sick days

Lately, I’ve been feeling numb, contrary of what I’ve written before of me feeling hollow and/or empty.

I think it’s almost that I don’t have time to process everything I go through in a day. Anger, happiness, self doubts, disappointments, triumphs, sadness, depression, joy, laughter- they all have to be stifled and internalized to finish what you were doing and move onto the next task. Slowly, but surely, you’re trading in your individualism and creativity for that hallowed paycheck that you receive at the end of the week.

So I called in sick to work yesterday. I wasn’t really sick. I mean my nose was running, my throat tickled, but nothing that would really require me to stay home. I felt a twinge of guilt as I spoke to the manager at the restaurant as I called in. Then I really thought about it. No company, well especially the restaurant that I work for, really pays me enough money for me to feel guilty from allowing me the pleasure of playing hookie. Go ahead, question my loyalty. To them, I am a business asset. Likewise I view them as a ways to a means. They would show the same amount of remorse in firing me as I do in calling in sick. Sad, but true.

Revelation. My loyalty can be bought. My tolerance for inconveniences can similarly by bought. Shit. My pride can be bought.

But I will still revel in sick days even when I’m not so sick.

I’m going to cut this short. I can’t really think of anything else to write, and I’m probably going to write something more when I roll off work tonight.

Madras

1 oz. vodka
Half cranberry/orange juice

Ice a highball cup. Add vodka. Fill with cranberry and orange juice to the rim.