I'm not talking about gastro-intestinal bloating, pregnancy or having rocks put on you until your eyeballs propel from your skull with enough speed to decapitate local farmers and horses. When I speak of "pressure," I refer to the stress upon you from those around you. Be it your workplace, scholastic environment, parental desires, deadlines, etc., most tasks, to me, become more difficult when there's an outside source grilling you to complete it.
It's for this reason that I would prefer all of my deadlines and requirements to be self-imposed.
If I'm getting some shit done, I'll do it at my own pace, god damn it. That was hostile. Well, it needs to be. I'm only a procrastinator in the face of necessity; there is a rebellious spirit here that exists solely in order to make an authoritative counterpart frustrated. Subsequently, if I'm given room in which to stretch my arms, work at my own pace and complete things in an order that makes sense to me, I find that any work is not only easier, but much more enjoyable.
One of the beneficial things about making videos for a channel you own is that any schedules you've created are just that; created. By you. I can defy this weekly format any time I see fit, possibly even revert back to my routine of "I'll upload a video when I'm good and damn ready. Apparently, I'm ready to upload five today and none for three months and you'll like it. Forever. Until the end of time. Which ends when I say it does, also." Thankfully for everyone, I've found a rate of production that challenges my creativity without putting too much strain on my fragile and useless cranium.
In addition, I'm currently afforded opportunities that allow me to work this creativity whenever it strikes. I woke up at three in the morning with an idea not too long ago, and once I was finished stroking it lovingly--the idea, not whatever you're thinking of, you sick fuck--I put it to work for me. Like a hooker. I guess my point is that when you're free to do as you please, you treat your ideas like hookers.
Wait, that's not right.
Individuals who work a job they dislike in order to provide for their futures or assume some level of status are doing something that I've never been comfortable with. It may be a deficiency, and I wouldn't be surprised if there's some shitty section of my head that constantly waves its dick around instead of doing what I've been imagining it to since my conception. However, in the absence of rigidity imposed by those who expect you to follow direction and nothing else, it's possible to get just as much, if not more, work done in the same amount of time one may be committing to something less mentally fruitful. The difficult part is carrying that forward upon an avenue that's lucrative. Needless to say, I haven't given up on that yet.
I commend those who work boring or awful jobs that they hate, just to support their ideals wholly; I'll probably have to bite that bullet some day. The part I'm excited for is when I shit that bullet out, because I'll load it into my nostril and blow it onto whatever canvas I choose to adopt. Then I'll sell the lead back for twice what I made swallowing it.
Not to mention, that metaphor involved actual shit. That was a life goal of mine. See? Sometimes it's easy.
Moral of the story: do your own work, for you, and you'll feel better about doing it.
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