Hi, I'm Kurt. A binge-drinking, pill-popping disco diva with a heart of platinum and an appetite for self-destruction.
Welcome to Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2).
Adapted from a collection of nightly...
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November 24
Another dumbass day. Seriously, though. I often wonder how people find the willpower to get up at the same time every day, with the same morning routine, then get on the same subway train, schlep through the same doors, and sit at the same desk day in and day out. I also realize how entitled that sounds.
Maybe it doesn't bother them?
Maybe it doesn't even register with them that there's more to life than work?
Maybe they enjoy it?
Maybe they have a family to support or bills and debts to pay, so it all becomes a non-negotiable fact of their life?
Honestly, I don't know. What I do know, is that, right now, none of the above apply to me. So, why continue down this path? All of that being said, the end of this current path is actually drawing near. I'll probably give my notice at the end of next week. At least, that's what Mom thinks I should do.
After rolling into work, I had no sooner sat down at my desk when a congested Big Bird started in on a conversation about my hours. Apparently, I was way over budget last week. I disagreed. Either way, Big Bird wants me to keep a close watch on my time from now on. Fuck! That blows. I was trying to max out my paychecks before I bounced my ass out of there. Oh, well.
Overall, the workday was fairly busy. I ended up sending over 160 emails. Most of those were sent en masse, but editing the copy for anything more than a few sentences takes a horrifically long time whenever Big Bird is involved. When I finally ate my lunch at 3 p.m., I sent one more batch of emails and then started to pack up my stuff so that I could get out a bit early to save some hours. I hope Big Bird appreciated those extra fifteen minutes.
When it comes to the gym, I'm at the point where I know I need to take a break. The only problem? I also know how guilty I'm going to feel if I actually do it. I cannot binge eat the way I do every night, and not go to the gym the next day. If I could manage to avoid devouring a box of chicken wings each night, I might feel better about missing a day pon de treadmill. Until that happens, I need to power through. So, I did. Same routine as usual, but I finished things up pretty early.
Back at the Witch Cave for the night, I couldn't believe how early it was. Is this what normal people feel like? Getting home before 8 p.m.? I did all of my dishes while dinner was cooking, then called Mom quickly to check in. Nothing new to report on the Casa Z saga, which I'm not sure is good or bad news.
Finally, I settled into bed with a few episodes of The Simpsons, an episode of Chelsea, my plate of precioused chicken wings, and a buttload of weed. I also made Christmas cookies, finished my ice cream, and gorged on popsicles. Now, I'm about to pass out while watching an episode of The Simpsons –with all of my gluttony scattered throughout my bed sheets.
