I feel better now

I went out. I drank a couple Guinness. Danced a bit to Sisters of Mercy. Talked with pretty girls (how can someone have cute knees? I'm definitely getting weirder... oh, well.) And now I feel better. A small comment made a big impact. I'm feeling focused again.

Why didn't I listen to my father?

Gaaaagh. This place is going to make me crazy. I need to find a way to preserve my sanity until I can find something else to do. Either that or I'll simply have to let myself go mad and run with it. There is freedom in lunacy.

What I am lamenting at this point is that I didn't just follow in my father's footsteps, apprentice at his upholstery shop and live my life working at a satisfying, hands-on business. I could be in Duncan, living in a house that was paid for, working in the shop I loved as a kid... but who am I kidding? I would have found things to loathe about that life just the same as this one. I think I may be hard-wired for perpetual dissatisfaction.

But on the flip side of that, I didn't really pick this career track. I just let it happen to me. Just because I'm good at something doesn't mean it's what I want to do.