The world has a way of making sense just when the outlook gets more mangled than Amy Winehouse’s dreadlocks… A strange visual I know, but that’s the only way I can look at it.
For months now, I’ve been complaining about my job. Everyone knows this because I bitch about it almost every day. I know I should have acted on this feeling a while ago but I didn’t because I got scared. Poor little pampered girl with a fetish for shoes that I am, I was more concerned about the fact that I enjoy and rely on a regular income to keep me fabulous. Also, I didn’t want to lose all that I worked so hard for over the past two years, and I know that knowledge can never be truly ‘lost’, but a reputation and a working record can, especially if I move out of my field.
I’m one of 5 people in the whole country that do what I do. I like saying that because it makes me sound so important, but I’m not that important really, any monkey in a skirt could do my job and still have time to spare.
If there is one thing I could possibly miss about my job, its all the free time, free time I use to stalk people. People that read my blogs. People like you. I know who you are. LOOK AT ME WHEN I TYPE TO YOU. I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE. YOU OWE ME A MILLION DOLLARS.
Poor reader. I’m sorry you have to read my crap. I assure you that my drivel will cease to be only because I won’t have time to write crap anymore. I’ll only write the important stuff like mission statements and lists about things that are meaningful like ways to cut down on your energy usage or maybe, if I’m really stimulated, a well informed discussion on my views about the state of the economic climate and how it impacts the environment.
Which reminds me, I have another blog to publish about how misleading the scientific community is. If you are a scientist, BEWARE! My thesis lacks evidence and would probably frustrate you, but if you feel the need to send me some sort of message, feel free to do so. I’ll respond maybe, or never, probably never.
So, readers, no more theories about martian kangaroos and toasted sandwiches. I swear.
… until I get bored of my new job or its totally unfulfillable or I decide to take over the world or clean my cupboard or decide that I don’t need shoes to make me happy and only I can make me happy and maybe I shouldn’t really give a crap about what other people think of me… *deep breath*
so, back to Amy’s dreadlocks, does she ever wash them?