I am miserable.

Deny that and I’d be burying my head deeper than the deepest hole an ostrich has ever dug. I suddenly feel so lethargic and unmotivated. It’s astounding how I get to work every day even. It really isn’t because of work, or the lamentations of everyday life. Its just.. I don’t know. I really need a drastic change in environment. I’m too comfortable. I need to shift my ass out of my own comfort zone. I remember Marcus once telling me sometime when I was 16, that maybe God sometimes take you out of your comfort zone, not into pure misery, but to expand it. maybe that’s what I truly need right now. Some form of self rectification, gratification, a little grasp of alone time should suffice.

But don’t get me wrong, I do not dread work. Not yet maybe. I still love my job and the people in it. just the Birdpark side that is; if specifics were needed. I honestly hate the zoo. Given the same amount of pay, I’d NEVER work for them. Never ever unless it’s out of the office, somewhere out in the field, I may consider. I’d take Christine’s word that once you’ve worked with animals, there’s no turning back because it’s expected for humans to fail you all the time. The rhino’s not gonna barf in your face when he discovers a spelling error in the newly printed maps, the chimps aren’t gonna hound you for upcoming eDMs, are they. They wouldn’t give a damn at all.

Drats. I really need some form of motivation.

I mean, we all could use some, just me first. And with my mom’s constant ranting about my peanut paying job, it really doesn’t help. I swear she’s making full use of the opportunity that my dad’s away in China to nag at me about this. Usually, pop would shut her up the moment her lips curl towards the 3 lettered dreaded word of the century. My favourite veg, the celery. Quite often, it being the very reason why people backstab, betray or remain miserable like me.

I cant even bring myself to mention how much I’m getting. That 3 lettered word shall be replaced by PPJ. No, not pink pyjamas. Not Pam’s protruding Jujus either. But my fucking peanut paying job. Urghh. Angst central at its best.

I don’t even feel like playing for this upcoming NRC 15s either. I feel so demoralized after wed’s training when I was screamed in my face for obstructing the in-center. I really don’t feel like doing anything anymore. I’m short fused, extremely temperamental, erratic, unpredictable and absolutely difficult to be with/live with. I’m a rut. My life’s a rut. I just want to curl up in bed and rot till my very end.

I just wished somehow things will get easier. My life’s becoming ridiculously mundane. Even winning the biggest pot over poker doesn’t quite excite me anymore. That’ll add to my traveling fund for sure. I want to take a year or 2 off. Travel, work overseas, study abroad. Somewhere along those lines where Singapore and my life back here doesn’t creep close. I want to break free from the rituals of every day life. I want to meet people that will excite me and make me feel that theres so much more to do than slumber. Like my petrol man I met last night while shopping for bras at marks and spencer. A Nigerian. Asst. to the ministry of Energy (gas) in Nigeria. I’ll call him petrol man for now. And I told him I’d look him up if I ever make it over. He called last night and it was interesting! I’d wish so much for him to pack me up and ship me over. My plan with huiling to spend a couple of months in Africa in 2010 when the world cup hits shall flourish. It will happen. Somehow, someway or another.

I feel a tad better. At least I don’t have work to get back to. Time to run my ass down for the Origin’s pest control talk. I really do want to find out what they do to the poor rats they catch. Hur. Laters.