August 7th, 2002


(no subject)

Yesterday: Boring day at the office. Moved boxes over to my mom's house, starting the transition finally. Came home, played Deus Ex on the PS2 for a bit, then Jen's mom's "bf" showed up, or whatever he is. He's not a terribly pleasant guy to spend time around, so I popped over to Jamie's for a bit. Ended up getting caught up talking with her about Life, the Universe, and Everything and didn't leave until nearly 2. Good times that should be had more often than they are. :)

Today: Work work work. Going to visit my cousin at her work this evening. Not sure what else. Probably heading home afterwards and doing some more packing.

Tomorrow: More work. Chrissy's bringing me my stickers tomorrow night. w00t!

After that, no clue. Plans have yet to be made.

the life of a zombie

data entry is not a job for everyone. you often hear about how factory workers have the most tedious job on earth because they're doing the same 5 or 7 actions all day long for 10 hours a day. imagine doing that without anyone around you in a small cube with no windows. this is the hell that is data entry. if you can't keep your brain entertained during the day, you'll become more and more drained. this isn't a terrible problem for me because my head is constantly spinning around a thousand different things. i spend days analyzing everything from myself to politics to the War on "Terra" to ideas for films to interpersonal relationships to whatever else comes to mind. i realize something new about myself everyday, or at the very least make it a goal to do so. things occur to me that i should've realized but didn't. i figure out things that i need to start doing in the name of self-improvement (yes, self-improvement is masturbation, self-improvement leads nowhere and self-destruction is the only true means of growth, blah blah blah). wishes, desires, needs, longings make themselves known to me that had previously been indecipherable. the same happens with lengthy conversation with friends, but sometimes you just don't have the disposable bodies to converse with and you're forced to talk to yourself.

these are not the sorts of things sane people should be doing. only the abnormal, the mentally hyperactive, or the delusional should do something as tedious as data entry.