-Its 2:09am so I guess it’s technically Monday morning.
-I should be asleep. I have work in like 5 hours. Ima be buggered tomorrow when I am floating in the corridors like a zombie. God help me.
-I was off work last week with an infection so it feels extra daunting to go back tomorrow. Ugh. Ima have to answer the question, “how come you didn’t come work last week?” like a 100 times and it gets so awkward man.
-These are all first world complaints I know, I am only blogging because I find I can usually sleep better after doing so.
-I need a break from work and not just sick days, I mean like a year off. I’m sick of it. I am bloody tired but I need the money so I am a prisoner. Why don’t you do what you love? I hear you ask. You’re not a tree if you’re unhappy move, I hear you yell. I love photography and writing; not easy careers to a) get into or b) make a steady income out of. No, I don’t love anything else.
-I knew a dude once who told me, “my wife wouldn’t have to work if she didn’t want to, that’s what I am there for, to provide.” And a part of me roared like how dare you assume she wouldn’t want to work you idiot grr, blah. But frankly, I have the balls to admit that the 30 year old, exhausted and prozac needing part of me melted into a puddle. I need me some looking after. I’m old and did I mention tired?
-Don’t get me wrong, I am all for working but I would like to soon reach a place in life where I work (part time!) because I want to not because I have to pay bills and be able to afford kitchen roll at the end of the month. Earning your own money is important after all because…
-The idea of asking a man for money makes me physically ill even after what I just said above yes. Its just how I was raised. I don’t extend my hands except to make duaa, you know? Imagine if I married some tyrant who didn’t approve of my art habit or my interior decorating habit? Gasp! Earning my own money means I can buy whatever crazy shite I want and not answer to anyone. I’m also not cool buying shit with anyones buck if they hate what I am buying etc.
If he had some weird ass guilty pleasure like buying collectable toy cars or something… no who am I kidding I would give him some grief about it, that shit’s just clutter.
Anyway. Best try and sleep. Incorrect fractions will not teach themselves tomorrow.
Stupid maths, when are they gonna strike it off the syllabus arghhhhhh.