February 20th, 2002

max

Still at Work

I'm still at work. I fucking hate work. I've been sitting in one spot for 12 hours. And I have 12 more hours until I'm not on-call anymore. How could I be so naive as to work for years to get where I am without taking one fucking minute to think about the consequences.

Fuck.

I'll get 2 hours of interrupted sleep under my desk. Then it's back to trying to convince people that I'm not a total fuck-up. I need to convince them that I'm not a fuck-up so I can avoid being fired so I can keep my frustrating, invasive, no-satisfaction, job. Sure, I could look for a different job. I could either go for a similar job at a different company, with similar hours, similar people, similar environment or I could do something that I actually like; something that I'm good at. The catch is that I will have to forget about making any money for the next ten years. This is difficult because I have a family to feed and shelter.

I often wish insanity would take me quickly. Maybe I'll get hit by a bus tomorrow to save me from the 9:00 meeting with work-people, the 10:00 meeting with my shrink, the 11:00 meeting with my coworkers, the 12:00 "education session" with my leads. All this on 2 hours of sleep. Seriously....somebody needs to wound me badly enough so I can get some rest and relaxation under the care of the American Medical System. I'd probably lose weight, too.

I think I'll go for a walk when the bus routes begin...
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