Last year was almost a null year for me. The first 9 months of it felt like a total wash.
My dad's diagnosis was the first time I'd really cried in years. I spread my time amongst pointless endeavors. I didn't do as much comedy as I could have. I sat back when I should have sprung forward. And I have some regrets.
People who say they live with "no regrets" are usually giant a-pipes, or very boring. I have a conscience, especially when it comes to doing things that primarily screw ME over. I feel like a pretty young 31 year-old at times. But this is where I am. I'm working on this whole "progress" concept at times, realizing that, in order to do it, I can't get caught up in staring at the passing window shoppers and coffee huts. In that sense, when I feel a slow-down in the mix, I find that I get more than a little chafed.
It's the same with road rage, long lines, and being the 4th of 5 dogs leading the sled. The view never changes, I didn't ask for this, but what can I do to make it better? Well, for one, I can make it better for one other dog, at least, by keeping my business to myself, even if they have a decent view of my undercarriage. I hate to stagnate. It feels like death to me. That's one reason my job is almost unbearable. (the other reason is commonly known as "co-workers") There's no opportunity for advancement here at the big OJ Splatterberg's, my raise wouldn't cover the cost of the network space that the e-mail announcing it was sent through, and yet the dog in front of me finds it necessary to slow down the whole sled by wanting to talk about where we're going.
Turns out, it's Nowhere. I'm gnawing at my harness as we speak.
And I have found that the more I shake things up, the settling of those things is usually to my benefit. Unless it's pool, I suck at pool.
The last 3 months of last year were much better for me. I felt progression, I felt growth, I felt Mexico in my veins. Or was it dysentery? I have much more to accomplish before I'll be satisfied, and anything standing in the way of that pursuit, whatever category of Noun it may be, will meet the same fate as most of my toilet paper: It will thrown into the trees of my high school prinicipal's retirement cottage.
This place has more inside jokes than a Gyno's office. I'm leaving.
=================
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
3 comments:
OK class, who else thinks the G-man needs a way wicked Blowjob?
Don't you think you've just explained how 99.999% of the earths population feels? Even in a turd world country, some poor shmoe is probably thinking "The ol' grass hut's looking pretty stylin' and the boss at the toxic chemical plant is finally giving me the respect I deserve. I just got the ox paid off, now what I clear every month is mine, Woo-Hoo! Say, is that giant wave coming this way?..."
We ALL want respect at work and to know that our work is appreciated and meaningful. Sadly there's a quote, I can't remember the originator, that says, "Most men live lives of quiet desperation".
Some people get chopped down early by diseases that can't be pronounced or treated, or even worse, by the hand of some other petty vengeful subcreature. It's just a crap-shoot out there with no guaranties that you'll get another day (Christ, I'm starting to sound like a song by Kansas).
The only thing you can do is have as much fun as possible and help others if you're able. That's why we all like to laugh, it gives a brief feeling of elation and immortality. Unless it's Larry, The Cable Shithead.
I know you'll still hate your job at the ol' orange blotch, but at least you can always pilfer office supplies and buy the best hookers and booze that money can buy.
I guess I'm just saying that the majority of us are mid-pack sled dogs on an endless Iditarod. You just hope that the bitch in front of you has a great ass and good hygiene.
Sorry for the Dr. Phil platitudes. Screw it, let's hop in the Camaro (IROC Z28, of course) and abuse some farm animals.
I officially have the funniest, best vocabularized readership! HUZZAH!
If I were a teacher, I'd-a nailed a sophomore by now, filed it under "spot bonus." They've actually put office supplies on the LOCK DOWN. I figure a better way to keep overhead down would be, shit, I dunno... stop giving $300 pieces of kick-ass techno-bation away to teenagers for FREE. Not everyone needs the ability to talk to anyone at any time.
Anypoo, the vengeful subcreature and I are nearly one, depending on how much box-wine I mainlined at lunch. When I started at the Death Star 6+ years ago, totally jazzed. Then I saw that Management doesn't mean Leadership, and Leadership usually means "Outspoken," and that leads to having a "rep." It's not hard or cool to be cool in a school full of fools.
I love my readers, for the most part, and yo... I think I know who that was.
I guess that's why we raise families and have outside interests, because there's slim chance we'll find fulfillment at work. If you're REALLY lucky, you have a job you can stomach and co-workers you can almost tolerate. You have joy at home to make it worth the shit you have to eat at work. If you let it get to you, you end up drinking to find "clarity", or shooting heroin between your toes. I personally have amassed a massive midget porn collection. Hey, whatever floats your boat.
Post a Comment