BRAIN DEAD

Right now I really miss kickboxing, because I really need to hit something... hard.

This weird sense of nothingness has just been accumulating, like plaque in your heartvalves, and now I'm pretty damned close to a heart attack. I'm pretty sick of filling up forms, binding, printing, sending emails to people to ask them to fill up forms, typing, and other menial shit like that. Wait, pretty sick doesn't adequately reflect how intensely I feel about this.

I still do it, and every day, every menial shitty task takes me just that little bit longer, and makes me want to throw up and rip it apart just that little bit more. Another day, another notch inching towards the boiling point. Great.

This is really great. It's really GREAT you know. I mean, this is the Most Fulfulling Career in the World:

I FILL UP FORMS.

I PUNCH HOLES.

I TYPE LETTERS.

I SEND EMAILS.

I PUT THINGS INTO ENVELOPES.

I SIT IN MEETINGS AND TAKE NOTES.

...................


Can I just say... fuck!