Wednesday, October 27, 2004

time's so scarce where I come from

Even though I know, rationally, that I shouldn't treat this strictly as a diary stand-in, I have to take a moment to vent. I just worked a thirteen hour day at my soul-sucking job. And I am now just preparing to go home and make it fifteen solid. I just can't sit in my office anymore, lest I lose what little is left of my mind. Serenity now!

This is exactly why I am so convinced that I must expend my energies elsewhere. I have no problem with the notion of working intensely, even to the point of losing well-roundedness (that is definitely not a word, for the grammar police, but I am too frazzled right now to write sensibly). But to work with such intensity on something that is inherently pointless, or, worse yet, could be considered all about the benjamins... oh, hell no.

I am quelled only by the thought that I am taking conscious steps to get out of this situation, to turn things around. It's not quite like turning a corner on a walk, it's more like taking a turn on a ship. It takes time, change is gradual, but all of a sudden, a new horizon will be visible. Right now, all I have is the promise of that horizon, while I toil away to turn the wheel without capsizing. And that's officially as far as I can take the ship analogy.

On a completely unrelated topic, in an attempt to veer off the grumbling, wouldn't a hypoallergenic cat rock? Actually, now that I've written that, I'm not sure myself. I've always been partial to dogs, and friends have always claimed it's because I'm so allergic to cats. But there's perhaps more to it, after all. I'm not really a big fan of pets, and here's why. Dogs, lovely as they are, are like babies that never grow up. Which is nice if you're looking for unconditional love and someone to dote on, but would no doubt devolve into pain-in-the-ass standing with me in no time. Plus, I don't know where I get this, but somehow I just don't understand the concept of pets. If you're really pro-animal rights, shouldn't you leave them be? They don't want to be owned by you, do they? What came first, the chicken or the egg? Did dogs wander up to people, begging to be cared for, or did we tame them and make them our belongings? Really, I'm curious. If dogs are babies, cats are permanent teenager girls. You can almost see them roll their eyes right before they yawn, you can nearly hear them gripe "oh mom!", and you know they only kiss ass (i.e. meow and purr) when they want something, and will run hot and cold whenever they please. Hypoallergenic or no, I'll take a pass, thanks.

Of course, given the current state of the union in my life, it's unlikely that I could care for a pet rock, so I don't even know why I'm musing over this. The only thing that is currently allowing me some sanity is listening to my beloved iPod, which is currently serenading me with The Sundays:
Distance myself from the things I'd like
but everyone has something I need
don't let me wake up and find
all those others leaving me behind
well, if you don't have a clue about life
then I'm happy happy happy to say-
neither have I-
although I'm not going to shrug my shoulders and suck my thumb
this time
because there's something I deserve

I'll always think them woefully underrated.

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