A toast,
Who would've thought? I'm to join the ranks of the full-time work force. I'm certainly surprised. Frankly it beats the shit out of me. In a good way.
Eagerness, impatience to start, to hurl myself onto it like a grenade. Or a steak? Either is appropriate in this case. Different reasons of course but driven by the same sense of hunger and urgency.
My one fear as this full-time holocaust approaches is that perhaps I won't be able to put my work back in its box at the end of the day and shun it till the next. Clock on Clock off may not be as easy as the brevity of the proverb suggests. That like the French say, a situation will arise where "The work has entered his blood". Like those horrifying Jack in the Boxes so frivolously purchased for easily scared young children. It rates up there in the list of all-time bright ideas like "Clowns are funny", as opposed to "Mummy? Daddy? What the hell is that thing? What? Don't bring me closer... NOOOOOO *infant scream*". Or as may still be the case amongst us a horrified man-squeal/bellow. *Ahem*
Don't misunderstand me. I relish work, which explains why it can so easily become an obsession. The desire to set a benchmark and to break it each and every successive day without ever a lapse. And when that lapse comes, finally contrived by that peculiar mix of fatigue and hubris, the failure to break through can be shattering. This is in all things regardless of how trivial; Stacking shelves, making drink sales, mixing the drink perfectly, how many racks of glasses can be gotten in a night, perhaps the number of kits that can be put together. Simple game's like basketball and soccer.
Disregarding that last manic paragraph, that's only one way events can unfold. Maybe this line of work won't be worth obsessing over. I believe things will be fine. In that case somebody break out the Mariah Carey... Ahem, I meant Queen.

I can't help but feel that this was LJ material. Shite...

'Twas a momentary madness.