h8r-grl

[h8r-grl]

I have been told I should probably go to therapy LMAO

[h8r-grl]

So I’ve been thinking a lot about the word “Use”.

It’s a very… big word, really— despite only being three letters long. Of course you have the standard definition, the verb: utilizing something as the means to some end (whatever that may be). Like “I USED my car to go get groceries”, stuff like that. That’s not the definition I’ve been thinking about.

Rather— Well, I guess it is, in a sense. I more so mean the societal use-case. The idea of “Use” being what you can PROVIDE. What USE do you have to, say, your friends, or your family, or, most notably, your JOB?

At the end of the day, the quality of the rewards you reap for working is directly proportional to how much (and of what quality) can you provide FOR the sake of the company’s growth— and to this it’s not too unlike a living organism. After all, we’ve evolved to take on protobacteria to help digest our food: they serve a USE to the system. But that’s an empirical definition of the term. In terms of lifestyle (in regards to work), it’s both social AND physical expectation.

Like, not only are you expected to do your job, you’re expected to SMILE doing it. You’re expected to always, somewhere, at some point, be doing SOMETHING to widen the profit margin of the company, even when its not quite apparent what all there even is TO do. It’s why most associates in retail that work behind a counter (i’m talking stuff like paint or tool rental, not cashiers, since they have to stay in place— though this counts for them to a lesser extent), You’re EXPECTED to either stay there, standing on concrete, hands steepled and smiling at the wall for eight hours— or find something else to do, like sweeping, or…

… No, seriously, what ELSE is there?

Well, you need to figure it out some way or another, or that “use” you provide… becomes use… LESS.

Useless. Frivolous. Unneeded. Pointless. You serve no USE, no gain to the system, and your value is appraised as such by everyone else.

You have NO use. Your negatives outweigh the positives. A leech mooching revenue, however small you my be.

You know, I was really dedicated to this job when I started. But now, with each new career, it’s been getting harder and harder to keep myself feeling… useful. I get comfortable. Too comfortable. I start slacking— but not even! I still do all my work— i just get… Comfortable. And then i fuck SOMETHING up that makes me, well, useless. Rinse and repeat.

Why couldn’t I even make it two months this time before I fucked up?

My job skipped all warnings and went straight to final warning for my first offense because I accidentally skipped a crucial step in the process for ONE transaction. To say I’m scared is… an understatement. I’ve hardly ever lasted six months in a job, and that’s how long I’ll have to wait for that final warning to fall off. At any moment, management can kick me out. They already scheduled a new guy full time the exact hours I was supposed to get full time— instead I’m “part time” (read: 39 hours 30 minutes a week).

I feel… Useless. Why does everyone make this look so easy?

These are supposed to be the simplest tasks, and yet I’m only good at them for a couple months at best before i just break under pressure. And I can’t NOT work, I need money, and I can’t get disability because my myriad of issues hasn’t been diagnosed yet.

Going to work today there was a stifling fog over my head. Like I knew that today could very well be my last day here. I know it probably isn’t, but… Well, right before I clocked out, my other coworkers were talking about how something hadn’t gotten checked in and charged some poor bloke for a week. I certainly hope I don’t take the fall for that.

[h8r-grl]

Do you ever just have a “shutdown day”?

I don’t mean a day where you just utterly break down into a manic fit (although i also have those from time to time), I mean

“Oh… Oh, work is exhausting. i’m exhausted. i think I’m just gonna take a hit and then… enjoy the softness of my bed. Yeah. Just… lie down. i wanna get some things done tonight… like some art I’ve been meaning to-“

And then you blink and it’s 14 hours later. Time to go to work!

Ffffun. I think it’s my brain trying to catch up with everything.

[h8r-grl]

So, you know, back when I was a kid, I always heard a lot of work stories start with “so I was working the morning shift, 6 am, high as fuck”.

And when I was younger? I was confused and appalled. Why would you go to work under the influence of ANYTHING, let alone… d-d-d-d-drugs?!?! You could HURT SOMEONE! I just didn’t get it.

… until I started getting high at work. Then it all made sense. Going to work at 6 am to stand and do nothing for eight hours is infinitely more tolerable when you’re blitzed.

[h8r-grl]

Wow. New digs. Guess that’s great. I have a feeling this is gonna get out of hand real damn fast. Eh, whatever.

So a little bit about me. if there’s anything you’re gonna wanna learn about me first and foremost:

It’s that, like every “productive member of society”, I work.

I work a shitty, dead-end job, renting shitty tools out to a bunch of weirdoes at a certain hardware store whose name bears not repeating.

And, oh boy, are you gonna be hearing about it. Probably gonna be about 50% of this blog, I bet. You cannot believe how dumb some people are— and how EASY it is for them to get their hands on POWER TOOLS.

Most of the day I dont even DO anything. HOURS at a time.

… Enough to run a blog.

See what I’m getting at, here?

This is my diary. My virtual diary. About learning how to adult as a 20-something that hasn’t had any help in doing so. My experiences with work, sex, drugs, life, death, and my thoughts on all of the above.

I don’t give a rat’s ass if anyone sees this, frankly. This is for me.

Have fun. Or don’t. I ain’t your momma.