I was coming home from the country to stop pissing around and start to look for a job, seriously. Come on, stop pissing around, get your act together, get on with it. In the zone and what have you. Stiff upper lip, every poor sod has to work... before they head off into the nursing home where they fight, finally, having everything done for them.
I've done nothing for the last two days but stress. Big time. You know that blinding stress that just takes your perception away and makes your view of the world go funny, spotty, unreal. I mean, it's still more kin to a huge harumph than anything coming close to neurological failure, don't get me wrong. Preoccupied, can't think of anything else, rather than mental disease.
You know, when you can't hook onto a real plan and you just career from one distraction to another, like a nutter or a drunk. Where none of the options quite measure up to... well, to bliss, lets face it.
Careering from nothing to nothing?
The only thing that brings me back to the present, out of the problem, is hunger. Ha, ha. Always sex and food, hey? Oh woe is me, woe is me, woe is me, WOE IS ME, life is ending as I know it... gosh, I aren't half hungry.
My cat has been sitting next to me licking my arm as if she is worried about me. Of course, she is still a cat and therefore it is more likely, than is isn't, that her actions are about her. We know that, it is why we love them and hate them. She probably only wants food. Maybe, I taste nice.
Friskies Senior.
I'm worried about me. I've should/rationally/logically get a job, before I "have to" get a job, if you know what I mean, and I just can find the inspiration to pick up the phone and call. I've got contacts, people to call, leads on jobs, so it shouldn't even be that hard. You'd think that would be enough of an inspiration? I've just got to turn up in a suit and say something intelligent.
No, apparently not.
No, it is not inspiration. I just can't face the prospect of going back to work and I have become my favourite waste of time... all the time berating myself because of it.
It's tattslotto, or nothing. Then I could sit around and do nothing for the rest of my life, angst free.
Bloody hell, how did I get myself into this position? I've tasted freedom, had it in my grasp, enjoyed it's taste and scent. it felt good on me, but, oh, I did nothing and now it is being snatched away from me.
Bugger!
And then, as has happened before, bang, it will all be done and I'll have a job and the world will seem stress free again.
It's funny how inaction gets inaction and while you are in it, it seems never ending.
I need not to care so much. A wise friend of mine said lately, there is only today and tomorrow, that's all there is.
Maybe, I just need some Vegemite toast, some food, sustenance, mangia, memories of childhood, the equivalent of a mother's touch. I don't think I will pour the glass of milk, though.
Ha ha, woe is me, I make myself laugh. I am such a lazy bastard.
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