I've been on a tear through my kitchen this past week, devouring anything that wasn't nailed down or already crawling with cockroaches. And then I ate the cockroaches.
Because of the medication, I end up waking up early enough only to manage a shave and shower before I have to report. There's really no time for breakfast anymore (or apparently dressing). Except for this morning, when I had plenty of time to eat, but my mouth was too busy talking. I'm not complaining, though (quite the opposite). It's just weird saying "goodnight" when I'm about to go to work. Living in the future is fucking with my mind.
I suppose my voracious appetite may stem from the lack of a balanced breakfast. I'm more inclined, though, to blame it on my attitude as of late. Bottling up rage is deleterious and taxing. The growing beast in my belly is constantly demanding nutrients, and I have no choice but to comply lest it begin to feed off of me. Also, the rage is pretty exhausting.
The anger is all work-related. Maybe a little bit of it is due to my current location, but I suppose that's work-related. Most of it, though, stems from ongoing drama in the office, which once again reared it's ugly, vacuous head yesterday. Because that person (who is, right now, on vacation) I work with left such an ugly deficit, I was told that my trip to San Diego had to be canceled so I could make up the work. Long story short, I convinced them to make the punk do his own fucking work and let me take the trip because not only had they told me I would be able to go, but I already bought the ticket!
So yeah, crisis averted. Lord knows I wasn't going to spend another birthday (which, believe me, are already boring affairs) in South Carolina. The rage has been quelled and sated. I'm actually in a good mood (and have been, with the exception of some choice moments at work, since this morning). Things are back to normal, and I'm looking forward to the next week.
And I just ate three steaks.
Because of the medication, I end up waking up early enough only to manage a shave and shower before I have to report. There's really no time for breakfast anymore (or apparently dressing). Except for this morning, when I had plenty of time to eat, but my mouth was too busy talking. I'm not complaining, though (quite the opposite). It's just weird saying "goodnight" when I'm about to go to work. Living in the future is fucking with my mind.
I suppose my voracious appetite may stem from the lack of a balanced breakfast. I'm more inclined, though, to blame it on my attitude as of late. Bottling up rage is deleterious and taxing. The growing beast in my belly is constantly demanding nutrients, and I have no choice but to comply lest it begin to feed off of me. Also, the rage is pretty exhausting.
The anger is all work-related. Maybe a little bit of it is due to my current location, but I suppose that's work-related. Most of it, though, stems from ongoing drama in the office, which once again reared it's ugly, vacuous head yesterday. Because that person (who is, right now, on vacation) I work with left such an ugly deficit, I was told that my trip to San Diego had to be canceled so I could make up the work. Long story short, I convinced them to make the punk do his own fucking work and let me take the trip because not only had they told me I would be able to go, but I already bought the ticket!
So yeah, crisis averted. Lord knows I wasn't going to spend another birthday (which, believe me, are already boring affairs) in South Carolina. The rage has been quelled and sated. I'm actually in a good mood (and have been, with the exception of some choice moments at work, since this morning). Things are back to normal, and I'm looking forward to the next week.
And I just ate three steaks.
