Tara shared a bit of wisdom last night.
Your heart isn’t in it anymore.
She noticed I had a bad run of articles last night. Somehow, she struck a cord of truth in my tangled web of sanity.
It took almost all my groundwater reservoir of patience to prevent myself from lashing out at the computer monitor. And I wouldn’t have stopped there but would have proceeded to tear the manuscript I had to microscopic bits.
Upon further reflection, the misery might be an aftereffect of being a part of the clean-up crew for the furshlinger QA reports every month. ~Haah~
It isn’t one of the person who did the file’s fault. It was the @#!!!$%### tool’s usual bumbling efficiency that nearly caused me to lose whatever professionalism I was able to shore myself up with in the sweatshop for over a year.
Yeah, Tara was right. My heart isn’t in it anymore. I long for carefree days out of white-walled enclosures, breathing in fresh mountain or sea air instead of the reconditioned artificial atmosphere in the office.
Yeah, I’m tired. Really, really tired.
Tate and I had a bet. He lost because he predicted that I’d get tired of this job after a week. But if he didn’t stipulate any time-frame, I guess he would’ve won.
I agree with Tara.