I am so neglecting this fire exit. Look at all cobwebs and that dust carpet. Uggh. But I’m so tired. Cant. Update. Properly.
Days have been confusingly sluggish and disorganized as of late. As in really, with no apparent course and/or plan. Nothing. I’m not sure if it’s my lack of discipline or of a soundly churning brain. Either way, at least one banana is missing from the bunch.
Anyway. One thing I’m sure of is that I hate the union. I think it’s their fault, for their inability to understand the complicated cash flow restraints of a giant conservative company. For their lack of the urge to please please give up the damn ‘negotiations’ and just sign the demner agreement already. For their continuing whispered threats of a strike. Management is so wound up about the possibility of its employees taking arms and—no, Lord anything but that!—leaving their branches ill-equipped and under-manned to service their oh-so-not-understanding clients, that they have put my application for transfer underneath the slush pile. Way below everything else, right at the spot where the pile touches the grimy floor.
My metaphors don’t even make sense anymore. That’s how depressed I can make myself when I think about this. After that frighteningly euphoric high of making a career change, all comes to a standstill, and nobody even has the courtesy to send me an email. I was so looking forward to not counting other people’s money, and reporting to my boss who doesn’t like to listen much (unless I am transparently pissed off), and manning those express banking centers on weekends. And now I don’t even know if the guys in that department who were meant to save me from branch hell remember me. Please please please take me with you!! Gah. Okay, I’m so not begging. I’m usually more rational, most specially on the surface. The union will be crushed and management will go on its merry way making the bank more money (haha, is that a pun?? Hmm. Maybe not). And then I can start bugging them again about the transfer. Because the thing is, I realized, I am so sure, that I want to study whilst working. (I don’t want to be poor again, see) And to do that, I have to get out of branch hell. So come hell (I may have used this word too much in this post) or high water, I will be transferred. Or it really is resign. (Nooooo….. everywhere else is already at freeze-hire!!)
I said I was too tired didn’t I? well. Carry on then.
This is highly unoriginal, but I just reread HP6 and HP7. And I think I cried more this time with the last book than the first time I read it. Maybe because I was frozen with tension that first time. I was so scared Harry will die, it was unbearable. Now I knew that he’s so surviving and will have three children with the weirdest names ever, so the tears came hot and fat. This is embarrassing. Why am I even writing about this? Oh. I’m rereading from book one. But I’m going back to New Moon first. And I’ll probably reread P&P again. (Mr Darcy, swooonnn…). I’m in one of my revisiting stages. I’m sure someone out there understands the symptoms.
Okay, really feeling the weight of a brutal day’s work and old age now. Checking out. One two.
These changes, aint changing me. The cold-hearted boy I used to be.