the sixth day

I'm Going Slightly Mad.

But it's mostly just in my head.

Presently I'm on the sixth day of an eight-day work week. Through some glitch in scheduling I work from Thursday the 23rd to Thursday the 30th with no days off inbetween. I'm terribly exhausted (which is unusual because my job description is as follows: sit in a chair). I'm probably just exhausted because my consciousness dove Headlong into dwelling on the eight day work week. It's the silly novelty of it all.

Today, though, I realized something. It's nothing physical or even mental. I Don't Try So Hard. While I sit in a chair, I take demands. I'm enslaved. In small doses, it's a great thing. I think it's human nature to want to serve (even in a perverse way, a sort of masochism) -- but after so many days of nobody fulfilling my demands, it just backs up (there's a need to expel my sadism, in other words).

All God's People are not the same. I would venture that 10% of them probably need to be put down -- and I don't mean merely insulting them. These aren't the people who ought to be insulting me -- even if I deserve it. This is how people Ride the Wild Wind -- go postal in other words.

Anyway, against all logic, on this sixth day I've gone completely jittery. I may have lost weight today just from restless leg syndrome. We're trained to make it through five days. Exactly. From a very very early age we're shipped off to public school and our minds are conditioned exactly to the amount of labor that occurs during the week. Give for five days, take for two. These Are the Days of Our Lives. From today on, I don't need some debutante named Bijou telling me how entitled she is. Now it's my turn.

It's time to take. Give to me. You can Delilah me, and take later if you need to. I'll be more than willing for masochism in the future. Presently, the giving... I Can't Live With You. In the meantime, get creative and I'll appreciate it.

The Show Must Go On.

(Btw, if you read this all the way to the end, you may notice certain weirdness in the writing. There's a hidden theme in this blog post. If you figure it out, tell me. I'll be tickled pink. In fact I'll be willing to give to you -- even in my incredible present selfish state. I would LOVE to give to you. You'd be my queen.)