7:00am, Tuesday, August 10th Wake up. Where am I? Where’s that damn alarm? Wait. There is no alarm. FUCK! WHAT TIME IS IT? I overslept, I slept through my alarm again, ohfuckohfuckohfuck. What am I gonna tell the boss? “Yeah, sry… there was a wreck on the interstate. I got a flat tire. I was
Category: Who Am I?
I’m stuck… …in a dead-end, low-paying, unskilled office labor job. Frankly, the job is beneath me. That’s not me being uppity—even though I have a ridiculously high IQ, 5+ years of experience as a programs manager, and a god-damned Ph.D.—the job is beneath all of my seven co-workers as well (well, almost all of them).
25 April, 2010. I started a bonsai garden this weekend. It’s not really a garden, just a collection of five or six plants taken from a single japanese boxwood shrubbery with the intent of training to grow as bonsai. It was originally going to be a kind of meditation for me—slowly watching the plant grow,
Run Program. Maybe. In Freud’s time, the most advance technology was the steam-engine, so, naturally, he analyzed the human mind as if it were like a steam engine… people needing to “blow off steam,” things getting “bottled up until they explode,” our desires needing a “governor,” etc. More recently, with the advancement of computer technology,
My house looks like a disaster… …some unholy cross between episodes of Hoarders, Cops, and the as-yet-unproduced Filth. We’ve been meaning to clean it, of course. Meaning to wade through the mountains of dirty socks and thrice-used underware stacked on the living room table, “to be washed”; meaning to do a walk-through of the other