![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosHowever, this is one of those times where I feel like regardless of how much overtime I work (and if they're offering, I'm taking it -- I enjoy what they've got me doing, and even if I don't have another day off until March I'll go with it), I'm still never going to catch up with my bills to the point where I can just buy something nice and expensive just for ME again.
I'd like to replace my MP3 player (haven't picked up a decent one since right before I bought my car), I'd like to pick up a new laptop (I love my netbook, but I'd like a dependable full-sized brand-new computer with room to grow), I'd like to buy myself an eReader (*grabbyhands*), but at the rate I'm going I feel as though all that overtime I'm working is just going to end with me grateful to buy groceries, as per usual.
And I only JUST latched onto a story idea that wants to be written. That's sixteen days this year of fumbling for stuff to write and stressing out because books can't edit themselves and my muse fucked off to find a more functional writer to annoy.
Also, my cough has settled quite nicely in my lungs, which means me hacking up phlegm constantly.
Ugh, I don't know. In the grand scheme of things, there are obviously people far worse off than I currently am, and I'm grateful for what I do have. On the same token, I'm having a defeated very nothing-I-do-matters moment right now, and hopefully maybe just venting about it will take a load off my shoulders, although I seriously doubt it at the moment.
I'd like to replace my MP3 player (haven't picked up a decent one since right before I bought my car), I'd like to pick up a new laptop (I love my netbook, but I'd like a dependable full-sized brand-new computer with room to grow), I'd like to buy myself an eReader (*grabbyhands*), but at the rate I'm going I feel as though all that overtime I'm working is just going to end with me grateful to buy groceries, as per usual.
And I only JUST latched onto a story idea that wants to be written. That's sixteen days this year of fumbling for stuff to write and stressing out because books can't edit themselves and my muse fucked off to find a more functional writer to annoy.
Also, my cough has settled quite nicely in my lungs, which means me hacking up phlegm constantly.
Ugh, I don't know. In the grand scheme of things, there are obviously people far worse off than I currently am, and I'm grateful for what I do have. On the same token, I'm having a defeated very nothing-I-do-matters moment right now, and hopefully maybe just venting about it will take a load off my shoulders, although I seriously doubt it at the moment.
