Sometimes I come here, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I just end up blasting whatever I've written and sometimes I look in and then decide not to fan the embers. Whatever purpose or pleasure blogging holds for me, some days it is better to ignore the issues of life and not rake them up.
I'm in two minds again tonight, there is plenty going on in my life – not in an action packed whirlwind sense but in the shifting of little fragments here and there, both around me and in that blessed bubbling cauldron that is my head.
Work is top of the list again today. 
After waiting since January to be offered a new role at work to replace the one that was outsourced last December, and having been on 9 days of training courses in the last month to facilitate a new direction, I have finally been told what the plan is.
Whoopee.
I get to keep pretty much all of the job I have now (which is nearly all of what I used to do before a piece of it was outsourced anyway...) and then, endeavoring to minimise the drain on my time with those duties, take on a new function.
Stunning.
I hate my job, and I mean really hate. The kind of hate that sees me sitting there actively wanting to hurt my boss who has become the main target of my spite such is my frustration at this predicament. That sort of hate ruins lives, and I've already spent years wallowing in that particular colour of mud already.
I can't stay. I can't leave. I can't form the arguments to express myself and I can't lash out physically either (as much as I want to).
I also don't think I can take much more of it. 
In normal circumstances I think most people would not see the little things as badly as I do, but I just don't want any of it, on any level. So even the smallest things are weighing me down.
I'm just eating myself up slowly.
They had better offer me a stupidly, ridiculous pay rise to continue on in this useless excuse for employment else I think I will tell them where to [quote] fucking [unquote] stick it.
I've waited long enough. I've jumped through the hoops for them. I think I'd be justified in tearing some fuckwits new ass holes.
It's getting to the stage where even though I would likely be slicing my salary in half and end up working a plebby factory job or stacking shelves in a supermarket, its becoming tempting just to escape.
Its killing me slowly, I know it. The anger and hate I have for work just bleeds across the whole canvas of my life. Maybe the salary figure I quoted to a supervisor today will find its way back up the chain perhaps? It might be enough of a bribe to keep me there until the boss retires because I'm sure that alone would alleviate a big chunk of my frustrations.
Despite the unusual predicament of being all but indisposable at work for the moment (and the secrets are staying in my head until I get what I want!) I really don't see them making an offer to match the figure I have in mind.
I believe they will offer thousands more than I'm being paid at present. And my figure is thousands more again than that.
I don't need it. Its an arbitrary figure really to aim at. The more I earn the more I save, the more I have saved the longer I can survive unemployed when I do finally throw all my toys out of the proverbial pram.
And I'm very nearly at the precipice where only a stupidly wild salary increase is about the only thing that could stop me committing free-fall employment suicide.
As defeatist as it sounds maybe I should just go to the Doctors and load myself up on the 'couldn't give a shit' pills again. The calm me down variety were okay a couple of years ago, maybe I need the pick me up ones to get me out of this damn hole...
