I don’t have to spend my time wondering Why am I here on this planet… I’m too busy obsessing over why I’m here at this desk. Woke up feeling okay, headache kicked in as soon as I came into this building. I’m drinking a whole lot of water, hoping that fixes everything.
Suraklin (aka Jay) wants you to read this. He said it better than me. His not having a job wasn’t a financial problem. I was just jealous because I hate my job but I still have to go every day, but I can’t deal with being unemployed because it makes me depressed and apathetic. Although this job is reaching a point where I would rather be unemployed…
When I think about it, I’ve never really had time off since sometime back in High School – grade nine, I think. In grade ten I got a babysitting job, 5 days a week 8-6 basically. Same deal in grade 11. Grade twelve was spent working at a pizza place, then working at Kraft, and then I started college. When I was in college I had weekend jobs that never really paid for anything but food if I was lucky. After college I was unemployed but worked more than full-time hours volunteering because I knew if I did nothing I would probably end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Then I moved to Toronto and started working retail… that went on until November of 1999, when I got this job here, and I’ve only had one week off since that started.
People who can take a year off after college, or even a couple of months off, just to travel and do things and learn about themselves… I envy them. I’ve never stopped doing, because I needed to survive. I’ve wished many times that my doctor would rule me unable to work, just so I could take some time off… I can remember wishing I would be in some accident that would keep me from being able to work, and wishing that I really would just have a complete breakdown just so I could rest for a while. Kinda like when I was in high school, wishing that the school bus would go over the edge of the overpass onto the 401 some icy morning, and I would get hurt or killed and wouldn’t have to go to school anymore. I was such a morbid child… not that I told people about this, of couse… I did write up a story like that once, about how I would fall down the stairs, and the only person who would see me fall would be this boy I had a crush on, and he would find me there, incredibly hurt, and then I would die. I still have that lying around somewhere, I wrote it up in grade nine when I was 13 or so. I had messy handwriting even then. I think most teenagers feel that way at some point, or so all those psychology books tell me.
What am I rambling about?? Oh yeah… a break. Never had one in my adult life. Wouldn’t know how to deal with it if I did.
Today I feel like my goo globe thing… there’s a hole in it that oozes out the goo, but there a piece of tape over it for now… the goo is still oozing out, it’s just being a lot slower about it, and the tape will only hold for so long… and if anyone picks up the globe, there is a good chance that it will burst violently open and cover someone in goo.
Yep, that’s pretty much how I feel.