There Are No Monks In My Band

It is amazing the amount of time you can spend wishing ttat you were someone
else. Someone taller, younger, tanner, richer, stronger, leaner, straighter.
It is interesting to note that the one thing I rarely ever wish I was – is smarter.
Why can’t I translate the same security and grounded-ness in my intellect to
the rest of my attributes? I am very adept at low self-image. And it’s a quick
drop down. Before I know it, I’ve talked myself down into a whole as I have
a panic attack on the train in to work. As I sit at work and try to stay stable
amid the chaos. Today was totally craptastic. Unrealistic deadlines like getting
50 courses tested and QA’ed in a day and a half. What a fucking waste. Mark
and I are, needless to say, prety honked off about the whle thing. They create
these emergencies that we all respond to and then it sets in others in-boxes
for a few days. Meanwhile they request reports for the first itme on something
in three eyars and expect us to have time to o tborough 18,000 rows of data.
Suck my choad. Nobody wants to gives us test users because they’re all so pissed
off from last time – but if we don’t test outside of home office then when things
break they’ll blame us. It is a no-win, zero-sum situation where basically Mark
and I get to absorb all the abuse from pissed off callers when the business
owners didn’t heed us in the first place. What a waste of my talents. What a
waste of my time.