Cattitude

Today, I told my husband I wanted to write something fictional, but that I feel like I have no motivation.

Work has been leaving me feeling tired and empty headed. I feel like lately all of my energy is sucked up into pretending I’m happy about working somewhere that forces me to give every ounce of myself to them.It doesn’t help that I get a feeling that the company I work for can’t make up it’s mind.

Every day is like running an obstacle course.

“Train the employees, they need to know how to do what you do.”

“No wait, don’t do that, they are bad at doing what you do, and are taking time to learn. Do what you do normally. Stop training them.”

“Our numbers are bad, we need to get these new projects done, go do them now.”

“Our other projects aren’t getting done, do those instead.”

Etc and so forth.

This brings me back to my writers block, and my attempts to cure it. IE, writing a lot of the time, writing about anything that comes into my head, writing about real life, and slightly fake life.

Still nothing so far, but we’ll see.

In any case my husband recommended I write something about our cat, though he said that anything I write would most likely be closer to truth than fiction.

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Sleep

I feel completely wiped out, even three days later, and a part of me wonders if that’s less to do with all the walking and more to do with the fact that there were so many people.

Way more people than I anticipated.  What ever happened to people going away for the holiday? They should go off to the beach, or go to barbecues, not hang out in a museum.

I’m sorry, that’s selfish of me.

I used to have dreams that I would be able to walk through places that were completely empty and just enjoy myself. Read all the books I wanted, see all the sights.

My favorite episode of the Twilight Zone is “Time Enough at Last”.  My husband never believed that I usually cried at the end, until the first year that we watched it together.

I think I over relate to a man breaking his glasses and not being able to enjoy what freedoms he has when there’s no one else around. Then again, no one around forever would probably make me super bored. I mean there’s only so much you can do by yourself.

Plus, I own a bunch of board games, to have no one to play them with? Totally crazy.

Sweeps

Today, one of my coworkers showed me some of her brand of stress related crazy.

She draws out boxes in intervals of time, and makes them smaller and smaller the longer time goes on. She said it helps her relax and count down how much longer she has until she gets to go home.

I decided to share mine, I mean I figured since she’d decided to share something so personal with me it was only fair that I do the same. I would assume that that was the sort of response you’re supposed to give?

I’m not really sure because I don’t think I’m doing too well at the whole ‘being social at work’ thing.

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No Ragrets

I don’t regret many things in my life.

I honestly do think that every single action and event and decision we choose or don’t choose to make in life leads to the point and person that we are at any given moment in time. Me taking the time to actually write these words are somehow influencing my perspective as a person. And anyone who reads it, and anyone who interacts with anyone who reads it, etc. Trippy idea, right?

Life isn’t something to be wasted sitting around sighing about what we should have done, or could have done. It’s about using what we have done, to influence our future, potentially for the better, maybe not. I mean it’s your life.

Even though I have accepted this idea as truth in my life, even though I fundamentally know that if I were to somehow go back and change things I would be a completely different person, I can’t help but feel a bit sore about one aspect of myself.

I regret that I have spent, and probably will spend so much of my life afraid of failure.

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Down Time

A couple of weeks ago at work, we had a power outage in our building, and today our phone lines went down for a couple of hours. It may be that we work in an old building, but one of my coworkers joked about how I was the person most likely to have done both intentionally.

People sometimes joke that they could see me being a serial killer.

I’m beginning to sense a theme here.

Anyway, here’s some fiction stuff I wrote about that.

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Baby Steps

During the viewing, my grandmother talked a lot about her bracelet. It’s a lovely yellow gold, and diamond tennis bracelet. Her mother wanted it to go to her sister, but my grandmother decided to be a spiteful bitch and not give it to her because her sister never tried to see her mother when she was living with my grandma and grandpa. My grandma said she paid her dues, and her sister never did, so she figured she was owed it.

I can get behind that grandma, I’m kind of a spiteful bitch too.

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