Uncharacteristic.

I love this business.

Damn, I'm lucky.

I love this business.

After 40 years in it.

Up to my neck in it.

40 years of pressure and backstabbing and nit-picking.

40 years of pontificators and bean-counters and bull-shitters.

But damn, I'm lucky.

I know the thrill, the excitement, the energy that comes from working with people I respect. 

Love even.

The charge that comes from battling over an ad. Solving a problem. Selling a "they'll never buy that" idea.

I know the relief, the joy, the high that comes from pulling-together--a band of brothers and sisters and agencies and departments and clients and more--and making something we're all proud of.

I know the pulse that comes from the harried pace.

The laughter that's formed despite the seismic pressure of a too-soon deadline.

I know the sapped, enervated, I-can't-move-a-single-muscle feeling of exhaustion when it's two in the morning and you did it. When you pulled-through. When you made it happen.

I know the drive of Sisyphus.

Especially since I'm luckier than Sisyphus.

Sure, the boulder rolls down a lot and we have to start over.

But we do.

Not alone.

Together.

Pushing.

Making it over the top.

The doing-it-ness of having done it.

-

It's easy to focus on the gloomy. 

I have often been called lugubrious.

And the industry--especially in its present, monopolistic control--is in need of improvement.

But every-so-often, it's good to capture that feeling of "damn, that was good."

Store it.

Don't let it go.

It might not be as transcendent as a golden retriever with a peanut butter-filled bone.

But.

Damn.