12.13.05
What Happened Was This…
I started the new job and never get to sleep. Ever.
EV-VER.
This spurred a downward spiral, wherein I awake each morning in complete despair and come home each day to collapse on the couch and wait for death. I contemplated giving up on the blog altogether, as my evenings are dominated by the collosal effort of putting together a meal and then maybe, MAYBE, going to the gym, but probably watching an hour of TV and then it’s time to go to bed, be woken up 900,000 times by the cat, finally fall asleep only to find that minutes after I drift away, the alarm is shrieking away again and it’s time to repeat the whole ordeal.
But then I got a comment. A comment! (That’s brings the tally to three comments, thank you very much.) And, remembering the cathartic power of the blogging and how it made me like writing again, it lit a fire under my tail to take up the blogging again.
So here I am on my lunch hour, kinda but not REALLY blogging about work (for obvious reasons).
This whole fiasco begs the question: Why, Why, WHY is it that I can’t handle working? Can’t handle working from home and can’t handle working from an office. (I was worried/kinda knew this would happen, but what could I do? I needed a new job!)
I have to ask myself whether maybe I am one of those people who is overwhelmed by the pressure of working. You know, those people. The ones who can never hold down a job for one reason or another and they spend their lives switching jobs and complaining. I mean, all I do is edit the passive voice out of people’s letters and stuff, which is no actual pressure at all. So it’s not the WORK per se, so much as the NEVER GETTING ENOUGH SLEEP and the wearing SLACKS and nerdy blouses and the not being able to swear or express political views. You know, basically having to smother my personality and ignore my needs. It totally kills me, this stuff. Seriously, am I normal? Is it normal to hate working? Does everyone else just not talk about how they feel like the whole thing is soul-sucking? Are there any other 29-year-olds thinking, “MY GODDESS, there’s THIRTY-SIX MORE YEARS until I can retire. THIRTY-SIX MORE YEARS! How can I go on?!”
Or is it that I just haven’t found my place in the world yet? Once I have the “right job,” will I be content? Will I no longer dread going to work in the morning? Will I no longer care about not getting to wear my sneaks and having to wait until precisely noon to be able to eat lunch, even though I prefer to eat lunch at 11:30? Are there people out there who really do like their jobs? Or is it my attitude? Maybe I HAVE the right job but just can’t see it because of my bad attitude and finely honed ability to focus on the negative with laser precision.
Helllllppppppp meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Finally, if anyone anywhere has any idea of how to get my cat to shut the fuck up at night and let me get more than three hours’ sleep, I beg of you, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. By the way, those three hours aren’t consecutive. The ignoring/not-reinforcing worked briefly and then spurred her on to new heights of insanity.
(Sorry about the swearing. But, well, I swear. A lot. And I never get to swear anymore. And the words build in me like some kind of pending Tourette’s outburst, so there may be more swearing in the blog to make up for having to say things like “Ffffffffffffuu–Fooor Goodness sake!” when I kick the power supply and lose all my work.)