Who am I kidding? The problem is that I've sold out and I'm doing things for the money. And now that the money isn't enough to cover my ever-expanding neuroses, I'm forced to face myself and wonder why it is I've done so little.
Fact: I hate advertising pharmaceuticals. I'm only moderately annoyed by consumer advertising but, because I have a real talent for it and a wealth of experience doing it, it doesn't bother me as much.
Fact: I wouldn't mind being poor if I was doing something I truly loved. Because I'm doing something that annoys me, the need for money is magnified and takes on the signifance of being the only measure of progress I have: more money means even though my life sucks, at least I'm raking it in.
Fact: when you sell out, you use money to cover your anxieties, rather than dealing with them. I hate myself. And that's not your typical Basil moment of self-flagellation. I hate myself because I'm a slave and I made myself that way.
Fact: if change is going to happen, it has to happen now. I don't have any more time (or excuses) to give things a few months. I fucking hate this job, I fucking hate selling myself short and I fucking hate that I allowed myself to get this far.