Hello world… I’m bored so I thought I’d write another entry. I don’t feel like doing any work. Every time I pick up the phone I end up getting more pissed off, as it seems like everyone I speak to is a moron. I just spoke to a guy who, at the end of the conversation, didn’t put the phone down properly, so I just heard him tell his friend (or family or whatever) that I was a silly cow who was talking out of my arse. Wow, thanks, dude. Would you like to take the last of my self-esteem while you’re at it?
Anyway, yet again, everyone else has gone home and I am in the world’s bleakest office by myself. I have just noticed that we have a giant calculator and a lamp in a cardboard box in the middle of the room. Scarily, I have no idea how long that’s been there.
I have been trying to make more of an effort to be nice, but just now I was sitting listening to my friends (seemingly endless) dating drama and I couldn’t even bring myself to listen. I feel like a terrible person, but I just can’t even feign an interest in it. And the worst thing was that afterwards, she thanked me. She thanked me. For what? Listening, I suppose. My purported ‘pearls of wisdom’. I wanted to run after her and shake her by the shoulders and say sorry, but instead I made some lame noise and sat down at my desk and stared vacantly at wikipedia for a while.
On the other hand, I do actually do nice things for people. I always look after sick people. Even when they’re vomiting or bleeding or whatever. I’m a proper Florence Nightingale. Or something. It’s hard though. I try to be as nice as I possibly can but it’s like the world conspires against me (that is a very typically me sentiment- blame the rest of the world but not myself) and sometimes I’m just awful. Even when I say things that I think are mature, and aren’t the sort of things I came out with at 16, I look back even five minutes later and I just think…. god, you dick. I’m not quite as cringingly awful as when I was 16 (for one, I’m not a communist, feminist, animal-rights-protesting, stoner A level student). Sometimes I think it would be good to have a time machine, just so I could go back in time and give myself a slap. I’d probably make my 16-year-old self brush her hair and I certainly wouldn’t have taken that Ritalin that night.
One thing that I do find quite perversely funny is that when I was 16 I spent a week protesting outside Gap, with placards and everything, even going so far as going up to shoppers and begging them not to shop there (because shoppers really ARE going to listen to jumped up teenagers with too much eyeliner and Oxfam clothes). Then when I was 19 I worked at Gap for five months.
If I was me I would hate me.
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