i've discovered that, if i take in caffeine early in the evening, i don't nap. how novel.
a parade of cute grey kittens have taken to lounging about the property, much to the chagrin of fat cat. he lays atop my vanity, slaps his tail about, a growls in protest to the cat gods. he has taken social responsibility to heart, though, and patrols his turf. last night he slapped on of those damn cute fluffy grey kitties into a side of the house. hard.
my parents are coming to visit this weekend. i feel as if i'm a teenager with an impending room inspection. but again, only questions of logistics fill my mind.
i've never before felt as transparently superfluous. i understand that, in large, most jobs are simply indulgent and exist only because there is a demand for insert-product-or-service. i've had jobs like that. this one, though, just feels gratuitous. i have four managers above me, all doing the same fucking thing. could not each devote 1.5 hours a shift to accomplishing the paltry tasks they set before me? fuck, when i was a manager running a bigger store with more departments, i did my own financials, hr, and communique. ultimately i feel like my bosses are lazy and that i have less worth for filling a position that shouldn't exist.
lack of satisfaction is weird, as if having the ability to buy more shit isn't satisfying....
i've been inserting filling into my life. when thinking about what i should wear to work is the hardest question put to me in a day, i know i've made a mistake. what is it? how to correct it?
i think about my coworkers' sense of style. each is definable, and seem to accurately reflect their "place" in life (e.g. college student, hipster, aging scenester). i want to know how they see me, i want them to say enigmatic, but who am i kidding? to them, hamlet is a boring book.
how can i explain to myself that this is what i want? what excuse can i give that will lessen my cowardice? i have no answers. i can delude myself with a "plan" but i fucking know better. plans are the bullshit that one feasts on, meant to distract from the PATENT ABSURDITY at which one is currently plugging away.
i come to this metaphorical place time and time again. i think i can compensate for not doing what i want by glutting myself on media. that i can subtract meaning from my job and balance that by adding meaning to my outside activities is fallacious. i then console myself with saying it's just till fill-in-the-blank.
lies are convincing when you want to believe them.