Well, I been gone awhile, struggling through some shyte, and I'm really only kind of half way here right now, but I thought I'd share some thoughts on that ubiquitous (however you freakin' spell it) thing call "work."
Today I started my first "real" job in four years. No, wait...what I was doing before was 'real' it just wasn't 'steady.'
Anyhoo, bottom line: for the first time in four years, I am getting up in the morning, dressing in actual clothing, getting into my car, braving rush hour traffic, and dealing with real, breathing, other people for 8+ hours in an 'office' environment, instead of essentially working about 18--20 hours a day, all hours, in my pajamas, being my own IT person, stressing over (and killing myself to meet) deadlines, while dealing with--let's be real: CRAZY clients--who don't want to pay, and who often couldn't pay on time for their web sites and graphic design projects.
I'm exhausted. And I don't know if I can do this again. The job is WAY more complicate-y than I anticipated.
But! It's a temp job (at a HUGE world-wide telecom corp) and so there is the possibility of moving over to the graphic design or web department down the line. The original contract is for 6 months, and one can do ANYthing for 6 months, even if one hates it. And I don't hate it, yet (first day, after all--I'm just shell-shocked).
I've always been weird with jobs. Something about the office environment/"corporate America"/admin-type jobs has felt really and truly and super-soul-suck-y to me.
Like, if I'm not saving the world or being creative, then I'm wasting my time. Which is ridick, really.
Oh, anyway. It's 9:15 p.m., and I'm totally ready for bed. But I'm not. But I am, and I'm brain-dead, and so off I go.
'Night, all 
