Hey, look, a real update.

“HELP me i feel really tired of living” is one of the top searches people do to end up finding my site, thus the title of this entry.

I am not, personally, tired of living. I am sitting in an air conditioned office–ow, mother fuck, this chair is comfortable but the lady I am sitting in for sits in one spot and one spot only, so the plastic is caved in and the chair gets stuck in this spot that is an uncomfortable distance from the computer for me, and whenever I try to move it around I end up smacking my elbow on the metal bar supporting the back. It hurts a lot. I have bony, pointy elbows.

But they are paying me good money to sub for her for two weeks, starting next week, and I managed to train the entire computer system and how to run the whole office by myself in a week. If they don’t keep me when she comes back (trying to not look forward to the idea of this being a real job, I am) at least I have one helluva recommendation because everyone here is like, “OMFG, how did you learn this shit so fast?” and I say, “I DON’T KNOW, MUST BE THE DRUGS.”

That’s a joke.

I was talking to Robert about it, because he works in the warehouse, and he keeps ramming the forklift into shit because “forklifts are a lot harder to drive than they look and I tried to go into it all confident but you can’t.” I told him, I don’t do anything unless I am 100% certain, if I am unclear as to whether I should push a button, even if the consequences of pushing said button incorrectly could be minor, I am going to ask.

I said that the only time I seem to be humble is when I am figuring out how to work. I honestly have no idea how I suddenly came upon this adult-like urge and sensibility about work, and it surprises me. I was hyped about the idea of working again, but then I got all worried, because I remembered that I was miserable working and I didn’t like it, but there I am, sitting here, writing a post on my website instead of… Oh, wait, there isn’t anything else I could be doing right now.

But when there is, I do it. When I run out of shit to do, I find other projects to work on. The internet here is slow-ass DSL and running Pandora and doing even just email is a pain in my ass.

Augh, more orders coming in, be right back.

Part of me is worried that I am becoming a work-a-holic (it’s been two weeks, man, what are you stressing about!) to cover up the gaping void in my chest left by the absence of females, but I guess, when I really think about it instead of just worry about it, that I guess that’s better.

It only took a few days of real true separation, the non-speaking kind, to give me back that feeling I get when I talk to a girl and we flirt, just being able to have that feeling, the head-lightness and the wow of getting along with someone, is really nice. I can’t even imagine trying to, well, I don’t know.

If some girls comes along and says, hey, you, c’mere, I guess I’ll get over this feeling I have that it would be dumb to fall in with some girl, but at this point I feel like I know what I need and I know what I’m worth. Having a job makes me feel like I am actually worth something. Everyone would say, “You’re going to school! You’re actually doing something!” and I would say, “Yeah, but what’s it worth? What’s anything…” I just felt like crap, and I didn’t really realize it until I got this job and immediately felt so much better about myself.

Who would have thought that productivity equals confidence and self-esteem?

I miss my hair, I wish I hadn’t shaved my head about as much as I am glad that I did. Everyone says it looks better but sometimes I see myself in angles in a mirror and I’m just like, “Fuck, what the fuck.” A girl told me that I look “sharper” and “cleaner” with a shaved head, as if that is a positive thing, and that she liked it better, but she was attracted to me so what kind of taste did that bitch have?

I like being scruffy, it feels better, but, whatever. I got this sweet job, right?

Man, this woman has a mouse pad from her son’s soccer team, with her son on it. Why people insist on putting their mouse on pictures of people is beyond me.

“I wish I had a woman I could disappear inside of for an hour or two,” is the theme for this week, when I get off of work and all I wanna do is chill the fuck out.

Tonight Trista, Robert, and I are going to see Burning Brides, a hard-rock band similar to Local H but not as anthem-istic. Neither of us are going to get much sleep before work tomorrow, but it’s payday!

Only when I really stop to think about it do I feel utterly miserable.

The End.