Saturday, January 10, 2015


I'm getting angrier.  Frustrations mount in every direction.  And I'm so far down on the totem pole that I can't change a thing.  Just get my job done.  Just do as I'm told, with whatever tools I'm assigned.

I've reached a point where my smarts and my skills and my opinions don't matter a damn.  No one cares.  I'm tired of multiplying numbers as a parlor trick, except I can't tell him no.  I'm tired of looking over job descriptions and thinking, "I'd rather be shopping."  (And I hate shopping with every fiber of my being.)  I'm tired of being told to shut off my brain.  I'm tired of having every idea I suggest get shot down.  Rock Port.  Madison.  Bentonville.  The other one.

I'm tired of having so much to say, but by the time my filters kick in, it's "go sports team", "happy birthday", or "cute baby."  If you ever see me uncensored, you'll say like the friend on Mitchell, "quiet Steven wrote that?"

I'm tired of being so cynical.  I can poke a thousand holes, but I'd rather be building an ironclad boat.  If I ever had time.

I'm tired of fighting the bottom line.  There's a few tech luxuries I'd like.  A second vehicle would make my life easier.

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