Incognitus.
Here's a factor about my job that I'm strangely proud of. Not one of my coworkers knows a correct personal fact about me. In the event that everyone is actually standing around talking, I generally don't say anything that contributes to the forward momentum of a conversation. I'd rather just make cracks about this or that. No one knows where I'm from, where I live now, anything related to my current status in life, really. Normally I would politely divulge information, but frankly I don't think I like any of these people, and due to the relentless reminder at every staff meeting we have that this position is only temporary, I don't really feel the need to, since none of us will ever see each other again anyway. Which I'm particularly thankful for with the woman who sits in the cube in front of me. I know way more about her personal life than I ever wanted to know. I have to hear about her damn kids, her damn boyfriend, her damn physical therapy because of a car accident I'm pretty sure she's milking for everything it's worth. Since it allows her to miss work and adjust her schedule whenever she wants. Aaaaaaand I'm not going to talk about my job anymore. Because I can't stand the idea that it's what I do all day everyday for 40 hours a week. I'm sorry. Every prudent thought I have goes into some other folder to be filed away for later use or creative use, and I don't really have anything to say in here anymore. My nerves randomly seem to be getting the best of me and I have a constant awareness of the position of my jaw. Last night my apartment building cut down all the trees next to the parking lot so now we have a clear view of the railroad tracks and the abandoned tower behind the building. If I were crazy I would think that Dracula lives in there and my building is full of the superstitious peasants that say "I can go no further." And I say, fuck you, you idiot peasant, keep grinding your wheat. |
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