U2 is one of the most overrated bands of all time. Don't bother getting your panties in a bunch, I'm apperantly the only person in the English-speaking world that thinks so.
However much they do, in fact, suck, their song "One" is just about as perfect a representation of how I've felt lately as a song could get. XBF constantly has me up and down in mood, and I've grown so tired of it that I can't pull any joy out of what used to be the most amazing relationship the modern world had ever seen. Alas, he will be moving in six months, filling me in turns with relief and dread. And also leaving me with quite a pickle. Do I spend time with him at the cost of my own pride and feelings of self-worth? Or do I write him off now, at the cost of not only the love he's forced deep down in me but an amazing friendship as well?
Pickle indeed. No advice on the matter, please, I'm bored to death with advice, most notably when it comes from people I don't even know.
In other news, let me tell you about my job.
I work at the local Fed Ex. Well, actually there's one closer to where I live, but the one I'm at suffices. Anyway, I SWAK. Sort, Weigh and Key. Boxes come off a conveyor belt, drop down a slide, at the bottom of which I await them. I take the box, sit it on a scale, key in the zip code of where it's going and scan the various bar codes on the boxes, telling the computer what to do with the different codes. Then I send the boxes down another line. Monotonous. But I love it.
The SWAK side is about as long as a professional football field, I work at the staion at the very end. This is a very special station. As the keeper of the station, I am the chosen one. Chosen, that is, to remove anything that jambs up one of the four lines coming in and out of SWAK. It sounds much easir than it really is.
For one thing, I've been terrified of ladders my whole life. Don't know why, that's just the way my brain works. On a mission trip once, where we were re-roofing a poor old womans house, I went up the ladder in the morning (after much coersion) and opted to jump off the roof at the end of the day. I was burnt to a crisp at the end of the trip, but it was worth it to not have to go up and down that damn ladder. So you see that this is no trivial matter. They scare me.
Well, at Fed Ex, there is an intricate system of ladders around the whole place so that every inch of every conveyor belt can be seen at any time. Also, they come quite in handy when fixing jambs. You should see me now, I'm like a freaking albino monkey, hopping all nimbly-bimbly up, down and sideways around SWAK.
See what this job has done for me! Also, my forearms have never looked better.
And, after giving it far more concideration than the matter warrants, I've come to the conclusion that spending five hours a day surrounded by about 400-- 300 of whom are totally hot-- young men, is not a bad thing to do at all. Not bad at all.