(no subject)
Today has been one of those days where every little stressor just seems to add up until you're about ready to jump off a cliff. I am exhausted. I'm afraid it won't be the only hyper stressful day I'll have during these next few weeks.
In order to keep my job at the Smithsonian, I have to submit to the most obnoxious, intrusive, overwhelming background check ever conceived in the bowels of the mind of bureaucratic man. It is becoming abundantly clear to me how private a person I really am: I find this not only annoying, not only stressful and time-consuming, and pointless (I'm a FUCKING CASHIER, WHAT SECRETS AM I PRIVY TO?) but absolutely infuriating, morally repugnant. I am perfectly willing to quit my very cushy job if tomorrow morning they find some fault with my rather shoddily completed forms. I'm just constructed for this sort of thing. I have authority issues. I really chafe at even the slightest intrusions. The irony of my posting all this on a livejournal is not lost on me.
So, by tomorrow afternoon I may be out of a job. I know you are all silently tsk-tsking me. It might make you more sympathetic to my case to know that I HAVENT BEEN PAID IN 5 WEEKS. I am scraping pennies up to pay for the Metro. Ugh.
*huffpuff*
But yeah. I don't like the government, background checks, being reminded that I registered for the selective service (and being forced to cough up some idiotic number I'll never find and can't seem to get without putting in a request or making a burnt offering.)
At this point it occurs to me to say the following: I am a fucking artist!
*sniffle*
If you didn't get that last reference, See Netphoria, Forums of.
If at this point you're thinking "he's going to die penniless in the gutter," you're correct. But at least the fucking gummint won't know anything about it.
I just need to get through these next few weeks, write these last few papers, jump through these last few hoops, kiss these last few asses and then...
I dunno. I'll get drunk.
Goodnight.
In order to keep my job at the Smithsonian, I have to submit to the most obnoxious, intrusive, overwhelming background check ever conceived in the bowels of the mind of bureaucratic man. It is becoming abundantly clear to me how private a person I really am: I find this not only annoying, not only stressful and time-consuming, and pointless (I'm a FUCKING CASHIER, WHAT SECRETS AM I PRIVY TO?) but absolutely infuriating, morally repugnant. I am perfectly willing to quit my very cushy job if tomorrow morning they find some fault with my rather shoddily completed forms. I'm just constructed for this sort of thing. I have authority issues. I really chafe at even the slightest intrusions. The irony of my posting all this on a livejournal is not lost on me.
So, by tomorrow afternoon I may be out of a job. I know you are all silently tsk-tsking me. It might make you more sympathetic to my case to know that I HAVENT BEEN PAID IN 5 WEEKS. I am scraping pennies up to pay for the Metro. Ugh.
*huffpuff*
But yeah. I don't like the government, background checks, being reminded that I registered for the selective service (and being forced to cough up some idiotic number I'll never find and can't seem to get without putting in a request or making a burnt offering.)
At this point it occurs to me to say the following: I am a fucking artist!
*sniffle*
If you didn't get that last reference, See Netphoria, Forums of.
If at this point you're thinking "he's going to die penniless in the gutter," you're correct. But at least the fucking gummint won't know anything about it.
I just need to get through these next few weeks, write these last few papers, jump through these last few hoops, kiss these last few asses and then...
I dunno. I'll get drunk.
Goodnight.