I've learned that real life sucks and work is hard.
I don't hate my job, but it could be a lot better if I could have a conversation with someone while doing it.
I'm sitting there, hunched over my keyboard, peering at a glaring monitor reluctant to give up its secrets, and my mind is on autopilot.
I start listing random facts in my head to keep me somewhat alert, which is fairly entertaining due to my eidetic memory. (I don't forget, much like the metaphorical elephant.) I start listing the lineages of title belts from long ago, when I commited to memory all of the lineages on Masanori's puroresu site. I can tell you all fo the FMW Brass Knuckles title holders, in order, but hey, that's not really a marketable skill.
I try to think up back stories for various characters I'm trying to piece together for a series of short stories.
"Series of short stories", by the way, should read "comic books", but I need a reliable artist to deliver my tales to the masses, since I have the artistic skills of a semi-bright chimp. Any takers?
I spin entertaining domain names out, then check them at WHOIS to see if they're available. Sadly, nearly every permutation of the word "slobberknocker" is still available. I expected better.
Mostly, I listen to music, either through the miracle of LAUNCH or the quasi-majestic fury of WIndows Media Player's radio tuner. I listne to either hardcore techno or gangsta rap. They're pretty much it for keeping me awake.
I'm just glad I haven't got the NO-DOZ habit.
Maybe I should just ingest a lot of caffeine before saddling up the old office chair.
I've got a lot of time to think, since the job is so monotonous. I play "What If?" a lot, but with the way my imagination works, it's never too pleasant. What can I say, some can only see the "good" in people, but mostly I can only see the "bad". Relative terms, by the way.
Really, I'm preparing for a life of monotony.
(And let's see Adkins top this post for most depressing, once he gets back from his bountiful bevy of Bahamian beauties.)
In closing, some people have under-developed senses of humor, some people are too uptight, and "Quasi-Majestic" would make a great album title.
Party's at five instead of three. Be there or not.