nathanial1812

Well here I sit. Last nite in camp. Flying home tomorrow nite. If all goes well should land in Calgary just before midnight. Won't say more. Don't want to rub it in to Imperfectly. Her boy is still up here for a few more days. But this one's been an interesting job. Full of an incredible amount of self-doubt. That I'm good at my job is without question. But no one in the oil patch cares about how good of a job you do. How much of your life you sacrifice. You don't get rewarded for scrambling like a madman and covering several jobs in a day, regardless of the personal price paid. If you can do it, it's expected of you. If you can't, nothing gets said. So what is the point of busting your ass and sacrificing your life. Let's face it... I'm certainly not going to get rich. I'm merely a pawn that helps make already rich men richer. And when they've worn me down to where I'm no good any more, they'll bring into play the next pawn. Am I feeling sorry for myself? Your fucking rights I am. I once compared myself to a figure in a Shakespearean tragedy. Thanks to Nereid, that no longer fits. But I still feel like some wayward insignificant drunkard in a Dickens Tale, meant merely to add to the setting of an era, when in fact I want to be Pippins or hell even Tom Sawyer. I thought by firing up my own company, I could make that happen. I was wrong. All I did was add to the illusion. So now what?