Ain't Life A Bitch

Split Personality Disorder: Formerly known as multiple personality disorder, this disorder is characterized by "switching" to alternate identities. You may feel the presence of two or more people talking or living inside your head, and you may feel as though you're possessed by other identities.

Source: Mayo Clinic - Dissociative Disorders - Symptoms and Causes

There are two very different versions of me in my head and they are on a schedule. Every other fucking day.

I have talked about this before, I hope you were paying attention. But since 2023 has come around to torture me, the experience has been exponentially amplified.

I drink on the days I have to work, I do not drink on the days that I don't. I am furious and overcome with self-loathing on the days I have to work, I am relatively peaceful on the days that I don't. My temper is explosive on work days, I am much less likely to kill someone on non-work days. I feel despairing on work days and hopeful (maybe I'm fooling myself) on non-work days.

It is a strange and disorienting existence.

I despise my job more than ever this year - I mean I fucking loathe it with every fibre of my being, every waking breath. As I drive to work, I toy with the idea of swerving into the path of oncoming 18-wheelers. I don't do it because another life is involved. 

This job is the major source of unhappiness because it forces me to face myself in all my underachieving glory. 

Every single work-day for torturous hours at a time. Squirming in my seat like an innocent but condemned man, five minutes before execution. Shrieking in despair every time the phone rings. Succumbing to dread every time a fucking customer walks through the door.

This job is ground glass in my Ben & Jerry's Caramel Chocolate Cheesecake ice cream. It is an ice pick in my ear. It is razor blades in my Dr. Scholl's Heavy Duty Support Inserts Designed For Men over 200 pounds.

This job fucking sucks.

On my days off, although I am more relaxed, I am obsessed with nailing down a way to make money that won't slice up my soul. Overwhelmingly obsessed since The Meltdown. The job has to be something I can do from home, and it has to involve some form of writing.

Copywriting, technical writing, I don't give a shit, as long as I can write and get paid for it. You say "Joe - you sound like a dreamer and an idiot!" You forget - I wrote some stuff for a copywriting website last year and got paid for it. I fucking blew it because I didn't take it seriously enough and blew deadlines and fucked up re-writes. And the unforgiving motherfuckers dissolved our relationship.

Of course the only happy-time solution for my soul would be to get paid for creative writing. But only an idiot in my position would say "Hey, I'm going to freelance my way to financial freedom." Ain't life a bitch.

I am burning up Indeed and ZipRecruiter and will continue to do so until something falls from the trees. I will apply and apply and apply until someone says "All right, already - we'll give you a fucking job."

Or until I come up with a better plan.

So for now, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I am an insufferable psychopath. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and lately - even Saturdays and Sundays (now that there are more bodies to work shows), I am a sweet pacifist.

Except this week. I have to work a show Sunday night. I fucking hate working on Sundays, but nobody else can do it. On Sunday night you better believe I will be a raging psychopath. Customers may die.

I gotta get rid of this fucking job!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!