Random Thought

I hate my job. I hate it so much that I find myself hating completely unrelated things just because I happen to think of them while I'm at work. I am so miserable that I feel like I'm going to cry.

I don't know what it is about my job that I hate so much. Sure, the particulars of it are mind numbingly boring and my day to day tasks amount to little more than repetitive, braincell withering busy work, but what the hell job isn't like that? Certainly no job I've ever had.

Maybe it's because I don't give a flying fuck about the goal of my work. Well, no, that's not quite right. I care about smoking cessation, but only in the kind of way that I might care about slightly underheating some left-overs in the microwave. It's disappointing for a moment, but, ultimately, I can live with it. I sure as shit don't want to spend every weekday of my life trying to take down the evil empire that's been conspiring to pruposely miscalibrate the global supply of mircowaves. That's stupid; and it's a waste of fucking time anyway, because no matter how many studies you release on how these corporations are making money by tricking you into eating lupe warm food, nor how many times you show people how to properly reheat their left-overs, there will always be some retarded fuckwit who can't be bothered by god damned common sense.

Eh, that's not the real reason, anyway. I hate my job because it's beneath me and because it has nothing to do with what I went to school for.

That is, of course, unless I failed to comprehend that the true purpose of political science is to learn how to sit in some dark little hole of an office all day, updating largely unused contact lists and filing worthless, never-to-be-needed-again documents; you know, rather than gaining a firm understanding of the vast and varying political systems of the Earth and how they interact with each other in relation to global security policy. A fucking chimp with above average cognitive ability could do my job.

Everytime I bring this shit up, someone always tells me that I need to start somewhere. Well fuck you. I did start somewhere. I've been doing this kind of crap for over two years now and I've got dick to show for it.

I've been told that I just need to be patient. Again; fuck you. Patience implies some sort of motion or, at least, a destination or an end. Nothing's change for me since I got out of college. Patience in my situation isn't patience; it's fucking capitulation. For me to be at all accepting of this shit would mean that then only real end to my suffering would be either retirement, or death. And since I'm not ready to die, nor can I afford to retire, that just doesn't work, now, does it, ass baron?

Whatever. I've lost interest this post. Hope you enjoyed it, cock holsters.