I fucking hate when I’m asked, “So, what do you do?”

I find it painful to explain my vocation. I’m not really an asshole; I just play one on TV. To someone just meeting me, it can be a risky interaction. Explaining my anti-nine-to-five lifestyle tends to border on arrogance. Is this all an act? Hardly. I think of it as more of a performance.

Because I don’t do; I am. This glorious, repellent, beautiful train wreck of a life is my own fabulous creation and gift to the world. You’ve . . .

I fucking hate when I’m asked, “So, what do you do?”

I find it painful to explain my vocation. I’m not really an asshole; I just play one on TV. To someone just meeting me, it can be a risky interaction. Explaining my anti-nine-to-five lifestyle tends to border on arrogance. Is this all an act? Hardly. I think of it as more of a performance.

Because I don’t do; I am. This glorious, repellent, beautiful train wreck of a life is my own fabulous creation and gift to the world. You’ve . . .

The sunlight spilled into the bedroom window through the faded gold curtains and onto the pillow, illuminating her wavy blonde hair. Corinne was nestled in her queen bed entangled in a white duvet fit for a king, still wearing her clothes from the evening before. Most mornings she was up and out on a nearby running trail for half an hour by now. She was showered and dolled up most mornings, ready for the day before the sun had even made its way over the North Carolina coast. Most mornings,. . .

The sunlight spilled into the bedroom window through the faded gold curtains and onto the pillow, illuminating her wavy blonde hair. Corinne was nestled in her queen bed entangled in a white duvet fit for a king, still wearing her clothes from the evening before. Most mornings she was up and out on a nearby running trail for half an hour by now. She was showered and dolled up most mornings, ready for the day before the sun had even made its way over the North Carolina coast. Most mornings,. . .