hours and hours and hours on end

You know you’re working a lot when your own parents intervene. Now and then Mom or Dad toss in a ‘gee, you’ve been sitting in that chair a long time’ or ‘are you still doing that?’ My reply? I’m not going back to an office!!

I find it somewhat entertaining that I could literally go out tomorrow and land temp work doing nothing for like twenty bucks an hour. Some mindless office gig that might involve something along the lines of surfing the Internet or perhaps answering a phone. Instead I’m busting ass for zero dollars.

This presents an interesting dilemma, how much do you pay for happiness? I’m no fool, if nothing pops by when my coach turns into a pumpkin come February, I realize I’m going to have to suck it up once again. Go find another joint to convince to give me dollars for something that has nothing to do with what I actually enjoy or am somewhat decent at. At the rate I’m going, I shouldn’t be suicidal about it, because I’ll have a stack of new work… at least that’s what I’m telling myself. The work is a definite… instead of topping myself I suppose I could just have someone tear out my toenails.

Being back here is working wonders. No one knows you better than the people you grew up with. I’m from a family of seven, the youngest of five girls. I roll with a small circle of friends who I consider family too. It doesn’t matter whether or not I see these people every day during this trip, they know I’m around and they back what I’m doing.

Nothing motivates you more than love and the people you know have faith in you… back to work…