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I need to stop typing so freaking much.
January 6, 2004
It’s odd. I got here this morning with tons of stuff to spew out as a rant, and here I am a few hours later, after reading through some e-mails and various other things, and I find myself unable to get all worked up about any of it. I’m just letting it go. This is a good thing.
I have to apologise ahead of time here, because I’m quite sure this is going to be less of a “funny” update, and much more of a livejournal-esque update. I’m feeling chatty, and everyone knows the best cure for that is to share your life with a couple thousand of your closest friends. ^^;
Mostly I think I’ve just been in an odd place mentally lately. People keep asking me how I’m doing, and the first thing I respond is usually something like “oog” or the verbal equivalent of sagging shoulders in exhaustion. But the more I sit and think about it, It’s not that I’m DOING more than usual. I’m not out running track and then off to raquetball practice, while juggling community service and governing the state or anything. So why is it I’m so tired? I think it’s purely a mental thing. I’m the kind of guy who likes to operate with absolutely nothing hanging over my head. I will purposefully not take on certain tasks just because I don’t like having things hanging over my head. However, I somehow let a bunch of things pile up on me, and it’s not stuff I can just will away. And because I’m not really equipped to deal with that kind of situation, I let it constantly weigh on me, making me feel endlessly tired.
So, finally, as of these past few days, the last of the swords of damocles’ have begun to go away. Liz and I are banging things out and getting them finished. Odd thing is, it feels like it’s been so long since i’ve been free of obligation that I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like I’m standing bewildered in a dungeon after having defeated the dragon, so paranoid of something else coming out of the darkness to attack me that I can’t even function well enough to get the hell out of the dungeon. I fear some other task rearing its ugly head, and so i’m still in the same stressed-out boat. I’m not supposed to be the stressed out guy. I’m supposed to let this shit go. And I’m working on it, I really am.
Combine that with the fact that I have perhaps the best worst job ever. I’ve been really bitter lately about how things have changed around here. I feel guilty about complaining about my job, because it’s one of the only jobs in the world that affords me enough free time to be able to work on the comic and do e-mail and whatnot. I have near total freedom here. However, on the flip side, I’m surrounded by people who seem to hate me and talk bad about me behind my back. Just like when I worked for the state, I don’t fit in. The people around here don’t give a rats ass about the stuff I do, and they know it, and I frankly don’t give a rats ass about planes and helicopters and engines and whatever the hell else they talk about all the time. I’m a perpetual outsider in my own office. I’m sure I’m not the only one in this situation, but it sucks. It might also be the fact that I’m at that odd age between 18 and 30 where I’m essentially old enough to be an adult and know it, but too young to get any respect from the older people in the office. There’s no way I can progress socially, because I don’t fit in, and won’t until I reach a certain age. I don’t like seeing people my age get passed over for promotions in favor of older people just because the boss is older too. (not talking about myself, there… just a general observation) And all in all, things around here have changed in the four years I’ve been working here. Four years ago, the airport was very laid-back. It was actually fun to work here, the people were nice, all that. Then, about three years ago, a flying club moved in, and brought with it all sorts of asshole pilots with varying levels of expertise who really don’t belong here. They’re used to bigger airports with a more corporate feel to them, and that’s not what we’re about. But the problem is that with all their complaining and bitching, they managed to at least bring the corporate atmosphere into the least corporate place I know. It’s like some sort of cancer. And then we have this helicopter business who started up this year, and he just walks around like he owns the place. Basically, it’s a clash of a lot of egos, and it sucks. I remember a day where I used to enjoy sitting and chatting with the pilots that came in. Now there;s only a handfull of them I’m glad to see.
All this adds up to me being WAY more stressed out than I needed to be, and it carries over into everything I do. I’m your classic anger-bottler. Only I’m not experienced enough yet to figure out what to DO with it all when it gets all bottled up, so I sometimes find myself sitting out in the fuel truck going into violent spasms of rage for the most minor thing, because the bottle got just a little bit too full. I’m careful not to let anyone see it, but it’s there. I need to chill out. I really do. Because when I’m that full of anger, it’s really tough to let any other emotions slip, be it happiness, joy, or humor. It’s tough on those around me, it’s tough on me, it affects the comic, everything. I need a good dose of chill out. I will say though that one of the things that helped me more than ever was opening my e-mail today to see a few e-mails from people telling me they enjoyed the comic. It’s always nice to have your work appreciated, especially when it sometimes feels like nobody appreciates it.
Bottom line, when it’s all said and done, is that if you were to ask me if i was happy, and I sat down and thought about it, there’s no way I could tell you in good conscience that I wasn’t. Despite all this shit I rant and rave about, I’m constantly appreciative of everything and everyone around me, even if it’s not always blatantly apparent to me. And that’s what matters. So don’t worry. I’m fine. Just needed to get all this crap written down and off my chest, so I can start working on the comic for today. Time to go to my happy place.