Tuesday, March 04, 2014

Kill Me

I am so hot that I want to die.  The largest downside to visiting my mother is that Donny insists on keeping the house above 75 degrees in the winter. It is 81.5 right now. I am in a tank top and loose yoga pants and lying in a pool of sweat. He's about to be under a fleece blanket while wearing two pairs of socks, sweat pants, T-shirt, sweat shirt.

Also, if he keeps bitching about technology and cell phones and how they're ruining the world, I'm gonna slap a ho.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

I Don't Care

Here we are, nearly eight months since my last post. No one cares anymore. And that's ok. Because I care. Well, not really...to be honest, I don't care. I don't care what I write about. I don't care if people read it and get angry in an immature manner like in the past.

Yeah, I Don't Care.

So, now that that's out of the way. Rant time!

Every time I wake up and have to go to work, I consider taking a bottle of pills and slitting my wrists and jumping in front of a semi. I just can't handle it anymore. If I could walk in to work and just do my thing and go home, I would be fine. But I walk in, and the rules have changed since yesterday, but no one sent me the memo. Sometimes I work in one department, sometimes another. And while I'm in dept. A, something happens in dept. B that no one thinks is important to inform me of, so when I go into dept. B, I fuck something up or I accidentally tell someone we can do something without knowing that machines are broken, etc.

And how about I've called off three times in four years: 1) trapped in a foreign country due to flight cancellation, 2) food poisoning by a neighbor, and 3) sinus death. But some people call off multiple times in a week, and it feels like all that can happen is that people bitch about it. No consequences or anything. But if others call off, the guilt trip from hell comes out. It's basically a daily struggle for me to decide if the measly paycheck is worth it. (no, probably not) But I feel like after four years of dedication, I can't just walk away. (i wish i didn't think this way) 

While I'm on the topic of how long I've worked there: I currently only make 40 cents more than a fucktard that has been working there for a few months. This must be why they don't want people to know how much others make. Whatever, cut my hours from 38 to 24 and expect me to still be dedicated to a company that doesn't give two shits about whether its employees can afford the gas to get to work? Not happenin' anymore, sorry. And why should I go in and give 100% when the total of the rest of the people there on a given day is only 75%?

Why do I keep asking so many answerless questions? Sigh, because I have ridiculous cognitive dissonance about my life. And I suppose they aren't really answerless:
"You should give 100% because that's what sets you apart from the others!"
Except no one actually gives a fuck, and without any recognition, there's no point in exerting myself. There are no repercussions for only giving 80% or even 10%, and there's no positive reinforcement for doing more than is expected. I just feel like everything I do is pointless.

And then there's the ridiculousness of my outside of work life. Which I can't even sum up in a few short paragraphs like the above job rant. That's a whole other five book saga. The shortest version I could come up with is:

I am surrounded by fruit loops.

And when you put all of the above into my tiny little brain, you understand why I have to plan a vacation to Hawai'i 400 days in advance. Because I need something to look forward to that isn't putting on my stupid uniform and pasting on a fake smile and pretending to give a fuck.  I don't even want to come back from Hawai'i. I wanna run away. Dammit.