Thursday, November 18, 2004

What's A Guy To Do?

I gotta vent a bit...this is my first real blog post in a while, and I'm real real frustrated. As glad and grateful as I am to have this job, it's giving me fits right now. A great Aussie phrase is the more descriptive "this job shits me, it shits me to absolute fuckin' tears!"

I've suspended all but the most cursory of blog activities for the week so I can crunk down and get some freaking work done here at the old office, and you know what? It doesn't matter. I left the office at seven thirty last night, got in early this morning, pounded hard on some reports, and got the same amount of flak for them as if I had sat here and watched movie trailers on company time. I suppose that's just how it is in the grownup world, but nobody told me till now.

Call me idealistic, but I always believed that if you worked hard, you'd get ahead, improve, make something of yourself. Right now, my eyeballs have a weird tan and I have had a headache for several days, but that's about it. Oh, and I notice it when people talk in the passive voice now.

This all feels a little too much like the first year and a half of high school, when I was killing myself to be accepted by the "in" crowd. They weren't any more attractive or intelligent, they weren't even cool. They were just blessed with "in"-ness, so I craved a spot by their fire.

I certainly don't want to die and have "Best Low-Man on the Research Totem Pole" etched on my tombstone...but this is giving me the shits all the same.

When Kevin and I were out shooting 'roos, we could shout at each other and wave machetes, call each other miserable useless cunts and kick a severed 'roo head off into the bush as a gory expression of pure frustration. Then it was over.

I think grownups smoke so they can have a reason to go outside and seethe...it's not disgruntled heavy breathing if smoke flies out of your mouth.

On the up side: the ever-mysterious and hilarious Natasha is going to be in my apartment here next Tuesday night and sitting at my momma's table for Thanksgiving. That tickles me no end.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home