No, I'm not dead. At least, not in the clinical sense. Although I am at work, so same diff.
For the past few weeks I've been rather morbidly depressed for no good reason, so I thought I'd spare any blog-readers from any sniveling that may result.
See, it occurred to me a few weeks ago that I have a deep and abiding committment to failure. Considering my committment issues, this is kind of ironic, but oh well.
I guess I've been sort of depressed since the wedding. It's not the fact that it's all over, it's just that it was a way of putting off thinking about/assessing all the things in my life that need improvement, such as my so-called career. I hate grant writing and fundraising. It is an inane line of work (no offense to any card-carrying members of the Association of Fundraising Professionals). I realize that someone has to do it, in the way that someone has to, say, collect elephant semen to help pachiderms reproduce in captivity. But still.
I really, really, really need a new job. I can say, without hyperbole, that my job is sucking out my soul and digesting it and then spitting it out and batting it around like a chew toy.
In the past, when I've really hated jobs or been at a crossroads, I just picked up and went somewhere else for a while. The other day I woke up and thought fondly of going to Florida for a while and living in April's "porn room" (what spare bedroom isn't?). Not that I'm going to do that, because I'd also have to bring my husband and two cats, which would be like the premise to some very bad reality show, called something like, "FreeLoader Island" where April would win a million dollars if she could put up with us for six weeks. It would be a hard-earned million.
Or maybe the idea is that Paul and I would be the butlers, in exchange for room and board? The show would be called "Bad Butlers." (Unrelated note: Why is it that virtually all movies with "Bad" in the title are, in fact, just that?)
Anyway, I'm officially seeking a new job. Possibly as a female butler. Can women be butlers? I'll be like the Elizabeth Cady Stanton of butlers. It'll be hot.
For the past few weeks I've been rather morbidly depressed for no good reason, so I thought I'd spare any blog-readers from any sniveling that may result.
See, it occurred to me a few weeks ago that I have a deep and abiding committment to failure. Considering my committment issues, this is kind of ironic, but oh well.
I guess I've been sort of depressed since the wedding. It's not the fact that it's all over, it's just that it was a way of putting off thinking about/assessing all the things in my life that need improvement, such as my so-called career. I hate grant writing and fundraising. It is an inane line of work (no offense to any card-carrying members of the Association of Fundraising Professionals). I realize that someone has to do it, in the way that someone has to, say, collect elephant semen to help pachiderms reproduce in captivity. But still.
I really, really, really need a new job. I can say, without hyperbole, that my job is sucking out my soul and digesting it and then spitting it out and batting it around like a chew toy.
In the past, when I've really hated jobs or been at a crossroads, I just picked up and went somewhere else for a while. The other day I woke up and thought fondly of going to Florida for a while and living in April's "porn room" (what spare bedroom isn't?). Not that I'm going to do that, because I'd also have to bring my husband and two cats, which would be like the premise to some very bad reality show, called something like, "FreeLoader Island" where April would win a million dollars if she could put up with us for six weeks. It would be a hard-earned million.
Or maybe the idea is that Paul and I would be the butlers, in exchange for room and board? The show would be called "Bad Butlers." (Unrelated note: Why is it that virtually all movies with "Bad" in the title are, in fact, just that?)
Anyway, I'm officially seeking a new job. Possibly as a female butler. Can women be butlers? I'll be like the Elizabeth Cady Stanton of butlers. It'll be hot.
posted by Marguerite at 8:19 AM
1 Comments:
i propose "bad santa" as a rebuttal.
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