Ew I feel so fucking gross today. My head hurts and I'm still on my fucking period. There I already swore twice. And I already got in trouble for swearing at work today at the front desk. Apparently somebody reported me, ugh. Plus I made four mistakes on the invoices I processed. When people bring mistakes to me that I made it's like I can't even believe I made them. It seems unreal. It's still unacceptable. Even though Misch told me that I fuck up because I'm not inspired to do my best, still I berate myself and wish it never happened. But I have to take the pills when I'm bleeding. Otherwise I will die. Plus the company seems to be definitely going out of business. Every business I work for here seems to fold and start laying off people a year or so into the job. These fucking places! What am I supposed to do? What am I going to do with my life?? I'm not good at anything real. I hate every job I can think of. I hate them so much I really can't even do them. I was a bad waitress. I'm a bad office worker. I don't want any real responsibility. I don't want real projects or real pressure. I just want to be left alone. I don't like meeting people or creating things for a business. I want to do a little perfectable task, but I can't even do them perfectly anymore or ever could. Then people get mad at me and I can't handle that. I can't have anyone dissatisfied with me, it drives me crazy and makes me cry. Plus I hate interviewing more than anything in the world. Plus I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE wearing dress up clothes. I don't have any! I can't walk in heels, not even short heels. I don't have a pants suit, much less more than one. I don't have a nice bag. I don't have a printer to print my resumes. I hate working on my resume. Everything on it, pointless stupid God I can't even describe how much I loathe fake fucking resumes. Then I have to meet with someone and ELABORATE ON IT???? It has nothing to do with me! Jobs have nothing to do with me. I just need one. Now this one is about to be over, and I didn't even do that great here. I don't even know how to describe what I did (do) here. I have to put it into bulletins on a resume and talk about it, in the pants suit and heels???? I want to fucking die, my head hurts. I just took a pill, pretty soon I'll be fucking more shit up. Why can't I have a job where I just read a book? I'm not qualified for anything else. I refuse to sell things. It makes me want to puke, just thinking about selling things. I'm willing to organize things for people and answer the phone, but I swear and my haircut is unprofessional. Once a headhunter told me to try to look more feminine, and I still had long hair then. Fuck! Goddamit what am I going to do. Why does this scare me so much, it doesn't seem to freak other people out. I can't be myself on an interview or in a job. I hate being fake, it feels so obvious and wrong. I also feel like I can't learn new things, but they always want people who already know how to do it anyway. What do I already know how to do? Nothing that is a job. I want to die today. It's a good thing Mischa doesn't care if I have money or am successful because I think I never will be. But I want to travel too! I want a house someday, or to buy a baby! But maybe I'll just be a fucking bum or jump in front of the train but I wouldn't do that because it's messy and wrong.
strangely enough, this just about encapsulates my exact feeling today. why is it that we are both so gravely jaded on this, of all days? or more striking, that the source of our gripes share a theme? that being our perceived shortcomings while in the line of duty, and our dissatisfaction with the concept of the working world in general. maybe we should move into a cabin or a temperature-controlled tent, and live off the land. id go anywhere with you. id even look forward to going to work if you were in the office. id go in early and leave little surprises on your desk. and when i could id hide under your desk and poke at you. id make you coffee and do some of your work when you didn't want to. .. for today, woe is us. for tomorrow (late night), you will be mine.
ReplyDeletehide under my desk at poke at me???? hehe i really like the sound of all this. all the domestic bliss plans sound wonderful to me .... you are simply stated the best of the best.
ReplyDeleteps. must buy a desk to put in the new mansion room called: the office.
Sometimes I wish my parents didn't know about my blog because I have days like the one you just described and all I want to do is fucking post about it for the whole goddamn world to read. For example, today. For some reason, I hate everyone today. Everyone is fucking annoying, everyone is rude, everyone seems so shallow in their fucking privileged worlds, driving in their Mercedes and Lexus SUV's and I hate how people fucking cross the street without looking. I hate how people expect ME to move out of the way when we're walking towards each other on the sidewalk. Most of the time they are white (no offense-- you are different my dear) and a lot of the time it's as though they feel they are ENTITLED to the fucking sidewalk over me, the short brown unassuming docile Oriental girl with her big ass bookbag. I never move out of the way. I refuse to. I know how you feel about resumes and jobs and the phony daily grind. It's like that in school, too. Nodding and saying what you think the professor might find impressive so you can make that stupid A. And for what? What. Nothing. Because no matter how hard you work, no matter how good you make yourself LOOK on paper, you will always be scrutinized and rejected for stupid superficial things, like how feminine you look, how badly you are at closeting your gayness, how well you fit into the boxes that make the white heteronomative patriarchal machine comfortable. Did I tell you that Ashli is going to be my TA this semester? Yeah.
ReplyDeleteOn days like that, I find it feels really good to bodycheck people. You can use your hip or your bag, but make sure they THINK you are going to move enough out of the way, then when they pass jut it out enough to knock into them hard enough to be obviously aggresive but soft enough to you can say "oh excuse me" over your shoulder and then start laughing.
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