Back to Work...well...sort of

I've been working on the above graphic for two weeks now, including the intervening holiday. It remains a failed piece by my estimation, and I'm hard-pressed to come up with a way to fix it. I feel as if I have an excuse, but I'm still waiting for a solution to suggest itself in due course. My excuse is that I've been working nights, and when I get home in the morning I'm too tired to marshal my creative juices. I want to make this graphic zing with the same presence as the Auburn Speedster I did a few weeks ago, but a few weeks ago I had a lot more energy for the process.

Now before you get excited about me going back to work, I have to point out that I have not landed a job. I am still un-gainfully unemployed and seemingly without prospects. What I am doing is working in my dreams. I have worked in my dreams before - in fact while I was still working in my waking life - and, while it's never been a pleasant experience, neither has it ever been as stressful and debilitating as this current little spate of projects. The problem with my current dream set is that I'm working for the worst boss I ever had (Richard Hardin) and I'm saddled with the sorriest excuse for a manager I ever met (Fische) to collaborate on a series of meaningless projects.

I sweat through every night with incomplete information, inadequate instructions, impossible deadlines, and fear of reprisal. In the end I know that we will fail to meet expectations, and I know that Fische will dip me in the grease for it. It is just like being back at work, only without a paycheck or health insurance to soothe the sting of the sundry abuses.

The only difference that I can see is that when I was working I dreaded waking up from fitful dreams to face an unpleasant reality, but now I welcome my new reality with open arms. Unpleasant as my new reality may be, it is not nearly so sinister as the memories that await in sleep. Personally I think there ought to be a way to hold asshats accountable for invading your dreams. I mean how fair is it that an unmitigated douche canoe like Fische should be able to crowd Kelly Ripa out of my dream life?