Oh meh gawd, the new packaging person is so annoying. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate men with big egos? I honestly can’t remember, but okay, I HATE MEN WITH BIG EGOS. Like are you just extra full of yourself because you are trying to make up for a tiny dick or what? Personally I don’t think I would go into a new workplace my first week and start bitching about how the building could have been built differently. Like YEAH, we know there are things to improve but shit we are getting at least two new buildings if not three because we grew faster than ever imagined. Like does he think I am just some sort of idiot who doesn’t realize my office could have been twice the size? Fuck yes I know this, my office space pretty much got cut in half, but ya know what? Its a fuck lot better than where we were at and yeah, we are over crowded but ya know what? ITS MY NEW OFFICE, MY SPACE, I have made it my own and comforting and he comes in and bitches about it and makes his desk look like a pigsty. And oh meh gawd, to bitch about every area and how he used to be some sort of carpenter so he knows what he’s talking about…okay so if your so great, go take over the guys job who built some of the top BSL in the world and this building, then come back and I will listen Also, I really need to find out how old this guy is, he seems like he’s upper 20’s or lower thirties but drives a loud ass car and spins his wheels when the light turns green at lights. Ugh his beard reminds me of a crotch full of pubes. Okay, rant over…but seriously…I take pride in my job and workspace…shove it asshole. At least when my new shipping partner starts he will no longer be in my office but upstairs with the freezers where he can’t be heard.
So here is my first poem I wrote in Creative Writing today, it had to be exactly 100 words. Its nothing spectacular or even realistic towards myself. In some ways maybe, but in other ways no since I never turned tricks on a corner…but maybe some insight into a history of someone that very possibly could have? There’s no name for it really, the professor just said to write a poem so I did. I can’t remember the last time I wrote a real poem…well, I hope I get a good grade on it.
Big eyes stare up afraid, cold eyes glare down
She wants her mom, where is her mom?
Non-understandable pain, all too familiar
Realism drifts away, her safe place appears
Verity drifts back, she no longer wants her mom,
Crying, anxious, angry, cold, big eyes lose their innocence,
Other kids are taught to dream big,
She is taught life is not fair
Struggle is real
Failed attempts of love
Her past has defined her
She learned these tricks young
Sky high prices but they never leave with a frown
Daddy issues they say
It’s paradoxically opposite
She just needs her mom
Well, I had a busy day at work and did homework when I got home for a few hours and then cleaned and am now enjoying a glass of wine. I will write tomorrow. I just wanted to post! Goodnight peeps!