An aspiring writer looking to end this crippling writer's block by jotting down ANYTHING that comes to mind, no matter how terrible it might be. Old handles: FXffects, Kesshi Mashin, aznfxffects
// Musical versatility is always a plus. Jazzy infusions doubly so. Really feeling Scanty Blues, the debut track from Meg in 2002. Such a chill song...\\
Is it somewhat bad that I'm happy management's cutting my hours back slightly? In order to avoid having to give me full-time status (and therefore pay me more and give me benefits that come with FT), management has decided to scale back both mine and my co-workers' hours back down to just below the minimum for FT, keeping us part-time. While the loss of money will be painful, I'm hoping I can at least get my Friday nights back again. :3
// For some strange reason, the acoustic version always sounds better to me. Maybe because it sounds realer to me, more emotional since they stripped away all the frills. All that's left is the heart and soul of the song. No fuss, no muss, no distractions. \\
So I went out on a limb today, decided to test the waters and see what would happen. Heh, I suppose I should have known she'd be spoken for. Wishful thinking, Kess, wishful thinking. Love life = dead on arrival. At least I managed to figure it out without being blatantly obvious about my intentions. Sneaky... =.=;;
This job's chipping away at me. It's not the fact that it's hard, that it's boring, or that it pays shit, although those do contribute to the weariness. I just... it's not what I want to do, and that might come off as childish, but fuck it. Even when I was a janitor, that job didn't wear on me like this one those. It was my first job, and it was a hard job, and I was proud of it, proud of the effort it made me exert. This job though... I can't accurately describe how it makes me feel... I just feel so... numb? inside.
On the train ride home one night after work, I spent nearly half an hour just staring blankly into space. No thoughts flitted through my mind, no music was pumping through my headphones, I wasn't dozing off. I just sat there and stared, and didn't realize what I was doing until I was nearly home. Seven months have come and gone, and all I have to show for it are coffee stains on my shirts and a pittance on every paycheck stub.
I know I don't have it that bad, and that makes the situation all the more frustrating, because I feel like a douche for complaining, but I feel like if I don't vent some of this frustration that it'll eat me up inside.
Whatever, enough whining for now...
Dreaming that you came to work early and decided to take a nap on the breakroom couch, only to awaken to your manager calling you, saying you're over an hour late.... it's a shitty feeling. Even moreso because, somewhere deep inside, your brain knew what time it was and decided to fuck with you a little.
