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Reflection from September 4th, 2008 @ Age 27


I had an awful fucking day today.  I even got a $2,000 raise today and it was still an awful fucking day.  My boss expects me to know things there’s no way I would know by now, and he expects me to see things there’s no way I could possibly see right now.  He just wants me to be so much further along than I am and it’s beyond frustrating to have to saddle the disappointment that inevitably abrogates my situation.  We worked on a file today that we haven’t picked up in months.  We reviewed the accounting and I couldn’t remember why I’d done things a certain way because I didn’t keep good enough records and I couldn’t remember off the top of my head.  Then, we went through all this information to determine what information we were missing, Paul called the client and requested the information we were missing, and then Paul asked me about the information the client dropped off two days prior.  I hadn’t even thought about the information, prolly because I expected that he would remember the client dropped it off only two days prior.  Anyways, he told me all about how clients lose confidence in you and loathe to pay you when you request information from them that they’d already provided.  Paul had to call the client back and apologize and he was none too happy with me because of it.  He didn’t yell at me or blame me, but his disappointment in me due to my obvious mistake was punishment enough.

Anyways, I did get a raise which was good, but it just kind of seems futile since I still can’t pay for all my bills.  And I still have yet to ask him about cutting my hours and prorating my salary so I can study more for the bar exam.  I’m afraid to ask him about it, and I also have to ask him for the $1,500 he promised me for the HSA.  I hate life.  I really do.  I hate having to deal with it.  I hate having to deal with it when I have nothing to look forward to, nothing to hold on to, in the meantime.  That’s what really makes it all seem worthless.  The fact that I’ve nothing to hold onto to make it through.  All I can do is willfully skin my knees and break my elbows and fall over in the mud and get sand in my eyes.  Willfully I must proceed.  I hate that.  I hate that I have to willfully walk into fire in order to come out on the other side with leather skin.  I like my skin the way it is, thank you very much.  I don’t want to bloody my knees.  I think I might have to take a mental health day tomorrow.  I know it was a short week, but trust me it’s felt longer than two weeks put together.  Plus I just took five Seroquels, so that should knock me out here any minute.  I loathe to wake up tomorrow.