(no subject)
Last night I was completely convinced that I had another day off. This wasn't one of those things where it was a fleeting fancy, I actually started planning for what I would do the next day, what chores I would get done, spend some time memorizing my monologue, maybe get some video game action in there somewhere. It was shaping up to be a wonderful day. I was even planning on walking down to fourth street and getting myself some breakfast at the Aroma Cafe, they have good breakfasts on weekends. I was even chatting with friends online about what I was going to to, so happy I was about the concept of a day off.
I was actually getting into bed with a smile on my face when I realized what day it really was, and that I had to go to work today. I know I've been more depressed over greater things in the past, but right now, that was almost enough to make me cry. Instead I just said fuck really loudly and kicked something hard, causing a slight pain in my left big toe.
Now I look and see these architects coming in the door looking saddened that it's a Monday, but underneath that facade, I know at least they enjoyed part, if not all, of their weekend. They don't spend all of their free time doing what they love. They do what they enjoy for a living. Even though they're mostly soulless people, they still do enjoy what they do, and come in, working much more than 40 hours a week to do their art.
In a perfect world I would act full time for a normal wage. Of course that's not going to happen anytime soon. I envy these souless creatures who walk through the doors on this fine day. They at least are doing what they enjoy, or at the very least are indifferent to. My scale of emotions here ranges from hatred to apathy. In a way the numbness isn't terrible, it keeps the loathing at bay, although today my blessed apathy is harder to grasp, like something right out of reach. In the meantime, I'll be cranky.
Alright, might as well make myself useful and learn this monologue.