So, I’m just gonna shoot this straight out there.
I DON’T LIKE MY JOB.
I don’t feel too superior for the job. I don’t think I’m not getting paid enough for the job, but there is something missing. There is no…. It has no… It’s boring! Not just regular boring, It’s uber boring; super boring, annoyingly tentative, exhaustingly dry, make-you-wanna-light-yourself-on-fire DULL.
I suppose I should quit but then I’d be a quitter, and I don’t like quitters. In fact no-one does. We, and by we, I mean human beings and movie-goers, are genetically programmed to like those who triumph against all odds, defeat their foes and achieve all manners of glory, traditionally after some tragic twist about an hour in.
But then again, if I dont quit I’ll probably be miserable. I can’t do miserable. My whole identity is created on the sole idea that I am positive, lucky and generally happy. In addition to this I’m not sure quitting would make me happy. Unemployment means moneyless which very quickly moves into bored and presumably miserable. So there’s something to be thankful for. Capital reward to drown out the dying whimpers of dreams once held.
Of, course, I’m being dramatic. Very, in fact. I’m bringing levels of drama, the likes of which broadway has never seen. This is all due to the fact that London adventures await me soon and all that stands between me and the big smoke is four more weeks of meaningless, average and mundane.
OK, so rant over. Feel free to find laughter from my nonsensical ramblings. All I hope for is that this isn’t used as evidence for the prosecution or read by anyone I work with. I’d probably get fired, and I have all my ‘baby-mommas’ to pay. Well not yet, but according to the internal profile I’ve constructed of my race and gender, based on american chat shows… it’s only a matter of time.