Confessions of a functioning derelict

Day 53 of the 100 Word Project

As a card-carrying member of Generation X, one of the crosses that I have to bear is being a perennial slacker. I’m not cut out for upper management. Responsibility terrifies me. And working more than 40 hours a week? Eff that in the bee.

It’s been 35 years. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m not cut out to be POTUS, or the CEO of some tech company. I mean, Marissa Mayer tanked Yahoo, but I have a feeling that destroying a tech giant with your incompetence is still really hard work. If it were easy, CEOs wouldn’t be paid so well, right?


Honestly, it’s a miracle that I managed to write 50,000 words during National Novel Writing Month, on two separate occasions. Even keeping my writing streak going here has taken every fiber of my will.

Despite my very nature, I am still writing daily. But why? Could the years be wearing down my wonton disregard for “adulting?” Jesus, that’s a scary thought. But maybe — just maybe — it’s true.

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