Friday, May 20, 2011

Ugly Reality Wreck

I am so irritated right now and I may stab myself with a paper clip. Guess I am not that mad- or I would of picked scissors. Does anyone else have a job that is perfectly ok but once you log into your computer and start working the fucking clock slows down to the speed of a turtle walking  to a slaughter house? Backwards. Anyone? I swear- once I wake up, time is moving so fast that I nearly have a damn stroke trying to make coffee, shower, shave, blow dry, iron, hot roller, hair, make up, dress and get the hell to work. But I get here and the time. Just. Sloooowwwss. Down.

I know what it is- I need to break up with work. Work is not meeting my needs. It's perfectly fine. Nice people, good pay, excellent hours. I have little supervision (jokes on them!) and pretty much come and go as I please. Plus free coffee. Can't beat free coffee. But don't ask about that to the last idiot guy that assumed it was my job to make the coffee. Clueless walked to my desk to ask me to make some for him because one carafe wasn't the flavor he likes and the other was not hot enough. Uh oh- I see an epic butt hurt coming that guys way....I'm sorry Ass Hat, just because I have boobies doesn't mean I am the designated work wife for you. Do I ask you to carry my papers, fix my chair or tell me I am pretty. No, I do not. So let me drag your lazy neanderthal man ass to the kitchen and show you how to push a button for fresh coffee. One. Fucking. Button. I bet he doesn't like the free coffee anymore. I haven't seen him in a while. Must be in a storage closet crying to his mommy on the phone. Ass. 

But, it's not what I want to do for a living. I want to write full time. Is that just an ugly reality vs. dream train wreck that I can only watch but not participate in? I have crap to say and two books to finish. The Girl is graduating next week which frees me to live on noodles and wine until I can sell a book. I don't want to sound like I have crawled up on a cross here- but it's been 18 years of breathing, eating, doing all for her. Working as an Executive Assistant instead of being a lawyer, writer or traveling- because a kid requires steady income, health benefits and weekends off. That's what good moms do- I think- suck it up and drive on to ensure the kid can have a clear path to her dreams. But more about that on next Friday's post. I want my turn now. I have enough shoes to stay fabulous until I make a little change. So why not. Why not just blow this popsicle joint and take a big leap of crazy and pursue my dreams. That's what I do all day anyway - except this job gig and all of the tasks I complete in case you're reading this Mr. Supervisor. I think up things to write, find interesting topics, work on my book out lines, look for funny shit to share with you and maybe shop. Ok I do shop. That'll have to come to a screeching halt. I am oddly ok with that if it means I can sit in the sun with my laptop and write until the battery dies or my drink needs to be refilled. Is that too selfish? Can I be me now?

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