If you asked me to

Actually, no, if sharkysmachine asked me to, I just might change my mind and do a meme.

( one of those pick-a-song-that-corresponds-with-something-vaguely-biographical memes )

your turn.

I must have slipped between his teeth

Sometimes I think, I don't know, maybe I'm supposed to just be working a job that provides a modicum of satisfaction, in the way that solving a long division problem is like itching a scratch in a brain, and then I just go home and do things like sit on the couch and read books and watch movies and get caught up in pop culture phenomenons on television. Maybe that's it, that's okay. That's sort of the model. Oh, I forgot, I should have one hobby. With my father it was golf. With my mother it was sewing/small crafts (usually related to textiles). I woke up today and if I was writing my own horoscope I would say "today is a 3" but I don't think horoscopes ever go below a 6, because that would just be demoralizing. I don't know why today is 3, it just is. It took everything I could, namely tricking myself into only barely getting dressed, and going all the way up to Evanston and I drove very slowly and I found parking and after 45 minutes of copying, my body just stopped working. No more. Who cares about a deadline. Nope. I can fight it a little, but not much. I got back in the car and drove home. I don't really remember my afternoon. I think I swept the living room. And watched some porn and took a shower. Then I came to work and I'm immediately bombarded with projects, I think, this is why I hate working. But it levelled out. I forget, that I'm engaging with people when it is their final hour of the day, they are rushed, they are frantic, everything is pressing, but for me, I'm just ambling up to the plate. Then I have to work with this attorney who I dislike, because he is snotty and full of himself, but whatever, it's typing, who cares. I do it. He comes back and says "you do good work" with a tone that indicates he is both surprised and impressed enough to give a compliment because he doesn't do that often. And I think yes, the plight of the overeducated, the overqualified, I know, I do good work, everyone loves me, everybody loves Raymond and it just makes me feel a little numb when those moments happen. Not that it isn't genuine from them, because sadly, it is, their earnestness is near-deadly. And don't get me wrong, it would sure suck to go into a workplace everyday where everyone hated me. But, still, I derive no great satisfaction in it. And I hate that tone of someone who is shocked to learn that a smart person is working a crappy mindless job. Which leads me back to thinking that maybe I'm not supposed to, it's just about filling in the gaps and paying for a life, except I am one of the many fake low-middle class people/working class people (the category depends on which econmic bar chart you consult) who is tricked into thinking I have more when really I have credit lines and credit card debt and did you know that within the industry, people who pay off their monthly balance every month are called 'deadbeats' and that if you think you are getting lots of credit card offers now, just miss a couple payments and suddenly they will come pouring in even more. Borrowed time, borrowed money. And now I have more borrowed pages to edit so I must end this prematurely.