WORD COUNT: 23,500
So. As you know, I work in the game industry, and even though my job is one of the best in that industry (see the blogs of some other game developers and/or their spouses for examples of horrible, Soviet-style soul crushing overtime and no respect for the workers…) it still involves a lot of long hours from time to time. I guess any job that can be viewed as “fun” has that possible downside — there are just too many wannabes standing in line behind you. You don’t like the hours, take a hike, pal.
But it was a good reminder for me last night not to confuse long hours with hard work. Face it, I press buttons for a living. By contrast, the guy at the pizza shop where I got my dinner last night was busting his tail. I mean, he was moving. Back and forth, shoveling the pizzas into and out of the oven, almost tripping over his co-workers in a kitchen that must have been a zillion degrees. This is July in Baltimore, and that means high 90s and near 100 percent humidity, so it can be a tad schteamy. I can only imagine how hot it must have been in that kitchen.
Hard worker, too, the guy my next door neighbor has building some monstrous brick structure in his backyard. Once again, July in Baltimore. I’m in the air conditioning, fiddling with buttons on a computer, drawing pictures for a living. This guy is schlepping bricks in unbelievable heat. Which do you think is truly working hard?
There are tons of jobs like that out there, and worse. The folks who work them must be made of some sturdy stuff. Here’s to them.
Me? I’ve got a novel I’m trying to push out of my brain onto the page (23,500 words for those counting).
Back to pushing buttons.
Yeah I know the feeling.
I tend to bitch about my job then I think (or my brother reminds me in his own way
) “Where else can you sit indoors, at a pc, and get holidays off and not do much of anything?” Of course he forgets how much mental work I’m dealing with… like mentally pushing my hand back behind me and keeping it from strangling the students and staff who come in and whine about the stupidest of things that I can’t control. 
So while I may not be doing PHYSICAL work, I am mentally straining myself in other ways and it sure feels like I’ve been doing physical work at the end of the day.
So don’t let anyone tell you you aren’t doing anything. 
You’re working hard… mental works isn’t easy. Not many people like being cooped up indoors for hours at a time doing what some consider “nothing.”
~L~
There’s work, and there’s work. I’m glad I don’t have to rely on manual labor to make a living, and I am also glad I don’t have to be creative 8 hours a day to make a living either. Pushing a pencil across a page (or typing letters across a white expanse) can be pretty tough. If your muscles get worn out hauling bricks, you can take a breather, rest up, and know you’ll be able to continue. With creativity…. sometimes no amount of taking breaks can get you going again, if “it” isn’t there.
Physical labor hurts more. Creative labor can be more frustrating. Both can be fun. The hot pizza guy and the brick hauler both have goals in mind, either pride in their work or maybe just the paycheck. I guess we all work for either love, or money. Which one we devote our lives to probably determines how happy we are.
Congrats on the new wordage in your novel!
As a college student, when I eat on campus I’m usually served by one of my classmates. Normally on chicken wrap day, the best day of the week, the cafeteria is filled with frustrated and stressed students who don’t really care that much about service. Every once in awhile I encounter a student who gets excited at the busyness and works incredibly hard to dish out those chicken wraps. It may be a small thing, but I’m impressed. He does a good job, and this world needs more enthusiasm.