|Home||About||Blogroll||But whatever you do, don't click here!|
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
I am developing a weird nervous tic. It's getting serious. I'm sure it's multiple sclerosis. For three days my left eyelid has been twitching.
After another day of screwing up at work, (very deservedly) getting scolded, taking no lunch, taking no breaks, working insane overtime, making no dent in the paper tower from my desk to Kuiper Belt, punching 9 for out on my home phone, discovering more funds mis-appropriated from my budget due to poor typing skills (the latter being the fault of others, but the responsibility of cleaning the mess being mine) - after such a day, I teeter between pure escapism or suicidal thoughts.
Tonight I am not really sure whether I should fantasize about the day my novel is published and I am handed a life-altering advance that enables me to quit working, or whether I should wallow in the thought that global warming and its attendant disasters will put me out of my misery before retirement.
Yes, fantasies are nice. Millions of people go through rough patches at work, and they hold up the Seychelles as the carrot that entices them to keep going through the motions. I do suspect that dwelling on escapist fantasies, instead of the dull nightmare of a Sisyphean existence, might make life worthwhile, yet I don't have the energy to think about the nice things or even of anything outside work. Work has all my focus.
Usually, when I can't concentrate, I make lists.
It's like a dream I once had. I must have been eight or nine. In my dream, someone handed me a Hot Wheels car and somehow I knew I had some obligation to eat it. I stuffed the car into my mouth and swallowed it. It got stuck in my throat, but I gulped it down. Then I was handed a larger toy car and I had to eat it. I managed to get this one down and I was given another, bigger car. Finally, I was given a real car, a Lambourghini. I woke up and threw up.
If I had taken the car apart, cut into small pieces, I could have eaten that Lambourghini too. It's that way with lists. You take something big and break it down into the smalled parts possible. I need to break down escapist thoughts into manageable chunks so I can start gobbling them up.
The novel fantasy:
Tonight it's something I am doing to stop thinking about work and this post-apocalyptic mindset is helping. The eyelid hasn't twitched in twenty minutes.
Damn, reached the end of my thoughts tonight. Time to dwell on my professional hopelessness again. Oh, look, it's four hours since I left work and I am still wearing my nametag. At least the cat and the hamster will always remember my name.