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Not about work. (Well, not really.)

Well, it's been a while since I wrote anything here. I've actually done a lot since last week, but none of it seems really worthwhile to talk about. I think my problem is that my life's too ordinary and boring. I don't have any interesting talents, nor do I have an astounding family or anything like that. Looking back, I spend an inordinate amount of time complaining about my work, which makes it seem that I don't really do anything but work.
Not true.
It just seems like all the bad things that happen to me are a direct result of my work.
Also not true.
I write about work because those are the problems, complaints, issues that are the most easily understandable. Everybody has hypocritical bosses and moronic co-workers. Everybody knows what it's like to be on the bad end of customer service. My friends, anyway, do.
My life, though, what goes on when I'm not at work, is not so easily explained. Therefore, I don't write about it as much because a)it's waaay too easy for people to get the wrong idea and get upset, and b)frankly, it really isn't anyone's problem but my own. My relationship with my mother is a much my fault as hers, maybe more so, and it's up to me to straighten it out. I may get angry with her, but as she doesn't even read my journal, what good does that do me? I can rant all I like, but until I muster up the courage to actually tell her what's bugging me, nothing will change. Funny, that. I have all the confidence I need at work, but get me around my family and I revert back to that timid, all-too-sensitive thirteen-year-old who would rather lock herself in her room and escape into science-fiction than just deal with it. I don't suppose much has changed since then, though I've gotten better at pretending.
Arrgh. There I go again, angsting away when I don't even have anything to complain about. That's what I get for thinking, I suppose. Serves me right. No more introspection for you today. Go back to your mindless, repetitive tasks. At least you make money that way.

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