soo..in a vain attempt at trying NOT to be all depressy...
I've opted for sillyness.
but i've been running on that for the past hour so it s just about burnt out by now...
So now i'm moved on to the bluntly critical portion of this evenings entertainment.
The topic at hand,
"What the hell do I want to do with my live and why the %Y&*^&$(& is my elbow sticky?!"
Oh please, it's nothing all that naughty trust me... dirty minds, all of you!
I just stuck my elbow in a bowl of peaches. no biggie. mmmm don't ask.
I'm just stalling now aren't I?
*sighs* ok.
The basic fact of it is, that I thought I wanted to be in the hotel bussiness and you know what. I don't. I just don't. it's an ok job the people are nice and I can pay my bills. barely, but I can pay them. I'm not horridly behind in anything. The company is wonderful... I can't even begin to tell you what their doing for the flood victims of Katerina...
But i don't get excited about going in. I don't think of work and want to go.
I like my co-workers... but I don't enjoy the work. I don't enjoy working with the public.
I HATE the public! I hate the complaints, I hate the bills, I hate standing up for 8 hours a day. I hate having to talk to them at all. I came to this realization while training Janice the other day. I, no shitting you, talked for 6 hours straight I was horse by the end of the day, and when I wasn't talking she was. I had the migrane from hell. not even funny. I was gonna kill the poor woman and she diden't even do anything wrong *sighs*
I don't know what to do. I just don't.
I have a very short attention span. I'm no good with repedative work.
I get bored easily. I start projects with gusto, but if they last more than a couple of months I want to bang my head on my desk until it cracks open and I bleed to death. I LIKE working under pressure. I must be nuts right? I'm artistically inclined, I love sclupting.... but being a sculpter pays diddly and all my stuff is abstract anyways... can't pay bills with that.
I don't know...
I'm certainly open for suggestions.
But I think I'm kind of a lost cause.
but i've been running on that for the past hour so it s just about burnt out by now...
So now i'm moved on to the bluntly critical portion of this evenings entertainment.
The topic at hand,
"What the hell do I want to do with my live and why the %Y&*^&$(& is my elbow sticky?!"
Oh please, it's nothing all that naughty trust me... dirty minds, all of you!
I just stuck my elbow in a bowl of peaches. no biggie. mmmm don't ask.
I'm just stalling now aren't I?
*sighs* ok.
The basic fact of it is, that I thought I wanted to be in the hotel bussiness and you know what. I don't. I just don't. it's an ok job the people are nice and I can pay my bills. barely, but I can pay them. I'm not horridly behind in anything. The company is wonderful... I can't even begin to tell you what their doing for the flood victims of Katerina...
But i don't get excited about going in. I don't think of work and want to go.
I like my co-workers... but I don't enjoy the work. I don't enjoy working with the public.
I HATE the public! I hate the complaints, I hate the bills, I hate standing up for 8 hours a day. I hate having to talk to them at all. I came to this realization while training Janice the other day. I, no shitting you, talked for 6 hours straight I was horse by the end of the day, and when I wasn't talking she was. I had the migrane from hell. not even funny. I was gonna kill the poor woman and she diden't even do anything wrong *sighs*
I don't know what to do. I just don't.
I have a very short attention span. I'm no good with repedative work.
I get bored easily. I start projects with gusto, but if they last more than a couple of months I want to bang my head on my desk until it cracks open and I bleed to death. I LIKE working under pressure. I must be nuts right? I'm artistically inclined, I love sclupting.... but being a sculpter pays diddly and all my stuff is abstract anyways... can't pay bills with that.
I don't know...
I'm certainly open for suggestions.
But I think I'm kind of a lost cause.