Tag Archives: Sliced bread

Sliced bread

Sliced bread [1]

Most of us have heard the saying, “That’s the best thing since sliced bread!” What do you think is actually the best thing since sliced bread?

There are tons of inventions that I thank the powers and minds that be for – indoor plumbing, the Internet, sandwiches, Wikipedia  [2], online banking/shopping/bills payment, the Automatic Transmission, and Mr. Muscle All-Around Cleaner, among other things. The best though? If I sit down and really think about it, the absolute best thing for me is Telecommuting. In my case, this is otherwise known as work-from-home, freelancing, working-in-my-rumpled-bed-clothes-and-my-hair-is-a-mess-contained-within-a-dirty-scrungie.

For reference, this is my home desk:

Foldable Den of Evil
Step into my office.

Back in 2009, I had just resigned from my office job and had taken the leap into the black hole that is freelancing. I thought I was prepared. With my back pay, I had bought a new desktop PC and had an Internet connection installed at home. A few months later, I realized that I was not prepared. Not prepared at all. I had made a terrible mistake in thinking that the work would come to me and not the other way around. I survived through the charity of friends, who pointed me toward paying gigs and other productive ventures. By 2010 though, I realized I was too fond of eating three times a day to ignore the unfortunate state of my finances. I went back to corpo. By 2011, I had had enough of it again. That time, however, I made sure I was prepared. /end flashback

So, telecommuting. I’ll walk you though my day. I wake up at around 2 PM-ish – 12, if I went to bed early because of day time errands. My commute involves walking to the kitchen, plugging in the router (it’s conveniently on the way), putting the electric kettle on, and fixing myself a cup of coffee – my own version of non-alcoholic jiggle juice courtesy of Kopiko.

I unfurl my desk, which I sometimes call my foldable Den of Evil, fire up my laptop, a big, black beast of a machine, and swirl my coffee while I check emails. I listen to music and sing at the top of my lungs when I’m alone and Remi’s at the office.

I start writing, really writing, at around midnight when the world around me is sound asleep. It’s lonely, yes. But that’s the price I pay for convenience, I guess. Writing, in itself, is a lonely sort of endeavor, the kind where it’s just you, a torch if you’re lucky, and a vast sea of trees that you somehow need to navigate in the dead of night. Still, I count myself lucky to have found something that I really like doing. You know, there’s a certain joy in liking what you do – or at least, liking what you do enough that you don’t want to kill yourself after work.

I find myself lucky too, that I found somebody who forgives my hours and my seemingly carefreelancer ways.

Notes:
1. Writing prompt from The Daily Post.
2. Do you remember homework BEFORE Wikipedia? I do. Dewey Decimal system and all.