Let me begin by introducing myself. I am Chris. Obviously. Read the blog's title. The idea of this blog meandered around my head for several days before finally coming to fruition. Now here I am, at lunch time, tapping away at a new blog. New blogs are about as exciting as blank notebooks, although unlike the latter I usually end up filling a new blog with lots and lots of wondrous material. I felt the need to exercise my literary muscle; not that I write literature, because I don't employ "official writer-ese" (thank you Jean Shepherd, for that gem). I speak, textually. Therefore, you can also hear with your eyes. Nifty, huh?
I feel I have moved on to a new stage in life; I now have a Job. Despite being only a temporary employee, or "temp," the fact that I am working for the State of New York (via AccuStaff, the temp agency) justifies capitalizing the word "Job." Were I to work for a full year, I would make roughly $20,000 (I did the math). My employment confines itself to summer, what with school taking up fall, winter, and spring. I don't feel it's fair that school gets to monopolize three of the four seasons, but at least it doesn't get the best one. Unless, of course, one enrolls in summer classes, which is a mild form of insanity.
Anyway, I have a Job. I perform the trying task of Data Entry. I tell you, it's not for the weak of heart. Okay, that's a bit dramatic. In reality, it's quite easy. I put in numbers on a computer. In addition, I also retrieve the daily mail, which provides me with more numbers to input. I would have said "put in," but ending a sentence with a preposition is grammatically incorrect. Curse you grammar, for ruining conversationalism.
I dislike going to work, but I don't altogether mind being here. The night before a work day is filled with dread and a slight feeling of nausea. Once I'm here though, while not out of my mind with ecstasy (I don't mean the drug, I mean happiness, but also the drug), neither am I cursing my life. I lose myself in the sheer mind-numbingness of my work. I don't get bored easily at all, allowing me to perform the most mindless of tasks and suddenly snap back to life eight hours later, go home, and actually function as a human being again.
A half-hour certainly flies, between a pair of pretzels, 20 ounces of Mountain Dew SuperNova (the best of the three new flavors; vote for it), and this blog. Wait a second...if blog is short for weblog, and functions effectively as a journal, couldn't I just as well call this a bjournal? BJOURNAL!
I tricked you about the summer solstice. I had nothing to say on the matter. It's been a month since then, and nothing of any kind of screaming importance has happened. I haven't even gotten my hair cut. So that's that. I'm going to eat the granola bar sitting on my desk trying to be inconspicuous. Then, it's...MAIL TIME.
(Like Morphin' Time, but I don't change into a colored outfit with a sweet helmet)
I feel I have moved on to a new stage in life; I now have a Job. Despite being only a temporary employee, or "temp," the fact that I am working for the State of New York (via AccuStaff, the temp agency) justifies capitalizing the word "Job." Were I to work for a full year, I would make roughly $20,000 (I did the math). My employment confines itself to summer, what with school taking up fall, winter, and spring. I don't feel it's fair that school gets to monopolize three of the four seasons, but at least it doesn't get the best one. Unless, of course, one enrolls in summer classes, which is a mild form of insanity.
Anyway, I have a Job. I perform the trying task of Data Entry. I tell you, it's not for the weak of heart. Okay, that's a bit dramatic. In reality, it's quite easy. I put in numbers on a computer. In addition, I also retrieve the daily mail, which provides me with more numbers to input. I would have said "put in," but ending a sentence with a preposition is grammatically incorrect. Curse you grammar, for ruining conversationalism.
I dislike going to work, but I don't altogether mind being here. The night before a work day is filled with dread and a slight feeling of nausea. Once I'm here though, while not out of my mind with ecstasy (I don't mean the drug, I mean happiness, but also the drug), neither am I cursing my life. I lose myself in the sheer mind-numbingness of my work. I don't get bored easily at all, allowing me to perform the most mindless of tasks and suddenly snap back to life eight hours later, go home, and actually function as a human being again.
A half-hour certainly flies, between a pair of pretzels, 20 ounces of Mountain Dew SuperNova (the best of the three new flavors; vote for it), and this blog. Wait a second...if blog is short for weblog, and functions effectively as a journal, couldn't I just as well call this a bjournal? BJOURNAL!
I tricked you about the summer solstice. I had nothing to say on the matter. It's been a month since then, and nothing of any kind of screaming importance has happened. I haven't even gotten my hair cut. So that's that. I'm going to eat the granola bar sitting on my desk trying to be inconspicuous. Then, it's...MAIL TIME.
(Like Morphin' Time, but I don't change into a colored outfit with a sweet helmet)
No comments:
Post a Comment