Out Of The Frying Pan, Into The Fire

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I used to think that I hated my job.

But I realize how good I had it. I would try to get fired and it wouldn't work.

I have, thus far, survived at my job because I ignore the fact that I hate it. But I can't ignore it anymore. The annoyance of my old job seems trivial compared to the things I put up with now.

Last night, I laid on the couch and cried. Because I hate my job that much. And I am very angry with myself for doing that. I identified the sad loathing of my spirit. I finially labeled it. I can't avoid it any longer.

But it doesn't help.

I've properly identified my emotions and now I feel like properly flinging myself over a sharp stick. Or properly jumping off a cliff.

I haven't felt this kind of sadness or loathing in awhile. Why couldn't it have just stayed buried?

I am not happy.

I am angry.

I want to go home.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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