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Projected Future Events

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Nov. 3rd, 2008 | 02:53 am
mood: apatheticapathetic
music: Ace Attorney

I'll wake up to that horrible buzzing of my cheap, wal-mart alarm clock and groan inwardly, knowing that I have exactly an hour and a half to be at work. Relieved, I will remember that a simple, lethargic smack will guarantee me fifteen more minutes of bliss. Upon my second rude awakening I'll get up and stagger my way through the apartment towards the kitchen. My work clothes that I put in the wash the previous night need to go into the dryer, grab a soda, head to the balcony. Surprisingly, the sun shines brightly into this crevice and I'll smoke my cigarette and drink my Dr.Pepper while gazing out over the Target parking lot in my boxers. I'll briefly regard my ugly toes as my gaze settles on the overflowing ash tray and I'll wait for the soreness in my limbs to subside. Deep breath, tired, maybe two cigarettes this morning before I hobble back to collect my towel, laying somewhere on the floor. I douse my face in warm water as I brush my teeth, hoping to alleviate some of the pain from the inevitable shave to come, my face still sensitive from the previous morning. Get dressed, find nametag, "I promise" pin, maybe "ovengold turkey, not technology" pin today? Na, no one sees the humor in that except for me, fuck it. Slip on my shoes, the sole is falling off, they're sill a little damp from the night before. Get in the car, twenty minutes left, exactly the amount of time I need to get to work on time. Same emo music, what about the radio? Suck, back to cd. Sunpass construction on the Sawgrass. Pull into Brookside, check the rearview mirror and make sure I have no bald spots exposed, and sigh deeply... what evils await for me today?

Perhaps I will feel ostracized, being that my rudimentary French from high school can't possibly keep up with the the fluent Creole typically spoken. Maybe the few new recruits will look to me for help, but I won't be able to, because for the most part I still don't know what I'm doing. I might be able to keep my composure around that girl that set me up, but what if I slip and speak my mind again. Maybe I can convince her friends that I'm not the bad guy... but I doubt it. Meanwhile everyone will take special care to say "hello" and smile. Not that they particularly like me, but because that's important at my job: appearances. Have any of my recommendations for the improved efficiency of the deli been implemented? Na. What kind of idiotic task will my managers assign me today and will the only other white person there be in a good mood? It's hard to tell with manic depressants. Someone will ask me a mathematical question: what's "7.50 + 2" or "15 / 3"? I will try not to appear disappointed. I will try to appear not uncomfortable as I slice a pound of impossibly thin meat without shredding it. I'll hope that I can just stay in the back and wash dishes for eight hours but that won't be an option. Somehow I will survive feeling lost, and alone, angry, jealous, and sad for that half hour break filled with raspberry tea, cigarettes, and veggie patties. Then it will be back to the slave pit, but maybe I will sneak out later for another cigarette. We will rush to finish on time, but somehow that last half hour will linger forever and pointless. After we punch out we will wait for someone to unlock the door for us and check receipts. Then it's "goodbye" which sounds the same as "hello". She will walk off without a second glance and I will pretend that I don't care. Someone will chastise me for smoking, someone else will ask me for one. Before the day is through I will be called many things: sir, baby, "not a man," pimp, buddy, mean, crazy, and sexy are some of the most popular.

Drive home and contemplate the worth of $9.00/hour. My employee review is past due. Stop at 7-11. Credit card declined? Oh, no big deal I have another one. I will look at my hands, covered in little scratches, cuts, and burns. I will check my mail for messages that can never come. I will be tired, but I won't be able to sleep...

It's not about predicting the future, I know because every day is the same.

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from: vvzero007vv
date: Nov. 5th, 2008 05:27 am (UTC)

find each day a new opportunity to break free. to challenge the norm, tease your coworkers, spit in deli meats, urinate in the soup!
not just to rebel, but to incite yourself! The fire that burns within you needs fuel to burn. if it's stifled, find a forest to fuel it. You remember the supermarket games we used to play. when was the last time you had some fun like that?

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from: papercan
date: Nov. 5th, 2008 05:35 pm (UTC)

Yeah, it's been a long time since I've had that kind of fun, but without an accomplis.. you know it's not really the same. LOL @ biological sabotage.

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