Floating Leaf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
floatingleaf) wrote2006-07-01 05:30 pm
floatingleaf) wrote2006-07-01 05:30 pm
Entry tags:
another disjointed ramble, of the pensive kind
It just doesn't work. I can't possibly lead a healthy lifestyle, have a full time job and STILL do all the things that truly make me happy. That's why I've been skipping exercise and cutting down on my sleep... and now that my body doesn't allow me to do that anymore without serious consequences, I feel like I've been robbed of something precious. It frustrates me to no end not to be able to ever catch up on my flist reading, to leave my email unchecked for more than a few hours, to rent a movie and then not have the time to see it until it's due back... I feel like my life is slipping away while I'm sitting there in the stupid office eight hours a day, fighting hard not to fall asleep from the overwhelming boredom... only to be too exhausted in the evenings to actually enjoy the little time I have to myself (especially that I'm constantly thinking: OMG, only so many hours until I have to go to bed). I know it would probably help to have a job that required at least a bit of moving around, instead of having my ass glued to a chair all the time... but I can't think of one like that that wouldn't have anything to do with sales or customer service (which I hate with a passion). I just don't have a concept of what I could do for a living that wouldn't either bore me to death or totally freak me out. If only I could at least work part time... *sigh* I mean, theoretically I could, since I don't have kids to feed or any other serious financial commitments... but then I could never hope for any benefits, and would be left with nothing when I retire. I know. I know I sound pathetic - I have only worked for about three years, after all, which for someone my age is quite scandalous, I guess. Still, I can't help feeling miserable for not being able to devote my full attention to the things that really matter to me. Some stupid job definitely doesn't. It's only the money that I need, so I can put food in my mouth. And it's going to be like that for too many years to come...
Ahhh... I'm whinging again. Must be too few hours of sleep... again. I broke my rules and stayed up till 2 a.m. last night, just to see a free rental that needs to be returned soon... and it was a very good movie (Apt Pupil, based on the story by Stephen King, with wonderfully evil Ian McKellen as an ex-Nazi) - but then I found that no matter how late I go to bed, I still wake up by 8 a.m., weekend or no weekend, and won't fall asleep again.:/ Which is another argument in favor of keeping a very regular schedule. And I'm not even that old, fuck it!... *frustrated sigh*
And my friend - the one I went to the gay parade with - keeps telling me that I need to find more time for socializing. Honestly, when the weekend finally comes, all I can think of is being able to sleep more, and then reading as much slash as I possibly can, before I get even more behind on all my favorite stories than I already am. Pathetic? Maybe. But I just don't seem to enjoy being with people as much as I used to. Unless they're people I can be totally open with about all my strange obsessions - but even then, I sometimes wish I was alone. And finding myself among practical strangers with nothing to talk about with puts me in a state dangerously close to a panic attack. True, I had always been like that... but somehow I thought I would outgrow it. Instead, it seems to be getting worse with age. I am becoming a true reclusive hermaphrodite. *snort* Should I be worried? Somehow, I can't bring myself to care. I may have cried over this after a few drinks, but while I am sober, I find my only concern is wasting way too much precious alone time at work.;) Oh yes, call me a weirdo. Or an alien. Actually, I have always laughed bitterly at the expression "resident alien" - because I feel it describes me perfectly, in more ways then one...
Ahhh... I'm whinging again. Must be too few hours of sleep... again. I broke my rules and stayed up till 2 a.m. last night, just to see a free rental that needs to be returned soon... and it was a very good movie (Apt Pupil, based on the story by Stephen King, with wonderfully evil Ian McKellen as an ex-Nazi) - but then I found that no matter how late I go to bed, I still wake up by 8 a.m., weekend or no weekend, and won't fall asleep again.:/ Which is another argument in favor of keeping a very regular schedule. And I'm not even that old, fuck it!... *frustrated sigh*
And my friend - the one I went to the gay parade with - keeps telling me that I need to find more time for socializing. Honestly, when the weekend finally comes, all I can think of is being able to sleep more, and then reading as much slash as I possibly can, before I get even more behind on all my favorite stories than I already am. Pathetic? Maybe. But I just don't seem to enjoy being with people as much as I used to. Unless they're people I can be totally open with about all my strange obsessions - but even then, I sometimes wish I was alone. And finding myself among practical strangers with nothing to talk about with puts me in a state dangerously close to a panic attack. True, I had always been like that... but somehow I thought I would outgrow it. Instead, it seems to be getting worse with age. I am becoming a true reclusive hermaphrodite. *snort* Should I be worried? Somehow, I can't bring myself to care. I may have cried over this after a few drinks, but while I am sober, I find my only concern is wasting way too much precious alone time at work.;) Oh yes, call me a weirdo. Or an alien. Actually, I have always laughed bitterly at the expression "resident alien" - because I feel it describes me perfectly, in more ways then one...