Work, again

Yesterday I worked, today I worked. Am I working too much?

You know, every since I've had a job, I've been wondering, what does it mean to 'go to work'. To some people, its just go to some other place and just kind of piss fart around till you're supposed to leave. For others, its to go to the first level of hell, and get paid for people to watch you dance around. A not so good analogy would be to work as a gladiator in ancient Roman times.

Yet, we will all have to do it some day. It becomes a way of life. For the record, I don't really want to be working full time. It just sounds too hardcore. Wake up, work, go home, eat, sleep. It becomes monotonous, downright boring, and leaves you almost no room for a life.

Maybe I'm just annoyed I couldn't make it to Em's birthday. If you read this Em, HAPPY BIRTHDAY for the other day. I only know cos she reminded me which day it was. Normally I'd forget, like Terence's. I don't keep a list of people and their birthdays, too much hassle. I really can't be stuffed. If that says bad things about me, then oh well. I don't expect to be seen as an angel or a really loving caring friend. Couldn't really care when your birthday is, really. It only means that I gotta buy a present and stand around trying to think of things to say, not to mention write on your card as well. I'm really a bastard, on many levels.

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