on the job...

Day two, and still nothing has happened much.

That said, I'm making in a week what I used to make in two months, so no complaints.

Hopefully something interesting happens before the week runs out though.

has job...

And a wolf has a job.

Yay.

two cents and a rabbit chain...

The general descriptor for a large proportion of a largely disproportionate amount of mountings that sum up the unsummable content of living the daily death is somewhat akin to humping dead frogs: life is wet, squishy, and very questionable until you stop and think about it. But the fact that you must is probably why you shouldn't.

It's four years ago in my head, and frankly, I don't know that it's such a good thing. Some people like furry rodents, others hate them, I just love the one that bears my mark.

The quest to complete the quest just so you can see the end of the show and go, "wow, that was fun, but sure as fuck not going to want to watch that again." It rises out of the muck and dredge and poop that is the offal of an overweight velvet moose; that is to say, when the packaging is that pretty, nobody cares about the inside.

To speak about coin, while I now possess the means of tracking every single fragment of wealth I control, the ease by which I do so only serves to reinforce how little of it I have. The season of solar punishment is soon upon us, and without an indoor location to finance my position, it gets increasingly difficult to just get by existing. As luck would have it, I find just enough of forgotten money on the streets to give a chipper day, but not enough that I don't have to worry about summer work.

A rabbit beckons, in the lovely fluffy adorable way, and it only just occurs to me how absurd it is to put a leash around a rabbit.

woah...

Gone longer than I realized. Seems like when life is generally good, you generally forget about recording it. Live in the moment, die in the epoch.

A quick recap for posterity, or because I somehow believe that I am still as interesting or amusing as I used to be:

Didn't fail anything, so the new semester is a go.

Things between rabbits and wolves have never been as good. It's a strange menagerie we have here, but I guess things could be worse.

The future looks bleak as ever, bleagh as ever.

Work work, and some shit, money is an even bigger issue, but we don't really have to worry about that for now.

Learning to enjoy things one step at a time is still new to me. Taking it one bite at a time, like how I should write.

I think I'm rather delicious. Gotta love cooking the good stuff.

rape...

Still being raped, but managed to sneak away from Work long enough to get a distress signal out.

Help.

review...

Semi-failure of birthday plans is okay, considering other things.

It's great to age. Or not. But the checkpoint for this lap is appearing to be a delightful one.

More updates when work threatens to rape me less.

retirement...

By now, most many people would have picked up the shovels and pickaxes and gone to work. Me, I'm still sludging, or slacking depending on who you ask, through many more mediocre classes and cloisters.

You know how many people say they want a job? Why do so few people just skip straight to the point and just say they want the money? Me, I'm not too interested in the work. Work is fine if you get to choose exactly what the hell you want to do and not have to worry about being fired. Like, you could open a restaurant and kick out patrons for being too bitchy or if they had piss-annoying kids.

The plan follows naturally that I should make my billion within the next 8 years or so, retire, and do things for sheer pleasure. Those people always seem the happiest and have the least of concerns. Delightful lifestyle, requires some luck and plenty of brains. I like to think I have the brains, so I have to hope for the luck.

I've been told my version of reality is extremely stupid, but I've also been told that an all-loving God willingly condemns a whole bunch of people to what is assumed to be a fiery hell. I've been told that prawns, mushrooms, and a whole lot of unsavoury things are delicacies. I've been told that hard work yields results. I've been told that we are born to procreate and die. I've been told to shut the fuck up. And all I've discovered that about 95% of the things we've been told, especially by those in the "know" are also mostly bull-fucking-shit.

So, screw reality, create your own. Take the blue pill. The one without the V.

stuck...

How would you go about handling intolerably dysfunctional people when they are of particular irreplaceable import with someone you care too much about to leave behind?

Happy moo year.