"If you wanna feel good, I'm your man" - AZ, Feel Good (Sequence Hip Hop Vol. 1)
The Red is my favorite band. It's been decided. There's very little better than seeing Marco, Tony, and Steve performing at Genghis Cohen to a crowd of fresh faces there to get seats early for the band that is playing after them. They come in not knowing what to expect and leave as fans. I'm sure of this. You can't not be a fan of a band who does a beautiful cover of Little Red Corvette, writes songs that would be perfect on the soundtrack to just about everything, and improvs at least one song every show. And it's a always a great song that gets the audience laughing and pulled into the show. It's a good time, kids.
But for every yin there's a yang and while I was treated to possibly the best set The Red has done since I've been a fan I was greeted with the same conversation throughout the night and again and again throughout the weekend.
"Dude, your company sucks" is apparently the catchphrase of the summer.
Not my personal company, mind. That is to say that I'm pretty sure people enjoy my friendly companionship; fellowship, as dictionary.com defines it (and as an aside, did you know that the words freelance or freelancer was first used to describe a knight who was not commissioned to a particular royal order? He was a knight for hire. A free lance, if you will. Amazing what you learn when watching tv shows about video games.)
Where was I? Right. Dude, my company sucks. According to everyone I know who has worked here, is working here, works in our particular genre of television, or would never work with us in a million years...it's the 7th level of hell.
And yet I'm still here. I understand everyone's complaints. They are all very valid. The lack of appreciation, of proper pay, of honesty, of sanity is consistently prevalent. There's only one reason I stay.
No Stress. Nobody cares what I do. I don't answer to anyone. I bang tracks in my headphones, watch tv, and can afford to do just about everything I want to do without ever having to think about work when I get home.
I can post in the middle of the day.
I can dance if I want to. I can leave my friends behind.
Really. I can do that.
I'm just about not having to stress. My mind needs the time for far more important things...like remembering every bad show that was on television in 1986, half-knowing the lyrics to every song I have ever heard, and being able to note every porn star I see in the dark at a strange event called Porn 2 Party as if by clairvoyance.
Because I'd never watch porn. Unless, of course, it was sent in a plain brown box with smiley faces on it by an erotica professional. Or, you know, it came free on my digital cable 24 hours a day.
Otherwise, I'd never watch.
So, see, my company may suck but I bet yours doesn't swallow.
Is that how that saying goes?