|Potential has an Expiration Date.
||[Sep. 25th, 2008[Snapshot Taken]01:34 pm]
It’s a very, very slow Thursday at work. The entry I wanted to post was lost somewhere in the transition from work to home—on a thumbdrive, or something smaller than a micro-chip. A very small droplet. |
The boss is away from town. Our secretary is asleep, except for when she wants to yell and me and my associate. You can set your clock by what she’s doing at all times of the day. In a few minutes, she’ll be wheeling herself from her front table (very scarcely decorated with whatever she believes she’s identified herself with in this miserable life of hers)…a small postcard of a Japanese Kabuki, a child that is not hers…and loads of our files that are either defunct, or that are being withheld from us, because the boss has to see it first.
Yeah, I felt sorry for her for about a minute, and then after criticizing and berating me for putting my post-it notes in the wrong spot, or billing for “letters” instead of “correspondence” or some such banal insignificance, I quickly grew weary of her. We don’t speak except when I have to tell her the mandatory “good morning,” otherwise she takes this as the greatest rebuke. Not as if it helps…no matter how much I try and perfect my job, she will not grow to like me. She resents her life too much to feel any sort of camaraderie unless it is for her own benefit.
I guess that all the stuff I’ve been doing for the past year (more thoroughly explained in the lost post which I promise to search for) has been keeping me away from my thoughts…literally. I’ve quieted them down so that I could focus on matters that would produce MONEY. That’s the trouble. I am not a very superficial girl, although I love clothes. But money = food, stability, vacations…
( Slave to be FreeCollapse )