I wish I felt better about things. I just came through a very hard three days at my new job, ones that made me rather upset. There's nothing like being a new person, having an extraordinary amount of stuff to learn and remember, and then having a project dumped on you that you weren't ready for.

The project is done now, but this creeping feeling still remains. I'm not going to pretend like the creeping feeling hadn't been there to some extent before I got the job and even in the first few days. i'd been warned by many people at school that the job is hard. I'm a hard worker, I've been through a lot. Apparently, I wasn't grasping how hard it could be.

I feel as though my optimism carries a certain amount of naivete. That - oh, so it's hard but they won't kick my ass - feeling. Maybe it's also peppered with the - yeah, I know the consequences could be hell, but maybe things will be different for me and I'm willing to go through this - kind of sentiment.

The last time that happened, hurricane "Frances" hit and my finger needed stitches.
Maybe I'm just stupid? Or need a certain amount of punishment?

So, I'm not entirely sure about this job, as if my above comments aren't obvious. I can deal with a ceratin level of crazy, and I like to keep busy, but I've barely been there for too long and already my crazy-meter needs an upgrade.

I'm having a case of, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to hack this after all. I know it's early yet, and I'm trying to give it time, but little by little I keep seeing the dirt uncovered, and I feel uneasy.

I took this job because I knew I had a great shot at it, it was secure, a constant paycheck, something in my field, and seemed to have a certain amount of benefits. For someone in theatre, this seemed like a find.

However, my commute really blows. And, to be honest, I fucking hate money, and although I am getting a steady paycheck, it doesn't really make me feel that much better about things. There's supposed to be mandatory overtime during the busy season. I heard some dirt today about working seven days a week.

That doesn't sit well with me. At All.

I had certain criteria for my next job - balance with exercise, chores, social life/art, one that won't stress me out, a decent commute, decent pay, something I could believe in.

I'm not entirely sure this one is measuring up the way it should.
My plan is to give it time - I don't want to be a cop out, but if things don't seem like they are moving in the right direction, I need to walk.
I hope to first of all, feel like I fit in better. I want to make it through the summer and see how I feel about it. If i can handle the summer, then I need to see if I can stomach the crazy fall season. That's the real test. If I can't handle it, then I can't stay.

This job is more hours than I wanted and was expecting, to tell the truth. I was hoping for something part time so I could rest and get going on starting my own business.

To put it plainly, I hate work. I hate the idea that one's existence is dependent on cash. I dislike working for other people, especially. I especially despise the work ethic of this country.
My goal, at this point in my life, is to find some way to work for myself.

I am by no means a lazy person and I often wish that I WAS lazy. Unfortunately, I'm overly motivated and never have a problem keeping myself busy. I can hold down jobs just fine, I've always been a good worker and I've never been fired. But I fucking hate work. It's a necessary evil just like money. You could give me probably just about any salary high or low, and it wouldn't make me feel any better about my job. Lower wages will always make me feel worse, naturally, but even high wages aren't the be all end all for me.

I don't see the need for the amount of work that people do at the speed they do it surrounded by the bureaucracy of it. You need to be superhuman to not get sick, never mind time off for doctor appointments, mental health, things that come up.

The idea of company loyalty is something that stumps me too, and perhaps it's because I have yet to work at a place where i could care about their earnings. A job is not a marriage, but it seems that a lot of people expect you to treat it like one. You don't sign a contract pledging love, honesty and loyalty when you accept a job. If the job makes you disatisfied or doesn't earn you enough, there's no reason why you couldn't and shouldn't look elsewhere. Life is too short to be unhappy with those 12 hours a days you spend working and commuting.

I think it's to the point that actual divorce is easier that leaving a job and finding a new one in this country. How fucking sad is that?

Work is the new marriage in America. Instead of kids, you breed stress and illness.

But I'm not bitter, no. Why would you say that?

Let's face it, I just don't have and have never really had a good view of work. I grew up with parents who had their own business, and took a lot of risks to do so. There was a lot of worry about bills and bitching about customers, but they held their own for well over two decades. They can't afford to stay in this country, as they haven't been able to get any kind of retirement money, so they are retiring to mexico in less than a year.

And here I am, thinking about getting myself into the same mess. Not mexico, mind you, my spanish is atrocious.

Whether it's in my blood or my soul I'm not sure, but I cannot live my life working for someone else's benefit. I tire of working so hard for others and not being compensated well, or getting more crap than I should have to deal with. If I'm going to work hard and not be compensated well, I'd much rather do it on my own. Really, I'd like to be fucking paid what I'm worth, but the fact that I'm worth money disgusts me.

I'm sad. I'm just very sad and doubtful. I'm wondering just how many mistakes I've made or am in the process of making concerning this idea of "career". I often wonder if all my schooling wasn't a mistake, looking at the amount of debt I'm in, especially with the fear that this job might not work out. I often wish I was someone else - someone who wasn't an artist so I could just go to work, go home, earn money and not care. Not the case.
I feel like perhaps I've failed on some level. I'm not entirely sure.

I'm hoping that even if this job doesn't work out, that there is some reason why I'm here. there usually is some reason for wherever I'm at, it's just to early yet to tell what my current one is. I was hoping this job could be somewhere I could stay for a few years, at least a couple. I hate the job search as much as I hate work, if not more.

But is security and a steady paycheck enough to stay somewhere?
No. No, not in my book. Unless it can be backed up with other things, it's a poor excuse. it's fear of change.

I'm not sure where I stand. I know it's early, but it's not like this topic hasn't been gnawing at me for a while. I'm not going to be going backwards in years, as much as my personality remains in child form.

I'd just like a comfortable place where I fit.

I hate pants.
damn cloth leg restraints.

I hate suits.
penguin wannabe fashion trend.

screw people too.
they use too many words.

go away.
all of you.