Dick In A Box

Growing up I was a really shitty student. Every year on the days leading up to the first day of school I would tell myself how this year was gonna be different. This would be the year I would show up to class, and even do my homework. Eh. We all break promises.
Unfortunately, there seems to be a pattern to my behavior. Every morning I am going to eat right that day, exercise even! Every Friday I am going to put some money aside, not spend what little money I earn willy-nilly so that when rent comes around I'm taking the change into Coinstar. Every time I clean the litter-box is the last time I let it get that bad--from now on, I am going to clean it everyday! And when I started this blog I wasn't going to be one of those "one-hit wonders," those "everyone else is doing it, I may as well join in-ers," I was going to post insightful, meaningful, and humorous content every day! So, my apologies dear reader(s) (?). From now on this blog is gonna be better, fresher, newer, and with more stain fighting power.
But if you'd just indulge me for a bit by letting me make an excuse for my inactivity, I'd like to point out that the problem is my job. It's uninspiring. It's monotonous. It's predictable. It's dull. Yes, it does provide me with plenty of free time, but it leaves me with only enough energy to contemplate what my next move is and how much longer I can last there.
Please don't tell anyone I work with. They are all very nice people. Well, nearly all of them--there is that one asshole, and that cranky old bag, and that woman who's rarely there what with her "sick kid," and who even when she is there can't manage to smile. And that says a lot coming from me. I have a hard time turning this frown upside down but am able to manage the task every once in awhile. In the end those people don't even matter. 92% of all my time is spent sectioned off away from my co-workers. I even have headphones on and listen to music lest I have to hear any of their voices. We see each other in the cafeteria come lunch time, but still manage to avoid conversing with each other while we all face the one 19" TV hanging in the corner tuned into CNN with no volume on. Then at quitting time, we tip-toe out in the fear that someone might notice it's a few minutes before the hour and make a comment about our "leaving early nearly everyday" to the wrong person.
I hear it's different with the smokers. Now that we're all sufficiently grossed out by cigarette smoke and totally offended by the puffing perpetrators they've managed to band together in a designated outdoor area and talk about the rest of us while they figure out what it takes to move ahead.
It is as Billy Corgan says it is: Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.
Well, I see that it's 9:56. Better get to bed, gotta get up early tomorrow morning.