Getting Unfucked

Fucked, and the need to be un-fucked.

To say that I’m ‘fucked’ would be unfair. Hardly. I’m comfortable.

Relaxed.

Unhurried.

Which is precisely why the part of my brain that is constantly deciding that I’m a hot mess with no plan for the rest of my life has decided that the only way it can get my attention is to drag me back into misery.

If I look at the surface layer of my life, it’s good.

Underneath, though, I’m a little bit fucked, if I’m honest.

Switching to four days a week is imminent. I have one client on the books, who might be happy to keep me on retainer, but I’m not sure.

The effort to plan the launch of Simpletenders such that I can actually get new clients is just too much so I’d rather lie on the couch and snooze, thanks.

The website is an old design, thrown together by claude, and I don’t like it.

My content bible that explains how to do tenders is getting staler by the minute, and I have no desire to look at it.

So… I’m fucked, really.

Two days ago I decided that shooting a launch video for Simpletenders would be a fucking great idea, so empowered by ADHD I went ahead and bought a wireless mic set from amazon, dug out my tripod, set up my phone, built up a shot list, and fed it to ChatGPT.

My little AI buddy thought that it was an absolutely brilliant idea and glazed the fuck out of me so much I thought it was going to crawl under the table and unzip my flies.

This morning before the rain descended, I spent two bloody hours filming with my little phone and mic combo, and after assembling a rough cut in Final Cut Pro (thank god for cheap subscriptions) I have come to the clear conclusion that I have absolutely no fucking idea what I am doing.

I came to my senses earler this evening when all the glow around my new found career as a film maker got bitchslapped by the cruel mistress of reality, and realised that AI was doing what’s designed to do - be a sycophantic bitch unless you explicity tell it to be bloody rude.

Assembling this ‘film’ (dogshit) into a real thing that should be vomited into the real world would mean the death of my credibility, self respect, and any chance of winning clients.

Of course, Mr ADHD ‘you’re worth less than the dogshit on the bottom of my shoe’ misery guts might be chiming in here, but it’s pretty fucking bad. I’m not a fan. I’m an amateur with a vision and no talent (in film making, at least).

Yep, I’m fucked.

And I haven’t done anything else that would move the needle on my business.

Because - at the risk of glazing myself as hard as ChatGPT does to me - I have a business. I have Limited Company, an accountant, income, client(s), and a rough idea of what I can do to help them. The ever-marching onslaught of AI has dented my confidence a little, but I’ve seen the shite that the majority of tools cough up and the eyewatering insanity of commercial tool prices to help clients, and decided that my future is just fine for now.

If I could actually do anything to help myself, of course.

I found someone on LinkedIn. They are in the shit with the taxman, write copy and sort out businesses that need help, and I reckon that throwing a few quid in their direction would help them, and I would get a very clear, completely packed with swearing, deathly honest assessment of what the fuck I should do to make my business make sense to me and other people.

So, should I do it?

Well, unlike the impuslive lunatic I was when I decided that spending money on wireless microphones was the thing I needed to do immediately, I’m going to sleep on this for a couple of days and then decide.

Because while I would like to pay real money for real, honest, support - I’ve got to be honest with myself and ask if I can afford it.

In practice, I can. But with an uncertain future and a 20% paycut looming, I have to ask if it’s a good investment at the moment. Because of course I can sort out my own problems at the moment - that has been going absolutely fucking gangbusters, hasn’t it? It’s not as if I haven’t been at this for multiple fucking years and still have nothing to show for it, amirite?

Fuck my life.

I’m fucked.

Back next week. With feedback on the decision I took.

If I remember.

p.s. it took me less than 12 hours to make the decision, and the answer is no - I’m not spending the money on advice.

The reason?

I’ve invested money in people before to tell me what I already know what to do. The problem isn’t the lack of knowledge; it’s the lack of bravery to do it. I don’t need to pay someone else to tell me to just start.