Of A Begrudging Minion.

I don’t know what possessed me to open up a blank post and start writing, for I have nothing to say. I don’t think that should be an issue though because after all, this is a blog, who reads those?

 

I still haven’t hit the book fair, or collected the last paycheck from the job I recently quit. I have to say, I was rather bothered by the unceremonious reply to the e-mail I sent  informing them that I quit. I had to send three of those for them to notice I’m gone. God knows it wasn’t for lack of hard work on my part, but then again I’m reluctant to see it’s for lack of organization on their part without having my head tell me to stop staging egotistical airbags for the crash. But then again what was I really expecting? That they’d beg a freshman with no credentials to stay at all costs, seducing me with an undeserved raise? I guess I’ve still got some rough edges to sand away. Oh Egypt, where application e-mails’ only replies are delivery notification failures. I’m yet to find one job where hard work is not repaid with frustration and disproportionate workload for little to no pay. I want to tell myself that it’ll change once I’m no longer an undergraduate, but who am I kidding? This country ladles disappointments quite generously and wouldn’t take no for an answer even if your belly’s full to the brim. Where are my manners? Ladle on, I’ll stuff myself some more.

 

 

On a happier note, I’ve found my meditation spot and ultimate happy place, and it’s the balcony in the waiting room of my dad’s clinic. Unsurprisingly enough, it’s the only place where I can just sit there, thinking of everything and nothing, and feeling good about it for no reason at all. Maybe it’s an aura-related thing, I don’t know. Frasier has also been yet another of those no-brainers that have helped me relax over the last few days, I’ve found that it supplies the civil conversation that this country lacks.

 

I’m in such a fowl mood, something my uncle used to say springs to mind. He’d sit there looking at my drudging at my homework and remind me - to my adamant dismay - that I’ll miss this when I’m out of school. He’d say “At least now you know your hard work is going somewhere, and have the luxury of knowing where it’s going too. You don’t get that in real life. Out there, the only confirmation you get is hope that you were smart enough not to point your work off a cliff.” Of course at the time it was mindless babble that I never quite registered, but now it makes a whole lot of sense that I can’t accommodate in my current state. Uncle, if you’re reading this, YOU WERE RIGHT! Gloat on.

 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go watch Frasier and master the art of homemade Oreo shakes.