zenexistence

The gash on my forehead is nothing more then stitch-marks now.
Yay.
I no longer feel like a reject from a 'Rocky' movie, although I do enjoy bellowing, 'Yo, Adrian!', from time to time ...

I'm so goddamn poor.
Part of me thought that returning to a low-paying, but more satisfying job would be a romantic thing, ala the ole' rationale, "Well, I'm poor but I'm happy."
Crockashit.
I'm tired of Ramen noodles.
I'm tired of tuna fish.
I'm tired of deciding which bill to pay, as opposed to being able to pay them all.
I'm tired of not being able to go to a bar and order a decent beer, as opposed to always asking, "Err, hi, I'm a turd -- what are your cheapest specials possible? Maybe you could just wipe the bar with that cloth and wring whatever comes up into that shot glass?"
I'm tired of deciding on, "Hmm, a movie or dinner for the next three nights?"
I'm tired of being tired about monetary issues.

You know it's bad when you sip the first bit from your Michelob Light bottle and think to yourself, "Damn, that's good ... " Christ on a crutch.

I guess I'll return to the souless, corporate crap that is a Call Center environment.
The money is obscene, the benefits are obscene, the 401k is obscene.
But, the drudgery of repetitive, day-to-day sameness ... ugh.
(Editors Note - The above is quite a redundant statement, but it gets the dullness of said employment across quite nicely.)

On a positive note, I did save enough to get some Christmas presents for others, so I'm happy with that ...

Hmm, I just received a call -- on a Sunday! -- about an interview tomorrow. Hmm, I shall return this call, and update in a bit ...

Wish me luck, bastards.

-Scotty