if I don't leave soon, I'm going to fall asleep at the wheel and drive into a ditch out in the backwoods of Texas and some chupacabra is going to eat my brain.
Saturday night, I end up passing out on the couch again, realizing that Sunday is a dreaded day that's been on my schedule for WEEKS - my best friend, who I've known for 10 years, is moving to Boston. And if you think my weekend had been for shit, his was worse. (He's moving up there with his BF, who has a internship in Mass. My beffie is making this big leap of faith, because as of right now, he has no job, his car was wrecked this weekend, and he is leaving his house to be rented by a leasing company while he rents a place in Boston. As he said "It's like the biggest, most expensive storage unit ever.") So I meet up with him and finish moving his stuff into storage, and cleaning the house, doing touch-ups, and ferrying them around, since his car had been wrecked EARLIER THAT DAY. Not a good way to start out the trip.
After getting as much done as we could, I said good bye to one of my best friends, and headed back to work on the layout. I get there, it's half done. The issue is due at noon Monday morning. I put my good little layout hat, and get to work. I proceed to layout 10 pages in 5 hours. That's pretty fucking epic. We finish the layout at 3:30 a.m., at which point I want to punch someone. I am tired to the point that energy drinks don't even work anymore, and I have to get up, at latest, 4 hours later.
So, I make it home, with the only obstacle being a really long train that stood between me and my bed. Work was awful, I was tired, and all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and die. I think I may have said that at some point.
If you skip all the details of the story, just read this. I learned two very important lessons this weekend.
By the end of all this, I hurt. I hurt in places I didn't know I could hurt, like the tops of my feet, and my knuckles. I remember being able to do this so easily when I was in college, and that was only five years ago. Now, I feel like a creaky old dinosaur skeleton, like the T-Rex, with his little tiny arms and giant head.
As the Muppets say, "Ain't nothin' to it but to do it." There were SO many points when I wanted to give up. SO many points I wanted to just fall down and collapse and say "NO MORE." I think I cried twice, both times in my car when no one could see me. As I said before, I HURT. But there were also so many moments when I looked around and said, "No. Another person might give up, but you can do this." I hope to hell I was easy to work with, because many of those moments came at 1 or 2 a.m., when Adam or Brad would look at me and say, "Can we try it a different way." Or say, "Ok, I know you think you're done, but we have one more page of content." And I did. I may have grumbled a little, but I did it. I never said no.
Ultimately, I don't think I'd do it again, but I know that I can if I have to. The other thing I learned is that I have to learn to say NO. Because other peoples' problems aren't my problems. I am not capable of saving the day all the time, nor does anyone want me to. I can't just swoop down and fix it. So yeah. I'm going to take care of myself now, since I've been doing such a crap job at it. I didn't eat a decent meal for days, and I think I'm getting sick.
Now, my next project is a little more selfish... I'm working on taking a vacation. Anyone want to join me?