deteriorating shoes

We went to my wife and daughter’s company Christmas party/25th anniversary party last night. It’s a place I worked for the better part of a decade, and nearly killed me with stress. It started a downhill spiral of work that put us in massive debt after a failed store, and then the nightmare that was my last place of work, before I became a fed.

As always, as much as I want to relax, I can’t around these people; it’s like a weird PTSD reaction.

And something always happens. Last time, pre-pandemic, my suit jacket had been in the closet so long it reeked like moldy basement. This year, I put on a pair of dress shoes I haven’t worn in three years, and over the night, huge chunks fell off of them. I’ve never seen a pair of shoes deteriorate so fast.

By the end, I was walking without soles. Insanity.

Everything about that place is traumatic, even their parties.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1535 words, novella: The Mungk

the grind

I decided to ask what the average workload was yesterday, and holy crap, was I shocked. I consider myself a productive worker. I’m generally faster and more accurate than other people at things, a consequence of being partially deaf and depressed and possibly a bit OCD, which allows me to hyper-focus on a task and get things done well. No distractions here.

But the numbers they’re talking about? Doable, yes, with practice, but the upper end is crazy, and doesn’t leave much in the way of downtime. I thought government jobs were cushy?

Damn it. Another misconception down the drain.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 152 words, novella: The Mungk

goodbye 2022, and fuck you

This has been an awful year. From the insane job stress to our family’s various surgeries, the loss of my wife’s mom and the general political climate of insane right wingers and spineless lefties, it has been all around shit. We might be losing the greatest cat of all time, who has declined severely since last night, barely moving, wheezing, and generally suffering. We’re still giving her antibiotics, and the painkillers keep her from panicking, but it’s 50/50 now as to whether this is the end or not.

Our vet doesn’t open until Tuesday. There’s an emergency vet to go to in Windsor if we need it, but I don’t want to drive for an hour and sit for six or seven more just to put her down. We were told the last time that we couldn’t take our baby boy Loki home with us (though the vet knew us well and let us do it anyway), because you’re not supposed to bury pets in your yard. At the unfamiliar vet in Windsor, it would be devastating not to be able to bring her home after she was gone.

So here’s hoping for recovery, and preparing for not. Peace out to 2022. You were a fucking piece of garbage.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 211 words, novella: The Mungk

pushing the end

2023 has been a bittersweet pill. We lost my mother-in-law, I went through absolute hell with a job, only to finally get a new one, which while not inspiring, is at least what I was looking for right now – not in IT, not a 24-7 job, not surrounded by complete piece of shit co-workers.

We got some love time with my beautiful granddaughter and my equally awesome nieces, and despite all the unnecessary family and work drama, I think I personally am headed toward a better place. I’m slowly letting the Mungk go, and hopefully… hopefully, it can be taken up by others. Not too many, but enough.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 459 words, novella: The Mungk

test day, the day after

So, I’m pretty sure I passed. I may have aced it, but who knows? I seem to overdo things and then they ding me for it. I can’t imagine why they’d want to do that, but who am I to decide why a large organization doesn’t want people going above and beyond?

Mediocrity is the key to success in big institutions. That, and asskissing, grift and probably blackmail.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 370 words, novella: The Mungk

test day

All this work I’ve been doing, training at the new job I started at the end of October culminates today in a test of knowledge that I hope I’m equal to. I did pretty darn well at my test cases, so I hope that holds true for the test as well.

Time to find out if I’m a dope or I’ve got hope. Jesus, I kind of hate myself for that. Sorry for inflicting it upon you.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 213 words, novella: The Mungk

the week’s end

There’s a certain glory in the world heading into a reset weekly, although if I’m being honest, I’d prefer not have to think about work at all.

I’d like to write full time, and make enough money from it not to have to worry too much about my finances. I don’t need Stephen King or J.K. Rowling money (although that would be cool, even if I ended up giving most of it away), but you know. Maybe Chuck Palahniuk money. William Gibson money.

George R.R. Martin money.

Then again, what do I know?

Target: 1100 words
Written: 992 words, novella: The Mungk

beat up

I love a good massage, but the stiffness that follows I could do without. I am sore as hell today, even with all the water I drank last night.

Standing desk it is today, I think. I’m not sure I could bear to sit.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 193 words, novella: The Mungk

stiff leg

Now that I’m back working at home, I’m not walking as much and let’s face it: my office setup is suboptimal. The limited amount of space we have to use is compounded by the fact that wheeled chairs and hardwood floors don’t mix very well. Especially armless ones.

So between poor ergonomics and my endless quest to find a pillow that’s actually good, I’m a little stiff and sore today. Add to that an increased exercise schedule to try and help with my weight loss, which also isn’t going particularly well, and I’m hurting a little.

Massage tonight. As always, short term solution.

Target: 1100 words
Written: 373 words, novella: The Mungk