Sorry folks, I know my legions of adoring fans have been clamoring for a new entry, but as of late I just haven't anything to say.
I know what you're saying to yourself, "This can't be, things can't be going smoothly for him. Whatever shall I do without his witty reparte to help me through this maze we call life?"
Things have been rather quiet, other than the constant drama at work. After 19 years of slogging through shit, I long for a rewarding career. Not one that makes me debate between reaching for the alarm or the revolver every morning.
After reviewing Cory's comment, I thought to myself, "Self, you've had a good run." and proceeded to put my head in the oven. Alas, I don't have a gas oven and all it did was get really hot.
As hard as it may be to believe there was a time when I didn't hate my job. When I started with this company I had an ideology that I could help people and do some good in the world. Over time, trying to find the balance between helping people and dealing with management constantly preaching about profit margins, my love for what I do is all but lost.
I've counselled others with the words "You have to find something that you love to do. Something that makes you wake in the morning full of dreams and ideas for the new day." Sadly, life has got me on a technicality, and now I find myself at a crossroads.
I often wonder when Life started really beating the shit out of me. When did I become so jaded as to develop the attitude that if you don't want to do things my way then fuck off. When did I let the bitterness permeate my being so completely?
Maybe it's the outrageous fucking freaks I have to deal with, both as customers and staff. Maybe I'm just fucking tired of trying to be Superman (just remember kids, perfection is a fault, and I have no faults), or maybe, ahh who the fuck cares.
Sniff...Oh fuck off and quit snivelling.
As the new year rises over the horizon, I look to it with an uncharacteristic optimism. Fuck, maybe I'll get laid next year (not fuckin' likely), or maybe things will calm down at work (yeah, right), or maybe I'll actually finish one of these fucking tracks and get some sweet record deal and be rich and famous.
Of these, I think the most likely eventuality is that I'll be struck by lightning and my Johnson will fall off.
"Any of you fucking pricks move and I'll execute every single motherfucking last one of ya"
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3 comments:
I always find that if you lower your standards, you'll be pleasantly surprised with life. And don't forget: a bottle of rye will never talk back to you.
the question you must ask yourself is simply "what would dan do?"
Dan would stand in the corner picking his nose then complain that his nose was bleeding and not understand why this was so.
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