Busy, but not distracted.

I find it's getting more difficult, instead of easier, to let the distractions sufficiently distract me. Isn't that kinda backwards? I'm distracted enough, but things are still there in the back of my mind. It's not like last week when I was all "YEAH! GO CLUB SANDWICH!"

( Anyway. )

Tomorrow I've got work, and if I'm awake enough, I'll start working on my scale model. I'm needlessly excited about it. :::rolls eyes::: If not, I'll just take a nap. But I'm definitely having another bath, especially after missing tonight's. ... Oh, goodness, I'm turning into my mother. XD

P.S. Dad came through with an optical mouse for me. The scroll wheel is a little sticky (looks like something was spilled on it), but I'll manage. It's a USB mouse, and it's currently in my second (of two) USB slots; I think when I switch the room around, I'll get one of the adapters to work and stick it in the mouse port where it belongs. But I'm tired and possessed of little patience now. AT LEAST I HAVE ONE, thank goodness!

LOL WORK.

So, apparently, I was nearly fired on Tuesday, so Kathleen told me. She'd heard bits and pieces, and I summarized things for her nicely: "I had a rude customer, so I was rude right back." She asked me if I actually spat and I demonstrated the no-spit spit. XD

I got a finger wagged in my face again this morning, this time from the boss -- really, I got the point on Tuesday. I even knew I shouldn't have done what I did. Was that really necessary? -- and he seemed slightly irked by my indifference towards the whole thing, eventually asking me if I wanted to keep my job. I was LOLing in my head because it's SO not that serious.

Apparently, though, today was my final warning and if I'm rude again, I'll get fired. Big deal. Someone fires, someone else hires, ♪it's the ciiiiiiiircle of liiiiiiiife♪. These jobs are all the same; it really doesn't matter where I work, does it? I get so little money, so little respect, so much abuse that I can't bring myself to care.

More shocking, at least to Kathleen, was that I can't bring myself to care about... myself. I told her that I've probably been depressed for at least the past five years, and she's been pushing me to call one of the Michaels employee service help-line things (she's the third person I've been getting serious pushes from. POP QUIZ GUYS: WHAT DO I DO WHEN YOU PUSH ME AND I DON'T WANNA BE PUSHED?), or whatever, and I keep telling her no. I just don't care enough to. This is how I am and this is how I shall remain. Blah, blah, blah, insert depressive ramblings here. She said I was too young (I'm past twenty-five. I don't think I qualify as "young" anymore) to be that way and it was a terrible attitude to have. "Maybe," I countered, "but it's the only attitude I've got." 'S'true.

Look, everyone. This is how my life is. This is who I am, and who I will continue to be. The changes I'll effect this year, if I do, are going to be superficial at best. I've accepted that. WHY CAN'T YOU.

Time to be nerdy and make a scale model of my bedroom. Whee!

♪This... is my house, this is my house....♪

( Thanks, Google, for being super-stalkery. O_O;; )

P.S. Happy late birthday, Kiera! I'm so sorry I missed it!