Toil

There have been an astonishing lack of entries lately, please forgive me and allow me to present my feeble explanation. Shortly after posting the last entry, I rode the train of broken faces and crushed spirits to my blackberry job, only to find that my computer had been disconnected from the network. Apparently spending all day writing blog entries is frowned upon at this institution, as well as some kind of violation of network security. This development forced me to endure a day of tedium, strolling listlessly around downtown, and waiting in vein for a printer to break.

Indignation rose in me. This was a clear violation of my sovereignty, and my God given right to loaf at work. I resolved to rectify the situation. The next day I brought along my laptop. Entering the building, I proceeded to my now useless desk, collected my key cards and Blackberry and made my way to the nearest Starbucks where I sat all day, surfing the net, playing strategy games and drinking endless cups of coffee. This has become my new daily routine, I'm at 'work' at the moment.

The absence of the pain of sitting in an office all day sapped the inspiration that fueled my writings. I was comfortable, and could escape the office environment and play video games.

The friendly staff at Starbucks got accustomed to my presence in ‘my office’ and kept me well fed with free samples of coffee cake and whipped mochas. Life was grand, but the blog has suffered, that is, until that faithful day when events took a turn for the worse.

“We are pawns of the Gods” the ancient Greeks had proclaimed, and so it seemed to me when one day the Blackberry finally rang. My peace was about to be shattered.

I took a moment to stare at the cruel and discourteous thing with surprise and trepidation. What was this? A broken printer? Would I lose my seat at Starbucks if I went and attended to it? Hesitantly, I answered.

It was my boss.

The clamour of the Starbucks environment could be clearly heard in the background. I tried to sound breathlessly busy and professional, but I knew deep down I wasn't fooling anybody. The hammer is about to fall, I thought. After a cheerful greeting, my boss addressed the point of his call.

“I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing fine work there, and we are going to be offering you your own site, along with the appropriate benefits and full time wages”

Shock.

Horror.

A Job.

This wouldn’t do at all.

Granted, the girls at the office are very pretty and flirtatious (when I bother to be there which is very seldom), but they wear big sunglasses, and anybody that follows fashion gets little respect from me. There is no way I can see myself living this life.

Now, I’m not complaining. It’s an easy, well paying job in a bad economy and I am thoroughly uneducated, unqualified and all but useless in the Western World. I’m aware that I should feel lucky. But the only way to really live is on the keen edge between life and death. And so, after saving a bit of dosh, I plan to quit and fling myself again out into the void.

I gave myself a piece of advice a long time ago, which I have yet to really adhere to. “If it starts to feel like home, it’s time to leave”, and I am rapidly approaching that point now.

The long and the short of it is that I am once again in a disturbed enough frame of mind to inspire some new writing.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the staff has just presented me with a sample of their “Holiday Turkey Sandwich” which I will now turn my attention to.