I was in pretty good spirits earlier – joking and laughing with folks online about what had happened.
But now that a few hours have gone by, and it’s closing on 3 AM, and I’m tired, and I still haven’t eaten dinner… I’m getting increasingly angrier and sadder. If this were the start of the day, instead of the start of a new day, I’d be much angrier than I am. Instead, since I’m tired, that anger is recycling itself, and turning into sadness.
I’m mad at myself for being lazy. For not replacing my porch lights when they burnt out a week ago. For not removing the AC unit from my window earlier. I could have done both of those things quickly. But no – I didn’t bother with the five minutes it would have taken to replace bulbs. And I decided to keep the air conditioner in my window, despite the fact that it’s mid-fucking-October.
On the flip side, I’m pissed that I’m working so much. Whoever did this cased the place well, and knew what they were doing. They used gloves, and didn’t leave prints. They picked a Thursday, which is when I typically send out the newsletter for our California station (and I tend to work pretty late).
All this week, I’ve been home somewhat earlier than normal. In fact, I’ve been home earlier this week than I have in the three to four weeks prior. So… someone’s been keeping tabs on me for that time (or reading the blog). They knew to pick Thursday because I’d be at work late. And deep down, I think this is the most frustrating thing – this work connection.
I believe, very strongly, that I am a very loyal, hard worker. I’ve been frustrated and tired and pushing hard for the past few weeks. Earlier tonight, I had this thought in my head:
Am I working this way because I have no life? Or do I have no life because of the way I work?
Am I really slow in how I go about fulfilling my tasks? Or do I have too many tasks to fulfill?
Lately, I’ve been at work more than I have been at home. Why? What for? Am I doing it for the recognition? To be the martyr? To pay my dues and get "even," because Justin and Ben worked themselves to death when they first started? Because my review is coming up? Because I want to better my skills and grow?
Tonight, I feel like all my good work, my effort, my good intentions are for naught. I know it’s ridiculous to correlate these two things, as they’re completely isolated from one another. But still, the thought creeps in. This is what it feels like: after working harder than normal the past four weeks, the result of my efforts is the loss of some $1200 worth of stuff. My reward for all my hard work is having my shit stolen.
Part of me wonders what would have happened had I half-assed it at work. Instead of staying late, what if I just did as little as I needed to and left on time? Not just today, but every day for the past few weeks. Would the same thing have happened?
You can do everything right, and still someone can come along and fuck things up for you.
I’m super tired. It’s damn near 4:30 AM now, and I’m on beer 3.
I still haven’t eaten anything.
I’ve got the heat on, since the window’s been cracked open most of the night, as I was waiting for the police to dust for prints.
Now, I’ve got to track down another comforter. The burglars stole the one on my bed because they dumped all the electronics in it, and then used it to carry everything out – to make it easier to transport things, and to make it look less suspicious.
FUCK. I need to focus on the positive here. My cat is well and unharmed. I’ll be watching less television. I’ll be reading more books, and will have more time to work on writing/flash experiments/my portfolio. Someone else took out my AC unit for me. I now have an excuse for why my apartment looks like shit. They left the beer.
I got a good blog entry out of it.