The Vault
- April 2004
- May 2004
- June 2004
- July 2004
- August 2004
- September 2004
- October 2004
- November 2004
- December 2004
- January 2005
- February 2005
- March 2005
- April 2005
- May 2005
- June 2005
- July 2005
- August 2005
- October 2005
- November 2005
- December 2005
- January 2006
- December 2006
- January 2007
- February 2007
- March 2007
- April 2007
- November 2007
Refuge for the rational.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Not So Triumphant Return
I'm not even going to look at when my last post was. It would be far too depressing. I was supposed to be free by now, I was supposed to be relaxed and enjoying myself but I haven't even had a chance to spend any time inside my own head or with myself.
Today at work I spent a lot of time trying to look very busy when I was anything but. I don't think anyone would care if I weren't busy, but I would feel slightly paranoid and guilty if I didn't at least expend some kind of effort in some area or another. So, I had to pretend to look busy. The reason for this is that the internet in the office was down again. I have probably lost half of my week so far to the fucking internet being down. So, like responsible business people, head office sent down an incompetent quack who spent the day grunting various commands at us and occupying the personal space located above our shoulders.
Dealing with customers takes up a lot of time and this is the only reason I'm fond of them. I usually have to turn my brain on auto-pilot when dealing with them though, and at times I think I'm at risk of falling into an intense daydream or just slumping over my desk and passing out. I'm not sure why, but most of my clients seem to fit a very specific profile. Today for example, I sold a cell phone to a fat lady with a really red face who was so obnoxiously loud and boisterous she did the talking for the three of us in the room. It was all I could do to keep up with her in my flacid mental state. It's interesting that in the age of Dr. Phil, a revered and respected idiot doctor, people still don't know how to listen. Every sentence I began was interrupted with a long-winded explanation that I was already aware of. You will be surprised to hear that I was entirely ok with this. It wasted an entire hour and forty-five minutes that would have otherwise been wasted with unproductive faking. It's funny how much more tiring it is to try to be busy that to just be busy. I was ok with the customer herself, it was really the situation that got me down. It's terribly depressing to imagine people wanting time to pass, wanting to get older, living for the weekend that never seems to come and always leaves too quickly. I've learned my lesson and tomorrow when the internet dies on me yet again, I will try to achieve finishing a book rather than pretending to do things.
My new house isn't much better. I'm finding myself too tired to get things done when I get home and even though the improvements thus far are incredible, it seems like every time I turn around there is something that just makes me doubt continuing with it. At two in the morning yesterday the jackass skate punks who live next door decided it was time for band practice. I spent the first twenty minutes trying to hold onto the half-slumber I had attained, breathing slowly and deeply and just trying to remain calm. Then I decided that it wasn't worth it and fumed as I called the cops. Then I tried to sleep again, but didn't achieve this until two hours later when the cops either showed up or the little hardcore fuckers decided it was time to smoke more pot. I believe this incident is responsible for my mood right now.
So, it's been awhile and I do regret that my come-back tour had to begin with whining. And, as I don't hear any bad music coming from next door, I will take my leave and get ahead of them.
Today at work I spent a lot of time trying to look very busy when I was anything but. I don't think anyone would care if I weren't busy, but I would feel slightly paranoid and guilty if I didn't at least expend some kind of effort in some area or another. So, I had to pretend to look busy. The reason for this is that the internet in the office was down again. I have probably lost half of my week so far to the fucking internet being down. So, like responsible business people, head office sent down an incompetent quack who spent the day grunting various commands at us and occupying the personal space located above our shoulders.
Dealing with customers takes up a lot of time and this is the only reason I'm fond of them. I usually have to turn my brain on auto-pilot when dealing with them though, and at times I think I'm at risk of falling into an intense daydream or just slumping over my desk and passing out. I'm not sure why, but most of my clients seem to fit a very specific profile. Today for example, I sold a cell phone to a fat lady with a really red face who was so obnoxiously loud and boisterous she did the talking for the three of us in the room. It was all I could do to keep up with her in my flacid mental state. It's interesting that in the age of Dr. Phil, a revered and respected idiot doctor, people still don't know how to listen. Every sentence I began was interrupted with a long-winded explanation that I was already aware of. You will be surprised to hear that I was entirely ok with this. It wasted an entire hour and forty-five minutes that would have otherwise been wasted with unproductive faking. It's funny how much more tiring it is to try to be busy that to just be busy. I was ok with the customer herself, it was really the situation that got me down. It's terribly depressing to imagine people wanting time to pass, wanting to get older, living for the weekend that never seems to come and always leaves too quickly. I've learned my lesson and tomorrow when the internet dies on me yet again, I will try to achieve finishing a book rather than pretending to do things.
My new house isn't much better. I'm finding myself too tired to get things done when I get home and even though the improvements thus far are incredible, it seems like every time I turn around there is something that just makes me doubt continuing with it. At two in the morning yesterday the jackass skate punks who live next door decided it was time for band practice. I spent the first twenty minutes trying to hold onto the half-slumber I had attained, breathing slowly and deeply and just trying to remain calm. Then I decided that it wasn't worth it and fumed as I called the cops. Then I tried to sleep again, but didn't achieve this until two hours later when the cops either showed up or the little hardcore fuckers decided it was time to smoke more pot. I believe this incident is responsible for my mood right now.
So, it's been awhile and I do regret that my come-back tour had to begin with whining. And, as I don't hear any bad music coming from next door, I will take my leave and get ahead of them.
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