Ahhh, work. Yup, I'm back working again. It sucks about as much as I remembered it. All that time off was great, but now I'm extremely warped for getting a taste outside of the indentured servant ant life. Ned, Paul, and I used to talk in high school about "The Trend" and that we were going to fight it. There's just no damn way around it. I'm depressed. What the fuck am I working towards? I'm in debt and I've never saved a penny. I'll never retire. Where is that enjoyable career that was suppose to fall in my lap? Where was the lightning strike to show me my destiny? Of course, these are all things I've already gone over in my head as a tween drunkard, but somehow I feel them all welling up again. It's too early for a midlife crisis, and besides I had a really tough time coping with my teenage years. I thought I was only suppose to experience that major loss of self once in life. I wanted to be a musician or a writer. I guess I'd still like to do that, but for the last five years or so I haven't had a single creative thought. My dreams that were once facinating in complexity are now a mere reflection of what I did that day, or more likely what show I watched on T.V. ("I feel stupid and contagious, here we are now, entertain us." K.C.) I know I'm a spoiled brat. I've never had to suffer hardship or pain. I'm just flat bored and tired of workin' for the Man. What's that little voice in my head sayin'? I think it said, "get off your ass and change things." I think four back to back episodes of South Park should drug that little bugger voice back into his hole. How dare my spirit speak to my soul in that tone after being silent so long.