Work
Neil Gaiman expresses well a concept I am intimately acquainted with: events are cowards: they don't occur singly, but instead they run in packs and leap out at you all at once. Take, for example, my job. You would think that, as a phone operator, there would be a fairly steady stream of calls throughout the day. This is not the case. I quite often will sit here for hours without a single phone call, and then out of the blue (this happened five seconds ago) six people will call at the same time. Not one after the other; no, I pick up the phone and it's still ringing. And still ringing. And still ringing. Do they coordinate this? It happens far too often to be cosmic coincidence.
This is true for most things, not just phone calls. My summer is pure insanity, due to the fact that I applied for just about every stage combat internship I had a chance of getting to, and somehow ended up getting accepted to all of them. This is a nice problem to have; however, it means that suddenly I'm taking a lot of time off of work (ie, not getting paid) and have very little time for any of the few friends I have in the area, or for my martial arts.
And then there's the bike I just bought. Probably an unwise decision for many reasons (the least of which not being my terror of permanent, debilitating injury, and my on-again, off-again pressing need to move the hell out of my parents' house), but it's done, so I'm going to have fun with it...at least until I decide to unload it. ::sigh:: I'm usually not an impulsive person, but when I am, I certainly do it in spades.
I think my job is killing my soul. This is not to say I have a soul-sucking job; that title is rightly reserved for strictly retail and food service employment...the jobs you wake up dreading, and can feel your vibrance draining every second you're working at them. Been there. No, this job (as well as my "real" job in the fall) is not a bad job. In fact, the phone op seems like a dream come true; I watch TV and surf the internet and read - anything I want, as long as I can transfer calls as they come in. But neither job does anything for me. I sit in front of a computer, or I shuffle paper around, and am generally bored. I'm far too physical a person to be truly happy at a desk, and I can feel my brain dying with every second I stare at the screen. I'm also too much of a chicken to change anything. I remind myself that these jobs are what pays for my stage combat fixation, until the day I can make money doing something I love. I just hope that day is an actual day, tucked away in the future somewhere, as opposed to up in one of those pipes I build my dreams in.
Happy birthday, Daniel.
This is true for most things, not just phone calls. My summer is pure insanity, due to the fact that I applied for just about every stage combat internship I had a chance of getting to, and somehow ended up getting accepted to all of them. This is a nice problem to have; however, it means that suddenly I'm taking a lot of time off of work (ie, not getting paid) and have very little time for any of the few friends I have in the area, or for my martial arts.
And then there's the bike I just bought. Probably an unwise decision for many reasons (the least of which not being my terror of permanent, debilitating injury, and my on-again, off-again pressing need to move the hell out of my parents' house), but it's done, so I'm going to have fun with it...at least until I decide to unload it. ::sigh:: I'm usually not an impulsive person, but when I am, I certainly do it in spades.
I think my job is killing my soul. This is not to say I have a soul-sucking job; that title is rightly reserved for strictly retail and food service employment...the jobs you wake up dreading, and can feel your vibrance draining every second you're working at them. Been there. No, this job (as well as my "real" job in the fall) is not a bad job. In fact, the phone op seems like a dream come true; I watch TV and surf the internet and read - anything I want, as long as I can transfer calls as they come in. But neither job does anything for me. I sit in front of a computer, or I shuffle paper around, and am generally bored. I'm far too physical a person to be truly happy at a desk, and I can feel my brain dying with every second I stare at the screen. I'm also too much of a chicken to change anything. I remind myself that these jobs are what pays for my stage combat fixation, until the day I can make money doing something I love. I just hope that day is an actual day, tucked away in the future somewhere, as opposed to up in one of those pipes I build my dreams in.
Happy birthday, Daniel.