It's Not You, It's Me.
RIght around my third major cluster fuck today I realised something....I.
Really.
Hate.
Banking.
No it's more than that.
I really hate NUMBERS.
NUMBERS give me a tightening of the throat and stomach and genital regions that I only ever (formerly) reserved for being kicked in any one of those areas.
It was kind of enlightening and depressing at the same time. I can't have this as a career. I'll kill myself.
Suddenly uber uber uber sympathetic with Fefu.
Not that I wasn't before but shit am I kicking myself in the head for all the times I said, "Hey! Least you're making money!"
Which brings to that point: Least I'm making money. I'm not an idiot. ANd I'm not flagrantly spoilt either. I NEED this job. I need the money and the benefits...
I WENT TO THE DENTIST the other day, guys! THE DENTIST.
YEAH!!!
DENTIST.
WITH TEETH AND STUFF.
I like money and I like benefits. THey're nice and reassuring at the end of the say....
BUt...I need a career I can handle, a career I love.
A career that's going to pay me as well as banking.
ANd before you all snort, it don't pay that great at the level I'm at, and going higher for three or four levels...not for all the hours and exhaustion and dealing with people you have to go through.
It might explain why people are so FUCKING miserable working there.
Nothing motovates you like that slap upside the head when the thought hits you, "Oh God....this isn\t hard....I'm just not very good at it...no, no wait....it's not that I'm not good......I HATE IT. WOW. I HATE THIS JOB. I REALLY REALLY DO?! HOLY CRAP FUCK THE WHAT."
*sigh* SO I'm applying for a few things....mostly writing things....part time, on the side but might lead to bigger things. They pay.....I can't do shit that doesn't pay anymore, I've decided....
Send off an e-mail 'poke' to a new angecy too. I'm not sure I'm ready to take on that world of sleeze again but...I wanted one last try too.
My parents sat me down and talked with me tonight about how maybe I'm not doing so great at work because I'\m exhausted and I should stop maytbe working out a little....
I wanted to kill them.
It actually made me horrendously angery.
That is SO their logic.
Yes. Give up MORE things you do for yourself for the job you already detest. That'll make EEEEVERYTHING better.
You know what, fuck that noise. If the bank wants to get rid of me, they can do it. I'm NOT leaving of my own accord though. At the same time, it's just my job. That's it. It's a job. My life won't stop at that.
I'll sleep when I'm dead bitches.
I'll sleep when I'm dead.
P.S. Band changed name again to BOONE HELM...Google him....he's awesome scary. He's a dude from the old west who was so badass crazy he scarred the living daylights out of all the other gangsters, including Butch Kassidy and the Sundance kid, Jesse James and others. Maybe it had something to do with the fast that he wouldn't hesitate to kill you if you looked at him wrong....AND THEN EAT YOU.
We auditioned a Bassist last sunday. He's in...it's pretty sweet. I love this thing. It's the light of my life right now. It's the one thing soaring without much of a push from me.
Really.
Hate.
Banking.
No it's more than that.
I really hate NUMBERS.
NUMBERS give me a tightening of the throat and stomach and genital regions that I only ever (formerly) reserved for being kicked in any one of those areas.
It was kind of enlightening and depressing at the same time. I can't have this as a career. I'll kill myself.
Suddenly uber uber uber sympathetic with Fefu.
Not that I wasn't before but shit am I kicking myself in the head for all the times I said, "Hey! Least you're making money!"
Which brings to that point: Least I'm making money. I'm not an idiot. ANd I'm not flagrantly spoilt either. I NEED this job. I need the money and the benefits...
I WENT TO THE DENTIST the other day, guys! THE DENTIST.
YEAH!!!
DENTIST.
WITH TEETH AND STUFF.
I like money and I like benefits. THey're nice and reassuring at the end of the say....
BUt...I need a career I can handle, a career I love.
A career that's going to pay me as well as banking.
ANd before you all snort, it don't pay that great at the level I'm at, and going higher for three or four levels...not for all the hours and exhaustion and dealing with people you have to go through.
It might explain why people are so FUCKING miserable working there.
Nothing motovates you like that slap upside the head when the thought hits you, "Oh God....this isn\t hard....I'm just not very good at it...no, no wait....it's not that I'm not good......I HATE IT. WOW. I HATE THIS JOB. I REALLY REALLY DO?! HOLY CRAP FUCK THE WHAT."
*sigh* SO I'm applying for a few things....mostly writing things....part time, on the side but might lead to bigger things. They pay.....I can't do shit that doesn't pay anymore, I've decided....
Send off an e-mail 'poke' to a new angecy too. I'm not sure I'm ready to take on that world of sleeze again but...I wanted one last try too.
My parents sat me down and talked with me tonight about how maybe I'm not doing so great at work because I'\m exhausted and I should stop maytbe working out a little....
I wanted to kill them.
It actually made me horrendously angery.
That is SO their logic.
Yes. Give up MORE things you do for yourself for the job you already detest. That'll make EEEEVERYTHING better.
You know what, fuck that noise. If the bank wants to get rid of me, they can do it. I'm NOT leaving of my own accord though. At the same time, it's just my job. That's it. It's a job. My life won't stop at that.
I'll sleep when I'm dead bitches.
I'll sleep when I'm dead.
P.S. Band changed name again to BOONE HELM...Google him....he's awesome scary. He's a dude from the old west who was so badass crazy he scarred the living daylights out of all the other gangsters, including Butch Kassidy and the Sundance kid, Jesse James and others. Maybe it had something to do with the fast that he wouldn't hesitate to kill you if you looked at him wrong....AND THEN EAT YOU.
We auditioned a Bassist last sunday. He's in...it's pretty sweet. I love this thing. It's the light of my life right now. It's the one thing soaring without much of a push from me.