So my day unsuckified itself

[mbarrick]

Despite my determination to be miserable today was good. My boss was asking me how things were going and clearly concerned that I may not stay on when my contract is up (which I actually haven't made my mind up about). I've been noticing old habits coming back from a few years ago when I last had a job with regular hours. Damnit all to hell anyway. My counter-culture façade of disdain is crumbling under the realization that I make about as much in a day now as I used to live off for a month when I was 17. That's worth eight hours in a cubicle.

Comments

this thing called work

[(Anonymous)]

I'm confused. You do this job, which sounds like forced labour, in cheerless 'professional' surrounds, and recognise it's getting to you. It's got to you. It's no good saying to yourself that it's a job worth doing and you'd be kidding yourself in expecting other jobs to any better. Just look for another one. Keep at it for the wages until you get something less monotonous, then flee. Pirouette to freedom.

I might not have been in a situation like that (except for the neighbour part. The Eagles at top volume, if that's not a contradiction in turds) but it's not good for you. If you're talking about it and writing abhout it, you're thinking about, and hating it, on a subconscious level even more, and eventually it will affaect the balance of your mind. Not in terms of gun-toting crazy, but unhappiness seeps in.

I've seen it happen to too many people. Start planning the great escape now.

mick mercer