one year

Today’s just the second day after my first year of being at work. I have never anticipated that one corporate year feels that long. Seriously, it is very long, like some Inception-esque dream within a dream time stretch.

The job, for the most part of it, requires me to sit on a chair for nine hours straight in a day, staring at a computer monitor, being advised to water down what I have written for the benefit of people with lesser comprehension. These do not sound easy.

I graduated with an underappreciated degree, though flanked with favorable decorations, but to keep the mill running when there’s only a cheap and rotten carrot in front of me is not inspiring.

Suggestion: just stop. Well, there are other concerns.

For one year, I have been thinking a lot: the morning traffic, the evening traffic, the unpredictable weather (good thing I still hold on to each day my already-battered umbrella), the next pay, the balance dues, and the receding and thinning hair. And I sleep, then wake up, only to find myself bombarded with the same thoughts. And yes, the hair!

Whereas in the past all I have been thinking are my purportedly-scheming professors, my grades, my next-day’s dress shirt, and my allowance for my all-day starving Ben, I am now a full-fledged inhabitant of the country who needs to see where his tax money goes.

Yes, I have mentioned before that I complain a lot. But this time, I think my complaints are better, with much purpose.

Today’s just the second day after my first year of being at work. And I hope I can clear up my mind. I need a new umbrella.